Chase Oaks Church

This is a Kleenex story. Consider yourself warned.

Before the Christmas holidays, my niece Kristen sent out an email to the family asking if we’d consider sending her husband Mark a care package in Afghanistan. Although he was over there on his third deployment with the Marines, I had never sent him a thing, and it was about time. Kristen also suggested that Mark’s constant K9 companion would enjoy some treats. I knew my daughter would love picking out goodies for the dog, and that’s exactly how it turned out. It was so much fun. We got schooled at Petsmart on the right kinds of biscuits to send a working dog. The next trip was to Walmart to get some food for human consumption. I took the big box, crammed to its edges with of a variety of creature comforts, to my favorite shipping place.
 
Because it was getting close to Christmas, I expected the store to be crowded, but it really wasn’t. There was just one customer ahead of me-- an older man who had a stack of unpacked gifts to send. He was taking a phone call, so he motioned me to go ahead of him. I went about my business and filled out the slip for the package, and he obviously heard me mention where my parcel was headed. The tall, heavy man got off the phone and asked me about the recipient of the box. I told him it was going to my nephew in Afghanistan, and he looked at me, speechless for a moment. With tears starting to fill the corners of his eyes, he said that he’d lost his nephew a year before in Afghanistan. He was a Marine, killed by an IED. He had left a wife and three kids. Mark and Kristen have two small children, so the weight of Mark’s sacrifice hit me harder than it had before.

I shared that Mark was also a Marine and had made several trips there as a K-9 specialist, looking for explosives. The parallels in our stories had me in tears at this point; his nephew was killed by an IED and my nephew’s job was to find them. Both were Marines. Both had served in Afghanistan. The big man with the soft voice queried me further, wanting to know what was inside the care package. I explained that it held an assortment of carefully selected treats for Mark and his dog, Lex. I was leaning one hand on the counter when he put his huge, warm hand on top of it and said, “Please tell Mark thank you for me.” Then he asked the store owner how much the box would cost to send. I told him that the box was very heavy and that I would take care of it. He insisted upon knowing the cost and it was finally calculated at more than $28.00. He said, “Please let me pay for it.” I asked him if he was Santa Claus, and he smiled, “Yes I am.” I reached up onto my tiptoes and gave this massive man a hug, telling him, “Merry Christmas. God Bless you.” He said he had been in the military himself, and he really wanted to do it. He was honoring his nephew, and I couldn’t get in the way of that. I made my exit before I came completely unglued.

The story is made even sweeter by the fact that it happened on Pearl Harbor Day. This date, of course, has significance to our whole country. But beyond that, it has a special place in my family’s history. My parents met on Pearl Harbor Day, December 7, 1941. They were married less than a year later after my father completed officer training school. He went on to fight in WWII. My parents’ wedding bands bore the inscription, “Remember Pearl Harbor.” They are both now deceased, and every December 7th brings the memory of how much they loved each other.

I don’t believe any of this was a coincidence. God’s hand was all over this.

Christmas is over, but we still have thousands of servicemen risking their lives far from home. If you don’t have a loved one to send a gift to, consider sending a package through an organization such as Treat Any Soldier at www.treatanysoldier.com. I have also learned that the best way to send gifts is in US MAIL flat rate boxes because they are the cheapest way to go. That is, unless Santa Claus shows up at the shipping store to take care of your delivery.