Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Death and Life

                The machines in the room hummed steadily. Wires trailed from them to the man in the bed. Although the visible injuries—a bruise here and there, scraped cheek, cut forehead—seemed minor, the real damage was invisible to the observer. The soldier’s body, so strong on the outside, was betraying him from the inside.

                Was it really just yesterday that he had been working to clear the rubble? Searching for survivors of the most recent attack? He should have waited. Should have followed protocol. Walking into an unsecured structure alone was foolish. On the other hand, if he had waited, there would be five men waiting for death instead of only one.

                The child’s crying had compelled him to enter. Perhaps it was his own imminent fatherhood that caused him to rush. Perhaps it was simply the instinct built into every human that spurred him forward. Whatever the cause, he could not ignore the cry. What if it were his baby girl trapped inside? He would want someone to save her.

                The bomb went off the instant he stepped inside.

                The immediate physical damage was minor—a few cuts and scrapes from flying debris. It was what the explosion released that was deadly. A specialized airborne pathogen that only survived in the air for a few seconds. But a few seconds was all it took. It had become a favorite weapon of the enemy—non-contagious, short life after exposure to air, and fatal results. Always fatal. Lured by a child’s cry, caught unawares, a few seconds was all it took for the virus to take root inside his body. At that very moment, it was eating away at the soldier’s body. The medical technology could bring him comfort but not a cure.

                It wouldn’t be long now.

                He turned his head as a sound reached his ears. The door of the room opened to admit a woman. Her skirt was long and full, her shirt soft and pink. Her short hair was clipped out of her face, and there was a tag on her wrist identifying her as a patient. There was no make-up on her face, but there was a light in it that competed with the sorrow in her eyes. In her arms, she carried an infant.

                She approached the bed and carefully sat on the mattress. “I’ve brought someone to meet you.” Her voice was soft and tinged with an accent. She angled her arms toward him. “Meet your daughter.”

                He moved to lay a finger on the cheek of the child. His child. The child who took her first life-giving breath at the exact moment he took the breath that would cause his death. The child he would never see grow up. The child he was meeting for the first time and the last time.

                He adjusted his pillows to sit up straighter then held out his arms. As he held his baby girl, she looked up at him with bright, round eyes. He studied every detail. Wonder and awe filled him as he gazed at her. Then, slowly, a feeling of pain crept over him. Like the afternoon shadows, it soon overwhelmed every other emotion. Tears flooded his eyes as he wept for the life he would never see.  “Allegra,” he choked. “Call her Allegra.”

Allegra. A name meaning ‘joy’ and ‘cheerfulness.’ He wanted his child to bring laughter and love not to be a reminder of sorrow and pain. As she grew, Allegra would be a symbol of the good times. She would be a ray of sunshine in the otherwise dark days ahead.  Features of the man she would never meet would become defined on her face. She would share her father’s good humor and easy confidence. She would be a part of him that would continue to live on.

He continued to gaze at her. His wife pulled her feet under her and shifted to put one arm around him, the other over his hand on their baby. She laid her head on his shoulder, her own tears sliding down her face.

And there they sat—both wishing desperately to stop the clock. To freeze time. To make the moment last forever. But time is cruel. It stops for no one. It gives no thought to one’s agony. It continues to tick forward moment by moment. That is the circle of life. In that room, one life was endiing while another life  was just beginning.


…You do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. ~James 4:14 (ESV)