There was a surreal feeling the moment I entered the old Reserve Center this morning and saw a bunch of familiar faces. I was excited to see them for the first time since Afghanistan, but subdued due to the occasion of our meeting. Inevitably, the two feelings results in superficial banter and awkward humor.
When Serpa's "deployment mom" arrived, she was already crying, and she would be the rest of the day. She was one of the three from our unit assigned to Camp Spann in the north. He was young enough to be her son, and she treated him as such. As different as they were, there was a bond between those two that was too harshly severed this past week.
Based on the number of people I saw at the Reserve Center, I anticipated that maybe two dozen soldiers would show up for the funeral. I was wrong. By the time the funeral in Arlington started, the place was packed beyond capacity. I wouldn't be surprised if over 50 of Serpa's battle buddies were there, packing the main room, the side room, the reception hall, and lining the walls.
Our former commander was there with his wife, as well as number of other O-5s and O-6s, showing that rank is of no significance at a time like this. Several of our soldiers arrived home late last night from an assignment and were there this morning. One NCO flew all the way from Texas. Every one of our major sections from our deployment--both at Camp Eggers and Camp Phoenix--were represented. The Active Duty COL who was Serpa's commander at Spann was there. A mass of soldiers from the 55th who did not deploy with us attended as well.
In other words, Serpa was not forgotten by his fellow soldiers. If only he had seen the crowd before!
But for those battles who were unable to attend: Rest assured that the most important thing to all of us--honoring and remembering our soldier--was accomplished.
The ceremony was moving, as expected. The minister--a retired O-6 Navy chaplain, spoke clearly concerning the hope that the Gospel of Jesus Christ offers at times like this. Surely that is the only hope that can anchor the drifting soul in the midst of such unfathomable grief!
Remarks were made by Serpa's older brother, uncle, best friend, and finally, his sister (who looks close in age to her deceased brother). It was his sister who finally broke open the gathered emotion. She described her brother as her best friend and just kept looking back at the coffin and saying I love you through cascades of sobs. It was heartrending.
We all gathered back into our vehicles afterward and were led through the city of Arlington, with police cars at either end of our long convoy, and intersections blocked by other police cars throughout the city. As they tend to do, the boys in blue had our back.
Soon, a small crowd, including a sea of dress blue uniforms gathered around a modest tent in the cemetery, white flakes descending upon the sea of blue. A few more prayers and Scripture passages were offered, followed by TAPS and the folding of the flag and presentation to Serpa's mother.
I have served as the OIC for well over 200 of these funerals, but have never had to attend one for one of my soldiers. After all 152 of us returned from overseas, the thought just never occurred to me.
So where do you go from here?
In John 11, Jesus stood before the tomb of his friend, Lazarus, and wept. Why? Was it because his friend was lost forever? Nope. Jesus, the very Son of God, knew he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. He wept because the breathtaking world created through Him (John 1), and was now so evidently corrupt and broken. He wept, before He raised His friend with power, that we might see something of the heart of God as well as the power of God.
In the coming days, as you stand, like Jesus, before the specter of death, know that your grief is but an echo of the compassionate heart of God, crying out for His power to remedy the brokenness of this world and of your heart. He is ready and willing to answer that cry by showing you anew His empty tomb--where the heart of God and the power of God were made manifest for the salvation of sinners in His life, death, and resurrection.
You need not look into the precipice and see only death. It does not have the final word. He does, and He declares "It is finished." One day, this truth will pass from the realm of faith to that of sight, when every tear is wiped from the eye of His redeemed people. To God be the glory.
"The saviors come not home tonight. Themselves they could not save." -A.E. Houseman
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