Someone Else's Brother Abroad

As I awoke this morning to a perfect coastal view and an equally perfect cup of coffee, news came in that a U.S. Marine, serving in the mountains of Afghanistan where the enemy is as uncertain as the borders blurred, has been missing since Tuesday.

It has now been confirmed that this unnamed, young soldier has been captured by enemy insurgents.

Though immaediate speculations turn to local Taliban, the area known as the eastern Paktika province is ripe with myriad insurgent groups and any one of them may be responsible.

What does this mean?


As I sip my coffee and watch my children play happily with their cousins, I am trying to stomach the reality of the captive Marine's inevitable future.

Though the media has picked up the story of the kidnapping and the fiegned ignorance of the Taliban, what is not being reported (perhaps due to the wave of public sentiment toward Gitmo)is what is likely happening to this Marine at this very moment.

Far worse than waterboarding or any psycholoigically torture, this young man whose family has no idea of his current torment, is no doubt enduring a torture unlike anything anyone of us will ever know.

Even more, he will be found.

He will be found some time over the next few days, his body carelessly tossed on the side of some road where it will certainly be found, where it will certainly be intended to send a message.

So while we go about our day today, attending to the business of life, keep this soldier in your hearts, wishing hope upon hope that his hours pass quickly and his pain is brief.

And, if you are inclined to prayer, send up some words that this young man will soon find peace, this son of someone, this brother of his squadron,

and this, our foresaken native son.