For a non-saint, I get signs from the universe fairly often. And I suspected that repeatedly losing my computer capability must mean something, I just couldn’t figure it out. Usually my signs are very transparent–placed right at the end of my nose, like the lady with the spinach dip. Probably this is because the universe knows I’m a superficial person who can’t be bothered looking too deeply into things. I especially appreciate when psychic messages are delivered in person like a UPS package–or in today’s case via AT&T.
In fact, I owe AT&T an apology. Despite its problems linking me to the internet, someone there is linked into my brain. Moments after I posted my reminder about Veteran’s Day, their repair truck pulled up, bearing a new person trying to tame my wayward computer. The guy who came yesterday looked like Central Casting for a geek and worked quietly here for hours without success. Today’s guy was the height and weight of 3 geeks put together–he was warm and friendly, and I would’ve been happy to have him around all day. But he wasn’t allowed to work on the computer– he quickly checked the signal and within 5 minutes he was ready to walk out.
Usually I’m impatient to get service people out of the house. But today, for some reason I can’t explain, I engaged this technician in conversation. And I learned that in his previous life, he was in military counter-intelligence.
In MY previous life, that would have ended the conversation right there. I had no affinity or interest in anything military. Since my daughter married a soldier four years ago, I’m VERY curious about military people, and what motivates them. It’s no big secret that I’d prefer my son-in-law to be out of the military. The AT&T technician had to leave the military for personal family reasons, after 10 years of service. I thought maybe he’d give me some insight. So I asked how he felt being a civilian. I figured he’d say he’s grateful to be home with his family.
I was way off base. Instead of smiling, his eyes teared up. Remember this is a macho guy who fought in combat and slept in snow caves. He said he loves watching his kids grow up, but his heart is not in California. His heart is in Iraq and Afghanistan, where he would like to be right now—alongside his brothers and sisters, his military family. He could think of no better way to die than in uniform.
Suddenly, thanks to a random conversation with a total stranger, my connection not to the internet, but to the universe, was coming in loud and clear. In 20 minutes, he answered unspoken questions I’ve had since the day Alli married a soldier.
My technician gave me insight into the values that motivate people like himself–and people like my son-in-law, who answer when they hear the call to serve. I still can’t imagine making that choice; and this man could understand that I don’t understand. But he did help me see what he sees–and why he welcomes the sacrifices made by everyone in a military family. In his eyes and in his voice, I could see and hear how lucky he felt to be able to protect the United States of America.
In his short visit, he didn’t touch my computer, but he definitely touched my heart, and my view of the world. He brought me another little piece I need to complete the puzzle of military life, the life chosen by my daughter. How incredible that this man arrived on my doorstep on Veteran’s Day. And he didn’t even charge me for the service call.