This Toastmasters speech was drawn from an earlier blog post, and I brought along a set of Army gloves as my visual aid.)
I was a bit more nervous this time around, knowing my topic. I brought my Miller Light up to the podium with me and joked lightheartedly, "This is not simply an emotional crutch, but also a visual aid." Everyone gave a polite chuckle, and I picked up the gloves.
"These are not my gloves, though I have a pair like them. They belong to another soldier, and when I look at these gloves, I wonder certain things about both the gloves and the soldier.
I wonder he first wore these gloves. When I first met him, he was straight out of high school and arrive at drill in his "civvies," not yet having earned the uniform or these gloves. They are small gloves, like mine, reminding me of how this soldier was still a growing boy when I first met him.
Did he use these gloves to dig holes? I bet he used these gloves to carry his weapon, and though he wasn't supposed to, I might have used them to fire his weapon at the range.
When we went out the California desert for three weeks of training, I bet he used these gloves to keep his hands warn during those frigid nights. I remember one of those nights, when we talked into the early hours of the morning about his broken childhood and religious skepticism.
I am sure he wore these gloves when we deployed to Afghanistan together. It was often cooler in the northern part of the country, where he was stationed. He likely wore these gloves on convoys, and he likely took them off when he handled his pizza. He could take down an entire pie in one sitting.
These gloves came back with this soldier from Afghanistan. Again, they were likely useful against the unusual cold of North Fort Hood, Texas, where we reprocessed into the country. A half inch of snow fell on the ground that week.
This soldier and I both flew home first class to Dulles Airport, receiving an embarrassing and humbling round of applause when the passengers learned that we were coming home from Afghanistan.
When I arrived home, my wife and mother greeted me. This soldier may have used these gloves to pick up his baggage, taking it out to his waiting taxi. From there, he drove off into the darkness.
He never came back. Almost a year after that night, that soldier--without these gloves--took his own life.
When I look at these empty gloves, I see empty potential, empty dreams, empty promises. I see empty chairs and empty tables. When I look at these gloves, I see a poignant reminder that many of the soldiers who come home never truly come home.
I know I talk about the Christian faith quite a bit with you all, but this is where its truth shows its force. The only thing that can offer any true hope or solace for empty gloves, empty hearts, empty homes, and an empty world...is an empty tomb."
The older gentleman who critiqued my speech is a 45 year veteran of Toastmasters, but more importantly, a veteran of the Vietnam War. After offering some helpful critiques, he came up to me privately afterward and told me how much the speech resonated with him. "I often think that those who didn't come home are the lucky ones," he said.
No, the truly blessed ones are those who find their hope and home in Jesus Christ.
