Thirty-year-old Mary Dague describes
herself as happy.
That's pretty easy to believe by
looking at her picture. She's got luminous eyes, funky magenta hair,
and a smile that seems to go all the way around to the back of her
head. A Youtube video of a
thoroughly enthusiastic Mary doing a tandem skydive (without a
helmet, mind you!) might just convince you that this is the coolest
chick ever. If I had to pick a word to describe her image, I'd say
“joyful.”
I
heard Mary's story a few weeks ago on National Public Radio's “Story
Corp” series, and I thought to myself, “Okay. That's
my Thanksgiving sermon!”
(Thanksgiving,
I said. Not “Turkey Day.” Not the day before “Black Friday.”
I friggin' hate, loathe, and despise those two terms. It is a
revolting commentary on our culture that we so neglect a national
holiday set aside to appreciate the goodness of God by nominating
gluttony and excessive retail spending over gratitude. But I
digress.)
I picked Mary Dague's story as an illustration for this
national day devoted to gratitude because she seems to me to embody
the very spirit of Thanksgiving.
If you
check out her story online, you'll find that Mary was a rather shy,
sentimental kid growing up in Montana. She was engaged to be married
right out of high school, but her future mother-in-law scared
her—unintentionally, I'm sure—with thoughts of an
oppressive domesticity. Mary wanted to be something more than just a
housewife. She broke her engagement and, determined to do something
that mattered, joined the United States Army. In her second
enlistment she rose to the rank of sergeant with the frightening
Military Occupation Specialty of Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD),
the “Bomb Squad” of the Army.
(She
also fell in love and married a fellow soldier named Jared)
In
November of 2007, while on deployment in Iraq, a small IED detonated
in Mary's arms. She lost both of her arms slightly above the elbows,
received lacerations to her face, and lost a good portion of her
hearing. A newspaper article reports her reaction to one of the
corpsmen who transported her to hospital: “Dude, this sucks.”
But if
you listen to Mary's voice and hear how grateful she is to be able to
share her story with other wounded warriors, if you get a sense of
her whacky sense of humor, her compassion, and her new sense of
purpose, you will quickly forget her injuries and see only her
beautiful spirit. Mary Dague soldiers on with optimism and a
collection of oddball graphic T-shirts displaying wry and darkly
humorous references to her condition. Aided by her husband, a service
dog, some sophisticated prosthetics (there's a great picture of her
online feeding herself a strawberry with her new arm), pure Montana
ingenuity, and a defiant sense of humor, this veteran is a living,
breathing inspiration.
I
don't know Mary, so I don't know what her religious beliefs—if
any—are. I hope she wouldn't mind my using her story to make a
theological point. But in seeing this courageous lady, I am reminded
that God does not stop being good because we in our circumstances
stop appreciating that goodness. Indeed, the crappiest day we will
ever have will still be filled with blessings. There will be sky
above us and beauty around us and glorious people to love us and help
us through.
Mary
Dague's story illustrates the point made in the appointed gospel
lesson for the Day of Thanksgiving, the story of the ten lepers in
Luke 17:11-19. There is a world of difference between being cured and
being healed. Jesus cured all ten of the lepers in the story. That
is, he restored all of them to their former conditions of health. But
only the one was healed. Healed
comes from a word meaning “to be made whole.” Wholeness suggests
peace, acceptance, self knowledge, and appreciation. We can't be
healed or whole without gratitude. Maybe Sgt. Mary cannot be
completely cured (But then, none of us can. Being human is a terminal
condition), but she certainly seems to be healed.
I am
grateful just for the opportunity to gather with loved ones and
recognize how good I have it, acknowledging that none of the
blessings I enjoy come from my deserving them in the least. I guess
the more I recognize this, the more thankful and the more whole I
will become.
I saw
a cool sign in front of a church I pass on my way to and from Faith
Lutheran which sort of sums it up:
Thanksgiving:
It's
not a day. It's a way of life.
Or,
as the old hymn put it:
Great
is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness!
Morning
by morning new mercies I see;
all
I have needed thy hand hath provided;
great
is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.
And
I am thankful to you, dear friend, for reading. A blessed Thanksgiving
to you.
PS-Check
out Mary Dague story by clicking on StoryCorp.
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