Friday, August 19, 2011

"Come on Poppy, time for a Shave ..." .... my grand daughter Isabella!

The sun is going down on a very good day ... Praise God from whom ALL blessings, right?  My grandson, Noah, and I attended a good baseball game on a beautiful night so see the Akron Aeros last evening. As I begin to write  this my mind immediately returned to a moment that will not be forgotten at the entrance to Canal Park as the crowd gathered.

Noah is a precious young man, eight years old. He is very inquisitive, loves any sport but especially baseball and his excitement, while muted to the world, was apparent to me.  As we stood on the sidewalk waiting with Noah looking all around at the sights and smells, my mind was captured by what I knew to be an injured soldier there with this family of wife, three beautiful children and others.  He never knew I was watching him nor how he has affected me. I have seen many soldiers in varying degrees of injury in my life.  Let me explain!

This young soldier looked to be in the mid thirty range of age.  He was tanned, military camouflage cut off shorts and simple tee shirt.  He was jumpy, jittery but very engaging with his family.  None of that is what caught my eye but seeing him with one eye sewn together and a wide scar extending across his skull from one ear to the other drew me to him realizing what he had experienced to leave him so scarred. 

The scar was healing well but with his "Marine" hair cut, my assumption was that he was the victim of an IED in one of the wars and was in recovery.  But even with that obvious physical indicator, it was his attention to specific detail of all around him that captured my attention. Adjusting baseball caps, pulling strings off tee shirts and with each action he would grasp the son or daughter and pull them closely to him. I was watching all this through tears and then I realized a wonderful teaching opportunity!

As my radar was on, both my hands gently caressing Noah's hair and shoulders making sure he stayed near me in the crowd.  My heart was taken by the two of us, the soldier and me, touching, protecting, holding those that we love most irrespective of injury, pain, people staring, which they were shamelessly, but protecting the gifts God had given this soldier and me.  Every fiber of my being wanted to walk up to the soldier, shake his, salute him and and hug and thank him for what he did for me which I do often when I see a veteran.  But I chose discretion for I did not wish to call more attention to the soldier but it was then I realize the opportunity ...

I bent down speaking into Noah's and began to explain to him about soldiers and what they do to protect us, to let us sleep in peace, to guard us.  I showed him the soldier and quietly told him why I loved that man and did not nor would I ever know him but the love was based on not who he was but what he did for me and all of us gathered there at the ball park.  To see Noah respectfully look up at this soldier caused me to tear up again for it was one of those moments I will never forget with one of my grandsons and I hope he will not forget it either.  I hoped and tried to see the soldier inside the park but never did for I wanted to shake his hand so badly especially after the tears of last Saturday and the funeral of the Marine killed just the Saturday before in Afghanistan.  Oh how precious life is!

Can it get better?  Well, my beautiful grand daugther Isabella and her brother Logan stayed with me most of the day today.  While Logan was watching TV, Bella came to where I was and said, "come on Poppy, time for a shave and a back scratch ...!"  Ah, now can it get any better?  So my face got lathered six times and those little hands with a real razor caused us both to be gentle to not cut Poppy.  She was excellent and I think learned all over again how loved she is which is completely.

There is so much hurt and pain and worry in our world but it is The Moments that melt the sorrow and anguish away.  Last night and today, caring less what the markets did, the impotency of a failed governmental system, partisan politics, etc, etc, ... I was given a small taste of how just how beautiful heaven must be so the lyrics of that great song will be my wrap for the night:


How beautiful heaven must be
Sweet home of the happy and free
Fair haven of rest for the weary
How beautiful heaven must be

Pure waters of life there are flowing
And all who will drink may be free
Rare jewels of splendor are glowing
How beautiful heaven must be

The angels so sweetly are singing
Up there by the beautiful sea
Sweet chords from their gold harps are ringing
How beautiful heaven must be

How beautiful heaven must be
Sweet home of the happy and free
Fair haven of rest for the weary
How beautiful heaven must be

2 comments:

  1. Ahhh Jimmy, I'm writing this with tears running down my cheeks. I love you grandpa! You've captured the essence of my relationship with my four grandchildren. What a blessing.

    Thanks for sharing your encounter with a wounded warrior. I have hugged and shaken hands with more vets than I can possibly remember. The few WWII vets I still encounter will talk about 'their' war if you thank them first - many are taken aback, but they never refuse to shake hands and humbly mutter their thanks. In a very small way it is my way of saying thanks to my dad, gone for many years now, but still my hero. Mark

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  2. A beautiful and thought provoking writing today.
    Thank you!!

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