Thank You for Your Service
I was off to a good start today.
I got up early (for real early and not the relatively speaking kind of early).
I had my coffee, said my prayers, and during meditation made a solid resolution to let God lead me throughout the day. I did pretty well too. Looking back on my day I can see that there was much good. But in the midst of my good-deed-doing, I missed him.
It was just a few seconds, and I can't help replaying them over and over in my mind.
I was on my way into the assisted living program to drop off some medicine for a 95-year old sister (see what good deeds I was doing) when I passed him.
Every time I walk through those doors, there are people sitting, gathering, waiting for something to happen or the day to end. Today was no different. I nodded my usual "hello" nod without breaking pace. But just inside, a man was standing. He greeted me, "hello, Sister." I greeted him back as I walked past him to the front desk, barely registering a single detail about him. Except the hat. It was a powder-blue and white baseball style cap sitting high on his head. It was creased in a way that made it look brand new or like, maybe, it had just been taken out for this occasion, a way to say "I hope somebody notices me today." It had the word veteran written across the front.
Of course it said something else-- a division? a unit? a battle? I don't know. By the time I registered that one word, veteran, I was already speaking with the receptionist and focused on the deed at hand. As I was getting on the elevator I felt a twinge something indiscernible except that it included the thought, "it's Veteran's Day." Then a mentally handicapped woman sidled up to me and I moved on to awkward chit-chat and the rest of my day. I didn't give him another thought. Until tonight.
During evening examen I was arrested by the thought, "he was a veteran." Now I can't stop thinking about him, wondering. When did he serve? Did he lose friends in battle? Family? Did he have a sweetheart awaiting his return or did she marry someone else? Does he ever have nightmares from the scenes of war? Do his children visit? Was his service acknowledged by anyone today? Does he know he is loved?
Every major decision in my life is ordered around the desire to communicate love to those who feel unloved; the power of God's love is so overwhelming that I feel compelled to submit my whole life in service to it. I don't mind so much that I don't always do it very well. But there is a great emptiness within me when I fail to do it at all.
I got up early (for real early and not the relatively speaking kind of early).
I had my coffee, said my prayers, and during meditation made a solid resolution to let God lead me throughout the day. I did pretty well too. Looking back on my day I can see that there was much good. But in the midst of my good-deed-doing, I missed him.
It was just a few seconds, and I can't help replaying them over and over in my mind.
I was on my way into the assisted living program to drop off some medicine for a 95-year old sister (see what good deeds I was doing) when I passed him.
Every time I walk through those doors, there are people sitting, gathering, waiting for something to happen or the day to end. Today was no different. I nodded my usual "hello" nod without breaking pace. But just inside, a man was standing. He greeted me, "hello, Sister." I greeted him back as I walked past him to the front desk, barely registering a single detail about him. Except the hat. It was a powder-blue and white baseball style cap sitting high on his head. It was creased in a way that made it look brand new or like, maybe, it had just been taken out for this occasion, a way to say "I hope somebody notices me today." It had the word veteran written across the front.
Of course it said something else-- a division? a unit? a battle? I don't know. By the time I registered that one word, veteran, I was already speaking with the receptionist and focused on the deed at hand. As I was getting on the elevator I felt a twinge something indiscernible except that it included the thought, "it's Veteran's Day." Then a mentally handicapped woman sidled up to me and I moved on to awkward chit-chat and the rest of my day. I didn't give him another thought. Until tonight.
During evening examen I was arrested by the thought, "he was a veteran." Now I can't stop thinking about him, wondering. When did he serve? Did he lose friends in battle? Family? Did he have a sweetheart awaiting his return or did she marry someone else? Does he ever have nightmares from the scenes of war? Do his children visit? Was his service acknowledged by anyone today? Does he know he is loved?
Every major decision in my life is ordered around the desire to communicate love to those who feel unloved; the power of God's love is so overwhelming that I feel compelled to submit my whole life in service to it. I don't mind so much that I don't always do it very well. But there is a great emptiness within me when I fail to do it at all.
posted by smurp at 11:37 PM
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