Sometimes God Answers In Strange Ways

Years ago, I thought I knew how the story would go. I'm a writer - I imagine endings and plot twists, and spinning stories is branded into the deepest parts of my inner DNA. I order and reorder words on the daily. It's a part of who I am at my core. And this story was no different. But little did I actually know...

Nearly sixteen years ago, I first heard the voice of someone who would end up becoming my best friend. A simple pick-up of the telephone for a question suddenly meant that worlds collided as connection after connection was made and we both realized that this encounter was Divinely destined. There was no doubt. Yet, in reality, there would've been no moment like that without what had taken place before. The story had been going long before we ever spoke, and it was because of what came before that we even had anything in common to begin with. 

For those who have been reading this blog from the beginning, you'll recall me telling the story of how I ended up at the local airport in the fall of 2005 with my family and a couple of friends to greet home some returning Marine Corps reservists to our community. It was at the height of the war in the Middle East, and these brave men (most of them not even 25 yet) had been asked to go into some of the worst areas to do their job. Most had survived, albeit with some injuries to show for it, but a few had not. And those losses had taken a deep toll on them all. Now, they stepped foot back on Alaskan soil for the first time in seven months, hugging their loved ones close and also facing the families of their brothers-in-arms who had paid the ultimate sacrifice and having to tell them, I'm sorry I couldn't bring your son/brother/friend home. 

That October evening, I honestly thought this would be the only encounter I'd ever had with these men. I didn't foresee it turning into anything more or continuing on past that brief interaction with them and their loved ones. And so, I poured all the support and love I could into them in those short couple of hours. Even though I was a teenager at the time, I remember thinking how grateful I was that they were safe - able to hug their wives, girlfriends, children, and parents once again. Prayers had been answered. But there was also the reality that Sharon held some of the remains of her fallen son that had been delivered on that same flight. The grief tampered the joy many of them felt. And those of us merely there to support were left with a feeling that we'd been dropped into a unique story and asked to help steward it in some way... that, even though we were civilians, we were tasked with keeping the memory of guys like Lcpl. Grant Fraser alive, even as we mourned their untimely death. 

Imagine my surprise then as the story kept going for months and even years later. I found myself at Christmas tree lightings, political events, community ceremonies, recruiting offices, military events, and even just passing the grocery store. It was unexpected, yet I couldn't deny that God was weaving this thread through my life for some reason. I sat with these guys and laughed with them, held their stories, listened to their pain and their spiritual questions, empathized with them in their divorces, and simply tried to be a point of light in their transition. And yes... I fed them plenty of my homemade brownies, too. 

These men became my friends. My brothers. They taught me about the brevity of life, how to walk through loss, the value of loyalty and commitment, the importance of honor, the willingness to sacrifice, the care for community - all lessons that would end up shaping my life, the way I see the world, and the work I'd later come to do in mental health. These Marines laid the foundation for so much of how I see and do everything and I continued to carry them and the memories we made together with me long after I saw less and less of them. Eventually, some moved out of Alaska. Some stayed, but I rarely ran into them. One even went back to active service and ended up giving his life also. And with the loss of Mike, I was now thrust into sharing in the grief with them for the first time. 

Then came January 2009 when I picked up the phone and "met" my Alex for the very first time. A young Marine himself who was three years removed from being on that very same deployment as my Alaskan friends, yet not from here himself. In a matter of minutes, a friendship that would endure to the death was born. More phone calls and emails followed as the thread kept going and going. Over the next six years, we would share some of the most special conversations together and finally meet for the first time almost ten years ago. In a short period of time, Alex would teach me things that would change my life - lessons about forgiveness and dedication, service, and real love. He would make me laugh and make me cry, always helping me to see some hidden beauty in the midst of great pain. 

But this week now marks nine years since the world tragically lost this amazing person, and he joined his fallen brothers in death. It was a shock. Unexpected. Almost unimaginable. And on May 21, 2019 I discovered this news and my world fell apart. My brother. My friend. Gone in an instant! And no sign of any of our mutual friends with whom to share the grief. So I wept and mourned. Alone. Once again, I thought that was the end of the story. Yet, God had another twist... 

Slowly, over the last couple of years, I have started to see those guys come back into my life. The brother-sisterhood is reforming. We are finding each other once more. It's different now, of course, but we're still bound by history and mutual connection in ways that we will forever cherish. We've now celebrated the retirement of Alex's (and their) former sergeant, we've gathered recently to celebrate the 249th birthday of the Marine Corps we all know and love, we've also gotten to see our fallen friends finally receiving the honor they are due after all these years and watch God weave surprising new chapters. And one of those who had such deep spiritual doubts all those years ago? He's recently given his life to the Savior - an answer to a nineteen year prayer on my end. 

When we were together recently and I looked around the room and saw Josh's three little boys and sweet wife, my mind flashed back to seeing him get off the plane all those years ago and greet his mom and two sisters. This precious family as it is today would never have been if God hadn't brought him home. I saw Richard and Franz and got tears in my eyes as I thanked God silently for preventing them from each taking their lives at separate points. As we all sat around and talked about Alex and how much we miss him, I also am grateful for the fact that his willingness to tell me stories and share the memories all those years ago brought me closer to these guys and their near two-decade journey. 

Sometimes God answers in strange ways. God invites you into stories you have no idea you desperately need to be part of. God sprinkles sorrow amid the pain and you sometimes wonder why love has to hurt so much. You find yourself experiencing joys and heartaches that you didn't plan for but somehow, feel strangely necessary. You watch your life be changed by people who come to mean the world to you and who you didn't know you needed. And you observe how the Author keeps writing new stories into the script, continuing to ask you to come along and stick with Him. 

2025 will mark twenty years since I first met these guys. I would never have guessed that they would watch me grow into adulthood and we would end sharing so much, grieving so much, celebrating so much together. Yet I'm thankful that I've stayed in the story with God. I'm thankful I've kept my eyes open for how He would keep working - because He has. Sometimes in order to understand things He is up to, you have to be willing to stay with it for a very long time. It takes patience. Because God doesn't always take the quick route home. But home is always the destination... even if that homecoming takes longer than expected.