I am ashamed to admit that I don't think about the war unless I am reading an article in the newspaper or watching something on tv or on the internet. Like many others, I am guilty of the "indifference" that comes with living my everyday life in my safe, comfortable, suburban cocoon. On Sunday though, as I sat in church, the war wasn't "distant" any more because it had a face.
Because we have a young child, my family tends to sit at the back of the church, and at a whopping 4' 11", I generally can't see much of what is happening down in front. This Sunday, I had a clear view of the young, Brookfield man who was being called to military service. He's not the first man from our congregation to be called to serve, and he probably is not the last.
But his was the first face that I really got a good look at, and when I saw him, I thought, "He's just a child."
The pastor didn't mention his age, but to me, he looked to be about 19 or 20 tops. I thought back to when I was that age. I was lucky enough to be in college at Marquette, taking classes in new subjects and meeting new people. I thought of myself as grown-up, but now twenty years later, I realize I was just a child. I was just beginning.
Twenty years later, I was looking at a boy, standing on an altar, just beginning, who was facing something much different.
Then, on Good Morning America or the Today Show this week, I saw a news spot that said that the military was now giving out medals to the children of fallen soldiers -- the Gold Medal of Remembrance. I watched the faces of the featured children receiving their medals, watched as they struggled for composure.
I was humbled by their sacrifice.
Soon, it will be Veterans Day, a day to remember those who have served, including the ones who have fallen in this war. But perhaps, we should also take time to remember the ones left behind -- the parents, the spouses, the children, the friends, all the ones for whom the war has a very real face.
