Here is a true story about life and death: A tragic story that greatly adds to the numerous descriptions of humanity’s way of experiencing this earth. Yes, this is a story about life and love and of two souls who transcended the definition of these seemingly separate states of being. But love stories, like life itself, can be long or short.
1940’s Ode to a Loving Father
Where does the mind wander to find sanctuary while bombs explode and the wounded bleed? The cost of young lives for a purpose once so easily believed, until you find yourself patching the bodies and praying only for this long war to end. “When? Soon.” you pray. “Not soon. NOW!”
Here in England, your mind wanders, and you think you would have liked to have visited this beautiful country, so rich in fluid green, under different circumstances than you visit it today. It all would look so different if there was not so much blood saturating the earth. The mind wanders to a home on the plains of Kansas, not as green as these fields, but so full of life and hope when the season to harvest crop arrives. The mind escapes the blasts and blood by picturing the face of your wife from your memory. You escape, by forcing your imagination to conjure the smell of a fresh bathed infant.
You create the sounds within your mind of new life demanding to be held in order to bond close, so the child will feel that life will meet its every need, and it will feel so safe in the warmth of your love. Your mind wanders, and takes comfort in how safe your infant son is at home, waiting for the bond to include his father, as well as his mother. Your mind escapes imagining the smiling recognition seen in the infant’s eyes. And you look beyond the bleeding bodies that demand your careful attention, while you bandage their wounds so swiftly, for you must be swift when the bombs are exploding. You wonder if the explosions are coming closer.
While you wrap the white bandages on the wounds and see the deep red blood saturate the cloth, you try to determine if the explosions are getting louder. Then you think, “What difference does it make anyway if the explosions get closer? Lord, there has been so much life lost already.” And your mind wanders again to the Kansas home that belongs to your sister, where your wife and infant son are waiting for your return. You consider the small and narrow room where they sleep together at night. And you wonder about how confined you feel here in this open field of war, imprisoned by the pain, blood and death surround you, imprisoned by the unending sounds of bombs exploding. “At least they are safe. Oh God, please keep them safe for me to return. Father, I don’t usually ask for anything for myself, but God I want this war to end. God, please let me see my son just one time. No God, let me go home and just be the best father I know how to be.”
Suddenly, you find the sanctuary your mind has been searching for. You know that you will feel the touch from your loving wife again. You know that you will look into the bright blue eyes of your son and watch recognition dance back to you. Deep within your heart, you know that you will even have more children to love and care for. You can almost feel their essence and the strength of their Spirit. Your mind drifts in the presence of bright images and faith replaces every fear. You find peace and sanctuary.
Prayers are answered. The news comes down the line: The war is over. You are moved to rest in the southern hills of England. You refresh your eyes with the beauty appearing in blooming Mayflowers. The overflow of flowers appears to attempt to cover the cool green fields that soothes your heart and moves your soul.
While resting in these southern hills, you seek sanctuary now in the grimy pubs, thick with smoke and smell of the stale spilled ale. But it all refreshes you, and soon you tell all the women that you meet, coming and going there, about the beautiful wife and infant son you left behind. You tell anyone within ear shot about your great pleasure to be returning soon to the USA. The ships are on their way for you, even now. Sometimes, you even boldly reveal your dreams of a future child to be born. You were seeking your own sanity by sharing joyous tales of your family with friendly strangers in foreign pubs…...
You returned to your huge family of Russian/German ancestry. You were greeted by overflowing love and great appreciation for your return. You returned to your devoted wife, son, faith, town, and the farmland that you adored….
As the ancient Catholic Cathedrals came into your vision, you remembered God had heard your prayers, acknowledged your faith, and kept you safe to experience the soldier returning home. For a moment, you reflected on the battlefields of Europe. You knew you had done everything you could possibly do. You knew others were caring for all the wounded, and comforting those who would not return to loving family and safe homes.
As the sorrows and pain of war began to turn away from your thoughts, you decided you would always look forward from this moment on. You would leave all the bloody scenes behind and walk into the fields appearing ripe with the joys of family life.
All you wanted to be in that moment was the best father and husband any one man could be. This would be the gratitude and love you would return to your God. You thought, “So it is in Heaven, so it will be on the fields of Kansas.”
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