Two of my adult sons are first responders. The older brother is a police officer, the younger brother; a firefighter. Often, they tease each other and engage in mocking a rivalry between those two divisions of public safety. It’s hard to say when I’ve been with them that they didn’t rib each other. They are four years and one day apart in age, so we’ve celebrated birthdays together for a long time. This year’s birthday celebration was special.
Both men enjoy working with their hands and, without knowing what the other was crafting, each made for the other a wooden replica of the flag of the United States of America. The firefighter gave his cop brother a flag with a single blue line running with the stripes. The police officer gave his little brother a very similarly made flag with a single red line (One of them is slightly larger, and has hidden compartments). It was very special to see them express their love and support for each other; each gifting the other with what will become, I am sure, a family heirloom.
With all of the turmoil in this nation with regard to whose lives matter, my sons spoke clearly by their works that they value each other. Each man values the life of his brother. With all of the discourse regarding what is and what is not an appropriate expression of outrage when it appears someone’s life doesn’t matter as much as it should, these two brothers used tokens of love as an expression of what they each value and sustain.
Neither of them can say they have changed the world. They haven’t joined a protest or been featured in a news story. They simply help to provide a safer community where they serve and support those who are doing the same. By their daily works, problems are simplified and solved, wrongs are made right and peace is restored, usually in small and unassuming ways. I’m reminded of these words: “Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.” (E.F. Schumacher)
By consistent effort, and careful, mindful attention to detail over an extended period of time, something beautiful was created by both men. Each piece of art is distinct, though both share a common theme. Neither is a great masterpiece to be displayed in a museum of modern art, but both represent my personal masterpieces; my sons who love and honor each other; my sons who have already, and who will yet lay their own lives on the line to save the life of a stranger.
Be well.
Rememering Heather
Right around this time of year, every year, I get in a little funk. I know that isn't a real word. It's hard to describe, though. I'm not depressed. I'm not grumpy. I've been called preoccupied. Maybe that's it; Preoccupied. On the 12th of August, 1990 (a lifetime ago for some people), a small girl came into my home, having left the bosom of the Father to be my baby daughter, Heather. She was small, a little premature, but healthy and beautiful. She came on a Sunday. On the 9th of September, 1990 (a lifetime ago for some, but yesterday for me...), the Lord sent an angel to call Heather away from me and back to her heavenly home. It was around 2:00 a.m. The rest of us were sleeping. She left on a Sunday. The four weeks that sweet little girl was mine to hold were brief. Yet, her brief presence in my life has changed me for the rest of my life. One would think there could be no regrets in a four week long relationship, except for regrets for what might have been, ...
Comments
Post a Comment