If: "If I make much of anything appointed, magnify to myself or insidiously to others; if I let them think it 'hard', if I look back longingly upon what used to be, ling among the byways of memory, so that my power to help is weakened, then I know nothing of Calvary love." -Amy Carmichael
This last month has been one of bittersweetness...and it continues with tomorrow and June 1st. Actually, it's not just this month that has been bittersweet, but the last 5 years. And now that I think about it, that is how the rest of life shall be-bittersweet.
On May 2nd my little brother (who's not so little) left for basic training to be a Chaplain's assistant in the Army National Guard. We had several months to prepare for this and it was not easy. The process of Steven joining the military was one I didn't want to go through again. My dad has been in the military for 21 years (and will be retiring in August), and my older brother, Ryan, was in the Army National Guard until he was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq on August 2nd, 2006. If you have had a family member in the military, you might understand what I mean by "process." It's a predictable journey that is unsure, uncertain, hidden and sometimes not so promising. I wish there was a better way that I could put it in to words. Seeing Steven off to basic training brought back a flood of memories as I walked into the armory where Ryan had drill and his smile hangs in the entry way. Steven was smiling and nervous, but ready. With all of his heart, he was ready. A ready I just do not understand. He gave me Ryan's dog tags because he would no longer be able to wear them, as he had his own. I hugged him goodbye, told him I loved him, and I did not want to let go. I left the armory and went to the car. As looked across the street at the cemetery where Ryan was laid to rest, I broke. I cried about Ryan and I cried about Steven. Living in bittersweetness does that to you. You cry and you laugh, and at some point you take a step forward, continuing to cry and laugh. It's been hard having him gone and not being able to really talk to him. He's what I got. He's a good part of my everything. I can't wait until he returns home. My mind tries not to think of deployment, as it is very much a possibility down the road.
I hold tight to him, as I do the rest of my family. Life is bittersweet in the aftermath of Ryan's death. Bittersweet is what I choose to describe it because with each moment, we take a step forward in memory of Ryan. Sometimes we are reluctant to take a step and we indeed take it with bitterness, but we find that it is sweet. Sweet in the sense that Ryan was in that step. It will be 5 years since my brother has been with the Lord and there's something (actually, a lot of things) I've realized in the midst of all of this. I could choose to put my identity in the fact that my brother is gone from this earth. That he will not be at my wedding, that he will not have any children to carry on his name, that he will not be around to celebrate Christmas and birthdays. Or I can choose to believe in Calvary love and know that my identity is in Christ. It is a bittersweet thought. And that's okay with me.
Today is Memorial Day, so today and every day, we remember. We remember not just Ryan, but the many like him, who served and died for our freedoms. In a couple days is Ryan's 25th birthday. The last time I saw Ryan, he had come home on leave for my graduation and to celebrate his birthday. He had turned 20 that year. His smile lives in my memory. And his life is in every bittersweet step forward. It's days like this when I find myself looking up to the Heavens with tears and a smile.
This last month has been one of bittersweetness...and it continues with tomorrow and June 1st. Actually, it's not just this month that has been bittersweet, but the last 5 years. And now that I think about it, that is how the rest of life shall be-bittersweet.
On May 2nd my little brother (who's not so little) left for basic training to be a Chaplain's assistant in the Army National Guard. We had several months to prepare for this and it was not easy. The process of Steven joining the military was one I didn't want to go through again. My dad has been in the military for 21 years (and will be retiring in August), and my older brother, Ryan, was in the Army National Guard until he was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq on August 2nd, 2006. If you have had a family member in the military, you might understand what I mean by "process." It's a predictable journey that is unsure, uncertain, hidden and sometimes not so promising. I wish there was a better way that I could put it in to words. Seeing Steven off to basic training brought back a flood of memories as I walked into the armory where Ryan had drill and his smile hangs in the entry way. Steven was smiling and nervous, but ready. With all of his heart, he was ready. A ready I just do not understand. He gave me Ryan's dog tags because he would no longer be able to wear them, as he had his own. I hugged him goodbye, told him I loved him, and I did not want to let go. I left the armory and went to the car. As looked across the street at the cemetery where Ryan was laid to rest, I broke. I cried about Ryan and I cried about Steven. Living in bittersweetness does that to you. You cry and you laugh, and at some point you take a step forward, continuing to cry and laugh. It's been hard having him gone and not being able to really talk to him. He's what I got. He's a good part of my everything. I can't wait until he returns home. My mind tries not to think of deployment, as it is very much a possibility down the road.
I hold tight to him, as I do the rest of my family. Life is bittersweet in the aftermath of Ryan's death. Bittersweet is what I choose to describe it because with each moment, we take a step forward in memory of Ryan. Sometimes we are reluctant to take a step and we indeed take it with bitterness, but we find that it is sweet. Sweet in the sense that Ryan was in that step. It will be 5 years since my brother has been with the Lord and there's something (actually, a lot of things) I've realized in the midst of all of this. I could choose to put my identity in the fact that my brother is gone from this earth. That he will not be at my wedding, that he will not have any children to carry on his name, that he will not be around to celebrate Christmas and birthdays. Or I can choose to believe in Calvary love and know that my identity is in Christ. It is a bittersweet thought. And that's okay with me.
Today is Memorial Day, so today and every day, we remember. We remember not just Ryan, but the many like him, who served and died for our freedoms. In a couple days is Ryan's 25th birthday. The last time I saw Ryan, he had come home on leave for my graduation and to celebrate his birthday. He had turned 20 that year. His smile lives in my memory. And his life is in every bittersweet step forward. It's days like this when I find myself looking up to the Heavens with tears and a smile.
