“Happy is the nation whose God is the Lord.” ~ Psalm
33:12
In 2003, Liza and her Mom sat
anxiously in the hospital’s waiting room, surrounded by dozens of desperate
family members. Every few minutes a Surgeon
entered through large swinging doors. Everyone
could tell instantly if the news was good or bad.
Liza, a five year old girl with eyes that sparkled with hope
and certainty, seemed the only audible voice an otherwise hushed room. Despite appeals from her Mom to “Shhhhh, don’t
bother these people,” Liza would smile and shake the raven-colored braids off
her shoulders to make them fall behind her neck again. Then she’d continue talking to anyone who
would listen in a way that created a hopeful diversion from the day’s tension.
She spoke about her Daddy.
Occasionally, shed glance down at the picture of him that she held in
her hands. In the picture, she held a tiny
bird with a splint on its wing. “That’s
Floppy,” she smiled. “My Daddy made the
splint so the wing would heal and Floppy could fly away.”
“And did Floppy fly
away after his wing healed?” someone asked.
“Sure he did!” she answered. It was strange, but inspiring, to listen to the
certainty in Liza’s voice, as if to say, ”Duh . . . my Daddy can fix anything!”
“Are you here to see him?” another asked. “Oh no, we’re here to see his friend,” Mom interrupted. “He’s still in Iraq. The friend we’re seeing was badly injured. He has no family. So we are here,” she said in a voice radiating
compassion and understanding. “It’s the
least we could do.”
Liza had amassed quite an audience by now. She told of the special bunk beds her Daddy
made from a picture in a catalog, and the broken bicycle made new because he
could fix anything.
She even told of a special doll that’d been ruined when she
left it outside in the rain. “He fixed
it better than new,” she beamed.
Mom winked at the tale signaling that her ruined doll had
been secretly replaced by a new one. But
Liza didn’t know. To her, “Daddy fixed
it,” and that was enough.
“Know what else?” she asked, her emerald eyes gripping every
visitor. “When the naughty men crashed
those airplanes into those buildings on 9-11, I asked Daddy if he could fix the
great big flag that was dirty and had holes in it from the explosion. That’s why he’s in Iraq.”
The room got deathly quiet.
“I get letters from Daddy all the time,” she continued, her
pride building with every word. Every
time he adds a P.S. that says, “I’ll be home soon, Liza. I’m busy fixing the flag.”
Mom looked lovingly into her daughter’s eyes noting the absolute
certainty in that promise her
Daddy had made.
Protect and guide our
soldiers, dear Lord. Strengthen them in
their trials; give them courage to face the perils they face. Grant them a sense of Your abiding presence
wherever they may sleep tonight. Amen
