Deliverance

This past year I’ve read several books of historical fiction and some of actual history, all having in common the subject of war.  Tracing down my ancestors, I'm finding that many of them fought in one war or another from the Revolutionary War through recent conflicts in the middle east.

When I was gainfully employed I worked with fellow educators who had spent time in a “declared war,” “military conflicts” or “military actions.”  After listening to their experiences; it seems that no matter what it was called, the results were the same.  People suffered, got killed, wounded or disabled as a result of the conflict.  Even those conflicts where we feel that “right prevailed” there is a lot of nasty baggage folks on both sides have to drag around for generations.

My immediate family knows about war intimately.  My Dad was killed in World War II; an uncle was killed in World War II; while two other uncles served in combat, but returned home.  We’ve got family and friends who served in Vietnam and more recently the Gulf War, Iraq and Afghanistan.  Although the military draft has not been used in many years, both our sons voluntarily joined the military, serving in the Army & Marines.  I am proud they served and grateful they were able to serve during a time of relative peace.

The three paragraph prologue leads me to say, yours truly has never served in the military.  The draft was in full force during my eligibility years and I was chosen, but I did not have to serve; herein lies the rest of this story.  
 

When I reached “draft age” I registered like every other guy and was classified as I-A.  That designation means, I was classified as someone who is “good to go” when they pull out your number.  After registering, life moved forward. I graduated high school, attended five years of college, got married and was in my first year of marriage and full-time employment before I got “the call” from the Selective Service Office to report to the induction center in Jacksonville, Florida.  Becky and I were both teaching school and living in Florida at the time.  The Vietnam Conflict was really beginning to heat up and lots of guys were being called to report for duty.

Although "the call" came at an inopportune time for us, I never really considered not serving.  In our family, that is what you did, even if you didn't like the way politicians were handling things.  If you were American, you served your country when you got the call from Uncle Sam.  Some of my best high school and college friends were also being called to serve; interruptions to new marriages and fledgling careers was the order of the day in the 1960's. It is true that not everyone wanted to serve.  Many opposed America's involvement in Vietnam and lots of guys headed north to Canada to wait out the war.  But, when I got the call, I reported to Jacksonville, Florida as requested and lined up for the physical examination of poking, probing, eye tests, and mental testing along with hundreds of other guys.  We were tested and processed over a two day period and then told we’d be given a date to “report for duty” within the next few weeks.

Preceding these events and unknown to me at the time, my mother, her brother, and family friends back in my home county had been frantically working to get my Draft Classification changed from A-1 to A-IV.  I didn’t even know an A-IV classification existed until I got a call from the secretary of my home draft board back in Roane County, Tennessee notifying me of the change.  I later got a letter confirming the change.

You may have seen the movie “Saving Private Ryan” some years back.  If you did,  you know that story stemmed from the fact that Private Ryan was the “sole surviving son” for his family due to the fact that his brothers who were also in WW II had already been killed in action.  Private Ryan was the only one left.  The military made a decision to bring him out of combat and get him home. The A-IV classification was developed for families with a “sole surviving son” where the father and/or brothers had been killed in combat.  It is also used for those who have completed their time of active duty.  The A-IV meant that you would not be drafted unless it was a national emergency.  The local draft board had reclassified me about a week before I was to report for Basic Training and ship out to Vietnam.

That my friends is what I call DELIVERANCE.  I have never fully understood all the dynamics of what took place or why it took place. Some would say “dumb luck,” other might say the “hand of God,” or “providence.”  For me, it was just plain and simple, DELIVERANCE.

From time to time over the rest of my life I’ve on occasion pondered why I was delivered from serving my country.  Truth be known, when I graduated high school I was ready to join the Air Force.  But, my mother, grandmother and others in the family who had lost husbands, sons, and brothers in the WW II would not hear of it.  The sting of those personal losses, barely twenty years before, was still too real for them to forget.  Many times they’d say to me, “You’ve got to go to college, your family has already paid a price and you don’t need to go.”

Over the years, I've been on several trips to Washington, DC and visited the Vietnam War Memorial.  I especially remember the first time I visited.  That long black marble wall, descending into the earth, etched with all the names of those who served and did not return. Seeing the personal memorials of flowers placed here and there, seeing those standing nearby weeping, seeing some making a pencil rubbing for a loved one’s name; all played on my emotions and prompted the question.  Why were you delivered from this war?

From this writing, it is apparent that the question still lingers in my mind, but I think I’ve found peace about it.  Life is a strange dynamic of events and people mixed in with the mysteries of the cosmos.  I am by nature, a "searcher,” always interested in knowing the “whys” and “what makes it tick.”  When I look for reasons as to what happened to me, I find no clear cut answers.  There are folks who say that life is just God’s predetermined road map.  God knows the route and you are just along for the ride.  I can’t buy that; I do not believe that God is a puppeteer. 

The peace I’ve found about this question; comes from a personal faith; faith that God is real, that God is a part of the cosmos, that He is a part of me, enabling me to play a role on this vast stage in my small piece of time.  This concept is not new, it's been around a long time. Shakespeare used it in a couple of his plays.  Remember the lines from As You Like It?  "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts...."

I still don’t know why in our roles on this earthly stage some are delivered from untimely tragedies, walking through life unscathed.  Still other, while playing their role, experience tragedy, endure pain, cope with chronic hardships or deal with life-long challenges. 

My peace comes from believing that our human roles are many and varied, certainly not equal.  Our roles emerge from a mix of life events; then are given shape and meaning by human intervention and our own personal decisions. God is not a puppeteer, " pulling our strings" and directing every movement we make.  But I do believe that God wants each of us play our role; giving the very best performance we can muster whatever the circumstances might be.  God is our off-stage director; coaching, offering assistance, rarely intervening directly, always available, encouraging us and hoping we deliver a "smashing performance."

What have I done with my deliverance?   Have I given the best performance I could muster? 

"Wake up Phil, your time is not up,  you are still on stage!"

We're all "on stage" you know!

Now, let’s ramble!