A Man in Uniform: Folds Unfolded

My son Buddy knew RC as the older churchgoer he first met at Walmart. This was in the early days of our Deep South move. Later RC told me he would not have been as bold as me when I asked for his name because I couldn't remember it.

Me bold? RC was a lieutenant colonel who flew B-52 Bombers in Vietnam. Long ago he was a tough guy who mocked his wife’s faith until God set him straight and strong in Jesus.

Over this past year I’ve come to know more about his beloved wife of 50 years, CC. CC and a few gals held onto one corner in the Sunday women’s classroom, you know, like those pews marked out by certain families who’d scare any newcomer away. Those gals, however, gladly welcomed this newcomer in, since CC declared, “This is the Pittsburgh corner.”

Ah yes, even in church, there are Pennsylvanian die-hard Steelers fans.

CC was a Bible Class fan, too. Weekly she’d apologize to us, then say she felt that each devotion or sermon she read or heard that day was written especially for her. She needed that scriptural peace. Not only did CC have to nurse her husband through successful heart surgery, she suffered severe back pains and needed multiple surgeries—yet to be determined. 

This past Sunday I expected her in our black and gold corner. With a carved wooden stick, she quickly hobbled in, her face crowned in gray, her dark eyes sparkled peace. 

Our study focused on the Ecclesiastes' poem Pete Seegar set to music that the Byrds made famous, “Turn, Turn, Turn.” 

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
 There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn) 
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

 A time to be born, a time to die 
A time to plant, a time to reap 
A time to kill, a time to heal
 A time to laugh, a time to weep

 To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)
 There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)
 And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

Tuesday after that Sunday MBH and I watched, for the first time, a folded flag turn, turn, and turn unfolded. Snapped fully opened, the flag was folded in half, in quarter length, then ten times into a blue triangle of stars. It was held high by white-gloved hands then walked past the jar to be given to the petite woman in a white-collared black dress, a woman with a face crowned in gray and dark eyes that sparkled tears of peace.

CC has the peace that passes all understanding, a peace that the world can’t fathom . . . a peace with God and assurance of heavenly reunion. 

In this tumultuous winter or in any season, do you understand, can you fathom? CC and RC would tell you to unfold that folded Word of God and let your eyes so sparkle.