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Monday May 10, 2004 Volume VI Number 19

hen we sat on the step of the church office, and looked out over the valley at daybreak, we did not know that John and Brenda lost their house.

We saw the flames at a distance, coming over the ridge.  It was and early Sunday morning in October, and looking back on it now, it all seems so surreal.  We thought we’d go ahead and have a worship service as scheduled.  It didn’t happen.  Down there in the valley, we saw the flashing lights of fire-trucks and emergency crews, and as close as it was, we didn’t feel the full impact.  That would come later.  It’s common for us Californians to think we’ve “been in an earthquake” because we felt a disturbing little trembler.  The walls rattle.  The vase teeters.  The ground rumbles.  We were there, we say.  But that’s it.  In a couple seconds, it’s over.  We’re plenty far from the epicenter - and that’s where the real action is.

By the time the sun came up that morning, John and Brenda’s home of twenty years burned to the ground.  We wouldn’t get confirmation on that for two days.  There would be two fatalities nearby to add to the sense of loss.  That was October.

During those intervening months, we’ve walked with this couple through the valley of the shadow.  It’s a grieving process.  The void, the aching hole in the heart, the introspection, the dark days and the long nights, all of it has been there.  John is a mechanic, and can fix most anything.  For nearly three decades he collected tools.  All of them – gone.  Brenda preserved the memories – photos and letters, the children’s certificates of accomplishment, the knick-knacks that triggered memories of a vacations and visits and special days.  All of them, gone, too.  All that remains are the few wallet photos she carried with her barefoot in a panicky evacuation.

We were there the day after the loss was confirmed.  I guess I’m glad I took the photos.  But when we stood in the rubble just days after the fire, it was almost like attending a wake.  You just don’t take pictures at a wake – everybody knows that.  So there was a quiet hush as we sorted through the ruins.  We were on hallowed ground.  I got the shots.  They are still painful to look at.  The images are preserved.  Not long after, the charred rubble was hauled away.

John and Brenda have been on an incredible journey since that painful day when we sorted through the ashes.  The generosity of the community – their friends and neighbors, the church, the townsfolk – has been simply stunning.  Open doors.  Gifts.  Financial assistance.  Meals.  A listening ear.  Hugs.  Tears.  Reminiscing.  And many days, they’ve buoyed by the goodness and kindness and caring and surprises.  But some days have been dark and empty.  Generosity eases the pain, but does not eliminate it.  Grief happens.

On Monday nights, Brenda attends a quilting class with Carolyn.  The instructor is world-class.  A growing number of women in our town find friendship and a creative outlet learning this new skill.  There is something I don’t quite understand fully when a quilt is given as a gift.  It delights both the giver and the recipient in a profound way – deeper than the over-the-counter gift.  I suppose it has something to do with the time and care and individuality of every quilt, the color, the patterns, the function – to provide warmth during rest and beauty during the day.  Add to that the fact that a quilt will last for generations and will become something of an heirloom.  So these women are drawn to each other, and while I don’t know this from experience (I’m not a member of the club), I understand that the conversation is non-stop.  So Brenda, while she is living with her family in temporary quarters since the fire, has connected with this collection of creative women, and meets with them from time to time, and talks about the loss.

She wondered if she would ever recover a real sense of home again.  These women want to work with her to decorate – when the time comes.

After a long, long wait, the new house is just about ready to pass inspection, a receive a certificate of completion.  The Kolbs are about to move in to a brand new home.

Today, John and Brenda walked us through for a preview.

* * * * * * *

The fighting in Fallujah has been front page news for months now, the scene of some of the fiercest fighting in the on-going war in Iraq.  The Marines at the front of the line remain at great risk. 

One of those Marines is 2^nd Lt. Ronny T. Rowell.  Largely because of Ron, the headlines in the newspaper and images on television have come home to us.  These soldiers are the sons and daughters of real people, each with their own story, each with values and heart concerns and most with families waiting at home, praying for protection, fearing the terrible possibilities.

When after graduation from Annapolis, Ron decided he wanted infantry (Marines) rather than aviation, we did not know that in the grand scheme, he would be given a command on the front lines in one of the most dangerous places on earth.  But he took on the challenge with courage and candor, with high ideals and respect and perhaps most important of all, a deep and abiding faith.

Modern communication gives his mom and dad more of a connection with their son than at any time in the history of combat.  But even so, direct word comes only occasionally, and with limited, sketchy detail.  I wrote about Ron a few weeks ago (LF - Ronny in Baghdad, March 15, 2004) before he entered headlong into harm’s way.  He spoke eloquently about the task ahead then - as he does now –

Sent: Monday, May 03, 2004 11:45 AM

Hello from Fallujah,

I pray that this email finds you all well. 

My platoon has had a rough couple days.  One of my vehicles was hit by a car filled with explosives two days ago.  I lost two Marines.  Cpl Joshua Wilfong and Cpl Scott Vincent.  Joshua was one of my Combat Engineers and Scott was one of my Scout Team Leaders. 

My Plt Sgt, two other scouts, my corpsmen, and the loader on an anti-tank variant were all wounded badly from the shrapnel.  We were able to get them evacuated from the scene by air, and they are all doing well.  One of my scouts is probably going to be heading back to the states.  He is heading to Germany today for surgery. 

It is a heavy hit on the platoon as we have grown extremely close.  Please pray for my Marines as they mourn the loss of our two brothers. 

Ron told his mom, “I want to be a leader of men.”  Ron now calls them, “my men” (italics mine).  I know that this is protocol for an officer, but knowing Ron, it’s more than nomenclature.   In one of those first e-mails, he asked us all to pray for him in this leadership role – asking especially that God would be gracious and through his Christian witness, touch men’s hearts and minds and inspire something even more profound than a military victory.  He also asked us to pray “that God will give me wisdom to make quick effective decisions as we operate to keep my men safe and bring them back home.”

It’s more than a fearful possibility now for 2^nd Lt. Ron.  His men have fought together.  And some have died.  Others injured.  Ron is now a member of that great fraternity of soldiers who know the reality of the loss of comrades in battle.  And Ron, as a good officer, willingly takes ownership.  I can only imagine the tight-knit fellowship of this band of brothers under the command of a guy like Rowell.  He’s tough.  He’s fearless.  He’s looks through the eye of a gentle tiger.  He’s got heart.  Lots of heart.  He’s a man men will follow.

We will be getting back into the fight soon.  We have had two days to work on maintenance and rearrange our vehicle crews. It will be good to get back outside the walls [of protection].

Please know that this [the clear and present danger of battle] does nothing but strengthen our resolve to be here. 

The casualties have not diminished these fighting men’s determination – it has strengthened it.  They may be grateful for a break in the action, but they are eager for victory.

They are not isolated from the debate back home.  They hear about the political wrangling, the posturing, the second-guessing.

I spoke to my parents last night and they told me about a 1st Lt that was speaking against our efforts in Iraq at a John Kerry rally.  Please know that his feelings are not shared by a single Marine that I have met here.  We are seeing progress, and although the road ahead is short by no means, we have invested too much to not be fully committed to our mission.

God is continually revealing himself to me each day.  I continue to see His providence and provision. 

Although we lost two, it could have been much worse.

War will always be the subject of noisy, vigorous debate.  Sadly, in this case, much of that free speech is wasted on personal attacks, attempts at political advantage and shameless grandstanding. 

But none of the shrill of open dissent diminishes our need to support and pray for our troops – and the Ron Rowells who serve with such devotion and bravery.

And we will honor his request for prayer – here is that request, in his own words:

I need to get back to work now, but please be praying for the following things:

·        for the Vincent and Wilfong families as they deal with the loss of their sons.

·        for the Marines to allow the grieving process to take place. 

·        for myself as I lead them through this loss and back into the fight

·        recovery for our wounded Marines.

·        that the Marine's will see Christ in me through all of this, and that He will be glorified in my actions.

·        for Sgt Brian Callender.  If you did not know, he was one of my vehicle commanders and was shot in early April.  He is now at home in the states with his pregnant wife and son and daughter.  He is healing well and I was able to call him last night and update him on the last week.  Please pray for him as he grieves the loss apart from us.

Again, I thank you all for your prayers and support.  The emails, letters, and packages are much appreciated.  It is still the running joke that I receive so much mail that the rest of the Company's wont fit on the trucks. :) 

Know that you are all in my prayers and thoughts and I look forward to seeing you soon.

May He be glorified in all of this!

Much Love in Christ,

Ronny

 * * * * * *

As we walked through John and Brenda’s new house, we were filled with a sense of amazement and wonder at God’s faithfulness and provision. 

It’s been a kind of rebirth.  John walked me around the perimeter of the house, and explained the master plan.  A tool shed here.  Deck there.  Concrete sidewalks.

And Brenda smiled in the brand new kitchen among shiny appliances and countertops, cupboards and pantry.  Then the master bedroom suite and expansive living room.  Two more bedrooms than before, plenty of room for the family.

Brenda asked her friends in the quilting class – would you help decorate?  It will be beautiful.

We hugged and smiled, and made plans to gather friends and family for a dedication day.  We’ll pray – and thank God for his faithfulness and provision, and that this home will be a lighthouse for his great mercy and love.  And what a day it will be.

* * * * * *

It’s Monday morning, you are a leader.

On this Mother’s Day weekend, I found myself thinking about four Moms.  I suppose I will always be mystified by the magic and power of motherhood.  It’s a profound connection that can not be broken, for good or ill, no matter how hard one may try. 

My own Mother still prays and lives for news of the well-being of her children and theirs, and now theirs, too - a third generation has arrived.  She sets the pace for scores of moms who follow her splendid example of selfless, endless, boundless love.

Brenda is a Mom whose home was snatched from her in the middle of the night by hungry, relentless flames, and now she’s learning to fill up another house with the same love and care her children found in the old one. 

Donna is a praying Mom whose boy is fighting in the streets of Fallujah, a boy who wants nothing more than to protect his homeland and take a strong stand for the God his Mother taught him to know, a boy who has become a leader of men.

And Carolyn, who this morning read the words of a greeting card someone else wrote, but expressed my sentiments for me – something about the enormous joy and pride I feel watching her shine as a Mom worthy of the name. 

Four Moms.

Ordinary people.  Extraordinary impact.

Just like yours.

Posted in Valley Center, California

© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004

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