Angel of Mercy (11 page)

Tim nodded, “You’re right. Well, you’re kinda right. I thought that there was a chance that you might be here. But if you weren’t, I was just going to give two sundaes to Gerald.”

Gerald sat bolt upright on the bed. “Not a problem! I can still eat two and Chelsea can have the other one!”

Tim rolled his eyes in mock dismay. Truth told he was thrilled that Gerald was in such a good mood. Tim carefully took the ice cream treats out of the bag and handed one to Chelsea, and one to his brother.

“Our Mama raised us up better than that, Pig Boy. Now share!”

Chelsea had to put her sundae down and wipe her eyes.
“Pig Boy,”
she thought.
I might have to remember that.

The afternoon continued with Chelsea and the Giacomo brothers in as relaxed a state of mind as any of them could remember. Tim and Gerald had an easy rapport, which could certainly be expected. When they got excited, they would say the same thing at the same time or finish one another’s sentences. As the evening wore on and the moon began to rise toward the desert sands east of Kabul Chelsea wondered whether the anxiety that Gerald had experienced during her previous visit had been resolved. Or, as she suspected, was it just being covered up while his brother was in the room.

Later that night Tim took his leave and Chelsea’s question was answered. To her surprise the answer wasn’t either/or. It was both/and.

“Chelsea, I need to tell you that I’m sorry for the last time you were here. It was sweet of you to come by, and I just dumped on you.” Gerald said.

Chelsea wanted to allay his fears. Certainly it hadn’t been the first time, and wouldn’t be the last that a traumatized warrior had expressed second thoughts about what had gone on under fire.

Chelsea put a cool hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “Please don’t worry about it. I just wanted to be able to help you. It was frustrating when I couldn't say anything to make you feel better. But since I was here last time I have some thoughts to share if you would like to hear them.”

Gerald operated the finger controls that brought his bed to a relatively upright position. He straightened the sheets on the bed and quietly said, “I would like to hear what you have to say.”

Chelsea cleared her throat and shared with her friend what she had received from God while sitting alone on a bench.

“Gerald, I was hurting so very much for you the other night. But I was frustrated, too. I felt as if there ought to be something that I should be able to say, or do, to make it better. And there wasn’t. And I couldn’t. When I left I went for a walk and a talk with God. He told me that I can help you if you have ears to hear His words.”

Gerald nodded, urging Chelsea to continue. She said, “God spoke to me about war. He didn’t mention you by name, but I know that I’m supposed to share these thoughts with you. He told me that He grieves about war. There are no good guys in a war. There are no bad guys either. There are just His Guys.

“That made me see something more clearly. Everybody in the world wants to be on the right side. Heck Gerald, everyone in the world already thinks they’re on the right side. Not just this war, every war! God showed me His heart, and it was broken. His kids killing His kids.”

Gerald started to speak, but Chelsea held up her hand. “Before you talk let me finish. I heard God in my heart, but I didn’t know so far how this was supposed to make you feel better. But the longer I listened, the more I understood. It’s like this. War is a human tragedy. It’s not a great and mighty Holy conflict. It’s just…a mess.”

Chelsea leaned closer to Gerald and made sure that he was meeting her eyes. She took his left hand between both of hers as she came to the part of her conversation with God that she truly wanted to impart to Gerald.

“Gerald, what happened to you happens on both sides of every battle in every war. The moment of hesitation. The split second decision that you wish you could take back. The awful things that the guys in your unit…even the guys in charge were doing. It happens and it makes God sick to his heart. But what makes him sick even more is the fact of the war at all. And He wants to speak to the heart of the men and women who will listen. He wants to comfort them for the bad that they’ve seen, and even the bad that they have done.”

Gerald Giacomo’s eyes glistened as he listened to Chelsea. Forgotten were the ice cream sundaes and the banter that had been shared in his room that afternoon. Forgotten was the pain that Gerald still endured from his own injuries in the war. In fact, the pain seemed minuscule by comparison to the way that his heart swelled in response to Chelsea’s words. Most of all, though, forgotten was even that it was Chelsea who was speaking. Certainly her chestnut hair was still gleaming as well as styled in the peekaboo fashion that Gerald admired. Of course, her heart-shaped face glowed with health and inner light. Without a doubt, her full and dewy lips formed the words. But Gerald cared nothing for that at the moment. Her words were the voice of God, and Gerald bathed in them.

“Gerald, God the Father is a God of comfort and peace everlasting. Obviously that gets obscured when His children are thousands of miles from their loved ones engaged in a war. But through it all God is Love and Peace. He’s Love and peace to both sides. He’s love and peace to all sides. They are His side.”

Chelsea paused for a moment. The best part of what she had to say was next. But she wanted to get the words right. She reached into the small book shelf that was next to the bed and withdrew the Gideon Revised Standard Version Bible that is ubiquitous in hospitals and hotel rooms everywhere. She opened the Good Book to the very midpoint and looked at Gerald.

“God didn’t give me the rest of what He wanted me to say to you. He just told me to open my Bible. I knew that He would show me what He wanted me to see. After I got home that night, He did show me. I was drawn to this passage. I would like you to read it out loud if you would be willing.”

Gerald’s eyes widened a little, but he quickly agreed. He knew that Chelsea had been sent to him for a reason. He also knew that if comfort and peace were to come about he would have to be willing to not just listen but act as well. He realized that reading the passage that God had for him was part of showing his willingness to act. Chelsea put her finger on a passage and said, “Read starting from there.”

The words from the Bible verses swam before Gerald’s eyes. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and read from the 25th Psalm.

“Make me to know your ways, O God. Teach me your paths.

Lead me in your truth, and teach me.

For you are the God of my healing;

For you I wait all day long.

Be mindful of your Mercy, O God, and of your steadfast love, for they have been of old.

Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions.

According to your steadfast love remember me for your goodness’ sake.

Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.

Relieve the troubles of my heart and bring me out of my distress.

Consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins.

Guard my life, and deliver me.

Do not let me be put to shame, for I take refuge in you.”

Gerald carefully placed the Bible beside him on the bed. He drew a deep, cleansing breath and looked at Chelsea. She had seen him smile before. She had even seen him laugh. But she had never seen his eyes shine with clarity and peace before. She wanted to hug him.

Though Gerald shared Chelsea’s desire that a hug was in order, there was something else that needed doing first.

“Pray with me, Chelsea?”

Chelsea nodded and bowed her head. Gerald took her hand as he spoke aloud the words of his heart.

“Dear Lord, thank you for, well everything. Thank you for my brother, and my parents. Thank you for Chelsea, too. Thank you, most of all for your love, and gracious mercy. Help me to serve you out here, and also when I get home. Help me to take the peace that you showed me in this hospital bed back to my unit and whoever else needs it as I need it. Amen.”

Chelsea and Gerald looked at each other with smiles as wide as if it was Christmas morning and they were eight years old. And it was. Chelsea had been given a gift, and she had passed a gift on to her friend. While it is true that greater love hath no one than to give one’s life for his friend, Gerald felt like Chelsea had, in essence, done that. After the way that he had treated her when she had been in his room before she could have walked away and not come back. Instead, she braved his wrath and came back. Not only did she return but with her she brought God’s love, when Gerald hadn’t been sure that he would ever be able to feel it again.

Chelsea turned her head quizzically as a smile spread over Gerald’s face. “Specialist First Class Gerald Giacomo, what are you thinking?” she said with a smile in return.

Gerald rubbed his hair, grown a little longer than regulation by his stay in the Glynnis Unit. In fact, he was due for a visit from the hospital barber any day. As he felt his hair, though, he realized that he was stalling for time. He didn’t know for sure whether or not he wanted to tell Chelsea that thought that had just passed through his mind. Given what they had shared together, though, how could he withhold now?

“In my prayer I thanked God for His gracious mercy,” he said looking at Chelsea. She nodded, remembering every word of his prayer.

“I know. It was a beautiful prayer from your heart.”

Gerald, in for a penny in for a pound, plunged ahead. “I was just thinking that God sent you to me…as my angel of mercy.”

Chelsea wanted, more than anything in the world at that moment, to hug Gerald and hold him tightly to her. But the logistics of the hospital setup made that impossible. As she looked into his eyes, though, she knew that the day when she would hold him, and be held by him, would transpire sooner or later.

Later that night, Chelsea was walking home from the Glynnis Unit. As she passed “The Canteen Afghan,” a popular drinking establishment on base, she decided to stop in. Chelsea wasn’t much of a drinker, and her latest 12 round bout with a hangover made her even less so. Just then, though, she was a little keyed up didn’t feel like being alone. Her time with Gerald had been precious and, while she didn’t want to share it with the world, she still wanted to be around people while she processed it. It felt like a secret that was that much more precious if it was kept to herself.

“You’re losing it, old girl,” she said to herself. But with these jumbled thoughts bouncing around in her head she decided to see who was in the canteen and what was going on.

Chelsea worked her way through the crowd, pirouetted around a lurching couple doing their best drunken impression of a dance, and finally arrived at the bar.

“What can I get for you, Miss?” the bartender asked.

“Tequila Sunrise,” Chelsea answered.

Drink in hand, Chelsea turned around to see who was in the establishment that she might know. As her eyes slowly scanned the crowd, she found a number of people with whom she was acquainted. After all, though Bagram Air Base hosted almost 30,000 of the 64,000 American troops in Afghanistan it was still, in many ways, like a small town. The folks that you saw at breakfast you may well see at the Lucky Duck Laundromat later that same day. Chelsea nodded and waved to a few of the people that she saw.

Then she looked toward the extreme left edge of the dance floor…and saw Lt. Matthew Clark dancing cheek to cheek with Wendy Shafer. At this point, Chelsea knew that she had two options. The most prudent choice would have been to walk away. Wendy was a big girl and could take care of herself. But Chelsea remembered the torment that had been Lisa Glenn just a few days earlier. Lt. Clark was a player and Chelsea could hardly bear seeing Wendy being played as Lisa had been played. Chelsea took her drink and moved along the wall, getting closer to Wendy Shafer and Lt. Clark.