The following was inspired by a trip. October 8, 2004 my dad and I left East Texas for an eight day journey to the NATIONAL D-DAY MEMORIAL in Bedford Virginia and on to the WWII MEMORIAL in Washington, D.C... We prayed and took communion together at the NATIONAL CATHEDRAL. It was the first time in my 57 years that I was able to do something for the man who did so much for me.

The old soldier stood at attention beside the etched granite. “Freedom isn’t free” emblazoned in stone and his vivid memory. He was humbled and even embarrassed to be still standing. Like most of those who assaulted Omaha Beach, Normandy France that D-Day morning June 6th 1944 he believed the real heroes were the thousands who paid the ultimate price that day and many thereafter.

Special Ranger SSgt. Eddie Mahan, my 82 year old dad, probably didn’t remember where we stayed the night before. It didn’t matter. He did remember in detail his assignment: protect the combat engineers of the 29th Infantry Division while they cleared the beach of obstacles. In blood soaked surf, over bodies, and through wreckage the landing craft delivered him to begin paying the price. He survived June 6^th, the battle for Trevieres, Cerisy and Hill 192. Across Northern France July 9^th a machine gun bullet to the ear did little damage. More awaited him after St. Lo. On July 27, 1944 at a hedgerow gap the German paratrooper’s 44 caliber rifle delivered the price point blank. Five months of hospital and rehabilitation should have been his final battle. It wasn’t, it rarely is.

In peace he found no peace. Home has little meaning when there is no family. Father and mother had long passed before he joined the Army in 1940. Two brothers had died in the service and the youngest in his absence. Coming home? Why him and for what purpose?

In August 1948 the first question was answered. Once he heard Gen. Patton give a speech, but no one had ever spoken to his heart. He had shared the company of brave men but none had laid down their life for an enemy. Many had died, but no other had defeated death. Freedom was worth dying for; here was someone worth living for. Dad pledged his faith and service to The Lord Jesus Christ. Grace had brought him home.

Purpose was realized in 1957. The Lord knew He could use a dedicated and faithful soldier in His army so dad was “called up”. He was ordained to the Gospel Ministry.

Next Sunday morning and the following afternoon I know where to find him. He may not remember every place we spent the night. It doesn’t matter. He will remember in detail his assignment: to share God’s love and proclaim His Word to the folks at the two nursing homes he has pastored for many years.

No offering are received and no one pays him but I’m thinking he must be getting rich by now. You can’t take it with you but you can send it ahead. Someday he will have more there than here and will hear “SSgt. Mahan front and center, well done thy good and faithful servant”.