My Air Force teen made an astute observation yesterday as we drove on base to the BX: "Mom, it is so surreal to drive by a sign that says "guided weapons research facility" followed immediately by a sign that reads "library." Only on a military base. And these are the kinds of weird pairings that we usually no longer even notice in our lives as a military family.
This sort of juxtaposition most struck me early in our time in Turkey, when the base was conducting an exercise that simulated an attact requiring full chemical and biological weapons protective gear. Only the active duty folks participated in the exercise, while family members went about their normal daily routines. So as I drove past the chapel toward the commissary one day in Turkey, I heard the "giant voice" (base loudspeakers) announcing the latest development in the exercise, and noticed airmen squatting down in the dirt next to the road getting their gas masks on. So bizarre--driving my minivan to buy bread and milk and watching these guys pretend to be under attack. Because we knew "it's just an exercise" it was only that--bizarre. Not scary or alarming.
The only time it was truly alarming was the night before the kids and I were evacuated from Turkey in 2003, when Tom got a call telling him to have his protective gear completely ready...if any sort of attack did come, there was only one gas mask. He had to wear it. He was ready for us to get on that airplane to our "safe haven" so that he would not have to follow orders to save himself while we had no protection.
As I write on this Good Friday, I am struck by the love of Jesus, the One who protected us all. Rather than having only one gas mask that He had to wear to save himself, there was only one cross and one death that He had to bear to save us all.
May we never begin to not notice the enormity of that love and that amazing gift.
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