This story begins, as most of them do, with the phone call that no one wants to get. Tom's father was sick, it was serious, and he had to drive out there right away. I ended up flying out a few days later with our daughters for the funeral. Sudden, sad, and surreal.
The girls and I left after school, and our evening flight had a sizable lay-over at the Philadelphia airport. We were tired, dazed, and had an hour to while away. We noticed the dogs as we were wandering to our gate.
They were puppies, really; big paws and ears and fluffy coats. Australian Shepherds as I recall. They were also playful and friendly. Good medicine for our bruised souls. Their names were Sadie and Levi.
I know this because we started chatting with the nice young couple traveling with the dogs. Turned out they were flying to the same small regional airport we were headed to. Their story unfolded as we talked.
They were from Colorado and on their way to her hometown in Pennsylvania to pick-up her horses and car. They had brought the puppies along because they had just adopted them and didn't want to leave them alone. Then they were going to hitch the horse trailer to her car and drive the 1000+ miles home, puppies and all. They only had a few days to complete this feat because the day after they were scheduled to return he had to report for deployment to Iraq.
He was a Marine. They were newlyweds. Just married. They had returned from their honeymoon trip and found the call-up order in the mail when they returned home. They were taking this crazy cross-country trip and then he would be gone for a year.
They were the sweetest young couple. He was all-American, clean-cut handsome. She reminded me of a little bird. Tiny, fair, with sharp features and lots of wavy yellow hair with seemed to hum with her nervous energy. They were happy to share the puppies with me and my tween-aged girls.
Our flight was announced and they stowed the puppies in their little mesh-sided carriers and brought them onto the plane. It was a small commuter plane that only holds a few dozen people. They sat across the aisle from us and I couldn't help watching them during the flight.
It was nighttime, and the lighting in the cabin was dim to allow us to nap during the short flight, I guess. She was resting on him, her head on his chest and her hands on his shoulder and side, like she was trying to absorb him through her skin, filling-up with his very essence before sending him off. His arm was wrapped protectively around her. It made a very touching tableaux.
Tom's Dad, Bill Reid (he eschewed titles), was a World War II vet. Actually, he was a conscientious objector, to me an unbelievably brave stance to take in those days, which also in those days meant he still served but in a non-combat role. He was a medic. He was captured by the Germans and spent about a year, I think, as a prisoner of war. When he was released he learned that his identical twin brother had died in the conflict.
My father-in-law was truly one of the greats of The Greatest Generation. His military service interrupted his college career. He and his brother attended the same college. Dave, apparently, was the outgoing brother. Bill was studying botany, as he had a life-long attraction to the natural world. When they were sent overseas they had each met the woman they intended to marry. Bill returned, a thin shadow of his former self, married, and finished college. He joined the track team to rebuild his physical body, and followed a call to enter into ministry, eventually graduating from Yale Divinity School and serving with distinction in the Methodist Church.
SIDE NOTE: My mother-in-law is no less impressive, enduring the sorrow and anxiety of the separation, finishing her own degree and also entering the ministry.
My heart ached for this young couple on the airplane. They were so sweet, so in love. I prayed for his safe return, but felt a renewed ache when I realized he would not come home the same person. He was being sent far away to an exotic locale where he would experience and see things that no person should see and experience. I prayed. I prayed for his safety, but I also prayed for his soul. That he should come home and still be able to enjoy his wife, and play with their dogs and horses, and still be the confident, happy, loving young man that he was then.
I entreated my father-in-law. Please be with him, you who understand his situation. Be with him in battle. Stay with him and guard his heart. Please help him to keep his humanity intact. Bless this couple and help them have the happy life they deserve. Be their guardian angel.
It was not a long flight. We were walking to the lobby when I found the courage to turn and ask his name. I do not have the best memory in the world, but I know that the first name was Sam. The last name is a little fuzzier, either Wineguard or Winegardner, probably spelled Weingart or something like that. Anyway, I shook his hand, wished them well on his deployment, and said I would pray for him. They were genuinely grateful.
God, please let him return safely. Grampsy, please guard his soul.
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