THE LITTLE RED BOOK

© 2000-2008 MIKE CUNNINGHAM

REVISED & EXPANDED

JUNE 29, 2008

With shoulders hunched over and head bowed down, the young soldier cautiously made his way into the wind and through the deserted streets on that cold, blustery night in February of 1942. He had left the crowded farewell party early. Revile would be at 0300 and he hoped to get in as much shut-eye as possible. He also wanted to spend this time alone with his thoughts concerning his future, which on that memorable night seemed as bleak as a big city morgue at midnight. Tomorrow promised to be a hectic day. His outfit was being shipped overseas. Their destination was war-torn Europe.

A blackout was in effect. Streetlights had been switched off. Civilian air raid wardens were on duty. Automobiles were pulled over to the side of the road with their engines and headlights turned off. Tightly drawn household shades trapped illumination inside; greatly diminishing visibility from the evening sky. Enemy aircraft with their deadly cargo of bombs would have difficulty distinguishing targets. America was engaged in what was referred to as the Second World War, and the enemy had been rapidly advancing with a ferocity that left thousands of casualties in its wake. Innocent men, women and children had their lives snuffed out daily.

The cream of America's youth, young men and women, were gallantly serving their country in the Armed Forces. Many would never see home again. Some would return in body bags. Others would come back blind or crippled or without one or more of their limb’s. Although no one knew it at the time, some were destined to spend the next 50, 60 and even 70 years confined in a Veterans Administration Hospital.

In less than seven hours the soldier would be on a train speeding toward New York City. Big camouflaged trucks would then whisk his outfit down to the docks of New York Harbor where a huge troop ship, ready to sail, awaited them. Young GI's with duffle bags slung over their shoulders; would quickly stream across its gangplank and be escorted to their living quarters by merchant marine seamen. Under the cover of darkness, the ship would then quietly slip out of the harbor and into the open Atlantic. Needless to say, everyone on board was either hoping or praying they would not come across any of the dreaded German U-boats.

The soldier cautiously shuffled along the dark streets as he slowly made his way back to a bus which would transport him to his barracks. Suddenly his foot struck an unseen object. Stopping immediately, he groped for it with his foot. Once located, he nudged it gently. "What could it be?" he wondered. He bent down and picked up what felt like a little book. For some unexplainable reason, he stuffed it into one of the pockets of his long Government Issue coat, intending to look at it the following day. In the flurry of the next day's activity however, the soldier forgot about it.

It wasn't until two weeks later while he was unpacking his gear in England that the soldier came across the little red book again. He soon realized it was no ordinary book, and he certainly didn't have a clue its contents were to have a profound effect on his life. The words, "My Diary" were embossed in black letters on its hard red cover. Opening it, he saw the name and address of its owner. Respecting Rebecca's privacy, he quickly closed the book, intending to mail it back to her as soon as possible.

The following week was full of activity as his outfit made preparations to be taken to the front lines. As hectic as it was, the soldier couldn't get his mind off the little red book and its owner. It jogged his memory him of better times and places. It reminded him of home and even had the faint lingering scent of Rebecca's appealing perfume. Thoughts of an upset young woman wondering what had happened to her diary made him feel guilty. He knew some people kept diaries and recorded all sorts of personal information in them. "I wonder what she's like?” he thought. "What kind of things could possibly be so important to her that she would write them in her book?"

And then his curiosity got the better of him, and he did something he promised himself he would never do. It happened two days before being shipped to the front lines. As he was lying on his bunk at night, the soldier read Rebecca's diary. Then he reread it seven times. She was a volunteer serving at the USO where the farewell party had taken place and must have left the party before him and dropped it on her way home on that unforgettable night.

She was also a committed Christian who obviously took her faith seriously. Prayer, together with Bible reading, was part of her daily routine. On a couple of occasions and in spite of enormous pressure, with the help of God, she had been able to overcome powerful temptation to sin. With heartfelt thanks Rebecca gave Him all the credit because she knew it was God who had given her the strength to prevail. And, just like the soldier, a grateful Rebecca knew her faith and forgiveness were undeserved gifts from a loving merciful God.

Both of them seemed to have so much in common and shared the same interests. Rebecca was obviously a very special person. He would give anything to meet her, but knew it was impossible. As much as he treasured the little red book, the soldier also knew he must return it. Reluctantly, on the day before leaving for the front lines, he mailed it back along with a note explaining the circumstances under which he had found it. He confessed to having read it, apologized profusely and told her that he was praying she would find it in her heart to forgive him. And then, after telling her how ashamed he was, asked Rebecca for permission to write to her again. He said he hoped she would agree but would understand if she refused.

A couple of months of fierce combat left the young soldier exhausted. Being a participant in man's inhumanity toward man left him shocked and grief stricken over the horrible scenes he witnessed. Agonizing screams of wounded comrades were indelibly impressed upon his mind, destined to haunt him the rest of his life. Fear, anger and deep sorrow gripped him with unshakable intensity.

Before falling asleep at night, his thoughts often wandered to his own bed back home, and fond memories of his family. He longed for those special holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas, which his mother had always made so special. However, after God, foremost in his thoughts was someone he had never even met. The soldier knew it was only his unwavering belief and trust in an absolute Sovereign God, together with the possibility that Rebecca would agree to correspond with him, which kept him from losing his mind.

Months later back in England for some well-deserved R&R, a letter from Rebecca awaited him. What was her response? Would she be telling him off and giving him a piece of her mind for the despicable thing he had done? With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he tore open the envelope. "Might as well get it over with," he thought "and chalk it up to one more experience in a world gone stark-raving mad."

The solders heart leaped for joy as he read and reread what was to be the first of many letters they would exchange during the duration of the war. They grew very fond of each other, so much so, that on the day before he was to be shipped back to the front lines; he sent her a final letter in which he expressed his love for her and asked Rebecca to marry him if he ever came home again.

Back once again at the front lines; his trust in the Sovereign One who is infinite in wisdom and perfect in love, together with fleeting thoughts of spending the rest of his life with Rebecca, continued to keep the young soldier going. A few weeks later in the midst of a fierce battle he heard the thunderous shrieking sound of an enemy missile. He intuitively knew it had his name on it, and quickly dove for cover. Excruciating pain in his left leg immediately followed the explosion. He came to in a make shift medical unit from which he was transported back to England. Shrapnel had done a number on his leg, necessitating the assistance of a cane for the rest of his life.

The injury didn't bother the soldier nearly as much as not having received a single letter from Rebecca. His first thoughts upon awakening each morning in the hospital was that perhaps today he would get a letter from her and each night he fell asleep greatly disappointed. His buddies kidded him. "What did he expect? How could anyone in their right mind, even in their wildest imagination, imagine a woman loving some guy she hadn't even seen, much less marry." They told him he was suffering from “shell-shock” and was a little crazy.

The young solder was finally shipped to another hospital back in the States, his mind filled with thoughts of Rebecca. He was so sure she liked him as much as he did her, but the fact that she didn't even reply to his marriage proposal, indicated otherwise. How could he have misjudged her so much, he thought? His buddies were right all along. He was a foolish lovesick dreamer.

But then on the day before he was to leave the stateside hospital, Rebecca's letter arrived dirty and all crumpled up. The postmark revealed it was mailed months earlier and had been forwarded from place to place, before finally catching up with him. His heart raced as he tore it open. Reading it quickly, he got the disappointment of his life. There, in a very logical and orderly manner, one by one, Rebecca listed excellent reasons why they shouldn't get married. The old familiar sick feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified as he digested her rational. He knew she was a very cautious person, nevertheless he couldn't believe what he was reading. His dream girl; the Christian woman he wanted to marry and spend the rest of his life with; the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children, was, one by one, giving him nine good reasons why they shouldn’t get married. He was dumb-struck and it was only with a great deal of effort that he forced himself to read the last sentence, which said, "I can't think of a single good reason to marry you, except that I love you very, much."

The soldier quickly replied to Rebecca's letter and several additional ones were exchanged. Although they pretty much agreed on most things, there were a couple of areas of concern about which each of them were somewhat uneasy. Goaded by his buddies, the soldier asked Rebecca for a picture of herself. She playfully refused, insisting that if he really loved her, looks shouldn't matter. On the other hand Rebecca was looking for assurance that he truly loved her. It was one thing to tell a woman you loved her, but everyone knows that actions speak louder than words. His love letters were all she had to go on. He assured her that once she got to know him better, whenever the opportunity presented itself, he would demonstrate his love in such a way that she would know beyond the shadow of doubt it was genuine. The two lovers resolved these issues by agreeing to trust each other.

The soldier wanted Rebecca to meet his family. He sent a train ticket to New York City where they lived. She was booked on the “20th Century Limited” from the "windy city" scheduled to arrive at Grand Central Station at noon. He had it all planned. He would meet her at the arrival gate, ask her once again to marry him, and then surprise her by slipping the small diamond engagement ring he had bought onto her finger; give her a big hug and a kiss and escort her across the street to Poppa Luigi's where they had agreed to have lunch. He knew she would be pleasantly surprised and would see for herself how much he loved her.

There was one problem however. How would he recognize someone he had never seen? When he asked her about this, she assured him she had it all worked out. She would be carrying a little red book, which she was certain he would recognize. Finally, the big day arrived. The soldier had positioned himself alongside the see-through exit gate. "He was becoming increasingly anxious wondering what she looked like. Were his buddies correct and was he about to make the biggest mistake of his life?"

The overhead paging system interrupted his thoughts. The 20th Century Limited had arrived from Chicago. Its passengers would be exiting soon. Looking through the gate he saw them coming. They all seemed eager to leave. There must have been at least a hundred and fifty of them. Among the departing passengers were soldiers; sailors; marines and members of the Army Air Corps and Coast Guard. Men, women and children, some carrying suitcases were making their way towards the gate. Mothers with vise like grips, held onto their children's hands. Infants and toddlers were cradled in their father's arms. And, there were several young women, but none of them were carrying a little red book.

The quickest passengers had already streamed through the gate and into the outstretched arms of loved ones. The rest, which were about a dozen or so; strolled at a leisurely pace, as if they had all the time in the world. The soldier's stomach was starting to testify to the fact that he was becoming anxious. "Where could she be? Did she change her mind? What will I do if she's not here," he wondered?

And then he spotted a pretty young woman with shoulder length jet black hair accented by a stunning red knit dress." Wow", he thought to himself. "She's all that I had hoped for and then some. As the woman came closer to him their eyes met and she gave him a warm pleasant smile, as she continued walking past him and out of sight. His heart sank. There was only one passenger left, a woman struggling with her luggage. Her blue skirt was lopsided and parts of her white blouse were untucked. Tied into a bun was auburn hair sprinkled with a few strands of gray. She was a good six to eight inches taller than him, and in her left hand was a little red book.

The soldier recoiled. Hoping she wouldn't notice him, he backed away. He thought quickly. All he had to do; was nothing. Sure Rebecca would be disappointed but in time, she would get over it, he reasoned. And then, he did something he never imagined he would ever do. Leading with his heart, he went over to the woman with a smile on his face and introduced himself. The woman was startled. No, her name wasn't Rebecca. "Should I know you? I'm so forgetful these days," she added. He said no, apologized and turned around before walking away with his shoulders hunched over and head bowed down reminiscent of the dark memorable night he stumbled across the little red book. Rebecca must have spotted him, he thought. His cane would have given him away. She must not have liked what she saw. After sizing him up, she probably slipped the little red book into the hand of that poor forgetful woman and quickly left the train station.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the frantic shouts of the woman with the little red book. Mister, mister; wait for me. "What now," he wondered. He didn't want to talk with the woman. All he wanted to do was get out of the train station as fast as he could, but not wanting to be rude, he waited for her. Huffing and puffing, she finally caught up to him. "I almost forgot to tell you mister. That nice girl that gave me this bran new little red book, asked me to give you this envelope if I ran into you. Then the woman shoved it into his free hand and quickly left.

The soldier was in shock. His mind went blank. Finally, he opened the envelope and slowly read the note. It said, "I want you to know that I love you so very, very much and I am honored that you have chosen me to be your wife. I'm waiting for you at Poppa Luigi's. Please come quickly. Rebecca.

A racing heart fueled by adrenaline, sent his spirits soaring like Fourth of July fireworks. He never dreamed anyone could be so happy. Tears of joy streamed down his face. And then it dawned on him. He had no idea what Rebecca looked like. The only one who did was the woman carrying the little red book and she was nowhere in sight. Frantically, and sometimes tripping over his cane, he hurried towards the closest exit; catching up with her as she was about to put her other foot into the taxi. "Lady, can you tell me what the girl looked like", he asked. "Girl, what girl?" the woman answered. "The one who gave you the little red book," he replied. "Oh that one," the woman answered. "Why, she had long black hair that came down to her shoulders and was wearing the prettiest red dress I ever did see."

Could you, my reader, love someone you have never even seen? The Bible tells us that two thousand years ago just before His arrest, and after He finished praying for His disciples, Jesus also prayed for all future believers, most of whom had not been born and obviously had never seen Him (John 17:20). And then He went on, and with a love so great we can't even begin to comprehend the magnitude of it, He willingly allowed Himself to suffer and die an agonizing death so that their sins would be forgiven, and that each of His true followers would, slowly but surely, become transformed into becoming beautiful Christ-like people, enabling them to enjoy eternal happiness in His presence.

Have you accepted His love? Are you certain you truly love this Person you have never seen?
Do you think of Him and read His "diary" [the Bible] often, so that you can really get to know Him better and develop a deeper appreciation of His love for you? Do you delight yourself it trying to discover how you can please Him more and more? And do you struggle with everything you have to do just that? Do you send Him frequent "love letters" in the form of prayer, and do you take time to listen to what He is saying to you, or are your prayers typically a one way conversation with you doing all of the talking? Do you start your day pleading with Him to strongly incline you to sincerely want to love Him with all of your mind, and all of your heart, and all of your soul, and all of your strength, and to sincerely desire to glorify Him in your every thought, word and deed, and then beg Him to give you the means to overcome every temptation not to do so throughout whatever portion of that new day He ordained and predestined you to experience? Has your relationship with this Person you have never seen grown to the point where you are able to trust Him regardless of adverse circumstances? Do you love Him so much that you yearn to talk about Him with anyone willing to listen? Have you put Him above everything and everyone else in your life? Finally, are you so in love with Him that you can hardly wait to meet Him face to face?

Helen Lemmel, the hymn writer reminds us that we must, “Turn our eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face, and the things of the earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace. You and I must sincerely strive to cultivate the habit of doing these kinds of things, and we will be able to rejoice in the Lord all the time, even in the midst of own divinely ordained and designed troubles, just as the Apostle Paul and those other first century Christians I spoke about in my Father’s Day message did; because it is when we do them that we are accepting the gift of happiness, in Christ Jesus. Lord willing, after my vacation….

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