Did he want to read it? Do I even want any of this? He’d once craved freedom from the label of dishonorable more than almost anything. Now he stood on the precipice of gaining that freedom, yet weariness dragged his every step forward.
Dad stood, crossed the few feet between them, and pulled an envelope from his pocket. Only when Lucas accepted it did Dad sit—this time in a chair directly across from him. If this wasn’t spectacularly uncomfortable before . . .
He stared at the envelope between his fingers. The words inside wouldn’t change anything that’d happened in the past. They wouldn’t change the hurt, the distance, nor the secrets that had caused it all.
But Dad was making an effort. He had to at least attempt to do the same. He slid his thumb under the flap and pulled out the folded letter, a single page. His gaze slid past the date and salutation to the body of the missive:
This letter will be brief, because to my personal shame, my presence throughout much of my son’s life has been brief. Fortunately, a person does not need to spend inordinate amounts of time with Lucas Danby to believe with conviction that he’s worthy of a change in his discharge status.
You will read letters from others that detail Lucas’s dedicated paramilitary service in the past ten years, so I don’t need to dwell on that. Nor do I need to give you a list of his attributes—you’ll see them for yourselves when he stands before you.
Instead, I’d like to tell you about my other son—Lucas’s half-brother, Noah. Noah served two tours in the Army, but he has struggled since being medically discharged more than a year ago. Over the past 12 months, I’ve witnessed a pattern of negative choices, irresponsibility, and dangerous behavior, and as a father, felt helpless to know how to address it.
Noah recently spent a month with Lucas in Iowa. During that time, they worked side by side as Lucas sought to mentor Noah. Since Noah returned to Washington, D.C., here is what I see in him: A renewed commitment to his veteran’s support group. A heightened sense of responsibility and accountability. A willingness to invest in his own potential. And a determination not to let his past dictate his future.
I credit my son Lucas with the transformation I’ve witnessed in Noah. And I ask you not to let his past dictate his future. Not when his present is filled with examples, including Noah, of lives impacted for the better. Whatever your decision, I remain a proud father of the man my son Lucas Danby has become.
Thank you.
Lucas’s hands shook as he stared at the letter, sentences blurring together in front of him. Straightforward and powerful, it pierced a place so deep inside of him that even if he were a man of a million words, he’d never be able to express the eddying impact of what he’d just read.
“I don’t know what to say, Dad.” Couldn’t even make himself look up to meet his father’s eyes.
“I’ve made so many mistakes, Lucas. And I know reconciliation isn’t as simple as an apology. Or a letter. I just want you to know that whenever you’re ready, whatever it takes, I’d like to try. I’m ready to try.”
I’m ready to try. They were the same words he’d whispered to God back in that pew in Maple Valley—knowing he was a mess, knowing there was no reason God should accept his feeble attempts.
Other than a love that was bigger than his mistakes.
This man sitting before him, his father, needed the exact thing Lucas had needed for so long. To be seen as a man not cloaked in shame, but covered by grace. Lucas had only just begun to see himself that way before everything had turned upside down back in Maple Valley. Only now, as he looked at his father, did he realize all over again that he had a choice.
A choice he might have to make daily. To see himself as a man of honor. Not because of anything he had or hadn’t done, anything he might or might not do in the future. Not because of how Jenessa saw him or even how he now knew his father saw him.
But simply because he was loved by the God who’d created him. A God who saw his tattered faith and stayed anyway. A God who’d watched him walk away and had chosen to follow.
The truth seeped into him now, emboldening and undeniable—this was the miracle he’d been waiting on. He’d lived so many years of wishing he could be a hero for others. But his own Rescuer was even now swooping in, giving him the grace to see his father in a new way.
He finally looked up and met Dad’s uneasy gaze. “I’m ready to try too.”
Just one sentence but, weighty with significance, it somehow spanned decades and distance. He stood, crossed the few feet to Dad, and held out his hand.
And maybe it shouldn’t have affected him the way it did when his father rose and grasped his hand. Maybe the rush of emotion was out of place in this stark, drab office building.
But at least he wasn’t alone. Because Dad’s eyes pooled with tears as he shook Lucas’s hand.
“Lucas Danby?”
He cleared his throat, blinking, turning toward the woman who’d checked them in when they arrived. She rose from behind her desk. “I can show you into the conference room now.”
Lucas nodded and reached for his suit jacket, but his father grasped his arm before he could pull it on. “I think we have somewhere else to be.”
Lucas lifted his eyebrows. “What? Dad, we’ve been sitting here for almost half an hour. If you need to go, that’s fine. I can handle it on my own and—”
“Is this really where you want to be right now, Lucas?”
“Uh, I don’t under—”
“Do you even want this?”
It was the same question he’d just asked himself ten or fifteen minutes ago. He hadn’t had an answer then. He wasn’t sure he had an answer now. But there was a sudden urgency in his father’s eyes. “You said there’s somewhere we need to be?”
Dad pressed his lips together, nodded, reached for his briefcase. He threw a glance at the receptionist. “Apologies.” He practically hauled Lucas from the building.
They were settled in his father’s Lexus when he tried again. “Are you not feeling well or something?” He twisted to drop his jacket in the back seat then pushed up his sleeves.
“Look, I got a text from Flagg when we were sitting in that waiting area. I was going to wait to address it until after the meeting, but I changed my mind. For now, that’s all you need to know.”
“All I need to—Dad, what is going on?” And why did his father look almost . . . excited?
He tried three more times in the twenty-five minutes it took to escape the metro, twice more as they veered toward his suburb apartment. At least, he assumed that’s where they were headed.
He’d assumed correctly. Forty minutes after they’d abruptly fled the law office, he found himself walking up the hedge-lined sidewalk to his building. The one that had never felt like home and probably never would.
Do you even want this?
Out here in the fresh air, with the wind rustling through brittle leaves and an autumn sun that made him think of golden fields and fall in Iowa, he could answer that question.
Changing the status of his Army discharge might bring a momentary satisfaction. Like the relief of a first breath after plunging into a cold river.
But he wanted more. He wanted the thrill of an upstream swim. He wanted the work and the wonder and the exhilaration of everything he’d left behind in Maple Valley. He wanted a real home where he could live his messy life—all of it—in the bright light of day, no more secrets.