A few weeks ago, I went to Washington, DC with my 13 year-old son, Larry.  His class was all there on a field trip.  We got there early. There was a low-lying fog over the city. The sun was just starting to come up as we started walking along the park that is called the Mall. It stretches the distance from the nation’s Capitol on one end to the Lincoln Memorial on the other.  There are walk ways, bike paths, ponds, and grassy areas throughout the Mall. It makes for a nice “walk in the park”.

I have walked it many times. As a military officer doing my time in the Pentagon, many days would find me “escaping” the high pace of activity to take a walk through the park.  I would always stop at the Lincoln Memorial where his second inaugural speech is engraved forever on one of the walls.  Another wall has that speech that “none will long remember” given in honor of those who died at Gettysburg. It always reminded me that war was indeed a terrible thing, a tragic thing, but men and women have seen it as a necessary thing at times.  Sometimes I would ponder that because it would hurt my soul to understand it. Lincoln, who became a Christian in his first term, saw the war as punishment on a nation that allowed slavery to endure – the north by its omission and the south by its commission. I know many scholars, politicians, theologians, and others have debated this issue, but God has a way of making His name known. It is permanently etched in stone on the walls of the Memorial.

From there I would walk down to the Vietnam Memorial.  There I would walk and observe the many who died. This war has been taught in the military schools as one that was taken over by Washington, and, as a result, many more died than needed to die.  I would walk here and remind myself that the leadership of the battles I was planning would rest, someday, on someone I did not know in a land far away. It humbled me to the point of wanting to make sure every little thing I did mattered.

Those two monuments on the Mall would provide enough inspiration, enough humbling, enough soul searching for me to go back to work full of dedication to the task set before me.  Sometimes we need to be reminded of the trust we have been given.

The morning in May 2007 was a little different than those trips in my past.  This morning I am no longer a military man and I am here with my son. I want him to gain inspiration from these monuments, but I want it to be he who hears it and not me who drums it.  We start first with the Washington Monument. That tall white figure that dominates the Mall encircled with flags. Then we head down to the World War II Memorial. I have never seen this one. We are the only ones there. It is still too early for the tour buses. We walk around it and read the quotes from famous soldiers – the south side dedicated to the Pacific theater and the north side to the European theater. Both worthy of being independent wars. Both against aggressors that believed their people group was superior to all others. One war fought directly against us. The other fought against countries who have been our allies for many years. Neither aggressor able to estimate the will of the American people and our ability to project war.  The inscriptions are overwhelming.

One wall, the one that faces the Lincoln Memorial, is covered with gold stars. Each star represents a life given. My heart aches and my knees shake as I realize the price some have paid for my freedom. I pray. Not much that words can say – except “thanks”.

I notice a bouquet of flowers with a letter lying on the ground. Looks like they have been there for a couple of days. The flowers are wilting. The letter is open. I pick it up and read it thinking for a moment I am invading some very private moment but realizing the intent of an open letter left is to share with others. The letter is one page long. The handwriting is very nice. It is from Catherine from some town in North Carolina.  She writes to her “Papaw”. She says that she is so proud of him, so proud of what he stood for, so appreciative of what he had to do. She wants him to know that “Mamaw” made it all right and that his son (Catherine’s dad) was so inspired by him that he had joined the military, too. His legacy lived on because she now has two sons both in Iraq. Catherine notes that if it hadn’t been for Papaw’s bravery, her boys probably wouldn’t be in Iraq right now because there would have been no freedom to preserve. The letter ends, “thank you Papaw, from the bottom of my heart for hearing the cry of the European people, and responding.  If you don’t mind, please make sure there are some angels watching my boys. I know you paid the ultimate price, but I don’t really want them to have to, if you know what I mean. Love forever, Catherine”. As I sat there and let is soak in, I am reminded of another friend I have recently met whose grandfather was in World War II. He is still alive. I say a prayer for him. Again, it is one of thanks.

I smiled and put the letter back in its place. It was time to continue our walk. I summon Larry who has long tired of reading things and is now climbing on walls and having fun. We head down to the Vietnam Memorial.  We talk about our uncle who died in Vietnam.   We argue over whether the body of water in the Mall is called a reflecting pool or reflecting pond. We play with some squirrels that are a little too friendly, but fun to watch.  I soak in the smells of honeysuckle all around. It is a beautiful morning in Washington, DC.

We walked by a booth as we came close to the Vietnam Memorial. Several veterans have set up temporary shelters here to remind people of the soldiers still missing.  I explain it to Larry. I explain how we never, ever leave one person behind. Never.  Yet, in Vietnam, we did. I could tell this hit home with him. The booth was attended by a man probably sixty years old whose skin was as dark as his hair was silver. When he looked up at us, his smile made his face glow. After saying our hellos, my son asked him if he was a veteran. Yes sir. US Army. Retired Master. Fought for three years in ‘Nam. Has a buddy that went missing. Never saw him again. Hope to some day – even if it is just to bury him. They were best friends in school. My son was silent. Then Sarge looked him in the eye and asked him, “You know Jesus?” Larry said he did.  “You believe he died for your sins?”  Yes sir.  “You believe he rose again?” Sure.  “Well, remember that same power that gave Him victory over death is in you and will give you victory over any evil in this world.” I stood by silently amazed at the dialog going on before me. “Remember that, son, and you will never fear.”  We shook hands and it was time to go our own way. This veteran didn’t want anything from us. He only wanted to share a word from God that morning for my son. I wondered if I would ever have to remind him about it. Probably. God’s word doesn’t return void.

 

We get to the Vietnam Memorial. We look up where our uncle is and walk down along the long wall of names looking.  We are silent as we walk. It just seems appropriate. The endless list of names brings reality to the many who died. We find the name. Then we walk slowly to the other end. A few more people have started gathering around, but it is still early. I notice a bouquet of flowers just like the one at the World War II Memorial. I kneel down to see the letter. Yes, same handwriting. Now I am curious. I pick it up. Sure enough. Another letter from Catherine. This one breaks my heart. She starts out, “Dad…” I pause. Do I want to read any more? My heart already softened by the thought of so many. I read on.  “You would really be proud of me. I raised two boys to be just like you and Papaw. The third one is still learning, but he knows of you and all you stood for. They know that the greatest love a man can show is to lay down his life for another.  You did. Papaw did. I don’t want them to die, but I don’t mind them laying down their life for a few years while they help others in Iraq. This is the first time I have been here and I wanted you to know how proud I am of you, how much I love you, and how much I missed you while I was growing up. I hope you look down on me now and smile.  Your little girl, Catherine.”

War is terrible. It hurts people. Forever. Yet, we still willingly go to war.  Only because we know the value of freedom. Greater love has no man…yes, it rings true. It rang true 2000 years ago. It still rings true. When someone finds something so precious as freedom, they are willing to sell everything they have for it. They hold it as a precious pearl. They want to preserve it for future generations. J Paul Getty once said that the same government that guarantees our rights can take them away.  It is a fine balance we live. We walk through life yearning to bring freedom to others – freedom from sin through the Gospel, freedom from tyranny and oppression though our ideals many of which are based on the very same Gospel.

To all who have sacrificed. To all who have laid down their life. To all who have paid the ultimate sacrifice. I say thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.  You will never be forgotten. Never.  We will never leave one behind. Never. And someday you will hear this song...Welcome Home.  I promise if it is in my ability to do something, you will hear this song (Welcome Home, You! by Brian Littrell). You may be my son.