“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4
How much should I share? I don’t want to say too little. I definitely don’t want to share too much.
You see, I was quite different back then. You’d barely recognize me. Surrender and meekness was not part of my vocabulary. I never backed down when challenged, not ever. I didn’t know how. I also suffered from the childish notion that I was required to live up to my family’s military legacy. So on a dare from a fellow airman, I cross-trained out of a promising career in military aviation, and now here I am in the biting cold. Yet somehow, I still feel at home. Three very able team members are with me, and I’d trust each of them implicitly with my life.
We’ve been assigned as overwatch, and having secured the high ground yesterday morning, our night-scopes now peer out into the darkness for our adversary’s advance. Our small perimeter has remained silent and eerily calm through the night, despite a swift northern breeze through the valley. From our mountainside perch, I can see the scarlet hint of dawn peeking out over the horizon. Intel has told us to expect contact soon, and that friendly air support is just moments away, if needed. My pair of PRC-152 radios are set on standby. I check their batteries for the second time tonight. Help from above is at my beck and call. Stay quiet. Be still. Camouflaged against the earth and stone, the enemy won’t know we are here, unless they step on us. If that happens, we’re in trouble.
It would be nice to reach my twenty-eighth birthday, but sometimes I have my doubts. It’s been a long year. In my breast pocket is a small notebook sealed in a Ziploc bag. My field journal to be sent home with my personal belongings, should things go sideways. My mother’s picture is stapled to the inside cover.
Inside, on page one, are my passing thoughts:
“In the shadowed corners of my soul, I lay humbled. My transgressions are heavy, and the weight of my misdeeds presses upon my spirit. I cry out, seeking Your grace and Your mercy.
With an aching heart, I confess, I have gone astray, swayed by the allure of this temporal world. My choices, clouded by pride and ego, have distanced me from Your embrace, and I feel a void deep within.
Yet, even as I acknowledge my flaws, I am reminded of Your steadfast love, Lord. The same love that washed away David’s sins now beckons me to a righteous path. Your patience stretches as far as the heavens, waiting for every prodigal child.”
Page two:
“Cast me not away from Your presence, and let me not be ensnared by the fleeting whims of this world. As the parched earth around me yearns for rain, so does my heart thirst for Your redeeming touch.
In the silent whispers of the night, in the brilliant glow of the day, let my heart always sing songs of repentance and gratitude. In acknowledging my wrongs, I find the true meaning of Your boundless love.
To You, the giver of second chances, I dedicate my renewed spirit. May my journey ahead bear testament to a heart changed, a spirit uplifted, and a man forever anchored in Your grace. Amen.”
Seated at the desk in my home office, I’ve finished reading another gnarled chapter in this small brittle notebook. A rubber-banded journal, born in a foxhole, ages ago; my first. Within the first few pages are the penciled plea from a naïve and regretful soul. Each word a shining beacon underneath the star-filled canopy of an Arabian night. A flashing signal that only God could see.
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9
“He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” Proverbs 28:13
The man in this old and worn journal is unsure of what the next day would bring. But with each turn of the page, he reveals that no matter what fate awaits him in the morning light, he is prepared. The Armor of God is now his companion.
Many days later, with the smell of cordite lingering in the air, I was carried off that mountain … and I never returned to see that soldier again.
