A while ago, I was invited to Oklahoma to be part of a Vietnam Memorial Service for a very special young man who gave his life for his country.  The pastor, who had also spent his youth in Vietnam with this young man, had gathered some of the guys that were in the same company to come together for this special time of remembrance.  They came from California, Texas, Oklahoma, and Missouri. 

Living near a big, impersonal city where the thoughts are usually of how to get ahead, what can I own to outdo my neighbor, and with little or no regard for one another; we had no idea of what to expect.   Having very little to go on except for that underlying assurance and spiritual nudging, we loaded up the family suburban and headed for Oklahoma – a thousand miles away.  I could never have imagined just how this trip would become such a treasured part of me.

When we reached Oklahoma, we called the pastor to let him know that we were in town and where we were staying.  He said that he would send his son to show us the way to his house.  A young man drove up in a souped up little sports car – something you see in every city.  However, this young man was different; he was a gentleman in his every action.  Shy and vulnerable, he reminded me somewhat of how I remembered the young man we were there to honor.   We followed him to his father’s house; he being very careful that we were right behind him all of the way. 

The pastor’s home was everything to define welcome.  With open arms, total strangers were treated as though we were “home”; he and his lovely wife sang for us and offered to let us spend the night with them.  We were introduced to another Vietnam Veteran who had spent the night before with them, and we knew that without going any further, the long trip had not been in vain. 

Sunday morning we met up with the others at a local restaurant for breakfast and to convoy to the little church.  Breakfast was quiet, mostly everyone looking at each other and trying to figure out how each fit into the current picture from an unfortunate event so long ago.   Yet, there was such a sincere and calming presence.  If there were any apprehensions, they were beginning to fade.

The convoy traveled for what seemed an eternity and very far off of the main path; each vehicle keeping up and in line one with the other.  Arriving at the little church, folks were standing outside; they, just like all of us could not know what this Sunday was going to turn out to be.  A little man with a big cowboy hat quickly moved his car to the back of the church so that we could park near the front.  Even though his intentions were of pure kindness, we would never have disrespected him or his church by taking that spot – we parked in the back with him.    

We were in no way prepared for what we would find inside this little church.  You see, the night before we had brought a large picture from The Wall in Washington and gave it to the pastor to use wherever or for whatever.  As we entered the church, we knew immediately that from the Saturday night before until the following Sunday morning, someone has made that long trip to place the picture at the front of the church.  Beside of the picture, there was a folded flag belonging to a lady who came and who had recently lost her husband, and also a photo of the young man that we all knew, loved, and lost.  What a moment of honor to forever remember.

From here, these are the faces and the remembrance of them that day:

The cowboy and his wife:  such welcoming and gentle hearts who at no time looked at us as outsiders. 

The singing ladies:  sweet, sweet spirits so eager to sing for us and yet so gracious to share their place.

The young, visiting evangelist who came to deliver the memorial message:  who at first, kind of looked at all of us with question, but eventually came to realize why we were there after all.

The congregation:  small, but such a comforting place to nestle in like a loving family around a warm fire.

The brother and his wife of the one we came to honor:  unaware that the young man we all knew even had a brother, what a surreal meeting.   Kindness, gentleness, and talent must run in the family.

Two special Vietnam Veterans:  these have become like longtime friends and family – one who is all personality and funny, the other is quiet and so genuine.  It is amazing meeting someone in one day, and yet the friendship seems old and as if it were there all along. 

The lady who came for her lost husband:  she filled his spot exactly as I am sure he would have wanted.  How proud he would have been that she came to stand in for him with his brothers and friends.

The Veterans’ leader from so long ago and his wife:  she, so charmingly outspoken and full of life; and he, through his humility in delivering a beautiful Jewish prayer, left us in silent awe.

The pastor’s son and wife:  the epitome of kindness and grace, and so wonderfully involved in what must have brought back painful, yet precious memories for the father and husband.

And then there was the pastor:  who was so humble and devoted that you wished you could be a part of his church every Sunday; everything a Christian pastor should be and more.  While sharing past painful memories and making new memories, I can only imagine the young soldier that we all knew would have been very proud that day, and pleased to call him friend.

The day would have been complete had it ended with the memorial service.  However, the church family had made other plans prior to our coming.  As we left the church in a contented stillness and loaded our cars to make the convoy back to the city; the convoy took a different route.  When we stopped, we were in a park area beside of one of the most beautiful lakes.  In the distance we could see a long table and folks hurriedly setting up a meal.  Apparently, the day before, one of the gentlemen from the church has caught several big catfish from the lake and prepared them for the meal; a meal that included everything to go with the overflowing pans of catfish.  The loving welcome continued and became so overwhelming that we knew leaving would be sorrowful.

Time came and we did leave, saying goodbye to those who in two days had made an everlasting impression on our lives.  I could not help but believe that we experienced just an oh, so tiny part of what heaven is going to be – the indescribable welcome, the reunion of those we love, the unending sharing of life stories, the marriage supper of the Lamb beside the crystal sea, and the desire to never say goodbye or leave. 

How amazing it is to know that when Christ returns, when the Father sends his Son to show us the way to His house, there will be no more goodbyes and we will never have to leave.  For those who are so caught up in the things of this world or for those whom life has been so unfair, we pray that you will have at least one life-changing “Oklahoma Experience” – or, if not in this life, of a surety in the eternal life soon to come.