“It was the love letters—that’s what really helped.” I was having a conversation with a military wife who had struggled for years through an unhappy marriage—but had seen that marriage turn around, slowly at first, because of changes that only God could have brought about.
Sometimes it’s a refreshing spiritual exercise for me to link several ways God has led His people to creatively convey His truth. I recently heard JJ Heller’s song “Your Hands”: “When my world is shaking, Heaven stands . . . When my heart is breaking I never leave Your hands.”
He’s getting ready to leave for Afghanistan—so this young couple decided to move their wedding date up to accommodate the deployment status. They made it an intimate family ceremony which reminded me of our EorP posting: “WWII and Beyond—A Story of Commitment.” In that article we read about Eugene and Louise who, seventy years ago, got married under similar circumstances. Two days later Eugene left for 3½ years of front-line duty in Germany before returning home in 1945. In 2011 this new young couple seems just as committed and in love.
The Presidents' Wives, holiday, Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, Mary Todd Lincoln, Martha Washington
Being the wife of a Vietnam Vet, I served during those years on the home front. I served proudly, alongside the best, including many POW wives. Many of us volunteer now with today’s military spouses—helping with our own brand of training while observing, often up close and personal, a much more difficult war with its multiple deployments and unseen enemy. I have heard it said that Vietnam vets serve so well now because they were so ill-treated back then—and they don’t want our current forces to experience that. Perhaps that’s some of it, but I don’t think that’s all of it—by any means. I think they serve well because it’s the right thing to do.
When the same story keeps coming up, I pay attention. There must be something that God wants me to know or do—or share. So when my husband visited a chaplain’s office and saw a copy of the 1948 commemorative stamp of “The Four Chaplains”, signed by a survivor of the sinking of the U.S.A.T. Dorchester in 1943, I wasn’t surprised. The story of the four heroic chaplains was one my husband and I had recently studied and even included in a new Bible study. Perhaps you know about Reverend Clark Poling, Rabbi Alexander Goode, Father John Washington, and Reverend George Fox—but if not, let me share this amazing story.
Life is messy. People are messed-up. And it doesn’t take too many things to go wrong before we can really feel like we’re in a horrible mess. That’s because we live in a broken world. As military serving around the world and at home, you know that probably better than anybody. Ever since Adam and Eve and that fateful choice in The Garden (Genesis 3), the relationships between God and man, man and man, and man and this earth have been broken. But there’s hope, and His name is Jesus.
We have turned the calendar’s page to 2021. Does that make you feel older? Certainly it marks a passage of time, and for those of you experiencing deployment that comes as good news or bad news. If you’re getting ready to come home, you probably want those days to pass quickly. If you’re waiting to deploy, you might want time to move slowly. But whether it moves slowly or quickly time is taking its toll on all of us and we’re growing older. That’s the truth of it. When my husband would come home from work during periods of time when an assignment was not going particularly well, I would ask him, “How was work today?” He would answer, “One more day off the tour!”
I have always appreciated a good mechanic. Whether it was for our own vehicles or those vehicles used in the military—the fact that reliable maintenance is necessary to perform the mission was never lost on me. So when my husband and I meet maintainers, we express our appreciation for their expertise and dedication. After all, nothing happens without them.
We gathered for Bible study, but our friend's face was downcast . . . a sure sign that his soul was, too. We knew he was dealing with marital problems, but there was also the pressure of an impending deployment. All of this weighing on his heart, his future—his now. It’s hard to know what to say sometimes—most of the time, really. So I said something scriptural that I don’t even remember, then added something like “God knows what you are going through and He is with you”. I followed the simple truth with a smile, and then closed with “but you already know that.” I guess I expected my smile to be returned with his smile—an understanding between us that I was just trying to do my best to help, but failing. But that’s not what happened. Instead he said with emphasis, “I do already know that. But I need to be reminded. Thank you.” I got the distinct impression that he really meant it.