One of the things that struck me the most was on day 5 of our Noah week, the day I looked into his coffin for the first time. My very first thought was, “He looks like a man.” I don’t know what I expected to see; maybe the big sister part of me expected the first response to be a lament over the face of the littleness of a boy I had cared for from birth (that came at other times), but instead, I felt a surge of pride as a big sister looked into her little brother’s face and knew that he had truly become a man.
When I mentioned that Noah looked like a man to my aunt, she said, “Is that a new thing?” Yes. It was a new thing. Joining the Air Force did that to Noah.
My favorite part about our day in Ohio (the Air Force flew our whole family out for a memorial service for him) was visiting the place where he worked. I know they went to great lengths to allow us the privilege of seeing what he did day-to-day and meeting the men and women he worked with, and I am so grateful they made that happen for us. He was involved in important work, work that not only impacted the people and place where he sat at his desk, but the United States as a whole. He worked with brilliant people and fit right in. He not only did what was required of him, but brought insight and information that was above and beyond, and stood out as a man of great potential who was (and would continue to grow in) having a huge impact.
As we talked to people he worked with, I was filled with gratitude that they saw him; Noah was always someone who was content with being invisible, and even in his place as tallest peak in the Muonio family mountain range, he would shrink back from drawing attention to himself (unless there was a statue nearby, in which case he would unhesitatingly pose with it). But at the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Noah didn’t hide. He stood with confidence and did his work to the best of his ability...and his abilities were great. He rose to the challenges placed before him, and as one who always sought to do his best, he was recognized, his giftings were nurtured and, as a result, he became the man he was made to be.
You know, I had always referred to Noah as my unlit firecracker, full of potential and waiting for the right spark to set him ablaze. It brought me much joy to know that while I never had the pleasure of seeing it, my firecracker’s wick was burning when he went to his grave.
When I mentioned that Noah looked like a man to my aunt, she said, “Is that a new thing?” Yes. It was a new thing. Joining the Air Force did that to Noah.
My favorite part about our day in Ohio (the Air Force flew our whole family out for a memorial service for him) was visiting the place where he worked. I know they went to great lengths to allow us the privilege of seeing what he did day-to-day and meeting the men and women he worked with, and I am so grateful they made that happen for us. He was involved in important work, work that not only impacted the people and place where he sat at his desk, but the United States as a whole. He worked with brilliant people and fit right in. He not only did what was required of him, but brought insight and information that was above and beyond, and stood out as a man of great potential who was (and would continue to grow in) having a huge impact.
As we talked to people he worked with, I was filled with gratitude that they saw him; Noah was always someone who was content with being invisible, and even in his place as tallest peak in the Muonio family mountain range, he would shrink back from drawing attention to himself (unless there was a statue nearby, in which case he would unhesitatingly pose with it). But at the Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Noah didn’t hide. He stood with confidence and did his work to the best of his ability...and his abilities were great. He rose to the challenges placed before him, and as one who always sought to do his best, he was recognized, his giftings were nurtured and, as a result, he became the man he was made to be.
You know, I had always referred to Noah as my unlit firecracker, full of potential and waiting for the right spark to set him ablaze. It brought me much joy to know that while I never had the pleasure of seeing it, my firecracker’s wick was burning when he went to his grave.
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