Eric’s Sunday Sermon; Fighting Soldiers Men and Women

This is a strange service in a certain way. My son asked me to write it. He wanted to think more about our people in service. You see his mom works at the Naval Exchange 32 Street San Diego Fighter Town California. We are in contact every single day with service men and women. My son was required to say thank you to them at the grocery store when he was a little guy. Now he slugs my arm and goes up on his own.

We don’t have much but by golly we have enough. We would not if not for our service men and women. The big old holidays are over. Big fireworks on the fourth. But our flag is still painted on our front door and our front wall. We just toil in the fields of life. I do not even comprehend our servicemen and their strife.

Today at least two workers for our defense will die. Probably more like ten. That brings us to a point of consideration.

They died of heart attacks and bad accidents and cancer and car wrecks. They died like you and me. There are about 16 folk to back up every single combat soldier. Just grunts like you and me. Are they not heroes?

I just hang out and write and then work outside and work some more. Our soldiers crawl under heavy machinery every day and every night and risk life and limb under the carriage of a tank. No silver wings upon their chest yet these are some of America’s best. Night and day they run to risk and yet we do not hear of their heroism.

Do not send me into the field without a battle worthy tank, tractor of other vehicle. Do not hold my armament and not have me prepared to do battle. A rifle is part of a soldier, but the other is part of a woman mechanic miles away. One mess up could cost a life or more. Grease stained or computer monitor blind and these are folks never left behind. Each soldier in the field is only successful if proper equipment he can yield.

She gets up at the crack of dawn and works her butt off to secure proper gear for those who battle. I wonder who is most important when sabers rattle. A quick and sharpened blade is not by soldier made. Another’s work makes the extreme plow and spade.

So we talk about glorious tales of heroism. This is just a humanism. Those who throw away their time to make sure what is yours and mine. These are heroes so fantastic, they prevent what could be drastic.

“I got your back” starts in our home. But these folks whose names we will never know are really our greatest source of freedom. It would seem that a major current of American sentiment would not like anyone to be an American soldier. Well I completely agree. The idea of needing soldiers is repugnant to our human existence. But something in my gut tells me that I do not want to live under North Korean, Iranian or Syrian law. I find something raw and offensive about militarized religious zealots. Cool for 777 years ago maybe, I don’t judge that stuff, but nasty nasty for nowadays. From what I understand Americas fighting force stops that from happening. Maybe it is just the love from Iran and North Korea?

We did the National Guard thing for protesters against a war, and we did it to end segregation. That is above my policy making decisions. I liked that they brought attention to both. So each soldier in duty helps to make a point and we either like or hate that point? But how could we hate the soldier?

Now I was not there but I heard that a few times soldiers returning home were spit on because they had been drafted and served our country. If it is true, I am saddened. By my rules I do not get to judge harshly but just get to lift up others. This thing called love to me is God to me and this thing called God to me is this thing called love. A girl sent into battle should be despised? I cannot wrap my small peanut brain around that idea.

I got this thingy that some call freedom, like my young son and immigrant wife. Don’t quite get where and how it came from but that is cool. But I seem to understand that people fight and die to give that right to me. Like I say; I really do not fully comprehend fighting for peace. If you get it leave me a message. I have to do battle so as not to do battle?

How do they consider you in a lower income home when you own your home and spend a Saturday at swim class, throwing the football, riding bikes and laughing just plain too hard in the library. My boy and I discussed “meters” today. Metering things like energy usage and water flow. We took some stuff where he made 3.51 dollars in recycling. They weighed and metered that for us. My son said we were the poorest there because we made the least money and we also laughed too hard. We need to get serious or they are going to kick us out of our hood.

I just fell on my butt trying to climb our chimney with a small rope. My neighbor was laughing his butt off. I reckon the poor folk over there are having a bad day. Including our walk I figure we spent a good 3 dollars today. Swim lessons are from uncle who floated next to a boat for two days as a boat person escaping Vietnam. He figures knowing how to swim is good for his grandnephew. I was in a creek before I could walk so I got nothing there.

Here I only really know about shooting guns and hand to hand combat. I cannot imagine shooting a gun at a live target. But I do know how to take out your knee with a clean sweep. I wonder why people learn how to hurt other people but I sleep better at night knowing that an intruder would die quickly in my home. No gun. Close combat is mental. It is not like movies. You hurt them bad and they do not get up.

My sensei and I were sitting on some mats drinking plum wine and we concluded at the sunset on this beach on Coronado Island that we should never attack those in front of us but always protect those in back of us. A dichotomy of war? We shrugged and decided the Navy Seal base at our left would better know. More plum wine. We practiced the art of battle. And yet we did not. Down at the base they did. We sent our best intentions their way and gave thanks for their service. Folks do not generally know but those of us who practice deep breathing stuff help those who need to conserve air, underwater techniques. Crazy it is that we yoga types help soldiers do better.

And so we allow the night air to creep in as my boy and I hang out outside in front. A car coming by is a concern for him with the football and bike. Only six miles away men train to die to protect that. I got no answers, only gratitude.

A special shout out to the SRD. A unit out of Australia. And some folks out of the Seals at Coronado CA. Thanks for saving my bacon. Nuf said.