Long Embrace

Waiting to board my flight, I was cognizant of the children. Everyone was, really.

They were wound up and full of life, even though it was only 5:15 a.m. Looking out the window at the planes, which in the darkness stood like gigantic frozen insects, the little boy and girl giggled and exuded excitement. They were probably 3 and 5 years old, and reminded me of my own kids, 1,500 miles and two stops away.

Hearing their mother trying to calm them down a bit, and surmising that they were on a family trip, I smiled at the wonderment and enthusiasm of preschoolers. What child doesn’t enjoy the adventure of airports and flying? And who knows what they were going to see on this trip? Time with relatives, or an amusement park vacation, or perhaps a visit to another country? I’d be excited, too!

My thoughts turned to the upcoming three and a half hours. I wondered if I would have the “privilege” of sitting nearby these precocious children when we took our seats on the MD80. That’d be okay, I would welcome the reminders to my family and the expectation of seeing them later in the day. I was in the mood to be around children, even someone else’s.

As the boarding process began, the gate attendant made an interesting announcement, one I had not previously heard. “At this time we’d like to welcome our soldiers, bound for Iraq, to Flight 436 and invite them to board the aircraft.” It was then that I realized there were about a dozen individuals dressed in military fatigues scattered around the area. While I had overheard a couple of them nearby sharing stories, I hadn’t seen the others. Now they began to line up.

Something inside of me went out to these men and women. I wanted to stop each soldier and express my gratitude to them for their hard work and service to me, to my family, to our nation. Lately I’ve tried to do that, to show appreciation to the military folks I meet in airports and on planes. I smile and offer some affirming words. I tell them that there are a lot of folks across this country who are grateful for their dedication and sacrifice. I assure them that we know they are fighting courageously for our freedom and security. That there is far more success in this battle than is being reported by the mainstream press. That the majority of folks I know are behind them 100 percent.

I didn’t greet the soldiers. Instead, I was distracted by another scene. As I watched in them line up and hand the attendant their tickets in silence, I became aware of another dynamic. The little boy and girl were still running around, now unattended. Their mother was standing to the side, hugging her husband closely. They held each other tightly, and it was obvious each desperately wanted to suspend time and stay in that embrace longer. This was not an easy parting.

His fatigues made it clear what the man was doing. Returning to the war. His furlough was over. His conversations with his wife were too few and too rushed. His time with those precious children went far too quickly. The weight of leaving was heavy upon him, heavy upon his beloved. Oblivious to the emotion of the moment, the boy and girl chased each other around the chairs, while Mom and Dad grabbed one last moment together. Then, her eyes wet with tears, they tenderly said goodbye, and the soldier turned to get on the plane. To go to his job. Overseas. To war. To face uncertainty and danger. To say to his wife and kids, knowing that it would be far too long before he could see them again.

Sitting quietly, letting the emotion of the moment touch me, thinking of my own dear family. I thanked God for them. For the soldiers who were going back. I thanked Him for the men and women of our military who leave their spouses and children so I can see mine ‘most every day and night. And for the families left behind, I whispered a prayer…God please watch over them, keep them safe, and reunite them soon. Thanks, and amen.