listening to a hero

i was supposed to be directing light cues and sound cues and stage cues.  but instead of calling cues, i was doing my best to hold back tears.    i had spent the day prior in rehearsal for our school's annual veteran's day program.  i had obsessed over really important things like the placement of choir risers and the positioning of the color guard flags.  i stayed up late the night before retyping my director's script making sure every detail was in place.  every entrance and exit was exact and clear.  i woke up early and made a list of the items i needed to address before we could adequately honor our guest veterans. while driving my children to the program that morning i told them a little bit about the speaker and firmly instructed them to listen carefully.  i hadn't once thought about my own need to listen.
after a morning of rushing around, 9:30 came and the lights were dimmed and the bugle began to blow and i was still only focused on how the show looked and sounded.  i hadn't really taken any time to stop and think about how it felt.  i clearly hadn't stopped long enough to remember what it meant.   so i guess i was a bit unprepared as i sat listening to our speaker, marine corporal, edgar harrell.  i half listened for the first few minutes and without knowing it i found myself quickly drawn in.  and for a short time i stopped looking ahead in my script and i started digesting his words. word by word.  image by image.  on the stage before me stood a man who had gone to serve our country in war times.  he had gone to serve on a ship and  had ended up floating in an ocean for four days watching his friends and fellow solidiers die of dehydration, despair and horrific shark attacks.  edgar harrell was one of only a small handful of solidiers to survive the torpedo bombing and sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis in WWII.  and he was with us today to share his story.  to share his story with community members, with fellow veterans and with a bunch of school aged children dressed in their school uniform best.   he relayed the story piece by piece...there was a matter-of-factness to his telling, but underneath his calm words it was easy to sense the deep emotion.  we could only sit there and imagine as he described losing man after man, day after day, shark attack after shark attack.  just the thought of it stole my breath.  but even 65 years later edgar harrell spoke of this event with specific pictures rolling across his memory...pictures which, i am sure, will never fade.   he spoke of the little things which buoyed him up during these four days adrift:  a rain cloud, a lifeboat, a few rotten potatoes, a friend's words.   i removed my headset and closed my script for a few minutes and i sat and i listened.  i had no choice.  if  we missed every cue and messed up every remaining part of the program it would still be okay.  we would survive. this program wasn't about cues and scripts, it was about truth and honor.  this man standing before me was a survivor and how dare i not give him my full and undivided attention as he relayed his story.  why is it so easy to get caught up in the drama of directing life that we easily miss the opportunities of great blessing.  we lose the chance to honor true heroes.  we don't take the time to listen to real survivors.  i often pat myself on the back at the end of the day and declare myself a survivor.  i've even used that phrase recently when asked,  "how's it going now that you have five children?"  i casually replied,  "oh, we're surviving."  surviving.  really?  how shameful for me to flippantly toss around such a word.  as i sat absorbing this veteran's dramatic story i realized i don't know the first thing about surviving.
edgar harrell came today to share not only his story of survival, but to share his faith in his Great Rescuer.  he spoke candidly about the time these men had to pray before abandoning ship.  the time to pray while floating lost at sea.  the time to pray as they prepared for their own imminent death.   at one point in his talk he said, "there are times to pray and then there are times to pray....and there IS a difference."  this man knows the difference.  he stared into the face of his own mortality and he watched as God spared his life.  what a blessing for our school, for our veterans, for our children to hear these words from a hero.  from a real survivor.
before leaving the building i marched my two youngest up to edgar harrell's book signing table.  i wanted them to shake this man's hand.  i wanted them to tell him, "thank you."  bella hardly speaks english, but she sputtered out her version of gratitude.  connor shook mr. harrell's hand firmly.  he was honored.  my son was proud.  as we drove home, i asked connor what he thought.  he was quick to tell me he had listened carefully and then he went on to say,  "mom, his story was amazing.  he is a hero."  and i thought...yes, connor, he is.  and i was so glad i had listened.