Rupert – Gone Home, One Year

The morning started with me telling the maintenance manager thanks for stocking “goatskin gloves” which are durable but comfortable; but more importantly, they pulled up a forgotten memory of my daddy giving me my first pair when I was a student-worker in the 70’s.  As I drank my coffee at 9am break, I remembered daddy buying me a cup of coffee at the mill storeroom, for 10 cents, one of those same summers.  

Everything we did today brought silent, secret smiles to my face – the nonsense of the crew banter (daddy loved to horseplay), someone quoting a “Lonesome Dove” line (one of RD’s favorite mini-series), the stock washer wires and lip seals we had to do today (a pulp mill scene common for daddy).  I got out of my pickup truck this morning thinking of daddy as I was listening to Jeremy Camp wailing “Jesus Saves”;  and, I had several opportunities to share a Tony Evans’ quote with contractors around me.  Again, Rupert was “apt to teach” (an elder for several years) and often placed “toilet-truth-tracts” for stall-throne reading better than the graffiti!  Mischievousness is not the only thing he passed on to me!

Sometimes, I see RD in the shadows of the pulp mill basement, aligning a pump, as I walk through, looking up and smiling at me.  You see, today, 10/26/11, is the first anniversary of the departure of my daddy, Rupert Dickson Cornelson.  He has gone home; but, his shadow and memories remain strong.

Battle Scars

Down my back are long, rakish claw marks.  These are from running away, but not fast enough.  About my neck and face are fang wounds that have healed over.  These are from looking at the demon a little too long, sometimes even foolishly embracing the disguised “from-the-pit bull mutt”.  In my heart are streaks of hardened tissue.  These are from damage cause by taking in poison from the pit.  And, in my head are misfiring neural circuits that have to be re-routed because of demonic input that has left viral attacks of confusion and distortion, which have needed isolation and neutralization.  They must resemble dead cancerous tissue that threatens relapse, but lies dormant, at best.  Deformity and disfigurement have replaced the pristine original of youth, before the demons came.  These words come to mind -- “O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” (Rom.7:24)

                Resonating in my ears are the words from the Book, “…soldier not entangled…”  [“Join with me in suffering, like a good soldier of Christ Jesus.  No one serving as a soldier gets entangled in civilian affairs, but rather tries to please his commanding officer.” 2Tim.2:3-4]  But why have I so often forgotten or ignored this warning and advice?  Far too often I have returned from liberty that enslaved me!  On leave I have left my mind?  In the name of fun I have acted a fool.  So many others act far worse?  But, they are only more derelict and deceived?  What does the phrase mean, “The sin that so easily entangles…”  [Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.Heb.12:1]  I sit at the medic office, and examine the pictures of heroes of previous years of the war.  Medal of Honor recipients!  What focus!  What fearlessness!  What fervor!  What fidelity!  And now I need a shot.  Maybe I should just be shot?!

                Let’s think about this for a moment.  I do “bear in my body the marks…” of some previous battles.  [“From now on, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus”. Galatians 6:17]  Lord knows, some of these scars I got trying to do the right thing!  Turn off that blaring radio and ignore that lying “Hanoi Jane”.  There are things I have lost in this war, things I have left behind, things given up.  Some victories have been glorious.  Does some failure define character?  I am no fake!  I just fumble sometimes.  What of the struggles that have ended with the enemy running?!  Me and the “mighty ones” have come through some pretty difficult conflicts!  But, then there are the times I ran or played dead while the battle raged around me.  No full-blown treason, but would that be any worse?  The CO has even complimented me a few times.  But, does he know the whole story?  Likely he does.  But, he still lets me go out on patrol.   I am just glad to be a part of this god squad.  I cannot undo yesterday, but today is a new day (which He has made). 

Sometimes my mind wanders to thoughts of “civilian affairs” but, I will put back on my boots, my flack-vest, my tactical gear, my helmet, and pick up my rifle and take the next hill.  Let me be the faithful foe, that when my feet hit the floor every morning, it causes the Snake to announce, “Hell, he’s up; let’s go, you imps, now!”. 

Bring on the scars!  Let’s blast them back to Hell, where they came from!  Hllljh!