Woody

Google the definition of “character” and you’ll find his bio and mug shot. A Viet Nam vet who’s fought tooth and nail on the battlefield and in life, Woody has taught me more about faith, honesty, friendship and survival than he’ll ever know. He may dress up like a responsible adult, but the earring, ponytail, ink and jeans tell the true story. This guy's a little bit hippy, little bit biker, lotta bit dad, with a more than a few tightly-muzzled military ghosts circling his head.

A perplexing blend of contradiction, this salty, surly, cussing, encouraging, witty, wise old dog can prompt a belly laugh and bring me to tears all in the same breath. The mischievous twinkle in his eye tells you he’s got something up his sleeve, but the slump of his shoulders reveals a lifetime of struggle and hard labor.

Rightly so. He outlasted Viet Nam. And along with his forever-ravishing wife, he raised a beautiful family, built a wonderful home, and earned a solid living.

Oh. And he also spent the last decade and a half watching their wheel-chair-bound son battle 24-hour pain from a debilitating disease. (There may be a few coals of white-hot anger burning in that head too.)

If anyone has earned the right to surrender, it’s Woody. But he doesn’t. He won’t.

Woody confronts life with a reckless, fist-in-the air faith in God that takes nothing at face value, dares to argue back, continues to ask questions and then waits for answers.

At the first whiff of hypocrisy he’ll call it. He’ll be the first one to start and the last one to quit. He’s seen too much, lived too much, cried too much and died too much to put up with Christian cliches or pretty answers. He’s after the real thing, and he’s not giving up until he finds it.

I respect that. I’m like that.

Which is why, on his birthday, I’m saluting Woody — soldier, warrior, father, friend.

Battle on. I think you’re going to win. If not in this life, in the the one that lasts forever.


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