Before my first session meeting at Falls Presbyterian drew to a close, one of the elders stopped the discussion, turned to me, and said "I think it's almost time for your American Legion event. You have our blessing to go." Another elder helped me pack some food to go, and then the session prayed for me. God's grace is so clear to me in the way this dear group of brothers and fathers in the faith stand alongside of me and behind me.
I proceeded to my first American Legion meeting at their building in the center of town, wolfing down southern-style BBQ on the way (as we say in the Army, "Eat now. Taste later."). I sat down amongst a group of men who were almost exclusively from the Korea and Vietnam eras. Only one other veteran my age was there (also a member of the Village Council and follower of Falls Pres on Facebook).
The meeting was pretty standard: Funds raised for those in need and funds dispersed to those in need. Past and upcoming events. Resources for veterans facing all manners of hardship.
The time afterward was not so standard. A few of the older vets invited me to the Legion bar in the basement (a great place, filled with older folks and the hometown Miller Genuine Draft on tap). I sat down next to the occasional tender of the bar, who I met on one of my first days in Menomonee Falls. He is a funny, gregarious, get by day-to-day musician. And his dad in Florida is dying.
He updated me on his dad's condition since the last time we talked, and will go down in the next week to be with his mom in these final days. I talked with him about Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus, and the beauty of God as the unfailing father. He is bringing his Bible down to Florida with him. Please pray that he would find comfort through that life-giving Word.
While talking to the bartender-musician, I also chatted with the commander of the post and one of the few black men in Menomonee Falls. As the commander told me about a veteran who could use some extra care, my other friend told me of his inspiring climb up the economic ladder in inner-city Milwaukee. He also wanted to know what the DC elites would think about a conservative, black Republican who wears a Confederate belt buckle and loves to hunt. :)
On the other side of the bar, a half dozen widows (all of whom reminded me of my deceased grandmother) put back shots and bantered back and forth. When the conversation on my side died down, I went over and visited the women. "Oh, you're the new chaplain!" they said. I told them how good it was to meet each of them and sat down to talk with one of them in particular.
This particular widow told me that her husband died just two years ago. He didn't join the Legion until late in life because he was only in the Army for a few months and didn't think he was allowed. BUT, she readily declared, he was pushed out of the Army because of poor eyesight, despite the fact that he excelled in every test he ever took. I was inspired by how quickly she defended her husband, as if he was still there beside her.
She said he had been sick in recent years, but still always drove her if she wanted to go somewhere so that he could spend more time with her. 58 years of marriage. "He was always my best friend."
A powerful final experience to think and pray over on my drive home.
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