15 Years Old

I met a man a few days ago who had to be in his 80s or 90s. He was wearing a hat that had a logo on it that read, "Veterans of Underage." I rarely miss an opportunity to thank military veterans when I see one. This day was no different. Assuming his hat meant he was one of those men who lied about his age when he signed up for military service, I asked him how old he was when he enlisted. He response floored me. "I was 15," he said.

Immediately my mind raced back to the days when I was 15. Days when you could find me hanging out with my friends. Days you would see me playing baseball, or football, or some game on Atari 2600. Yet, here was a man who suited up in military attire, took up arms and set out to free the world from madmen like Hitler and Mussolini. What a contrast!

I can't help but wonder what his mom thought the day he came home and told her he had enlisted. To be honest, its hard to imagine. For those of us born after that generation, I truly believe we have no clue. It was a different world then. A world in which boys didn't lose themselves in a virtual gaming world. No, this was the real deal. A world in which you didn't get unlimited lives. This was a world where the blood was real and the risk was high. This was a time when heroes weren't rock stars or athletes. It was a time when our heros where boys who were willing to preserve our freedom even if it meant losing their very lives.

I didn't have time to hear this man's whole story, but I'm sure he had one that would have kept me on the edge of my seat and brought me to tears. I struggle a bit when I see men like this because I know they won't be with us much longer. What a tragedy it will be, and how much poorer we will be when that generation is no longer with us.

I look around and I see a world consumed with this idea of entitlement. A world that's screaming for their rights and what they deserve. A world for the most part unwilling to make any sacrifice to preserve the freedoms and liberties we have. Of course, I'm not referring to our military men and women of today. They are a small remnant though in a world that's forgotten what it took to get where we are. Today if a 15 year-old boy or girl were to lie about their age and enlist, the military would have a lawsuit on their hands. Yep, times have changed.

I'm not advocating 15 year-olds in the military. I'm pretty sure you'll agree that the idea of today's 15 year olds in the military is quite a scary scenario. I'm thinking I wouldn't feel all that safe. At the same time, somehow, the idea of this gentleman I met being a defender of my freedom set me at ease. Perhaps, it was the gaze in his eye and the weathered skin that told the story of a man who had been to hell and back. I'm not sure. And perhaps, my view of this man at the age of 15 is way off. Still, somehow I know that even at 15 years old, I would sleep well knowing this man was defending my freedom.

At 15, I was shooting spit wads across the room, my mom had to wake me to get ready for school and I complained when I had to mow the yard. At 15, this man was dodging incoming shells and firing at the enemy. Indeed, times have changed. I'm just so thankful for all those "Veterans of Underage," and the parents who made those incredible sacrifices. Without those heroes, it is no doubt that my life at 15 years-old would have been much different.

Worth The Pain

Men are a peculiar species. I can say that because I am a card carrying member of that sect of humanity. Actually, anyone can say that, because its true. I guess it could be just me that's a bit peculiar, by I really don't think I'm alone here. I think its us guys as a whole. If not in whole, at least for the most part. Case in point, picture me in the woods with a .12 gauge shotgun. An old school shotgun, no recoil pad, just a hard, real wood stock that would flat out knock some skinny boy on his can. Lot's of boom, lots of bang, and lots of kick. Now, since I am a couple of decades removed from the skinny boy days, there's not much of a chance of me getting knocked on my can. No, I just get some major pain inflicted in my right shoulder. Now, although I've never been a hunter, I have shot deer rifles before but this was my first crack at a .12 gauge. I knew straight up, this puppy was going to kick a bit, but never thought it would kick as much as it did. Six days later, I'm still feeling the effects of the shotgun recoil in my shoulder.
What's so crazy about the whole thing, and I'm sure you men can relate, after the first shot I had to do it again. Knowing full well that this thing was going to flat hurt, I just had to do it one more time. Now, if it was just me out there, I would be inclined to think that I was just a bit on the weird side. But, I wasn't alone. I was out there with a buddy of mine and both of us were commenting on how much it hurt but we just had to shoot the shotgun again. I would understand it a little better perhaps if we were shooting at some food to bring home to the family, but we weren't shooting at anything but an old structure and some glass. No real pay off or reward for our pain. Just the satisfaction that we were making lots of noise, destroying something, and handling a gun with lots of power. That's it. Plain and simple. And for that simple pleasure, we figured it was worth the pain. So we just kept shooting. Laughing and rubbing our shoulders after each shot.
Ok, so we men are a little peculiar like that, but really life is not all that different for all of us. Life produces bumps and bruises along the way. We stick our necks out to connect with others only to find ourselves "rubbing our shoulders" so to speak. The fact is, building relationships with others produces pain in our lives from time to time. Some of those wounds are simple surface wounds, while others are deep wounds that take years or maybe a lifetime to heal. So, what do we do, quit and withdraw from others? Some do, but that is truly a tragedy. We were never met to live life alone. God created us to live in fellowship with one another. What happens when we withdraw and isolate ourselves is we eliminate our ability to feel the true spirit of family that God desires for us to experience. Sure, its not perfect because it involves people, but it beats isolation hands down. Of course, opening yourself up to others is risky, but isn't everything else in life. Trust me the payoff is worth it.

So, go for it, but get ready cause this thing kicks quite a bit. Believe me though, you'll find yourself rubbing your wound afterward, only to want another shot. Man, life is a blast!!!