Here is a short story about how a song connected with so many people in so many ways. I will try to add the song & video at the bottom of this post so you can listen and get a sense of what was shared in our forum.
At the mortuary, there is a resiliency program that nurtures one and all, so that a healthy mind, body & spirit can thrive in an environment that otherwise depletes and shreds your being. One such element in the resiliency program is called "Pizza & Conversation." This forum is designed to bring people together during the lunch hour to listen to a song lyric, a poem, or some kind of thought provoking submission. Questions are thrown out by the chaplain to elicit feedback and the result ends up being a very enlightening conversation between participants.
I submitted a song that I have been listening to for months, which ultimately spoke to me in many ways and on many levels. I thought, perhaps, it would speak to others too, so I passed it along for consideration. The chaplain listened to the piece and read its origin and background. He and I discussed the nature of the song and he felt it would not bring about much in the way of productive conversation. It was deemed as a song, which was easily interpreted and therefore not necessarily one that would generate a variety of themes to discuss. However, he would still use it, just that we would have to plan for a short lived session.
Last Wednesday, we held our weekly session and the song was played aloud for all to hear. The lyric sheet was provided for folks to follow along. When the song ended, some questions & thought provoking joggers were tossed out. Comments started to volley as the chaplain threw the curve-ball, which was out of the norm. In addition to the lyric sheet, he handed out the story behind the song. We all began to put the full picture together, but then had to cut the session short for a mission that was due in any moment. The remaining time was handed over to another chaplain, who could remain behind to facilitate.
Fast forward one week.
Today, we held "Pizza & Conversation" again. It ended up being a follow-up to last weeks session. We did have another song and lyric to play, but prior to doing so, the chaplain that typically leads, asked how the balance of the session from the week prior went. There weren't many comments, so the chaplain asked if he could share a story that surfaced out of last weeks forum. He began by telling all of us that one member of the group had to get up and leave last week, because he was overwhelmed with emotion brought on by the song. We were all fairly surprised by this, because no one really noticed. The story was then handed over to the individual, who had to depart the room. He was moved to share what he experienced from listening to this song and learning the background behind it.
Now is where I explain the song and background:
Since I am having trouble attaching the video, you can go to this link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9yS-WbAuKo
The song was requested by a young man named Tyler, who was suffering from brain cancer. He wanted the song to speak to his mother after he left this earth, so she would know that everything was okay and he was in a better place.
To continue with my story, the young man who left the room had lost an uncle to cancer just months prior. So this song really helped him discover and find closure with the feelings he was dealing and coping with. SURPRISINGLY, as the conversation continued several other folks in the room stood up and shared very similar stories all dealing with the recent loss of a loved one to cancer. All the stories were moving and tenderhearted, but what they did more than anything else was connect us all together in the room. That, above all, was empowering and inspiring, because at the onset of this session, I'm sure that each person felt somewhat alone and isolated in their world of pain. But, once the doors began to open and people felt moved to share and relate, there was an overwhelming sense of support and care for one another.
What we see and do as members of the Air Force Mortuary Affairs Operation is for the most part unknown to much of the outside world. We each deal with all of it on our own and in our own way. However, knowing that we are not alone in our coping and processing brings us together like family. We grow significantly together and take care of one another to ensure that everyone survives the unfortunate and grave tasks that we are called to perform in the name of Dignity, Honor & Respect for our fallen.
All in all, this underestimated song & lyric proved to be quite instrumental in sharing, coping, and healing some very difficult issues among our team. I'm glad I listened carefully to that still, small voice inside of me that nudged me to submit it. God works in very mysterious ways. To witness and to see the testimony, the tears, the connections and the fellowship that grew from that song, just reinforces how God moves in our midst with a purpose to achieve His will.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
A Different Perspective
My apologies for the blank post from yesterday. You see, I started out with the title and hit the return key by mistake. It posted only the Title. After realizing this, I began again, spending about an hour and a half typing a story of my experience and just as I was about to post, I saved everything as "draft" when a message popped up saying that the webpage was not found. Turns out, I lost the internet connection sometime during my typing and had no idea. Internet service here is very unreliable.
I will try to recount all that I wrote yesterday, so as not to lose the memory. No doubt the words will be different, but hopefully they will convey the experience accurately.
We received the fallen, who were reported lost just 36 hours prior on the Today Show. The report originally told of a helicopter crash in Afghanistan, that claimed the lives of 9 Americans. After details began rolling in, we learned that they were members from the US Army, US Navy Seals. A fallen US Marine joined the repatriation journey on the final leg from Ramstein, Germany to the U.S. mainland. So, we were preparing for 10 fallen all together.
It would take our entire chaplain staff, along with other support personnel, to adequately manage what was the largest contingent of family & friends we ever received. All total, we were expecting 103 family and friends to attend the Dignified Transfers for this mission. Taskings were divided up and I was charged with attending to the 5 Navy Seal members aboard the aircraft, who were escorts for the 4 fallen Seals. This would be an all together new role for me, as the escorts were going to remain on the plane for the entire ceremony, as opposed to what normally takes place. Typically, I go out and assist the escorts with disembarking and then take them to a select location to meet with liaisons, or family members. This time, however, due to the elite nature of the Navy Seals, the plan was that they would remain aboard the aircraft to assist and witness the transfer of their comrades. I would be there to tend to them and help answer any questions they might have about the mission at Dover AFB and what to expect after the ceremony was ended.
All the support personnel gathered and staged for the arrival of the C-17. Upon arrival, I headed out to the aircraft with the advance team. I boarded and met the escorts and briefed them on all that would be taking place. Meanwhile the advance team stormed the cargo bay and began the preparations. On other occasions, when dealing with the escorts, I saw bits & pieces of what the advance team did, but this time I was there to witness the process in its entirety. They began with a check of each transfer case to confirm the fallen member within matched up with their manifest. Next, they removed the American flags that covered each case and replaced each one with a fresh, crisp new flag. Meticulous care was given to each and every flag as it was unfolded and fitted to the sides and corners of the cases. Carefully, the creases were removed as the flags were stretched and tucked along the the edges. Each was inspected for errant threads and fray, then finished off with a lint roller to complete perfection. I was amazed by the dedication and respect shown by each and every member working to ensure that all honor, dignity and respect was given these heroes.
Next, it was time to move each transfer case into position, so they would be accurately placed for the Dignified Transfer ceremony. The fallen are placed in order of service component and rank to ensure proper military honors. The advance team lined up on either side of the first case and I heard a voice call out, "Stand By!" I watched to see the next step in this process. As the team knelt down to pick up the case, all on board snapped to the position of attention. The case was raised and the cargo bay fell completely silent. All that could be heard was the sound of the commands given by the team bearing the fallen hero to his place at the rear of the aircraft. Each time a case was lifted, all of us assumed the position of attention. Once the case was lowered and ceased moving, the command of "Fall Out!" was given and we could relax. All eyes, however, were on the carry team as they paced back and forth, from front to rear with each transfer case. The first movement would involve 6 of the fallen. US Army soldiers, who perished in the helicopter crash and the one US Marine, who joined them part of the way home. The fallen Navy Seals would be transferred in the second movement due to the level of media chosen by the next of kin and also due to the large contingent of family and friends, who planned to attend.
After the first movement was complete and all the dignitaries and family left the area, we began to prepare for the second movement. The Navy Seal escorts would be moving their comrades into place, rather than the advance team. They took their positions on either side of each case and followed suit with what they witnessed in the earlier preparation process. One member called out, "Stand By!" and we all responded as before, until every fallen member was in place.
During the wait time that followed, I witnessed one of the escorts standing beside one of his fallen comrades. Quietly, he just stood there lost in a stare. I could have walked over to him and engaged him to make sure he was coping okay, but instead I just took it all in. I figured he was just saying goodbye to a friend, or perhaps he was praying in some way. It was a moment that need not be disturbed, I thought. God kinda held me back as if to say, "Let it be."
The second Dignified Transfer commenced and audible sobs could be heard outside the aircraft where about 80+ family and friends were gathered. It was extremely moving to see things from this perspective. All along, I have been on the flightline with the families, but today I had a chance to stand with my uniformed brothers in arms to render honor and respect to their closest friends.
This morning, CNN reported that 10 fallen American service members were received at Dover AFB. Then, one by one, their photos were shown on the TV screen. I stopped to make sure I remembered their faces, because in just a few minutes, I would be seeing them again in the mortuary and escorting them through the process of getting ready for their final journey home.
Dignified Transfers witnessed (80)
I will try to recount all that I wrote yesterday, so as not to lose the memory. No doubt the words will be different, but hopefully they will convey the experience accurately.
We received the fallen, who were reported lost just 36 hours prior on the Today Show. The report originally told of a helicopter crash in Afghanistan, that claimed the lives of 9 Americans. After details began rolling in, we learned that they were members from the US Army, US Navy Seals. A fallen US Marine joined the repatriation journey on the final leg from Ramstein, Germany to the U.S. mainland. So, we were preparing for 10 fallen all together.
It would take our entire chaplain staff, along with other support personnel, to adequately manage what was the largest contingent of family & friends we ever received. All total, we were expecting 103 family and friends to attend the Dignified Transfers for this mission. Taskings were divided up and I was charged with attending to the 5 Navy Seal members aboard the aircraft, who were escorts for the 4 fallen Seals. This would be an all together new role for me, as the escorts were going to remain on the plane for the entire ceremony, as opposed to what normally takes place. Typically, I go out and assist the escorts with disembarking and then take them to a select location to meet with liaisons, or family members. This time, however, due to the elite nature of the Navy Seals, the plan was that they would remain aboard the aircraft to assist and witness the transfer of their comrades. I would be there to tend to them and help answer any questions they might have about the mission at Dover AFB and what to expect after the ceremony was ended.
All the support personnel gathered and staged for the arrival of the C-17. Upon arrival, I headed out to the aircraft with the advance team. I boarded and met the escorts and briefed them on all that would be taking place. Meanwhile the advance team stormed the cargo bay and began the preparations. On other occasions, when dealing with the escorts, I saw bits & pieces of what the advance team did, but this time I was there to witness the process in its entirety. They began with a check of each transfer case to confirm the fallen member within matched up with their manifest. Next, they removed the American flags that covered each case and replaced each one with a fresh, crisp new flag. Meticulous care was given to each and every flag as it was unfolded and fitted to the sides and corners of the cases. Carefully, the creases were removed as the flags were stretched and tucked along the the edges. Each was inspected for errant threads and fray, then finished off with a lint roller to complete perfection. I was amazed by the dedication and respect shown by each and every member working to ensure that all honor, dignity and respect was given these heroes.
Next, it was time to move each transfer case into position, so they would be accurately placed for the Dignified Transfer ceremony. The fallen are placed in order of service component and rank to ensure proper military honors. The advance team lined up on either side of the first case and I heard a voice call out, "Stand By!" I watched to see the next step in this process. As the team knelt down to pick up the case, all on board snapped to the position of attention. The case was raised and the cargo bay fell completely silent. All that could be heard was the sound of the commands given by the team bearing the fallen hero to his place at the rear of the aircraft. Each time a case was lifted, all of us assumed the position of attention. Once the case was lowered and ceased moving, the command of "Fall Out!" was given and we could relax. All eyes, however, were on the carry team as they paced back and forth, from front to rear with each transfer case. The first movement would involve 6 of the fallen. US Army soldiers, who perished in the helicopter crash and the one US Marine, who joined them part of the way home. The fallen Navy Seals would be transferred in the second movement due to the level of media chosen by the next of kin and also due to the large contingent of family and friends, who planned to attend.
After the first movement was complete and all the dignitaries and family left the area, we began to prepare for the second movement. The Navy Seal escorts would be moving their comrades into place, rather than the advance team. They took their positions on either side of each case and followed suit with what they witnessed in the earlier preparation process. One member called out, "Stand By!" and we all responded as before, until every fallen member was in place.
During the wait time that followed, I witnessed one of the escorts standing beside one of his fallen comrades. Quietly, he just stood there lost in a stare. I could have walked over to him and engaged him to make sure he was coping okay, but instead I just took it all in. I figured he was just saying goodbye to a friend, or perhaps he was praying in some way. It was a moment that need not be disturbed, I thought. God kinda held me back as if to say, "Let it be."
The second Dignified Transfer commenced and audible sobs could be heard outside the aircraft where about 80+ family and friends were gathered. It was extremely moving to see things from this perspective. All along, I have been on the flightline with the families, but today I had a chance to stand with my uniformed brothers in arms to render honor and respect to their closest friends.
This morning, CNN reported that 10 fallen American service members were received at Dover AFB. Then, one by one, their photos were shown on the TV screen. I stopped to make sure I remembered their faces, because in just a few minutes, I would be seeing them again in the mortuary and escorting them through the process of getting ready for their final journey home.
Dignified Transfers witnessed (80)
Monday, September 13, 2010
The words I would say.....
"I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the alter of freedom." -Abraham Lincoln.
I heard this quote after catching the last few moments of the movie, "Saving Private Ryan." It really hit me and I thought how timeless this passage is, dating back to 1864. These words were written during the civil war to Mrs. Bixby, who lost 5 sons. They are as relevant today as they were back in those times. I like it as simply a prayerful message that sums up how we can call upon God to act in the lives of these families of our fallen warriors.
Dignified Transfers witnessed (65)
I heard this quote after catching the last few moments of the movie, "Saving Private Ryan." It really hit me and I thought how timeless this passage is, dating back to 1864. These words were written during the civil war to Mrs. Bixby, who lost 5 sons. They are as relevant today as they were back in those times. I like it as simply a prayerful message that sums up how we can call upon God to act in the lives of these families of our fallen warriors.
Dignified Transfers witnessed (65)
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Calling on God
This evening we rendered honors and welcomed home 11 more fallen servicemembers. The Dignified Transfers were witnessed by over 15 distinguished visitors from Washington DC, to include the Deputy Secretary of Defense. We had secret service security all over the place to ensure a secure environment was managed for all the general officers, senators and representatives from congress. Each passed through the Center for the Families of the Fallen to pay their respects and offer their condolences. Afterwards, they walked out on the flightline to witness each and every Dignified Transfer. I believe it was a sobering and necessary experience for all of them, so as to keep them mindful of the real world aside from politics and bureaucracy that they are so often tangled in.
I mingled and spoke with many of the family members that were here to meet their fallen loved one. The dynamics that exist among these grief stricken people are just indescribable. Some are centered and able to cope within the moment. Some are silent and lost in their own world of sorrow and grief. Some are in awe of the the circumstances they are in and are at peace with a sense of calmness about them. Others, a very select few, are inconsolable and crashing in hurt, anger and disbelief. All this can be experienced in just one family or in a group of families attending (1) Dignified Transfer. Those of us working with them have to be able to key in and tune ourselves to each individual and find a way to help them work through what they are about to witness. This extremely impactful life event, that will change their lives forever, is where we are placed to share in their profound sorrow and try to offer care, compassion and peace.
One such gentleman that I met tonight, was there to see his son come home. He was as "cowboy" as I have ever seen a man be. Hat, boots, vest, jeans, belt buckle and all. However, he was in a state of grief that led me to believe he was close to a nervous breakdown. He could hardly catch his breath. The stress and anger oozed from his lips and I just knew he was going to have extreme difficulties watching the Dignified Transfer. The chaplain and I spoke to him early on and settled him for a time. He seemed to calm down and gather himself while other families were preparing to go out and witness their hero be transferred to American soil.
I went out with the first movement, which consisted of 7 fallen. Emotions were high, which is predictable and normal for each Dignified Transfer. All the family members cried and held each other as the transfer cases were positioned, then moved one by one from the aircraft to the mortuary transition vehicle. What is interesting is that people will sob and cry, ask for God's strength, and then peace will shelter them after their loved one is moved. They also watch each of us as we render honors and salute during each transfer. I think they get lost in the respect and honor shown to their loved one and it moves them in such a way that it calms their spirit. I've seen this time after time and it is comforting in a way.
The second movement included the father, who hailed from Oklahoma, and as I mentioned was all cowboy. When we arrived at our position on the flightline I exited the surrey bus and was followed by this man. He walked toward the end of the roped area and my fears were realized. He rounded the corner and headed for the K-Loader, which held the transfer cases of the fallen set to be carried and transferred in this movement. I quickly intervened in his path and held him, blocking him from walking any further. He pressed an pushed into me, uttering how he wanted to see his boy. I kept calm and kindly asked him to remain behind the rope line for his safety and the safety of all on the flightline. My biggest worry was that the secret service agents would spring into action and intervene to protect the dignitaries participating in the movement. But, I was able to keep him from going any further and coerced him to stand with me as we honored his son. He groaned and growled (literally) as he tried to catch his breath. I believe, he was bound and determined to make it past me and the others who eventually surrounded him, so he could intercept his son's transfer case. He asked which case his son was in and I softly and quietly told him where his son was located. He stared and focused on that case with every fiber of his being. He continued to push against me looking side to side, as if seeking a detour around our human barricade. As the Dignified Transfer commenced, he broke a few times into tears and sobbed in between determined growls. I sat beside him, on one knee and silently prayed, calling on God to work and move in this moment and settle this restless, grief stricken soul. I asked for God's strength to help me, should I have to restrain this gentleman, but above all I trusted God to work through me to bring peace and calm to this situation. I calmly whispered the word "peace" as I held the man's hand. He gripped me with the force of a vice and I returned with a grip of my own equal to his. At times, he took deep breaths and sighed, between growls and grunts and I knew that my prayer was in the process of being granted. Silence fell over him as the carry team was about to move his son. I let go of his hand and snapped to the position of attention. He rose beside me and again tried to push past the corner post, heading in the direction of his son. I thwarted his attempt by leaning into him and grabbing his hand again. I was holding his right hand with my left as I saluted when the command was given. Then, the man took his hand from mine and began to salute beside me. I remember saying to him, "That's it, sir," "you're doing good," "hang in there with me." He was quiet and patient for a time. As the other cases were being transferred, he continued to salute with me for each one, 3 all together. Once all the cases were within the waiting vehicles, the attendants began to ceremoniously close the rear doors. The man broke yet again, calling out to his son and wanting to go to him. I calmly held him and told him "let us take care of your son now," and we would return him home safely. That was what he needed to hear. From that moment, he said, "I'm good now." "I'm glad he's home." The chaplain and I walked him over to be among the other families at the rear of the surrey bus and watched the transfer vehicles depart the area. The man knelt down and cried some more. I kept my hand on his shoulder and just sat with him. My last words to him were, "God's peace be with you now."
Quite an emotional and stressful evening, but all along, I just kept thinking God is in control here and I'm just one of his instruments to guide and assist as led. Glory be to Him.
Dignified Transfers witnessed (57)
I mingled and spoke with many of the family members that were here to meet their fallen loved one. The dynamics that exist among these grief stricken people are just indescribable. Some are centered and able to cope within the moment. Some are silent and lost in their own world of sorrow and grief. Some are in awe of the the circumstances they are in and are at peace with a sense of calmness about them. Others, a very select few, are inconsolable and crashing in hurt, anger and disbelief. All this can be experienced in just one family or in a group of families attending (1) Dignified Transfer. Those of us working with them have to be able to key in and tune ourselves to each individual and find a way to help them work through what they are about to witness. This extremely impactful life event, that will change their lives forever, is where we are placed to share in their profound sorrow and try to offer care, compassion and peace.
One such gentleman that I met tonight, was there to see his son come home. He was as "cowboy" as I have ever seen a man be. Hat, boots, vest, jeans, belt buckle and all. However, he was in a state of grief that led me to believe he was close to a nervous breakdown. He could hardly catch his breath. The stress and anger oozed from his lips and I just knew he was going to have extreme difficulties watching the Dignified Transfer. The chaplain and I spoke to him early on and settled him for a time. He seemed to calm down and gather himself while other families were preparing to go out and witness their hero be transferred to American soil.
I went out with the first movement, which consisted of 7 fallen. Emotions were high, which is predictable and normal for each Dignified Transfer. All the family members cried and held each other as the transfer cases were positioned, then moved one by one from the aircraft to the mortuary transition vehicle. What is interesting is that people will sob and cry, ask for God's strength, and then peace will shelter them after their loved one is moved. They also watch each of us as we render honors and salute during each transfer. I think they get lost in the respect and honor shown to their loved one and it moves them in such a way that it calms their spirit. I've seen this time after time and it is comforting in a way.
The second movement included the father, who hailed from Oklahoma, and as I mentioned was all cowboy. When we arrived at our position on the flightline I exited the surrey bus and was followed by this man. He walked toward the end of the roped area and my fears were realized. He rounded the corner and headed for the K-Loader, which held the transfer cases of the fallen set to be carried and transferred in this movement. I quickly intervened in his path and held him, blocking him from walking any further. He pressed an pushed into me, uttering how he wanted to see his boy. I kept calm and kindly asked him to remain behind the rope line for his safety and the safety of all on the flightline. My biggest worry was that the secret service agents would spring into action and intervene to protect the dignitaries participating in the movement. But, I was able to keep him from going any further and coerced him to stand with me as we honored his son. He groaned and growled (literally) as he tried to catch his breath. I believe, he was bound and determined to make it past me and the others who eventually surrounded him, so he could intercept his son's transfer case. He asked which case his son was in and I softly and quietly told him where his son was located. He stared and focused on that case with every fiber of his being. He continued to push against me looking side to side, as if seeking a detour around our human barricade. As the Dignified Transfer commenced, he broke a few times into tears and sobbed in between determined growls. I sat beside him, on one knee and silently prayed, calling on God to work and move in this moment and settle this restless, grief stricken soul. I asked for God's strength to help me, should I have to restrain this gentleman, but above all I trusted God to work through me to bring peace and calm to this situation. I calmly whispered the word "peace" as I held the man's hand. He gripped me with the force of a vice and I returned with a grip of my own equal to his. At times, he took deep breaths and sighed, between growls and grunts and I knew that my prayer was in the process of being granted. Silence fell over him as the carry team was about to move his son. I let go of his hand and snapped to the position of attention. He rose beside me and again tried to push past the corner post, heading in the direction of his son. I thwarted his attempt by leaning into him and grabbing his hand again. I was holding his right hand with my left as I saluted when the command was given. Then, the man took his hand from mine and began to salute beside me. I remember saying to him, "That's it, sir," "you're doing good," "hang in there with me." He was quiet and patient for a time. As the other cases were being transferred, he continued to salute with me for each one, 3 all together. Once all the cases were within the waiting vehicles, the attendants began to ceremoniously close the rear doors. The man broke yet again, calling out to his son and wanting to go to him. I calmly held him and told him "let us take care of your son now," and we would return him home safely. That was what he needed to hear. From that moment, he said, "I'm good now." "I'm glad he's home." The chaplain and I walked him over to be among the other families at the rear of the surrey bus and watched the transfer vehicles depart the area. The man knelt down and cried some more. I kept my hand on his shoulder and just sat with him. My last words to him were, "God's peace be with you now."
Quite an emotional and stressful evening, but all along, I just kept thinking God is in control here and I'm just one of his instruments to guide and assist as led. Glory be to Him.
Dignified Transfers witnessed (57)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)