Connections

Today we went to the Vietnam War Memorial, but there was a large ceremony that included politicians. Will said what I was thinking, to come back later when the crowd was gone. So after a couple hours we went back and there were just a few people milling about. I took photos of the name I knew and the one Will knew, and general photos of the memorial. We brought yellow roses, a symbol of peace, and placed them at the wall.

I noted a man sitting on a bench and I asked him if he were a veteran and he said he was. I said so was my husband and the two began conversing. I moved to another bench and stared at all the names carved into the wall. Each had lives cut short, leaving behind grieving families and untold pain. Then out of nowhere a man in jeans and scruffy shirt marched to the wall stopped and saluted in a perfect motion. Then with perfect military precision, he did an about face, and walked quietly to the bench next to me and sat down.

The introvert in me wanted to ignore him, but I couldn’t. I leaned over to see his face and said, “Excuse me sir, but are you a veteran?” He answered yes. I said I was very sorry for his loss. He looked my way and said a simple thank you. Then I thanked him for his service to our nation, and for that he also thanked me, and then looked back toward the wall. I wasn’t willing to talk further because I was already out of my comfort zone and it was obvious he wanted to be left alone. And yet, in that small exchange I felt a connection had been made. Humans bond over the simplest things and the momentous; over shared joy and heart rending pain.

For a brief moment I felt a connection to that man in his obvious pain. I am not comparing the pain I sometimes suffer to that of a person who has been through the horrid experience of war. Or the pain of losing a son or daughter in armed conflict. No, the connection came because for a brief moment, two introverted people shared a common bond through the simplest communication. I extended sympathy and gratitude. His response was brief, but I cannot help but wonder if there was a moment of pain followed by pride. Not a bad pride but rather the kind that lifts people out of self-pity, and makes the heart feel a beat of joy when it has harbored bitter pain.

Who really knows what goes on in the human heart? I have just offered pure conjecture about what was going on inside that man. But God knows all things and knows what lurks in the deepest recesses of the heart. No love, joy, pain, impurity, hate, peace and a host of other feelings and motives are hidden from him. On one level that is a frightening thought. But to me and other believers, it is a source of comfort. When I have joy, he rejoices. When I sin, his grace is there to forgive. When pain tears at my heart, he comforts in ways no one else can. He has suffered far more than I have.

There is a disconnect between people because we all have something to hide. There was a disconnect between us and God because we first hid and then openly behaved in profane and idolatrous ways. But the connection was regained through the grace of God demonstrated on the cross. We no longer have to hide, but hiding is ingrained and it takes the Spirit to gradually uncover those tender places we want so desperately to keep in darkness.

That vet may be a believer, or not. I’ll never know, but in that short exchange, I hope he felt I cared with God’s care slipping through the cracks in my heart from past and present pain. That’s all I want. God’s love, grace, and care flowing through the broken places in my heart, knowing full well the day is coming when all pain and tears will end. Till that day, thank a vet, pay it forward, help carry a load, turn the other cheek, forgive, and—I say this as much to me—don’t hide. God is light and nothing can hide in it. We deceive ourselves to think otherwise. So, be open to any opportunity to show kindness, and don’t worry about the results. That’s up to God.