IN DEFENSE OF HONORABLE MEN

Healing the deep wounds of war, outer and inner

Ecclesiastes 3: 1 “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven..."

• I think my middle older brother Tom and my Uncle Arthur had a kinship, Both were a youngest son, both were lighthearted and happy-go-lucky kids and both died in war.  This is a kinship I wish had not happened.

• A new friend of mine on Substack Notes, as we were discussing family history, found an actual photo of my Uncle Arthur, who died in the D-Day invasion of Normandy in June 1944 and is buried there. His face looked "crestfallen" in his military uniform. The only other photo I had of him was a group photo, likely from the early to mid-1920's, with Arthur and his five siblings, including my Mom. It looked like Art was a mischievous young man, likely about 12 years old. He did not look heavy or serious. Although I never met Arthur, he seemed just like my brother Tommy, who was the youngest son (I was the daughter and baby of the family). Tom did not have a heavy bone in his body. He was humble and yet I feel certain he felt the uncaring nature of our Dad, who really did not really want a wife and family.

• That is another subject... but Tommy just seemed to give up when he was drafted in the later winter or early spring of 1968. Married to a wonderful lady, attending college in Portland, Oregon, he did not fight the draft as his older brother Ken did. Tom was sent to Vietnam and was dead in six months, four days after his 24th birthday. While WW2 was a different war than Vietnam, the staggering cost was the same, the incredible loss of human life, especially young men forced to fight and die.  I also doubt the people of Vietnam were happy with the conflict either, as they had awful suffering. I understand why General and later US Presiden Eisenhower warned against the "military-industrial complex" and how much our nation has been controlled by it.

• I am the last surviving member of my immediate family. I did not have my children, I sorrowfully aborted them both in 1973. Once I go Home, my family will be no more.

• Memories remain the links in the chain of humanity.

• I was the youngest child, two older brothers. A road trip in 1998 with my big brother Ken was a journey of fellowship but mixed with some sadness. We drove from Eastern Washington along the Columbia river, crossed over at Portland, Oregon. We had one silent visit to a military cemetery where my younger brother was buried, sacrificed in the awful little Vietnam war, August 1968. That war tore the Boomers APART.  No stereotypes here, the Vietnam War tore an enormous gash in the souls of the Baby Boomer generation. Unnecessary, unwanted, unfair, sacrificing young men like my brother Tommy, who was as far from a warrior as he could be.  Then our family is forced to bury him in a military cemetery, when we did not want to.   

• My older brother Ken and I left the military cemetery after briefly seeing Tom’s grave. We were sorrowful, unhappy and not impressed .

• Sadness and waste, the bane of the human race, for as far back as human history goes. Young men are crushed by the military-industrial complex.

• To some degree, this wound of my brother Tom’s death in war, has not fully healed in me.  The indignance, the madness, the arrogance of power, the tearing apart of my own generation, this still lingers to some degree. My own Boomer generation, seemingly the "bad guys" currently in 2024, blamed for this, that and the other, was devastated by the Vietnam War. The deep sorrow was interwoven amidst the chaos… and we all felt it, it HAUNTED us. Many young men fled to Canada or other places to not be drafted. Some resisted the draft with Conscientious Objector status, as my oldest brother did.  Some just gave up and died, as Tommy did.  His death, along with my Mom's sudden death in 1966, cut a huge swath from my life and affected me to this current day. I was on a path of rebellion and wandering as a Prodigal to my Christian faith, which I finally stumbled back Home to after 35 years, broken and still rebuilding myself, likely until Papa God calls me Home to Heaven.

• The human capacity for war is unmatched all through history. There is one mess after another and men bear such a terrible burden throughout it all.  Women suffer hugely as well but men are shoved to the frontlines. Gen. George Patton, an American General in WW2 in Europe, was an exception in that he seemed to thrive on war.

• Men and women are wired differently, both physiologically and emotionally. 

  I have no obsession with the " patriarchy”. Women have had to be clever in finding their way in a male dominated culture the world over... and yet men need women as well. No life begins without union of male and female. When the fighting can stop, we can actually help one another.

•  A certain dominance can be hard wired into men and can be honorably used, if guided in a holy way. Husbands and Fathers are supposed to be the provider and protectors of their family and as their own deep relationship with God grows, they grow in honorable ability to protect and provide for those they love, not as thug or control freaks, but as honorable protectors and providers.

• I fully "get" the disunity between men and women and the rowdy rise of feminism in my own Boomer lifetime. I do understand the frustration women feel with men, as I myself have dealt with it. That being said, however, at my Elder age (72 in early Nov. 2024), I can clearly see the depth of wounds not only of the body but the soul. I do not disrespect the military en masse, as I understand the need for common defense. However, so many men come home from war in a shattered state, broken physically and emotionally and not helped enough. Some men give up, turn to drink and drugs, as many of the homeless I saw on the streets of San Francisco were Vietnam veterans.  Stereotypes do not heal or help. “Toxic masculinity” is again, a stereotype that does not cover all men. Not all men are “thugs”. Some are honorable men of God, who embrace their responsibility to those they love.
  

  My own Mom was a Registered Nurse and also a Public Health nurse in my hometown of Klamath  Falls, Oregon, back in the 1960’s. I know she did encounter battered women, who were under the terrible thumbs of violent husbands who held the financial control and did not honorably care for their wives and children. This is the situation in our nation in 2024, with too many walking wounded out there and hurling of epithets and anger and stereotypes, aimed at how awful men are.  While I understand the sorrowful emotions, this helps nothing. No one gets help or healing, no one is listened to, no solutions are presented, just unloading and yelling.

• Sometimes I cause distress for myself in this sometimes-ordeal called life. Some people seem so good at it, just conquering everything in their path in victory, victory, victory. 

• Not me.

• Although I am making slow steady progress, I still struggle with discouragement so blasted much…like tonight.

• I came home from running multiple errands. Recovering from a fall on Monday in which I bruised both knee, lip and top of foot, I was in pain and I felt the need for a nap before dinner ( I am close to 72).

• I lay down and had a very intense dream. In the dream, I was struggling to get somewhere. I had a vehicle and there was a baby in the car. I left the baby in the car, twice. ( I have never done something like that before!).  Then I set out on foot, alone in the dark, alongside a desolate road by the sea or large lake, starting to walk to a distant location, wondering how in the world I am going to GET THERE. (where’s the car, Wendy??)

• Good grief, why do I forget my wonderful Papa God so quickly and continue to stumble my way in despair? That left-alone baby was ME. That lonely wanderer by the dark side of the road…was ME.

  Not wise, dear Wendy and anyone else out there who struggles so hard over things!

• Remember the comforting and warrior words of Christ, Who embraced us fallen and sorrowful and said from Matthew 11:28,

  " Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest."

  All you dear people who are reading this, dear men wounded in war, dear women mistreated and discounted , children in sorrow, embrace and listen to this verse!

• God and His Son will help you, step by step, day by day, even through turbulence. No perfection is needed. Only a contrite spirit and a broken heart. Just ask!

• Wendy Elizabeth Williams October 18, 2024

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• Finally, please pray for me that I clearly hear Holy Spirit’s still, small voice of counsel and guidance.

• I fully "get" the disunity between men and women and the rowdy rise of feminism in my own Boomer lifetime. I do understand the frustration women feel with me, as I myself have dealt with it. That being said, however, at my Elder age (72 in early Nov. 2024), I can clearly see the depth of wounds not only of the body but the soul. So many men came home from war in a shattered state, broken physically and emotionally and not helped enough. Some men give up, turn to drink and drugs, as many of the homeless I saw on the streets of San Francisco were Vietnam veterans.  Stereotypes do not heal or help.

• My own Mom was a Registered Nurse and also a Public Health nurse in my hometown of Klamath  Falls, Oregon. I know she did encounter battered women, who were under the terrible thumbs of violent husbands who held the financial control and did not honorably care for their wives and children. This is the situation in our nation in 2024, with too many walking wounded out there and hurling of epithets and anger and stereotypes, aimed at how awful men are.  While I understand the sorrowful emotions, this helps nothing. No one gets help or healing, no one is listened to , no solutions are presented. 

Sometimes I cause distress for myself in this sometimes-ordeal called life. Some people seem so good at it, just conquering everything in their path in victory victory victory. 

• Not me.

  Although I am making slow steady progress, I still struggle with discouragement so blasted much.   Like tonight.

  I came home from running multiple errands. Recovering from a fall on Monday in which in bruised both knee, lip and top of foot, I felt the need for a nap before dinner ( I am close to 72).

• I lay down and had a very intense dream. In the dream, I was struggling to get somewhere. I had a vehicle and there was a baby in the car. I left the baby in the car, twice. ( have never done something like that before!).  Then I set out on foot, alone in the dark, alongside a desolate road by the sea or large lake, starting to walk to a distant location, wondering how in the world I am going to GET THERE. That baby left alone was me! That lonely wanderer by the side of the desolate night road, was me.

  Good grief, why do I forget my wonderful Papa God so quickly and continue to stumble my way in despair? 

  Stupid. Forgive me, Oh God, help me in my stubbornness to just TAKE HOLD OF YOUR HAND OFFERED TO ME EVERY SINGLE DAY and quit the fighting.

  From the words of Christ, “Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest."

  Ask for help.