Singing at the top of your lungs

When do you stop singing songs at the top of your lungs? 

Pastor Laura and I are at Lutheridge this week with 17 confirmation campers. It’s been a great week, no doubt, and a wonderful time to experience these students on a different playing field. 

On the way to lunch, I heard counselors leading their campers in singing. Well, screaming mostly. At the top of their lungs, leading chants with hand motions and cheers. They were on the porch of the dining hall, but I’m sure their voices could be heard all the way down the mountain. Especially one counselor – Isaiah, I think – who had a particularly loud voice that started to crack by the end of the chant. The kids were going crazy. 

34 years ago I may well have been that counselor. Not that I was some crazy cool counselor or anything, but I do remember getting hoarse from singing at the top of my lungs. 

I wonder when that ended? 

I’m older, of course, so maybe that has something to do with it. More mature? Some days. Wiser? Definitely … and I’m glad for all that. I like being in this stage of life, with kids in different places, a job I love, memories of fun times in the past, and the anticipation of fun times in the future. 

But I have to admit that I miss singing at the top of my lungs, unfettered and totally free. Listening to Isaiah sing/scream, I wished I could go back to that place in time. 

That’s one of things I like so much about confirmation camp. Our 17 kids arrived with hesitation, maybe even some fear and trembling. They were anxious about meeting new people and worried about what others would think of them. But it’s Thursday, and, well, they’re starting to sing a little louder, dance a little crazier and laugh a lot harder. This morning, I saw Chris Kafitz totally let loose with a crazy man dance that made me laugh out loud. 

Sure, I miss that in myself, but I sure am glad to see it in others. Because our life and faith is something to sing about at the top of our lungs. And maybe even do the crazy man dance every now and then. 

Normandy, 75 years later

Today marks the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landing of June 6, 1944, ranked by many as the boldest and most successful large scale invasion in military history. On this one day, 160,000 Allied troops crossed the English Channel to successfully secure a beachhead on the coast of Normandy. They were supported by 7,000 ships and boats, and 5,000 landing and assault crafts. Within ten days there were a half a million troops on shore. Within three weeks, that number swelled to 2 million.

At our men's Bible study this morning, we learned that Don Duggan was a new 18 year old recruit exactly one year later, on June 1945. After a week of training (one week!), he was headed to Japan, where almost everyone was anticipating yet another invasion, what certainly would have been the largest amphibious invasion in history.

All but one of the men around the table (20 or so?) had a family member who fought in WW2, many of them part of the Normandy invasion. They spoke of Col. Robert Sink of Lexington, commander of the famous 506th parachute infantry regiment, the first men to land. Two months later, he was named commander of the 101st Airborne Division. Others spoke of Col. Thomes Ferebee, known as the man who dropped the first Atomic bomb, destroying Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, but saving the life of Don and millions of others, American and Japanese alike. Ferebee grew up on a farm in Mocksville and was the cousin of Joe Ferebee, the long-time baseball coach at Pfeiffer and good friend to men around the table.

For most, WW2 is a thing of history books. But for many of these men, June 6, 1944, was a day of vivid memory, after which brothers, uncles, and dads would soon be coming home.

I hate war, but I'm thankful for those who had the bold conviction to fight when war was necessary. Today, we remember their sacrifice and pray that someday God will bring peace to all the land, when even lion will lie with the lamb. What a day that will be.