Before I begin I want everyone to know that this free will offering was not my idea. A month or two ago, a couple of leaders within the congregation felt led to ask me how I would feel about taking up a collection to aid Karen, Hector, and little Rhianna. I said that I would be fine with it as long as the session approved it and I was not the one announcing it in church. Most of us have a sibling, a cousin, an aunt or uncle, or a grandparent who could use this kind of help too. So I don’t want anyone to have the false perception that I have in anyway used my position as your pastor to support my extended family. That is not what has happened in any way shape or form. A couple of leaders had the idea and with my blessing took it to a member of session. That member of session presented it to the session. I refrained from the discussion other than to say, “This wasn’t my idea. Whether you do this or don’t do it I won’t be offended in any way.” The session voted unanimously to do it. It was supposed to be announced to the congregation on June 10 when I was on vacation but the person who was going to announce it was unable to be in worship that day so it ended up happening last Sunday. So please, please, please, let there be no perception or rumors that I’ve manipulated folks through my role in spiritual leadership to benefit my family. The way I see it, the original leaders who had the idea and the session see this as an opportunity to (1) honor an injured veteran, (2) help a young family, and (3) extend the love and generosity you have offered to me to my extended family as well. Those are all honorable intentions in my book. All that being said, here’s the story as I know it, and I will go back to the very beginning.
My sister Karen is actually my half-sister born of my mother and my stepfather. I have never lived in the same house as her. She was born when I was about thirteen years old and I saw her every other weekend for the first couple years of her life. I remember her looking a lot like Josselyn looks now. On my weekends at my mom’s house, I helped to take care of her and my brother (half-brother) Jason who was born when I was ten. When I was fifteen and she was about Josselyn’s age, the Naval Shipyard in Charleston, South Carolina was closed and my stepdad took another civilian military job at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. They moved to Texas at the same time I moved to Oklahoma to live with relatives. During my last two years in high school I saw them very rarely. However, when I went to college and finally got my own car I started driving from Oklahoma to San Antonio quite regularly for visits and holidays. I got to know Karen and Jason quite well during those years. I wanted so badly to be a good big brother to them but was kind of at a loss for how to do that. After I got married and worked for a few years in the rental car industry I went to seminary in Austin, Texas, which is less than two hours from San Antonio. I got to visit them quite a bit and Karen even came up and stayed with us. I remember Karen and I canoeing on Town Lake in downtown Austin together. After I graduated and moved back to Oklahoma we saw each other maybe once a year. The last time I saw her was this time last year when she and my mom drove up to Norman for a visit. Karen and I have never had the kind of relationship where we chat on the phone or anything like that. We typically keep updated on each other through my mom. There’s no bad blood or anything like that; we didn’t grow up together and I’m quite a bit older than she is. We don’t talk much but I love her very much.
I have never actually met Hector. I think it was when Karen was in high school when she started dating Hector Luna Rodriguez. They were each other’s first love. The plan was for Karen to go off to Sam Houston State University and Hector would fulfill his dream of becoming a United States Marine. Karen went off to school and was doing very well but there were two factors that were pulling on her while she was there. She was already taking on significant student debt and she missed Hector. At this point I think they were 19 and 20 years old. As an enlisted infantryman, Hector was sent to Southern California for desert training. My first thought when I heard that he was 20, enlisted, and infantry was that he was going to be on the very front lines as soon as they could get him trained. On one of their visits together he proposed to her. My mom was very upset when she found out. If anyone knows the possible perils of getting engaged and married at the age of 19 to someone serving in the military it is my mom. According to my mom there were a lot of tense, tear filled late night conversations happening at their house. Karen and Hector decided to wait; at least that’s what they told everybody.
Each night as I watched the news, I listened more closely to the reports of casualties in Afghanistan. Although I had never met him, for the first time a member of my family was in harm’s way in the ongoing wars and I was very concerned. Just a couple of months after he’d gone into combat the phone rang at our house late at night. Like me, my mom is not big on phone calls or small talk. She calls on birthdays and holidays and that’s about it. We are peas from the same pod. It was not a birthday or holiday and it was quite late. I feared the worst. As she spoke she was obviously upset. Karen had just been informed that Hector had been severely injured by an Improvised Explosive Device and they were doing everything they could to save him. “She may lose him, honey” my mom said. “Please pray.” Karen did not hear anything again for a day or two and she was understandably distraught. I asked my congregation in Norman to pray with all their might for Hector. I called the PNC at the church in Georgia I was talking with and asked their congregation to pray for Hector. I contacted Christy and Les up here and asked them to pray for Hector. I wept for the whole situation.
The next time Karen heard news, Hector had been flown to Germany and was stable. They had to amputate one of his legs but infection was setting in and his lacerations all over his body were very difficult to stitch up and keep from getting infected. His remaining leg had been broken in several places in zigzag patterns. He was flown to Walter Reed in the Washington D.C. area and Karen went to be with him until he was able to be flown back to San Antonio. Hector was in the hospital for some time then moved out to a residential facility across the street from the hospital.
His remaining leg is in a halo and they are going to give it a year to see if it will heal but they fear it will be very easily re-broken in the future. He is in excruciating pain most of the time and the amount of painkillers he is on keeps him lethargic and has altered his personality somewhat. Perhaps worst of all, he is suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which involves terrible nightmares and ultra-sensitivity to loud noises. During all of this, their baby, my niece, was born.
I have heard it said that our nation’s independence was won by the equivalent of a college’s freshman class. George Washington and the other founders may have been along in age but the boys on the front line were in their teens and early twenties. Think about the Civil War, about how World War I decimated nearly an entire generation of young men, and about World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan. These are kids who are fighting and dying. Every time I’m in the airport when soldiers or sailors are shipping out, I am amazed how young they are. A group of soldiers I sat by once in the Oklahoma City airport reminded me so much of my youth group at the time. These are the people who are putting themselves in harm’s way. Whether or not you agree with the politics regarding the wars that our nation is involved in, you have to respect these young people who are willing to serve and to risk their lives because they believe in the ideals of freedom and security. The Greek philosopher Sophocles once wrote, “War loves to seek its victims in the young.” How true that is and Hector and Karen are modern day evidence of that. I thank God that Hector did not die like so many others have. I am proud to call Hector my brother-in-law and I look forward to meeting him, perhaps this fall when I may go to San Antonio for a preaching conference. I have already written him a letter to introduce myself, to ask him to be good to my sister, and to thank him for his service. Be thankful this Independence Day for young people like Hector and pray for them and for their families.
Happy 4th of July! Don’t take it for granted.
Peace,
Everett
