“Help lift others’ troubles and burdens.” ~ Galatians 6:2
She was barely 21 when she left her Oregon home to join the
U.S. Army Nurse Corps in 1970. Claire wasn’t rugged, brash, or courageous. She sobbed
when they chopped off her long auburn hair, each lock falling like a piece of
the girl she once was.
But when her brother
returned from Vietnam in a flag-draped coffin, grief rewired her heart. “I want
to help other boys get back home,” she whispered through tears after telling
her parents of her enlistment in 1969.
Vietnam welcomed her with the harsh realities of war.
She reported for duty at the 71st Evac Hospital in Pleiku, which also served as
the main terminal for U.S. military supplies. Hospitals were often located near
supply depots and, thus, targets for enemy fire. Explosions punctured the
nights, generators faltered, and surgeons worked with whatever tools they had
left.
Too often, though, healing arrived too late. Some died
within minutes. Others hung on just long enough to whisper their final words. Names.
Confessions. One last “Tell her I love her” as hopes crumpled.
After each brutal shift, she’d sit on a cot, refusing to
let their dying wishes perish. Pen trembling, Claire wrote letters to the
deceased’s family. Not official reports. Not empty condolences. A bridge,
however fragile, between a soldier’s last heartbeat and the people who would
mourn it. Expecting no response, she signed them: “From someone who was
there when they needed it most.”
During wartime, some become legends for charging into fire
or leading battalions. Claire brought a small gesture of kindness. Throughout
her 18-month deployment, she wrote 127 such letters. Each one a tender lifeline
just warm enough to heal, not harm.
Decades later, Claire Bennett visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
in the nation’s capital. Her
fingertips drifted across the polished black marble when a silver-haired woman
approached slowly, clutching a weathered envelope.
“My God! You must be Claire, right? I remember your picture
from researching military records.”
Claire’s brain stuttered for a moment while her thoughts strained
to catch up. She nodded.
From a badly worn envelope, the woman removed one of
Claire’s letters. “My son died in 1970,” she said, voice trembling. “You
didn’t know me, but you saved me. Your lovely letter brought me comfort and kept
me breathing.” Claire felt the world soften.
There’s something about giving of ourselves that makes our
hearts blaze brighter. We’ve all faced life, not on calm seas, but in storms
that would have shattered us. But the
kindness of others stitched us back together and reminds us that hope can be
borrowed when our own empties out.
Loving
God, teach me to love with Your courage and compassion every day. Let my life
speak the truth louder than my speech. May kindness become my signature,
written boldly across each day. Amen
