By Kiera Rich – KRich13@bellsouth.net

Today is a truly momentous occasion.  Let me tell you why.  With certainty of over 99.8%, I can say that I will never again post a blog that shares a title with the University of Nebraska fight song.  I am not now, nor will I ever be a Husker fan.  It is just NOT going to happen.  But for today’s blog, the title seemed to fit.

Many families at our church travel this time of year as kids are out of school for a week for sping break.  They go skiing in Colorado.  They rub elbows with Mickey and Minnie at Disney World.  They take in the scenery at Tybee Island or Hilton Head.  And this is how I know my husband loves me…Jeff and I go to Nebraska.

We came to see the musical “All Shook Up” at a local high school because a very dear friend of mine had the lead.   It was an amazing experience.  I got to sit in the audience and hear this young woman sing her heart out.  All the while, I pictured the little girl that she used to be.  The one who drew angel pictures for me and thought that I was magic because I made her a Snow White costume out of a bag of shapeless fabric.

It has been a very busy few days.  In addition to the musical, I have had the joy of spending time with a lot of other dear friends.  We have shared meals and conversation and a lot of laughter.  Each night as I crawled in bed next to Jeff, my mind would replay the day and I would marvel at how things have changed in the last two years.

Some of my friends are grandparents now.  Others are partial empty-nesters with kids away at college.  Other friends who had preschoolers when I left are now grade-school parents.  And time marches on.

The kids that I said good-bye to in the summer of 2006 have changed as well.  The boys are taller and their voices deeper.  For the first time this week, I called a friend and when her son answered, I immediately knew who I was speaking to and didn’t mistake him for his  sister.

The boys conversation has changed a little bit too as I heard the word “shaving” mentioned a few times today.  In year’s past, the item being shaved would have undoubtedly been someone’s hamster — not anyone’s face.

The girls have grown too.  They are much closer to looking me in the eye than they used to be.  They wear make-up, have their own cell-phones (With obnoxious ring tones.) and talk about learning to drive.

My old church has changed.  The smallish building that was once bursting at the seams, has been expanded greatly with the addition of a generous children’s wing.

As I got the official tour of the new space, I had a raging attack of A.C.E (Acute Closet Envy.)  The room that now houses the 5th and 6th grade Sunday school class has a spacious storage closet with shelves.  And the closet door LOCKS.  What a comfort to know that needed supplies would be where I had left them the week before; and, not misplaced by any one of the dozens of other groups that I shared my room with during the week.

And the space!  There was space within the classroom to play active games, do dramas and split into small groups without literally being stacked on top of each other. 

Many things have changed since I’ve been gone.  Interestingly, some things have not.

My friendships have not changed.  They, of course, are different than they once were.  But without exception, the fellowship felt old and familiar and wonderful — as if we’d all been together last week and not 18 months ago.

I felt the same feelings of “I never want this to end” as I sat on a friend’s couch and talked about everything under the sun.  Just as it has always been, her children popped in sporadically to share interesting tidbits of their lives with us.

And as odd as it may sound, my basic ministry within my old church has not changed.  Due to the fact that I am a member of a different church and live 1200 miles away, my ministry is definitely different than it once was.  But in its most basic form, I still love the Children’s Director and the kids she serves and I want to do everything I can to help. 

I had the opportunity to meet with the Children’s Director and her faithful sidekick for one of our “Dream & Scheme” times.  We used to do this monthly.  And, as I was reminded, the last time the three of us met was when I dropped the bomb that I was getting married and moving to Atlanta.  (Sorry guys!  I probably could have been a little more gentle in the way I broke the news!)

Saturday, over pancakes, we talked about this summer’s VBS, future curriculum ideas and an amazing array of other topics.  There was definitely a longing in me to be working with these incredible women on a weekly basis again.  I miss their friendship.  I miss praying with them.  I miss dreaming and scheming and having the opportunity to hang around and watch our plans come to fruition.

They inspired me to use the gifts God has given me in a way that few other people have in my life.  I miss that.  I miss laughing with them.  I miss being part of their weekly (And sometimes daily.) lives.  I miss them.

After all this reminiscing, you may be wondering where this ”family reunion” weekend has left me.  Am I ready to pack it in and stay here?  Is Jeff drafting a letter of resignation from his job and buying long underwear so he can survive winter in Nebraska?

Nope.  We are going home tomorrow and I’m sad but ready.  It’s time to get back to our regularly scheduled lives.  It’s time to get back to our church and our cats and the fellowship of our Atlanta friends.  It’s time.

I’ll probably cry tomorrow and not be able to stop thinking of my Nebraska friends.  I’ll probably re-play the priceless memories of this vacation for a long, long time.

But I am so incredibly thankful for two reasons.  The first reason is that I have all these people that love me.  There is great joy in knowing that our friendships can survive distance and time.  I was actually a little scared to come back to Nebraska because I was afraid things would feel awkward.  But they were not and I’m so thankful.

The second reason is because of the sermon this morning.  The youth pastor delivered the message and it was on salvation and John 3:16.  He spent a lot of time on the part of the scripture that says, “Whoever believes.”   And I was reminded that eventually there will be a day when I don’t have to say good-bye.  A day when my heart isn’t torn by longing to be in two places at one time.  That day is coming.  You really can go home again.  And I can’t wait.

As the lyrics to “There is no place like Nebraska” say, “We’ll all stick together, in all kinds of weather…”

I can’t wait.

By Kiera Rich – Krich13@bellsouth.net

Last December, my father- in-law died.  In a small cemetery in Summerville, SC I sat next to my husband.  We held hands and we cried at the loss of an amazing man.  However, as the funeral progressed, my sorrow turned to disgust.  Because Tommy was a veteran, having served in World War II, he was entitled to military honors at his funeral.   However, our “Official” military color guard unit couldn’t quite figure out how to fold the flag on Tommy’s casket.  As they started over for the third time, my face was red with humiliation and anger.   Shouldn’t knowing how to fold a flag be a basic skill for teams that get sent to do funerals?  It got worse when they fired up the portable boom-box to play a scratchy, warped sounding version of “Taps”.  This was supposed to bring honor to a veteran?

It was a sad day — on many levels.  Didn’t they know that Tommy was a hero?  I wish I would have told them.  Maybe they knew.  Maybe the color guard simply didn’t care.  But there was at least one man outside of our family who knew Tommy was a hero and for that, he was incredibly thankful.  His name is Steve and during the war, Tommy saved his life.  Steve wrote about his miracle in “Ramrod to Munster“.  Didn’t Tommy deserve more than novice flag folders and taped Taps?  I thought he did.  Then again, I loved him.  I was — and still am — incredibly proud of him.  I thought he deserved the very best.

Although I am thankful to be living in a country where my freedom is protected to the point of absurdity, I can’t say that I really love my country.   I know that’s horribly unpatriotic of me and my next blog will probably be an apology to all I offended but that’s the honest truth.  To me a country is just a country — a big piece of land broken up by rivers and oceans.  It has been said that soldiers go to war to protect a country.  I think that is ridiculous.  Soldiers go to war to protect a country’s people.  Much more personal, isn’t it?

I don’t know where we would be without our soldiers.  Sure, not all have been willing but most of them have been so much more than willing.  I am amazed when I think about someone putting their life on hold — walking away from school and jobs and families to fight in a war or a conflict that they may or may not have understood.  So many of those men and women never stepped back into those lives that they left unfinished.  And for what?  Not to protect their country.  They did it to protect us — their country’s people.  They did it to protect me.

This past September, we flew out of Kansas City as we finally headed home after a vacation in Colorado and Nebraska.  As we waited, the head flight attendant for our Delta flight came out into the terminal.  She went through the usual information about boarding and carry-on luggage and passengers with small children.  Then she did something that still makes me cry every time I think about it.  Over the loudspeaker she said, “Mr. Military Man, are you flying to Atlanta this evening?”  When the lone soldier in the boarding area said he was indeed flying to Atlanta, the flight attendant said, “It would be my honor to seat you now.”  She then proceeded to pick up his carry-on, link her arm through his and lead him to the plane.  After a stunned second of silence, everyone began to clap.  I was incredibly proud of my country and its people right then.  Through the actions of that one flight attendant from Delta, we were shown the compassion and reverence that every one of our veterans deserve.  They deserve nothing less than the very best.

I have thought often about Mr. Military Man in Kansas City.  Where was he going?  Atlanta, obviously.  But why?  Was he catching another flight somewhere else?  Was he going to Iraq?  Had he already been?  Was he going to see his parents?  Or his girl?  Or the baby his wife had given birth to after he left home?  Was he visiting for a week or two or finally stepping back into a life he left unfinished? 

I can’t even begin to guess how many lives have been changed by war.   Some lives were preempted as they fought and died.  Other lives changed forever as a soldier came back alive but badly wounded in body and/or spirit.  And then there were those who came back whole.  Sure, they still had nightmares.  They still recall the first time they shot at someone.  They still remember the first Christmas they spent away from home.  They returned to their old lives with experiences and memories that their families could never understand — even if they talked about it forever.   They went from being a witness to the vivid, daily reminders of the horrors of war to being a member of a society that lives with its collective feet firmly planted in the rose-colored future.  Slipping back into a life left unfinished is never easy but it’s especially difficult when you have been changed so profoundly but the world around you has essentially stayed the same.

On this Veteran’s Day, (Yes, this really is Veteran’s Day.  Tomorrow is just when the Post Office celebrates it so they can have a day off.)  I celebrate the soldiers.  I celebrate those men and woman who left as teenagers and came home adults.  And I celebrate those who never came home.  I am also praying today for the families of our veterans.  I think they are heroes too as sometimes it’s a tougher road for the ones who are left standing. 

So many lives.  So many stories.  So many sacrifices.   It’s hard for me to wrap my brain around the enormity of what has been done for me by the veterans of my country.   But maybe that’s ok.  Enormity is good.  And awe and wonder and a thousand other emotions that I don’t have the vocabulary to put into words.  I feel the same way every time I read John 3:16.  Someone left a life unfinished…and they did it willingly.  And they did it for me.  Happy Veteran’s Day.