There is a woman at our former church named Sally. While I do not know her, she is known by many, including Diane and others I know. By all accounts, she is the sweetest, most loving woman. While I’ve heard her name before, I became aware in the last couple of days of the most remarkable thing.

Sally has known suffering. She lost both her husband and brother in the last couple of years to illnesses. Throughout, her faith has remained strong and her countenance gracious.

Last week, her son, Steve, 47 years old, dropped dead of a heart attack. He left behind a wife and children. This, then, is the story of Sally, Steve, Steve’s family and a soldier.

There may be many reasons why American men and women volunteer to serve their country in uniform. Perhaps some see it as a way to break out of a rut dug during teenage years. Or, to land something secure as an alternative to other options they face at a young age. Perhaps some see the benefits of learning a skill that can be marketable once the time of enlistment or commission is finished. Others are motivated by more altruistic reasons, such as the desire to serve a noble purpose or to protect fundamental values like freedom. Of course, some see the threat posed by evil people and societies that do not share our values as significant, their service thereby being a way to keep our homeland as safe as possible. Whatever the initial motivation, many end up in harm’s way and some sacrifice their lives as a result.

One of these brave volunteers had his body blown to pieces three years ago in Iraq. While he, in fact, survived, it was without any arms and legs.

Can any of us truly imagine this? What that must have been like when he woke up? What it was like in the weeks and months that followed? What it has been like in the last three years?

In what ways do we truly suffer? In what ways do we daily take the most simple things for granted? How truly are we disconnected with the actual human condition in front of our faces as we go about our lives, with our pride and anger and self-righteousness?

I do not know the name of this soldier but his life intersected with the lives of Sally’s family a few days ago.

When Steve had his massive heart attack and it was clear it would be fatal, his family asked that he be put into a medically-induced coma so they would have enough time to say goodbye in their own grieving way. While his brain registered no activity, that undoubtedly did not matter as his chest rose and fell with the rhythms of the machine.

Their wishes also allowed medical professionals to pursue options for organ donations as that was Steve’s desire.

We are now used to seeing injured veterans with those prosthetic legs of carbon fiber that look like they have small skis for feet. There are other versions of this but we know that many who have lost one or both legs are ultimately able to walk and run and maintain some semblance of a normal life thanks be to the advances in medicine and technology.

Perhaps we are also aware of prosthetic arms that are biomedical marvels. But, they say, there’s something about arms that make the manufactured ones a less suitable replacement as we find with the legs.

In the time where Steve remained “alive,” it was discovered that his arms were a perfect match for this soldier. The key word here is perfect. They had to match in age, skin color, weight, blood type, etc… I am given to understand that the act of connecting a donor’s arms to another has only happened several times. This is pushing the edge of the medical envelope.

I’m not sure if the procedure has just happened or is imminent. This morning, in our regular prayer group, we prayed for Steve’s family, for the gift of Steve’s life, for Sally, for the soldier and his family and for the medical staff.

Diane mentioned what an amazing thing it would be for Sally to meet this soldier at some point and be embraced by him with the arms of her son. It’s a cold heart indeed that is not moved by such a picture.

There is far too much self-segregation going on in our society today. Far too much tribalism that sees others as opponents, where our identities are wrapped up with this or that thing that ignores the thing that makes us human.

When men and women volunteer to serve and protect, they have some idea of the risk. This soldier fervently hoped the day would never come when he would be alive without arms and legs … the stuff of nightmares. Sally, who has suffered the loss of loved ones, also continues to experience the stuff of nightmares, as her son died so young and so abruptly. Somewhere, in our consciousness, we are aware of the risks. What are we doing about it?

Sally and her extended family are saying goodbye to a loving son, husband and father. They are also saying hello to a man who, hopefully, will be given a renewed chance to flourish in this life. Strangers indelibly connected without walls.

It’s fitting that this is happening on Veteran’s Day, the one day a year when those of us who care, pause to reflect on the sacrifices made by others who don the uniform and assume a heightened level of risk. For those of us who care, we use this moment to pray in our own way, to give thanks for their service on our behalf.

Many folks my age had fathers who served in World War II. My father piloted planes for the Marine Corps in the Pacific Theater of War. Diane’s father did the same for the Army Air Corps, later spending a career as an Air Force pilot. Diane’s sister Mary’s husband, Greg’s, father piloted planes in WWII, Korea and Vietnam. My friends Dan and Mike had fathers who also flew combat planes in WWII. My sister-in-law’s, Julie’s, father fought in the jungle hells. Many of us know veterans of Korea and Vietnam and, increasingly, Afghanistan and Iraq. Today is a day we remember them and so many others, including a certain soldier whose story we are just now learning.

I pray that the operation is a success. I pray for Sally and her family that they may be comforted in this time of intense grief. I pray that such grief is also accompanied by a sense of hope and grace at how Steve’s life is proving such a remarkable gift to a complete stranger. I pray that all of the men and women who serve (and their families and friends who support them) will get the sense today that we care and are grateful.

Amen.