As Heavy as The Cross

There are times in my life when I am oh so pleasantly surprised at what God does, in spite of me. I write with passion because the things I write about are the things I live in my life. I’m never writing for someone else, so I am amazed when what I say touches someone. Sure I love when my mom and dad tell me great things about my work… but well, whether or not it’s true, I feel like they have to! But the story I’m about to relay brought tears of gratitude and joy to my eyes because I knew that the Holy Spirit was at work, and someway chose to use insignificant me. After reading “I Have”, one of my most respected retired NCOs relayed this, in his words, “terrible, yet most honorable event”.  

While on call to perform Casualty Notification duties, I was tasked with notifying an eight year old little girl that her Daddy would not be coming home. While I was respectfully honored to perform this duty, I was saddened a great deal. That is a part of me that no one has ever seen.

The little girl was the only person listed on the Soldiers paperwork for notification, insurance and anything else- as regulation has it, I was to notify her and only her. She was not at her home when we arrived; however, her mother was. The mother had asked if we could tell her and allow her to tell her daughter, but as regulation stated, I could not do that. The wait seemed to be the longest I ever had in my 28 year military career, but she finally arrived. When she exited the vehicle my heart jumped into my throat, she had beautiful short blond hair, the biggest, brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, and a big cheerful smile that could capture the heart of the most hardened individual. She was filled with laughter and happiness. As a father and a grandfather, I felt as if I could not be the one, who in just a few short minutes, using a standard script, would destroy her world of innocence and happiness. As history has shown many times over, this little girl was about to see me as the monster who said her Daddy was dead.

Her mom had asked for a minute with her before she was told and we respected her request. When they came out and approached us, I stood straight with courage and confidence and asked the lord to please guide my words and hold me steady. He did. I was able to perform my duty with honor, integrity and respect for her dignity. After I told her, she looked up at her mom who was beginning to cry, and it was at that moment she began to realize what I had just told her. Her beautiful smile was slowly replaced with a sad frown, the happiness in her face and eyes was replaced with tears and contorted cheeks. I asked if she understood; she nodded her head yes, and my duty was done. I executed an about face and walked away without ever looking back. I could hear the crying and the words “not my Daddy” as the Chaplain and the Mother comforted her.

Earlier, as I and the Chaplain had stood in the yard awaiting the arrival of the little girl, I went over in my mind what I was to say and how I was to say it, knowing that she would not understand what was being said, nor why. The Chaplain provided comfort and encouragement with words of scripture and strength.

He reminded me of how Jesus, bore the burden of the cross for us because he knew that it was his duty and responsibility. He told me the story from beginning to end, a story I have heard a million times before- but I felt as if this time was the first time I had actually really listened. If a man who was about to be crucified could go with cheer and words of encouragement, I felt that my job was easy in comparison. As I was told, Jesus had a duty to perform just as I had.

Ma’am, you know that I do not easily display my religious beliefs, and as anyone who has ever heard me go off on a knuckle head would believe that I had none; however, it was my turn to bear the burden, and failure was not an option. Even today, sleep is difficult to come by as my mind often strays back to that fateful day and the eight year little girl whose world was destroyed in a matter of minutes with a few short words.

This haunting event took place about the same time our unit began its rotation back to the states. There were many delays in the departure of aircraft. Each time we received word of ETA of aircraft with a manifest, we were to notify the appropriate families of the flight and time of arrival. Due to sand storms and/or other events within the theater of operations, many flights were delayed from leaving multiple times. We would then have to call all the families again and inform them of this change in flight.

On one such occasion, a particular flight had been delayed numerous times. After about the fourth time notifying the families that the flight had been delayed a call came in from a spouse. She was understandably upset and verbally abusive in her anger. As the senior ranking Soldier in the building she was directed to me, I took her call and listened patiently as she yelled at me with the insinuation that this was our fault. Then she said “how in the hell am I supposed to, tell our eight year old little girl that her Daddy is not coming home?”

At that point, my anger swelled to an unbelievable level and all my years as a hard-ass NCO wanted to take over, cuss her out and hang up; however, the professional NCO took control and I calmly said “Ma’am, two days ago I did have tell an eight year old little girl that her Daddy would not be coming home, and was NOT because his plane had been delayed”. The silence that followed was but about 15 to 20 seconds but it seemed like an eternity. The lady then spoke and said “oh, I am so sorry, thank you for the information” and she hung up. I calmly replaced the receiver, turned to see a half dozen set of eyes on me; no one said a word as they watched me walk down to my office. Once inside, I closed the door, sat down and hung my head in my hands and pondered the event that had just unfolded. I thought of the outcome, and the possible outcome.  It was then that I realized that the burden I had to bear two days prior was now complete. I looked up and thanked the lord for steadying my shoulder and providing me the strength to calmly address the situation.

I now have a two year old granddaughter… she has beautiful blond hair, bright blue eyes, and is full of laughter and smiles. This experience has taught me to love and cherish what I have every day.

Thank you for helping me tell someone about this- maybe tonight, sleep will come just a bit easier.

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to tell this story- finally. The more time I have been able to spend with my granddaughter, the more this nightmare has played over and over in my head; however, your most recent tale of Casualty Assistance seemed to be the hand of fate opening the door for me to talk about it. You are the first person to hear an account of this event and I just know that no matter how heavy my burden seemed, it was not as heavy as a cross.

Reflection Question: Is anything you’re dealing with as heavy as a cross? If not, let go bring it to His feet and thank God for bearing the heaviest burden.

Shared with Permission from SFC (Ret) Donnie R. Burnett