I was in my second year of college and my history professor gave the class a project. We were to fill out an ancestry pedigree chart. By speaking with all of our living relatives about their lives, we were to not only gather statistical data on our ancestor's birth and birth places, but also ascertain whether they served in the military and what their experiences were while they served, as well as any information they could pass along about relatives who had already passed away. The more information we could glean, the better our grade.
 |
| My Grandfather |
My parents loved to expound on their family history, so I latched onto this assignment figuring it to be a very easy 'A'. With the 'pedigree' chart in-hand, I sat down and questioned my parents. Three generations of my ancestry chart were nearly complete within thirty minutes. A quick phone call to my mother's parents, as well as some digging through old newspaper obituary notices by my father, allowed me to complete the four generations required for the chart in an hour.
But, the 'pedigree' chart was not the only part to this assignment. I thought finding the names and birth places of my ancestors was going to be the most difficult part of this assignment, since it required me going back 150 years. Names and places turned out to be the easy part. Reading about and listening to my grandfather talk about his experiences in combat during World War II was life changing.
My grandfather was sent to the South Pacific and while he spoke of many funny experiences he had upon arriving in the region, he had refused to speak about his encounters in war....... until I told him about my history project over the phone. Since I would be coming to visit him over my Spring Break from college, he agreed to let me "interview" him for my class assignment.
A week later, I arrived at my grandparents' home. One evening while my grandmother and mother were preparing dinner, my grandfather was ready to talk. We sat down in their living room. He pulled out a journal he had hidden between the arm rest of his recliner and his leg. As he reluctantly handed it to me, I could see him struggle with sharing his thoughts and experiences.
He finally handed it to me with one stipulation: I could read it until dinner was ready but not a minute longer. I quickly sat down and started flipping through the small journal.
I laughed as I read his account of meeting the women of the South Pacific region for the first time. Apparently all of the island women on his base were topless. The Commanding Officer ordered all of the men to put their eyes back in their heads and for the women on the base to be given shirts.
The next day, the women showed up on the base with the shirts on........... and perfectly round holes cut out for their breasts. My grandfather started laughing so hard at the memory, he had tears running down his face.
As my time with his journal was severely limited, I quickly flipped forward a good number of pages. What I read made my heart stop.
The entry began with him having described how he had just finished eating dinner and was going to lay down in his tent and catch some much needed rest. He had no sooner laid down when he heard shouts of "incoming!".
Before he could move, bombs started exploding and machine guns started firing. As he jumped up, the tent next to his exploded and the soldiers resting inside, his friends, were killed in an instant.
A lump grew in my throat and tears filled my eyes as I read his next thoughts. I looked up into my grandfather's eyes. With eyes brimming with tears, he knew exactly what I was reading. I can still hear his pain as he spoke so softly "I could never understand why the bomb hit their tent and not mine. Why they died and I survived.".
My grandmother announced dinner was served. My time was up. I got up from the sofa, handed him the journal, and gave him a hug. We never discussed those painful memories again, but today I remember.
 |
| Public Domain Flag Image |
For me, today is more than just a day for barbeque, swim parties, and wearing patriotic colors. Today I remember my grandfather, his friends, and all those who have served and have given their all. Today I remember their call to duty, I respect their service, and I honor their sacrifice. To all of the servicemen and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice, as well as to their families, I say Thank You.
Christie Bielss
To be perfectly honest, I've been in a funk. That's the best way I know to describe how I've felt the past several months. One night I went to bed happy and the very next morning I woke up and felt like someone had erected a brick wall around my heart. The day before I was tootling along just fine taking care of business, and the very next morning when I tried to pray, my brain was everywhere. I couldn't form a cohesive thought much less a sentence. Everything from the grocery list, to the to-do list, to home renovations, to......... "SQUIRREL!" was running 90mph through my head and heart. When I did try to pick up my devotional to read, my insides just said "blech". When I'd see a spiritual post online, I'd quickly scroll past it as I heard the word "yuck!" inside of my very being.
I figured it was either a phase, I was overly tired, or maybe I just needed a break from it all. I decided to not do my devotional for a week and to step away from worrying about it. In that week, the brick wall got stronger and taller. I knew taking the break was a mistake but I continued on.
The next week rolled around and I promptly squelched every single thought and feeling of needing to study my Bible or participate in any other activity which would stop this backslide I was on. I chastised myself for being lazy but I figured I'd get back to business in time. This internal fight continued for weeks before I realized this was more than mere laziness or needing a break.
This brick wall I had allowed to be erected had gained traction and had been fortified with steel and concrete in those weeks. What started out as a simple low brick wall now had 3 full sides, a ceiling, and a 4th side which was nearly closed. The height of the walls was seemingly insurmountable and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't scale that wall.
An overwhelming feeling of doom pervaded my thoughts as I realized I had allowed myself to get boxed into a prison cell. If I didn't actively do something to get off of this path, there would be no escape. Being a redhead, acceptance of my own stupidity is difficult at best and near impossible at worst. Even so, there was this overwhelming feeling of needing help which built up inside of me until I could no longer contain it.
I finally made mention of what was going on to a close friend. Fully expecting to get the reproof of "Well, moron, you opened up the door and let the great loser in...." speech which only a friend can give. I was quite surprised to hear she was having a similar struggle. But it also meant she didn't have the strength to help me either since she was battling it herself.
For me, acknowledging a problem has always been the first step to solving it. Since I owned up to it with my friend, I had made it past this crucial first step, but I honestly had no clue what the second step was in moving past it. With some more very hard won bravado (remember, I'm a redhead and as such, I don't ask for help), I messaged my cousin (who is a minister) and asked for his advice.
As only a cousin can, he righted my thinking and put me back on the path of life with one simple sentence. Although he said it with much more eloquence and kindness, in essence he said "just shut up and do it". So I did......... finally. Those feelings of "yuck!" and "blech!" were there every step I took through the house to pick up my Bible and devotional book. I actually had to read and pray out loud in order to squelch all of the "SQUIRREL!" thoughts.
And you know what I discovered? This wall which appeared so completely insurmountable, which was closing in on me, didn't have to be climbed. I only needed to do one thing: reach out my hands and grasp The One that had been there waiting patiently with His arms outstretched all along. That gigantic reinforced brick, steel, and concrete wall around my heart crumbled to pieces in an instant.
On Friday, I was driving down one of the local highways and was listening to "It Is Well With My Soul". Ok, so I have to admit that I actually had it cranked up to ear blasting levels because it felt good to have my heart feeling so full and unfettered again. As the song was hitting its crescendo, I came over a hill and what was before me? A man dressed in a plain white tunic, wearing a crown of thorns, carrying a cross down the road.............
Written by Christie Bielss
