Day 16: Every Veteran's Desire

Today was an interesting day.

It started out lackluster, and ended up amazing.

During the day, my major accomplishment was doing and folding my laundry.  I literally did not do anything else of any real value or consequence other than eat food.

At 5, I went to Mass at UD.  Mass never fails to disappoint, even if I am not prepared or going in thinking that it will be worth it.

After that, I went CrossFit Big D.  Chase programmed another AirDyne WOD of death.

5 rounds of:
30" AirDyne sprint for calories
30" Rest
30" Dumbell Push Press 30# (with the right arm, obviously)
30" Rest
30" Air Squats
30" Rest
30" AbMat Sit-ups
30" Rest

I did 305 reps of all the things.  Calories dropped off a bit, as did push press.  Air Squats and Sit-up reps ramped up.  Also, for the first time ever, my Air Squat and Sit-up reps were about the same.  I guess squatting is easy without a barbell....

Afterwards, I hung around the gym for a bit and decided to grab some food.

On my way to the place I planned on hitting up, I saw a CVS and decided to pull in to look for a sling to work out in.  I figured I would go in, and then move on to food quickly and then go home and settle down.  Yes! Plan!

Funny thing about plans... Sometimes God thinks your plans are cute.  His plans are better.

As I was checking Facebook on my phone after I parked my car, I heard a tapping on my window. There was a tall black homeless man grinning at me and waving. I rolled down my window and he started talking. His name was Marcus, and he told me that he had done 25 years in prison.  He was worried that I thought that he was harassing me by asking for help.    He was hurting, hungry and wanted to go to a shelter for the night.  He hadn't gotten a shave in a long time and needed new socks.  He kept asking for a light for a cigarette.  I did not have one.  I gave him some water and I told him that I would do what I could to get him some food.

I started to walk into CVS and I glanced off to the side.  There was another homeless man who had a small Marine Corps flag and a sign identifying himself as a USMC vet.  I figured I would get some food for him too.

I never found my sling, but I did grab socks, razors and food for the guys.  I walked out and gave the stuff to Marcus, who gave me a big hug.  I then figured I would see the other guy.

I am usually suspicious of anyone who uses a veteran status for a plea for help.  There are a lot of homeless men who fake that they are Vietnam and other types of veterans for sympathy.  So, I walked up and said "Devil Dog, what unit were you with?"

He saluted me and said, "Well, lookie here, another Marine!" introduced himself as a Lance Corporal. When I introduced myself as a Captain, he actually stood up and addressed me as Ma'am and saluted me again.  He stated his MOSs, when he was deployed to Vietnam and where he was stationed.  He knew about weapons systems and was really excited to talk.  His name was Lawrence.  He kept saying that all he wanted to do was work.

I'm not sure if I believed all of his stories, or if he was really a Marine.  But, I honestly believed that he had served.

He said that most people on the street acted like he didn't exist.  He felt like he was treated like less of a human.  He said that most of the help and love that he got was from his fellow Marines.  Everyone else wouldn't give him the time of day.

The heart of what we talked about was that after you get out, life is hard.  Nothing is like life when you were back in.  When you were young and in your prime.  When you knew what to expect from your brothers and you knew that they had your back.  

A lot of times, I notice when people struggle, they easily want to travel back to a time where life was better and things made sense.  For many of us veterans, it's when we were wearing the uniform everyday and we felt like what we did mattered.  When we were trained to accomplish a mission that held great consequence to our nation, our families and most importantly our brothers in arms.

As young adults, basically kids, we are trained in core values that give us a foundation to reach back to when times are chaotic and troubled.  We find comfort in learning the skills and art that we take to the battlefield.

When our time in uniform is done, most of us do not appreciate how major of transition that it is.  It's like your whole identity is stripped away.  No matter how a servicemember exits service, or how they felt about it at the time, encountering the world outside is a total shock.

When I showed Lawrence my 22Kill honor ring, and told him about the organization, he lit up.  He wanted to be a part of something again.  He wanted to belong and do something that mattered to others. 

I remember three and a half years ago, I felt the same way.  My exit from active duty felt like a cruel kick to the street.  I had a plan, and it did not flesh out with what the rest of the world had. For my entire adult life I had been training to be a Marine Officer or serving as one.  I knew what to wear, how to carry myself and how others would treat me.  Although my time on Active Duty wasn't always easy, I felt like I was doing something important and that I mattered.

After I got out, I spent two years descending into world where I felt completely out of control.  I took a job that I thought I was passionate about, but it burnt me out.  I had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be without my uniform and without Marines around me.  That world had given me safety from my personal demons.  Getting out made all of them fly at me at once.

I cannot describe to you how hopeless, meaningless and empty life can feel when you don't have a mission.  I wear my honor ring every day in remembrance of my 22 brothers and sisters who take their lives every single day.

It's because I know and I thank God for the fact that I was blessed with the circumstances and people to get me on my feet after I got out.  I was kept safe until I was able to move to Dallas and able to find a new mission in pursuing my Masters.

One of my priest friends told me of a veteran suicide that he conducted the funeral for.  The young man shot himself.  In one hand he held the pistol.  The other a Crucifix.

Nothing makes me better or stronger than the 22 or those on the streets... nothing.  The only thing that separates us is circumstance.  For whatever reason, I was spared.

I went back into CVS at Lawrence's request and got him some ibuprofen for the pain in his legs.  He attributed it to being wounded in combat.  I don't know if that was the case, but I do know a human in pain when I see one.  I was in a position to do something about it.

I ended up spending about an hour with Lawrence.  He said that my talking to him and being kind to him made his day.  I ended up having to go to a supermarket to get my dinner, but it was worth it.  

Every veteran craves a mission.  Every human craves being treated with dignity, love and respect.

...even if I didn't get a whole lot of what I planned done today... it was a winning day.

T-7 Days. I meet Jerome

On my way home from class tonight, I saw a man walking along the side of the road near where I live.  It was obvious that he was living on the street; despite the temperatures in the 70s, he was wearing a full coat and looked like he had not shaved or showered in weeks.  He carried a backpack and had an entire container of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups sticking out of his jacket pocket.

Up to this point, I had wondered if I had done "enough" for Lent this year.  I promised myself that I would fast from any number of things; Facebook and Netflix being possibilities that I had chickened out of with my upcoming surgery.  I told myself that I would pray more, that I would go to adoration (because lately quiet times with God have seemed overwhelmingly frightening) or that I would go to more Daily Mass (I've actually gone to less).  With Holy Week quickly approaching with my surgery date, I was feeling like a pretty terrible Catholic and a poor example for aspiring leaders in the Church.

The only thing that I had succeeded in doing was keeping non-perishable food and water in my car to hand out to people on the street that I encountered.  Previously, I had been not so much of a "social justice" Catholic in the sense that I viewed such movements within the Church with suspicion.  It seemed that those who I had encountered in the movements previously did not adhere to the fullness of Catholic teaching and looked down on those of us who did as not doing enough.  Even worse, my background in training in the Military and Police had me looking at the people that went to the Church in a way that they were a threat instead of my brothers and sisters in Christ.  My heart was incredibly hardened to them.  It is only by the grace of God and allowing the Holy Spirit to take over my life that my fear has been cast out and I was willing to try something.

Since moving to Dallas in June, I have seen so many people on the streets and I was moved to do something about it.  With the winter getting so nasty with the snow and ice, I had actually seen very few. The few other times that I was able to hand something out quickly from my car, I felt totally helpless that I was only giving them a light snack to get through the next couple of hours: when I was headed home to a warm bed and a fridge full of food for myself.

This time, I pulled ahead into a parking lot, stopped, said a quick prayer and got out with food and water in hand,  ready to meet my new brother.  He was incredibly gracious and introduced himself as Jerome.  He picked up that I was a student and asked what I was studying.  When I told him that I was getting my Masters in Church Management.  Almost immediately, he started apologizing for his state in life and that he was going to start some gyms in the area as soon as he found office space.  He even gave me a number for his receptionist that would be working in one of the new office buildings that he was "scouting".  He also spoke of bacteria being planted by terrorists in 2005 to frame us all and that we pass it back and forth as they mock us.  He also started spouting off about his study of Theology and his personal interpretation of scripture.  It was clear to me that he was having paranoid delusions.

The old me would have completely discounted everything that he had to say beyond that point or would try to correct his view on reality.  The new me instead looked for common ground.  Instead of shutting down, I was able to listen. After asking a couple of gentle questions, I realized that the "terrorists" were people that were hostile to him on the street and he had good reason to view others with suspicion.  I heard the Truth of the Gospel written on his heart that the bible was full of different translations and that God has given us the free choice to chose life or sin for ourselves.  I was able to affirm what he had correct, but also speak of the Lord's Mercy because He has great justice.  That forgiveness is a gift extended to us and that by showing mercy, I turn over the wrong of sin committed against me back to God for Him to exact justice.  We exchanged goodbyes and as quickly as it started, it was over.

I don't really know how much I helped Jerome tonight with handing him some Pop Tarts and a breakfast shake.  I didn't solve his homelessness.  I didn't get him to someone who could get him on medication to bring him back to the "real world".  I know that I won't be attending his boxing gym, whenever he gets it up and running.

Jerome didn't need me to "save" him from the cross he was carrying, but rather to let him know that I saw him as equal in dignity to me.

I do know that he helped me realize that no matter how far off our brothers and sisters are, that there is always common ground in our humanity.  Winning an argument or being "right" doesn't necessarily win anything for God.  Where Jesus gets the win is when you realize that He is right in the person in front of you.

Lent really isn't about how "well" any of us do it.  It is about entering into the desert with Jesus and tested and purified through trial and doing things out of our comfort zone.  Holiness comes from making the completely radical to the completely ordinary flow of our daily living.

Unlike my previous attempts to fast from cursing, I am sure that this Lenten practice is going to stay with me far into the Easter season and maybe the rest of my life.