Welcome to another week! Last Wednesday’s driving wind blew off almost all the leaves in the Atlantic community. This is the time of year when I appreciate evergreen trees. Beautiful flowering crab trees lose their blossoms in a few days. Gorgeous sugar maples drop their leaves after a couple weeks. But blue spruces, hemlocks, and northern pines retain their needles year-round. They are a reminder of God’s constancy. He doesn’t change.
Veterans Day is November 11. This is a day to honor those who have served in the Armed Forces to protect our freedom. When I think of American soldiers, there is one face I can never forget.
When I was about six years old, my cousin, Lisa, lived with my parents, sister, brother, and I. Her good friend, Beth, often came over to swim at our house. She was a pretty, slim, blonde with a big smile and a natural way with children. Lisa and Beth are about nine years older than I am, so they were the height of cool to me. When Beth was around I stuck to them like flypaper.
Beth had an older brother who was one of my favorite people in the world. His name was Doug Mowris. For some reason we called Doug “Clyde.” I don’t remember why.
I can see Clyde now. He was a tall, burly young man with broad shoulders. He liked to swim at my parents’ house in the summer. I loved it when Doug came over, because he always teased my sister and me, and often threw us into the pool in what felt like an arc as tall as St. Louis’ Gateway Arch. Doug did the best cannonball jumps ever. You remember – cannonballs are when you jump as high as you can off the diving board, pull your knees to your chest, and wrap your arms around them. Dad still jokes that Clyde’s cannonballs splashed out half the water in the pool.
One day after swimming with Clyde, Lisa, and Beth, I started to dry myself off with a towel. I felt a fiery pain on my leg and started to scream. A wasp flew out of my towel while I howled. Through my tears I saw Clyde race toward me. He swooped me into his arms and sprinted into my parents’ house. One second I was screaming beside my pool, and the next I was sobbing in our kitchen while Mom slathered baking soda paste on my wound. Clyde was absolutely beside himself because I’d gotten hurt.
Clyde left us that fall. I never knew why, or exactly where, he went. I just knew he’d gone somewhere called “the Army.”
Six years later Clyde came home and moved into a house in Adamsville. That summer he asked me to baby-sit his son, Craig, for a couple weeks. Clyde worked nights. Craig was about two years old, and I felt honored he’d asked me to take care of his son while he slept. I didn’t get to spend much time with Clyde. He didn’t stay in our area long, either, and he left before I got to say good-bye. He moved to Missouri.
In February, 2004, I got some terrible news. Army Staff Sergeant Doug Mowris had died on January 29. He was killed in a weapons cache explosion in Afghanistan.
His family held a funeral in Aurora, Missouri, where he’d lived with his wife, Michele, son, Craig, and daughter, Mackenzie. His Adamsville area family held a funeral at Adamsville Presbyterian Church. My cousin, Lisa, attended his funeral. So did my parents. They said it was a beautiful service.
I was six months pregnant with my daughter and didn’t want to upset myself by attending his funeral. Now I wish I’d gone.
I’m so grateful to God that I knew Clyde. I remember him as a young man who loved to jump into my parent’s pool and make a big splash. I still hear his laugh and see him rubbing water out of his eyes after he surged to the surface.
Most of all, when I remember Doug, “Clyde,” Mowris, I see him cradling me to his chest as he raced toward my house, scared to death because I’d been hurt. I’m positive he served in the Army with that same thought: it was his job to protect our nation’s children from the bad guys in Afghanistan.
I wish I could thank him for fighting to keep little girls and boys and men and women safe. But I’m sure he wouldn’t have expected a thank-you note. He would’ve said he was simply doing his job.
I hope you’ll have the chance to thank a veteran this month and take a moment to thank God for their courage and sacrifice.
Please remember to vote on Tuesday, November 3. Clyde died to protect this privilege, too.
Have a wonderful week. Blessings.