It is a strange thing that your child can be on the front lines, scouting the mountains of Afghanistan for Al Qaeda but still able to call you on your cell phone at the beach. But that is precisely what he did a month earlier from a satellite phone, the reception so clear, it sounded like he was right down the road. He was calling to tell his mother that he had secured leave, would be coming home, and he wanted to get married. The marriage part was not a complete surprise but we only had two weeks to prepare for the big event. . .

My son and his fiancee flew from Kandahar to Uzbekistan to Kuwait City and then to Frankfurt where they were on standby and were the last two people on the plane to Newark. The pilot on the plane announced to the passengers that they were on leave from Afghanistan and coming home to get married. They were easy for the other passengers to spot since they were in their fatigues, the only clothes they are allowed to wear on active duty. When they got on the plane the passengers stood up and applauded.

I picked them up at the airport, more than a little choked up to see them still in uniform, needing a shower from the long journey. Unlike our college kids who can fill a Chevy Suburban and then some, all the gear they needed -- almost all the gear my son has -- was packed in two Army issue backpacks. My son hugged me. He is strong now, very strong, and able to sleep anywhere at any time.

We put together a slide show of their childhoods for the rehearsal dinner. It was a delightful review of just what outdoor people both of them are, filled with the laughter that brothers and sisters poke at one another at shared memories. In the middle of the show I had a moment of emotional weakness, remembering a similar slide show that someone put together for a funeral I had recently attended. Anxiety in the face of death hovers around family members of those in active duty. Sometimes you try to banish it from consciousness as though reflecting on it might bring bad luck. Sometimes you try to bargain with it, hoping to control what is not controllable. But it is always there and it is deeply fearful. I never want to pass old photos around and talk about how great my son was when he was alive. And the only thing I think we can do that is spiritually productive with this anxiety is to continue to celebrate the wonder and goodness of life in the midst of it. What better place to do that than a wedding. . .

We had to have the reception at our house as my son is just shy of 21. He is old enough to die for his country and old enough to father children legally, but he is not old enough to buy a beer. Not only did his friends come, their parents came too, families that had grown up together. It was probably the first time that some of these parents had actually attended a party with their children -- rather than chase them down trying to put the party out… What a delight to see 50-something women dancing with 20-year-old boys. It was festive and the young people behaved with decorum. But at one point, I did notice one of our junior's doing a handstand on the keg, drinking beer upside down. 20-year-olds do things like that. I couldn't help but think for a moment of Lyndie England and a number of other 20 year old enlisted soldiers that made incredibly poor judgments that embarrassed our country. I couldn't help but think what Colonel's must think every month, without in th least excusing their behavior, the fact is that 20 year olds are capable of astonishingly poor judgment. With the demanding and stressful responsibilities that we place on our 20-year-old soldiers, I am amazed that so little poor judgment takes place overseas. Poor judgment is a daily routine at fraternity houses across the country and most every one of us here can conjure up an image of late night debauchery that got out of control, often fueled by alcohol or other substances, that seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time.

Our soldiers in Afghanistan are on a dry deployment -- no alcohol is available in country for the entire year or more of their tour of duty. They don't have access to money -- just a credit card that can be used at the base --and there is precious little entertainment even if you had cash. They are never off duty, just occasionally back at the barracks. Often their missions in the field go on for weeks at a time. During much of this, they have to interact in a friendly manner with villagers that they are not sure are friend or foe. They have to be friendly but also careful. Throughout all of this, they are the front line ambassadors of our country. That is a lot to ask from a young person.

My son has learned a surprising amount about Afghanistan in a short time. I was glad to hear that soldiers regularly dig wells with pumps as many villages have no safe drinking water. I was glad to hear that they set up medical clinics and dispense medicine. You don't read about how the military tries to address the local needs of the villagers. He showed me some photos that he had taken of remote villages in the mountains. He is very realistic about the limits of what is possible in a country so remote, with villagers that have been content with their way of life for the past several centuries and don't see any real need to develop. He understands that Afghani's are wary of Americans but he says they are more skittish of the Taliban; and he notes that even if we suddenly left and the Taliban and Al Qaeda left as well, it is not as if serenity would suddenly breakout in country because there is constant infighting among the clans. This has been their way of life for longer than anyone can remember. He understands the complexity of the ground and the ambiguity of trying to bring democracy and American values to their country.

© 2004 Rev Charles T Rush, Summit NJ. All rights reserved.