It seems like only yesterday that the state of mind called summer began with my trip to New Jersey on Memorial Day. The unofficial start of summer when kids count the school days left and moms start to count the days until Labor Day, when they go back. For the past few years I too have counted the days until Labor Day, as it meant that we would be leaving on Torches Across America, a ride to honor those killed on 9-11 and honor those first responders. Like I once told Gary Covert, its founder "I wish there were only two days in the year, Christmas and Torches." And as I sit here this Tuesday after Labor Day, I reflect on where I want to be. Where I wish I was.
We would just be leaving Amarillo, stopping at Groom, Texas to visit the world's largest cross, and checking out the 13 steps Jesus took to the cross. Few words, but the life likeness of the statues tells a story that words can't. Hands on, just like Jesus. We would then be off to an escort in Oklahoma City by the police to the site of the bombing. Touring the memorial, then the museum, then the spot where the preschoolers were playing that day angers me that a domestic enemy-one of us-could do this to his own fellow citizens. Then to Tulsa, with another escort, eating at the American Legion Post there.
Finally after a number of days, on to Ground Zero, where Angelo and his ride group from Ohio would meet us, along with Tattoo Bob and his group from Detroit-3200 of us riding through the Holland Tunnel past Ground Zero. And I think of Rex Howke and his Rattle the Runway ride to the Pentagon. We must visit again over chili dogs someday. But for me it is about the Heroes of Flight 93 in Shanksville, a more somber place I have never been than the impact site. And a more restful, peaceful place after, the Flight 93 Memorial Chapel, and my friend Father Al. Where the heroes of that flight are etched forever in my heart-putting faces to names as I know Mary White, Beth Wainio's mom, who always seems to be there when Father Al needs her. To Co-pilot Leroy Homer's mom, Ilsa and his sisters. Who somehow brought a smile to our faces that day in 2006. And to all the stewardesses who graced us with hugs and love, sharing their tears with us, mixing them with our own as they would leave us with a wet face, and precious memories. 40 heroes, who before taking on the enemy, knowing they faced death, recited the 23rd Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want....such confidence in the face of an enemy!
September 5, 2009, I added number 41 to my list of heroes. Marine Captain Joshua Meadows, was killed in Afghanistan. A sniper's bullet went through his neck and into his brain, killing him instantly, mercifully. When my Theresa took the call from our daughter Theresa-we adopted her family when her husband Kelly was overseas, also a Marine helicopter pilot-our hearts broke for them. As they took their longest and saddest trip from Yuma to Carlsbad, they dropped off the kids and went to do what friends do at times like this, they loved. Because of Kelly's upper echelon, he was apprised of Josh's death. The same Josh and Angela who were there for Theresa, they would now be there for her. I had met Josh, and had seen him there a couple times-I remembered him when Theresa reminded me he rode a BMW-I remember people by what they ride or where they go to church.
Now Kelly was to be that strong friend that Angela needed. Earlier that day she had seen the four military men coming up the walk, through her glass door, and her heart knew why they were there. Military wives are taught that this is an ugly part of the military life, but still are never prepared if and when it happens. That afternoon Kelly used his Marine training to do the right thing militarily-there are papers, etc. to deal with. He was there as a friend, supporting Angela as Josh had supported his wife, but mostly he was there as a Christian brother, doing the only thing that he could do, as instructed by Jesus. Loving and consoling. Weeping with those that weep. No training can teach this, it takes a relationship with God to go willfully into such hopeless events, and that is what he and Theresa did. And in love, supported her as only God can do. And along with others, will continue to do for some time to come.
A part of Angela also died that day, for Josh was not only the 28 year old love of her life, but the father that would not ever see their unborn child. She is 7 and 1/2 months pregnant, and being old fashioned they didn't want to know the baby's sex, I like that. He was going to be home from this duty in time for the baby to be born, and as she sat in her condo, all torn up under construction, she was going to surprise him with a new kitchen and bath, it must seem like everything in her life is in shambles. And to those without hope it is. But she has hope in Christ.
Today I pray that the words of King David echo in her heart. When he found out his son had been killed in war, he went to God-who reassured him that his son couldn't come to him, but that David someday will go to him. In heaven. It is called resurrection, and those who believe in Jesus Christ will again live with him. Someday Angela and their child will be reunited in heaven with Josh. But for that time she must wait, but not alone. Jesus will always be with her, and their child. May all of us cling to that promise. For the man who said "greater love has no man than to lay down his life for another," did just that. So that we can.
I pray Angela clings to that, and realizes that someday, like Josh, she will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. May God have mercy on us all until that day, when He wipes away every tear. Until then we cry "even now, come Lord Jesus." Every hero does not have a homecoming, but Josh did. He is home at last in heaven, the war is over, the battles are won. Hero 41, to be remembered by me as long as there is a September 5. Another American who gave his life so that we may live free. Truly freedom isn't free, it was paid for at the cross, and the cost continues to be paid today by the American soldier. Greater love has no one than to lay down their life for another. And when they do, weep with them, just as Jesus weeps, with and for us.
weeping with compassion in love,
Mike
We would just be leaving Amarillo, stopping at Groom, Texas to visit the world's largest cross, and checking out the 13 steps Jesus took to the cross. Few words, but the life likeness of the statues tells a story that words can't. Hands on, just like Jesus. We would then be off to an escort in Oklahoma City by the police to the site of the bombing. Touring the memorial, then the museum, then the spot where the preschoolers were playing that day angers me that a domestic enemy-one of us-could do this to his own fellow citizens. Then to Tulsa, with another escort, eating at the American Legion Post there.
Finally after a number of days, on to Ground Zero, where Angelo and his ride group from Ohio would meet us, along with Tattoo Bob and his group from Detroit-3200 of us riding through the Holland Tunnel past Ground Zero. And I think of Rex Howke and his Rattle the Runway ride to the Pentagon. We must visit again over chili dogs someday. But for me it is about the Heroes of Flight 93 in Shanksville, a more somber place I have never been than the impact site. And a more restful, peaceful place after, the Flight 93 Memorial Chapel, and my friend Father Al. Where the heroes of that flight are etched forever in my heart-putting faces to names as I know Mary White, Beth Wainio's mom, who always seems to be there when Father Al needs her. To Co-pilot Leroy Homer's mom, Ilsa and his sisters. Who somehow brought a smile to our faces that day in 2006. And to all the stewardesses who graced us with hugs and love, sharing their tears with us, mixing them with our own as they would leave us with a wet face, and precious memories. 40 heroes, who before taking on the enemy, knowing they faced death, recited the 23rd Psalm. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want....such confidence in the face of an enemy!
September 5, 2009, I added number 41 to my list of heroes. Marine Captain Joshua Meadows, was killed in Afghanistan. A sniper's bullet went through his neck and into his brain, killing him instantly, mercifully. When my Theresa took the call from our daughter Theresa-we adopted her family when her husband Kelly was overseas, also a Marine helicopter pilot-our hearts broke for them. As they took their longest and saddest trip from Yuma to Carlsbad, they dropped off the kids and went to do what friends do at times like this, they loved. Because of Kelly's upper echelon, he was apprised of Josh's death. The same Josh and Angela who were there for Theresa, they would now be there for her. I had met Josh, and had seen him there a couple times-I remembered him when Theresa reminded me he rode a BMW-I remember people by what they ride or where they go to church.
Now Kelly was to be that strong friend that Angela needed. Earlier that day she had seen the four military men coming up the walk, through her glass door, and her heart knew why they were there. Military wives are taught that this is an ugly part of the military life, but still are never prepared if and when it happens. That afternoon Kelly used his Marine training to do the right thing militarily-there are papers, etc. to deal with. He was there as a friend, supporting Angela as Josh had supported his wife, but mostly he was there as a Christian brother, doing the only thing that he could do, as instructed by Jesus. Loving and consoling. Weeping with those that weep. No training can teach this, it takes a relationship with God to go willfully into such hopeless events, and that is what he and Theresa did. And in love, supported her as only God can do. And along with others, will continue to do for some time to come.
A part of Angela also died that day, for Josh was not only the 28 year old love of her life, but the father that would not ever see their unborn child. She is 7 and 1/2 months pregnant, and being old fashioned they didn't want to know the baby's sex, I like that. He was going to be home from this duty in time for the baby to be born, and as she sat in her condo, all torn up under construction, she was going to surprise him with a new kitchen and bath, it must seem like everything in her life is in shambles. And to those without hope it is. But she has hope in Christ.
Today I pray that the words of King David echo in her heart. When he found out his son had been killed in war, he went to God-who reassured him that his son couldn't come to him, but that David someday will go to him. In heaven. It is called resurrection, and those who believe in Jesus Christ will again live with him. Someday Angela and their child will be reunited in heaven with Josh. But for that time she must wait, but not alone. Jesus will always be with her, and their child. May all of us cling to that promise. For the man who said "greater love has no man than to lay down his life for another," did just that. So that we can.
I pray Angela clings to that, and realizes that someday, like Josh, she will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. May God have mercy on us all until that day, when He wipes away every tear. Until then we cry "even now, come Lord Jesus." Every hero does not have a homecoming, but Josh did. He is home at last in heaven, the war is over, the battles are won. Hero 41, to be remembered by me as long as there is a September 5. Another American who gave his life so that we may live free. Truly freedom isn't free, it was paid for at the cross, and the cost continues to be paid today by the American soldier. Greater love has no one than to lay down their life for another. And when they do, weep with them, just as Jesus weeps, with and for us.
weeping with compassion in love,
Mike