Tears streamed down his cheeks as he struggled to compose himself. He held on to his son for support, as he stood in front of his entire family.
He always cried when he told this story.
The year was 1950 and Cecil, a young man, barely grown, walked with little fear. He walked with a comforting feeling that he was being watched over and protected. The air was hot and muggy as he and his group of soldiers in the Army traveled through the terrain in the heart of the Korean War.
"I wasn't afraid," Cecil said, wiping more tears. "Because I know He was with me."
A man of faith, Cecil prayed every day, asking God to forgive him for the men he had killed. The thought of his next murder frightened him and he prayed each night that another man breathing his last breath, at his hands, was something he would never have to see. He prayed that God would deliver him from evil. However, on this day, evil would knock on his door.
As the soldiers traveled through the landscape, they were surprised by enemy fire. Hearts raced. Bullets hissed through the air and screams of fear and pain reduced hardened men to their foundations, creating frighteningly intimate moments that, in any other instant, no one would be allowed to see. Gun shots continued and fire was returned.
Cecil could not think now.
With bullets humming and cutting through everything in its path, Cecil, for the first time in battle, stood frozen. As if he were of another world he watched this moment in history unfold in front of him. And soon his history would be re-written as well, as he was thrown to the ground. A bullet had hit him in his chest. He remembered screaming.
Cecil shook his head, still held by his son.
"It hit me so hard I flew to the ground. I felt like I was hit with a hammer and everything just seemed to stop," he said. "I knew I was dead."
He paused for a moment before continuing, his eyes focused on the floor.
"I thought this was my life, the Lord wanted to take me right there."
Only for Cecil there were no pearly gates, no angels and the only bright light that shined upon him was the one provided by the sun, as he lay on his back, gazing upon the sky. Frantically he clutched his chest and felt no blood. He said he cried moments later.
"That bullet should have killed me, out of all places, it hit me in my chest, straight in my heart, " he said. "But that bullet was stopped. It hit me in my heart, my shirt pocket, and in my shirt pocket was my Bible. It hit my Bible. My Bible saved me. God spared my life."
He once again broke down and cried as he slowly made his way to a chair to sit down.
Of course Cecil survived the war, healthy and with all his limbs. After returning he swore to himself and God that he would live a life which was acceptable in His eyes. Years later, he would meet his wife and they would have a son. He became the rock of the family, always with a smile to share and a hearty laugh even in the most disappointing moments. He became a man who was an example-- strong enough to lead, yet weak enough to submit. When threatening to break apart, he became the string which held the family together. He was a calming grace and a man of great character. He showed them all that sometimes it's all right for a man to cry. He showed them all that sometimes it's all right for a man to live.
However, this was just no ordinary story and this was no ordinary man. Cecil was my grandfather and that bullet, that Bible, changed all of our lives forever.
---EOB.
