🍃 Our Hidden Suns

There's something special about seeing someone in their element.

When we visited the National Air and Space Museum this weekend, I expected the kids to find it fascinating. What I didn't expect was to find someone in the opening hall that would answer every question my boys had...and then some.

Ben, this patient and knowledgable guide, was posted up by the Apollo 11 Lunar Module. When we walked up, I overheard him sharing facts about the landing with a group of tourists nearby. As they walked away, satisfied customers (though Smithsonian museums are free!) to be sure, he turned his attention to us.

This is a guy who loves his vocation. He was not only welcoming to our questions, but excited by them. Clearly, he had found a way to turn his own enthusiasm for space into a way to share that wonder with others.

His answers sparked a curiosity in all of us who were listening. His engagement turned a visit to the museum into something we will be talking about for years to come.

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I thought of this as I stepped into a Warrior-Scholar Project classroom yesterday. I was there to lead a seminar on the Declaration of Independence and the fragile pillars of equality and liberty. I was there to help our students understand that when Tocqueville spoke of equality of conditions, he was speaking of leveling out the aristocracy and not necessarily about the equality of individual people.

I was there to help them apply the lessons their fellows had taught them on analytical reading, understanding how to break down complex texts into comprehensible chunks.

I was there to share some pieces of my own journey on college rejection and an unyielding cognitive dissonance that I carry with me about military service, hoping that it may help them process and understand their own journeys.

And even though my primary purpose there was to lead the seminar, I was also there to check in on my ground team. There's nothing quite like a site visit to understand what's really going on, both the good and the challenging.

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I woke up today in Charlottesville and brought my son Kai out with me to the porch while I sipped coffee. He spoke with rapid-fire joy about the trip, and when a cat from a nearby house wandered up to say hi with affection, he unleashed a cackling glee.

The sun gradually lit the leaves around us, and the birds called back and forth to herald the day.

I thought of Ben and what it's like when I see someone in their element, and what it's like when I am in mine. Of what it's like to let one's inner light shine brightly.

I don't always feel that way. Sometimes the foliage is so thick, or the clouds so looming, that I don't feel the warmth of the sun's kiss, let alone share it with others.

But there is comfort, indeed, in knowing that the sun is always there, if only I allow myself to access it.

There may be times when things are outside of my control. But how often do I submit to those conditions, instead of doing what I can with what's around me? For even when the sun is hidden or the night has fallen, its impact on my world and environment is everlasting.

Ben, I am quite sure, did not get there by accident. He found something he wanted to do, and found a way to do exactly that, channeling his inner sun into a warmth in others.

Nor did I get here by accident, leading my fellow veterans on how to build the perspective that can make them great in their next chapters, and spending precious moments with my son while he distracts me from the quiet morning I anticipated.

May we all be blessed and encouraged to find and share our light.

Sunnily Yours,

-Rye