Today is Veteran's Day. It's a day to remember the incredible sacrifices that our men and women in uniform have to make on a daily basis to serve and defend our nation. Most of the time they're on the periphery of our thoughts. They go about the day and night, doing their duty, while the rest of us live our lives--the lives they've taken an oath to protect.
Today I remember my father. He was an Army first sergeant. I was a child when we were living on bases all over the world. I was only thirteen when he retired. The memories I have of those days are poignant, yet hazy, filtered through the passage of time.
I remember the days, two weeks at a time, he would be gone. He called it "out in the field," practicing maneuvers and war strategy. I remember the months and months he was gone as he did his time in Vietnam, and the letters he sent are still neatly tied and tucked away in a box. They were exhortations to an 8-year-old child that longed to sit in her daddy's lap to be "a big girl," to "help your mommy," and to "take care of your little brother." They were my orders to chin up, do your duty, and do it well.
I remember the day he came home from the war. We met him at the airport. We ran to him when we spotted him through the gate. There wasn't a gate made that was going to stop us from reaching him. I remember his arms coming around me and squeezing me so hard that I thought I would break. It was also the first time I'd seen my daddy cry, though it wouldn't be the last.
My dad would wake up around 4 am every morning, and by 4:30 am, he was sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee, dressed and ready to go. As I got older, it became my ritual to get up with him, to sit there and quietly discuss anything and everything that came to mind. It was our time together, and I cherish those memories. I can remember sitting with him in the evenings while mom and my brother were in another room, helping him polish his brass or his shoes. Or, he'd be at the table, catching up on paperwork. He'd hand me a blue and red pencil and let me help him with the stuff that wasn't that important but had to be done.
I remember the times that we'd travel to visit my mother's parents in Denmark. It was a 12-hour drive from our home in Germany. While everyone else slept, I'd scrunch up behind my dad and talk to him, or we'd sing country and western songs in hushed voices, trying not to wake anyone up. We counted license plates and made up stories about people in other cars. He enjoyed the company. I wanted to make sure he didn't fall asleep.
Even after he retired, there was a precision, a sense of honor and duty that stayed with him for the rest of his life. He worked hard to provide for us, especially during financial trials and family tribulations. We never suffered from lack of anything. I can remember him, stretched out on the couch on a Sunday, dozing in between football games on TV, resting so he could get back at it the next day. I remember him planting his garden each and every year, and how proud he was of my mother when she worked hard to put it all up into jars or the freezer. He was a simple country boy with simple needs the whole of his life, and his family was his reason for living.
His "take it on the chin and pull yourself up by the bootstraps" mentality was no more evident than the day that the doctors told him he was dying and gave him less than a year to live. His mouth clenched, he nodded briefly, and swallowed hard. That was it. I'm sure he shared his fears and concerns with my mother, but in my presence he persevered, carried on, made the best of it.
He was only 51.
I was pregnant with our first child at the time of daddy's diagnosis. I prayed to G-d to let him live long enough to see his first grandchild. G-d was more than generous. He lived long enough to see his second granddaughter born two years later. I wish he could have been here to see my brother's sons.
There are many things I regret when I look back on my life and my dad's time on earth. Time wasted on petty differences, arguments, being a stupid adolescent and refusing to learn things he could have taught me that I've lost forever now he's gone. But still there's hope.
I know that when it's my time to go home, he'll be the first one to greet me. I don't think he'll let a gate stand in his way. And I know that he'll hug me so tight that I'll think I'm going to break.
I love you, daddy. I remember your sacrifice and I remember your life. Thank you for mine.
Smoke, Fun-House Mirrors, and Perception...
This month of Elul in the Hebrew calendar is the month of reflection and repentance that leads to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement and the new year (Rosh Hoshana). As I sit and reflect on the things that have occurred in my life this past year and my relationship with G-d, I am so amazed at the direction He has sent me in my life's path. There is so much I have learned this past year about myself, and so much I'm still learning.
Yes, I'm still in a very big learning curve. There's a cute little meme I've seen on Facebook more than once that says: "I DO know it all...I just can't remember it all at once!" Well, I'm here to make a sordid confession...
...I don't know it all. In fact, I don't know anything. I'm being bombarded with challenges to my talents and abilities, challenges to perceptions that I've held for most of my life, and challenges to why I react and do the things I do. I'm being challenged on my list of priorities and what matters most in this life. For someone who is in the middle (okay, high side) of the 5th decade of her life, I'm horribly deficient on answers.
I find myself back at square one wondering if I'm ever going to get to pass "Go". It seems I make it half-way round the Monopoly board of life when I mess up once again and roll doubles three times in a row. It's off to jail and I don't even have a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card. But you know what? I found out that I'm not destined to stay here. I'm not destined to be mired down in this struggle between my "old man" and my new flesh.
In their book Finding Purpose Beyond Our Pain, the authors Paul Meier and David L. Henderson tell about the birth of rejection. They talk about how Adonai created Adam and Eve to have a completely transparent relationship with Him. They were exposed physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually to Him and each other. There was no fear in that relationship...
...until disobedience and sin entered in. Then the lies started - to themselves, each other, and especially to G-d. They were suddenly ashamed and felt vulnerable and defenseless. They tried to cover their nakedness by hiding. Not only did their sin weaken their relationship with G-d, it weakened it with each other. As the authors explain, "the seeds of rejection had been planted."
I had always looked at the end of the Eden story as G-d's rejection of Adam and Eve. I thought He had driven them out of Eden because they had been disobedient and had to bear the consequences of their actions. I had always looked at it as a punishment for their sin.
I think I've been wrong about my whole take on that.
I'm now wondering if it wasn't an act of tough love, but love nonetheless. What if it was all a part of the Father's plan to restore that relationship that was lost? HaShem didn't hide Adam and Eve's nakedness - He covered it. He doesn't want us to hide our shame. He wants to expose it to the Light of Truth so that He can cover it with His mercy and grace.
His use of animal skins was a prelude to the sacrifice of Yeshua that would be made at the cross to completely cover our sins and shame.
And His final act of love? Driving humanity out of the Garden. "Whoa! Wait a minute!" Yes, you heard me right. His final act of love on that fateful day was driving us out of the Garden of Eden. You see, had Adam and Eve eaten from the Tree of Life, they would have condemned all of humanity to permanently living with the consequences of their rebellion. By banishing us from Eden, He protected our futures. He gave us the chance and hope of restoration.
Have I sinned? Most definitely. I do something stupid every day. Are the things I'm facing and the situations I'm dealing with the result of G-d punishing me for those sins? Yesterday I would have said probably.
Today I'm not so sure. I'm beginning to see these trials as my banishment from the "Garden" so to speak. I think Adonai is rocking my world upside down so that He can make it the way it ought to be. I think He's challenging me in all these areas because I've gotten a little lax of late and I need to not only exercise some spiritual muscles, but I've got to start growing if I don't want to become stunted.
If I view it from that perspective, then not only is G-d not mad, upset, and disgusted with me, He's out there with the team colors on, rooting for my success! I feel like Helen Keller when she finally realized that Anne Sullivan was trying to teach her to communicate, not punish her and make her miserable. Once Helen realized what was going on, she became insatiable in her quest for knowledge.
I want knowledge...of HaShem. I want to know Him, I want to love Him, I want to communicate with Him. I want to understand what He wants to teach me, and I want to become insatiable in my desire for His presence. This is what this month of reflection and repentance means.
It's true freedom... and it's liberating.
"I don't want your sacrifices--I want your love. I don't want your offerings--I want you to know me." (Hosea 6:6 paraphrased)
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