Two Years

It's a cold and snowy November day. The day isn't any different than usual. I park at the same level of the same parking lot like any other day. I get to the office, turn on the lights, brew some coffee, open my email, and go about the routine. My supervisor comes at her usual time, and then the rest of the office trickles in. I don't remember what I was working on at the time. It's probably some travel/hosting report or something to that effect. My supervisor comes out of her office at around 12:30pm, asking when I'm taking lunch. I tell her, soon. I had no lunch plans that day. I was just going to go to one of the restaurants I usually take out from in days like that. I don't exactly remember why I didn't just go and get something earlier. I probably was gchatting with people. That probably is it.

Then, at 12:34pm, I get an email from my lead pastor. The subject headline says, "Important Information." And being on the leadership at the church, I am accustomed to receiving emails with such subjects. Nonchalantly, I open the email thinking it has something to do with one of our upcoming gatherings. But instead, I read the first line, and I feel like I've been punched in the stomach really hard. Blood drains from my face as I stare blankly at the monitor in front of me. My supervisor walks in and immediately senses something is not right. She asks if I'm okay. I tell her everything is fine. She doesn't buy it, but she walks back into her office. I re-read the short little email. A close friend ims me. He's read the email too. He asks if I'm alright. No, I say. Me neither, he says. We decide to meet up for lunch at Charleys in 15 minutes. In the meantime, I im some others. No one can believe it. This can't be, we tell ourselves. And then none of us can say much after that.

I tell my supervisor that I'm going to lunch. I zipper my jacket, put my hood on, place my hands inside my pockets and head downstairs. I see my friend at the corner of South U and East U. We walk silently towards Charleys. Silence has never been that loud before. We get inside, shake off the snow, take off our jackets, and sit in a booth. We take a look at the menu. Our appetite's gone, but our stomachs tell us to order. I'll have the swiss mushroom burger with fries, I tell the waiter. My friend orders something too. The waiter leaves. I look out the window overlooking the wintry Ann Arbor landscape. The snow is falling thicker and faster than before. None of us say much for the first few minutes. He breaks the tension. His voice cracks. He's cried before we met up. He starts sharing the last thing he remembers. Something at small group. I can't really remember the details. We smile. The food comes. I pick at the fries until he says he'll pray for the food. He prays. He sobs. He whimpers. He barely finishes with the traditional, amen. Little do I realize, tears are raining down on my cheeks as well. Two grown men crying in a public restaurant. Who gives a damn what people think.

I take a bite of my burger. I taste nothing. I chew a little bit, and then I offer a story. The first time I met the kid. Five, maybe six years ago. In a summer small group. When undergrads studied the Word and fellowshipped with high school students and graduate students. A quiet kid, but genuinely good-natured. He had a unique laugh. So did I. We connected. He reminded me of my own brother. I liked him. We got along well. He accepted Christ. Got involved with the church. Then off to college he went. Only to return a year later with plans to transfer. He began serving the church. Small group. Ministry team. His class. And then, out of nowhere one day, he tells me he's enlisting. USMC. I didn't know how to respond. What do you say to that? I thought he was joking. He wasn't. He went off to boot camp. He came back different. The same, but very different. He awaited deployment. Iraq. The Bush administration's flawed war. The search for WMD yielded nothing but an all-out civil war and anarchy. Good men were sent to bring peace. Many saw death. I prayed for a miracle. Somehow his company would not ship to Iraq. Maybe Korea. Japan. Somewhere far away from harm's reach. For awhile, my prayers seemed to be working. He kept getting delayed. Until September. He was finally being deployed. I got a chance to meet up with him. Again, what do you say in that situation? He laughed in his usual goofy form. This time, I only smiled. I could not laugh. I prayed for him. He asked me to. What do you want me to pray for, I asked. He said he wanted to be a witness to his company and to the people of Iraq. Anything else? No. I looked at him. I saw someone vastly different from the one I first met in that random small group. I just nodded my head. And I prayed. The day before he was to deploy, people at church gathered around him and said their good lucks. No goodbyes. He'll come back to us. I give him a hug. Come back safe, I whisper in his ear. He just nods. That's the last I saw of him.

to be continued...