“Those who are humble and willing to serve others will please God.” ~ Matthew 23:12
Kids often place their dads on marble pedestals. Craig certainly
did. But his father wasn't admired because he bought him a go-kart (he didn't),
or because he helped him with his algebra homework (he did). Now in his
sixties, Craig knew only that his Dad (Jack) had served in the U.S. Army in
WWII, but not much more.
A modest man, Jack was firm but gentle, far from the
caricature of the tough war veteran. He was not particularly muscular, seldom
cursed, rarely drank, and never bragged about his combat duties. His medals, if
they existed, remained silent as stones.
Other boys flashed
B&W photos of their dads in uniform. They swapped colorful battle tales.
Craig sometimes wondered why their own albums were blank. Maybe his Dad held
secrets.
Jack hesitated; memories flooded first. Then his eyes moistened as memories long ago rose to the surface, unhidden and unrestrained.
“Explosions cracked the sky; the sand was soaked with human sacrifice,” he sobbed. “All my friends died in that battle.”
He was one of the few survivors
of the assault on Italy’s Anzio Beach in 1944. When the cannons quieted, Jack
worked amid the ruins, gathering young men who would never stand again.
“We loaded bodies
and body parts onto donkeys so that every fallen soldier would find a journey
home.” A single confession that shattered decades of remorse for having
been spared the indignity.
Craig wept at the
horror his Dad lived through, and the lonely burden he’d carried. Several years
later, Jack joined his beloved wife beyond this world’s conflicts and winters.
With the help of the
local VFW, Craig researched his father’s service record.
He learned that his
Dad had served in the Army’s brand-new Rangers, the spearhead of a daring plan
to outmaneuver Nazi forces near Rome. For his valor, Jack earned a Bronze Star,
a medal that testifies a soldier stood taller than fear. Paradoxically, Jack’s
secrets were uncovered and amplified.
Some legends never
appear in history books. They sit at breakfast tables, smiling softly, trying
to forget the thunder of battles rumbling in their memories.
Greatness seldom
arrives boasting its own achievements. It often slips quietly through life with
calloused hands and gentle manners, leaving no need for applause. Such heroes see
their acts as gifts to God. True humility is hard to find because, ironically,
the moment we think of ourselves as humble… we are no longer so.
Lord Jesus, when you walked the earth, Your modesty
confused the arrogant. Help me never to believe myself better than anyone else.
Banish any thoughts of self-importance and let my heart always imitate Your
humility. Amen
