Viet Nam Vet Valentine

For Tim, Dyrall, Andy,Tommy and all the other men and women who lived through Viet Nam
I stood at the gas pump at Ingle’s Grocery watching the dollars fly by. He got out of his truck and walked up to the pump on the other side. I glanced his way and saw the Viet Nam Vet insignia on his ball cap. He was my age, wearing cargo pants, a jacket and that cap. For a moment I stood caught in an internal debate... Do I speak to him or not? I called out to him and asked if he had served in Viet Nam. "Yes", he said, "I was in the DMZ."
"My first husband was stationed at Cu Chi as a medevac pilot. He was killed just as he took off with a load of wounded. The chopper was shot down, exploded and all aboard were killed," I said. We spent a minute or two exchanging information... What year were you there?... What out fit did you belong to? As I turned to leave he reached out, gave me a hug and said "Happy Valentine’s Day". We were both surprised by the rush of tears to our eyes as we acknowledged our connection through the horrors of war. He lived to come home and Tim, like so many others, didn’t. Those who came home were forever changed by experiences I can not begin to imagine. The smells, sounds and sights of war change those who are caught up in its net. They bring home memories that cannot be erased, only softened by the passage of time. But occasionally, like today, the Holy Spirit reaches down and helps us remember so that we might shoulder each others burdens.
I am reminded of another Viet Nam Vet gathering in Louisville, Kentucky many years ago. For all the raucous laughter and behavior, there was a strong feeling of connection that flowed between the veterans. Some were indistinguishable from bankers and lawyers (which some of them were). Some were tattooed and wearing black leather with chains. Some bore the marks of combat still as they sat in wheelchairs or showed scars left from wounds. Some of them carried the damage done by war deep in their souls, not visible to the outside world. All of them are heroes for me.
These people who have been sent to wage war in far off places... Korea, Viet Nam, Afghanistan, Iraq... for the most part answer because duty calls not a career. They come home to a home that has never known the pain and anguish, the suffering and death, the awfulness that separates them from the rest of us. They bear this being set apart, this bearing of the knowledge of life and death, this having eaten from the forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden, with courage and grace. They pick up their interrupted daily lives and are our sons and daughters, husbands and wives, aunts and uncles, mothers and fathers.
Those of us who have lost someone we loved in a war know the additional burden those who come home carry. They came home. Others did not. Why them? What could be the meaning of this war? Any war? And how can I honor the memories of those who didn’t make it home?
Valentine... the word means worthy, having valor. My Viet Nam Valentines... all of you are worthy and full of valor, not for deeds of war but for the lives you have lived in spite of the war. This Lenten season I salute you. You are not invisible to my eyes. You have walked through the valley of the shadow of death and come out on the other side. I pray for you and for all those who are coming home now from other far away places bearing the same wounds you carried all those years ago. Some day, I pray, the madness of war can cease to be. But until then, I pray for the peace that passes all understanding for soldiers and their families. I pray that those of us who have never seen nor felt the stench and destruction of war can be tender and loving for those who carry these memories in their souls. And may God grant us all healing from the scars of battles waged here and far away. My Lenten Valentines...