Remembrances and new life

I'm on Camp Lejeune, North Carolina awaiting the arrival of a granddaughter.  This place always brings back so many memories- I spent six years here as a young military wife.  I had three babies here; we bought our first home and made friends for life.

And I found out that Christians are not divinely protected from tragedy.

My husband was a helicopter pilot and we buried some fine young men.  And thirty years ago, a dear friend from our small group died in Beirut, Lebanon.  On October 23, 1983, two hundred and forty one service Marines, sailors and soldiers died when a vehicle bomb exploded in their four story barracks. It was early in the morning when many were still asleep.  The bomber knew their schedules, his truck was familiar.  One source said the result was the largest non-nuclear explosion since World War II. http://shar.es/EYxYs

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beirut_Memorial

But for our little group in Jacksonville, it was personal.  And for me, it has become a small glimpse of God's grace, a strange lesson but it's what I have carried with me.  On October 16, a week before the many deaths from the truck bomb, our dear friend died in Beirut. He was a good man who went with a peacekeeping force and was shot by a random sniper. He left a toddler and a young pregnant wife in North Carolina and went to serve his country.  Ben was born after his dad left and was four months old when his dad died.  Everyone from President Ronal Reagan to the Good Morning America crew to the wives in the 24th Marine Amphibious Unit called or visited his widow and marveled at her quiet faith, her sweetness in the light of her tragedy.

All military wives wonder, "What would be my reaction if....?"  And within that same week, many of the military wives who paid respects to her were widowed themselves.  But they had just seen the compassion of Jesus surrounding and pouring out from one of their own. Only God knows ripples from the faith she modeled.

The years have gone on, our lives have marched forward but our friend's widow did not have a "happily ever after."  She struggled with her children, the guilt of new wealth, poor financial advisors, health issues, all compounded by grief and loneliness.   Perhaps that was the tragedy that touched me the most- I didn't witness many widows live out the rest of their lives but this one was not the picture of a divine bubble of protection.  The evil of the world still reached out and touched a vulnerable life.  Life proved not fair.  Young men die in war, middle age men die from disease.  But while life isn't fair and will never the same, life can be good.

Tomorrow on the 30th anniversary of Mike's death, my granddaughter, Noelle Kathryn, will be born. Ironically she will come into this world on the very same military base that sent those young men to keep peace and pay with their lives.   Mike never knew his son. My husband never knew his son-in-law or his grandchildren. He will not know this sweet baby girl.  It doesn't seem fair.  But as all widows know - life goes on and you have the choice to join in and live again.   God does not override the evil of this world to keep His people in bubble wrap.  But He does continue to give good gifts.

One good gift is memory. My son in law joined several hundred others and ran the annual Beirut Memorial 10K last Saturday. Marines remember the day in October when a coward in a truck blew up their own.  Mike's family and friends remember him. I remember the community life we shared and the love he had for his young family.  I remember the grace his widow showed in her darkest hour.

So on this overcast, dreary evening in coastal Carolina, I am grateful.  Grateful for the memories of my season of young motherhood and for old friends, however brief some of those relationships were.  I'm grateful for the joy of grandchildren, however bittersweet it is to ponder how much Bill would have loved these little peanuts.   And I'm grateful that I've learned God's heart toward me is always good. This world is but a brief sojourn before the better stuff that comes next.

My wild-child grandson leaps off practically everything and just before he launches, he jabbers, "One, two, free...!" Yes, it takes a careful ear to understand his words.  But if we listen carefully, we too will someday hear the joyful welcome- and we can jump into the place where we will understand everything.


Meanwhile, there's a new life to welcome.