I’ve spent the better part of my life being a cheerleader.  Since my earliest memories I have been enthralled with the idea of leading people to cheer and applaud the various teams I’ve represented.  Reasons for my participation have been as varied as the teams and venues: an outlet for showing off gymnastic skills, winning national championships, staying in shape or paying for college.  Though charged with raising the spirits of the people I stand in front of, my reasons for being a cheerleader have generally been self-motivated.  I’ve always felt like I received more from the activity than I gave.  

As part of my participation with the Washington Redskins Ambassadors, I am often asked to participate in activities outside of simply cheering on the favorite football team of the Nation’s Capital.  Activities like autograph signings, tailgate and private event appearances – the kind of things where obligation-to-participate significantly trumps desire-to-participate.  So when I was told we were heading to the Walter Reed Medical Center for another event, I was less than enthused.  Not because of where it was or who was there, but because I viewed it as just another obligation; part of the call of duty that comes along with cheering for an NFL team.  Clearly, I had no idea what I was in for.  

It was a typical summer day in D.C. – a hot and humid 85 degrees. As I made my way to the Medical Center, I had no idea what to expect.  No idea who I would meet, what they would say or how we would interact. Nor did I expect to meet Luke*.  In fact, what dominated my thoughts was the pain I anticipated feeling in my feet from a long day in high-heeled boots.

Upon arrival, a Walter Reed representative greeted us and told us that we would spend the day as the guests of a special barbeque for the center’s amputee ward. And we were informed that the veterans were really excited to meet with us and take pictures. As I slowly made my way into the barbeque, I took notice of the lively background music coming from the band and the luring smell of food in the air. With a couple of hundred guests in attendance, the crowd consisted primarily of veterans, their families and the Walter Reed staff.

The Walter Reed representative that greeted us was right – the veterans were elated to see us! I truly couldn’t believe how happy they were to meet us. Thoughts of this being an “obligation” or the discomfort of my boots were quickly replaced by the humility that one feels around wounded veterans. 

We took pictures with them, signed autographs and got to hear their personal stories. Every single one of them had an amazing story to tell and the battle wounds to prove it. All of them were missing limbs, some missing several. Some were on crutches, some confined to wheelchairs. They held up their X-rays with pride, showing us where bullets had both entered and exited their bodies. You would never know that these brave veterans were wounded if not for their obvious signs of injury; because their verve and enthusiasm made it seem like they couldn’t have been happier.

One particular soldier insisted on standing to take a photo with us. Using his one working leg, he hoisted himself up onto my shoulder, balancing himself between my teammate and me.  I was in awe of this feat of incredible mental and physical strength.

I started to make my way over to the band when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned to find myself face to face with the mother of a wounded soldier. In a soft, timid voice, she introduced herself to me. She asked if I could please visit with her son, Luke. “Of course,” I said with a big smile. I asked her where he was and she pointed to a young man sitting underneath a tree about 300 feet away wearing a Miami Dolphins football jersey. Out of habit I started to call to the other girls to come along with me but Luke’s mom quickly grabbed my arm. “Just you, he’s having a hard time and I think it would be best if just you went over,” she said.  Looking in Luke’s direction, I gathered my emotional strength and made my way over to him.

He had his back to me as I approached him, immediately turning as I called his name.  Despite losing a leg and an arm in combat, Luke was very handsome in a decidedly American kind of way.  But any warm feelings quickly dissipated when the first thing he said to me was, “What do you want?” Oh no, I thought. He’s angry and I shouldn’t have come over. What do I do?  I thought about walking away but reminded myself that I was here to bring these veterans just a small dose of humor and happiness.  So I continued towards him.

Luke wasn’t exactly all smiles.  And just like his mother had told me, he was having a difficult time. Unlike some of the other veterans we had already met, Luke had not yet come to terms with the new cards he’d been dealt. In my heart I knew that this was my chance to make a difference. I wanted to cry, but I knew that probably would not help the situation. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of his mother.  She was giving me a reassuring nod that sent a clear message that she hoped I’d stick it out and talk to him.

So with my courage and high-heeled boots in tact, I took a deep breath and went with my best attempt at a humorous icebreaker: “You know, I don’t even know why I came over here. You’re clearly a Dolphins fan and honestly, I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you.” I thought at that very moment he was going to run me over with his wheelchair. I even held my breath. He was either going to publicly berate me or tell me to just leave him alone. Either way I would’ve been heart broken. But to my surprise…he smiled.

That smile and moment were catalytic. Throughout the afternoon, we continued to get to know each other.  And as we continued to talk I noticed a certain sadness in his eyes; a sadness that I could tell had not been there before.

After Luke had warmed up to me a bit, a few of the other ambassadors joined us.  We spent more time talking, laughing and taking photos with him.  Luke’s mother eventually made her way over to us with a new smile that could only come from seeing her son’s emotional turnaround. 

As the afternoon barbeque and our time at Walter Reed came to an end, we slowly said our goodbyes – although none of us really wanted to leave. We saw how our appearance that day had brought so much happiness to these veterans and their families.  I reluctantly said goodbye to Luke but I knew that he would be in my heart and my mind for the rest of my life. He may not remember the day he met me but I will always remember the day I met him.  And that is the great paradox of my experience.  While on the surface it appears that we were able to bring joy to his group of brave veterans, the reality is that we were the ones that were actually affected the most.  My life of cheerleading had taken an odd and ironic twist: the very people that I was supposed to uplift had done the uplifting.  But not in a temporary way.  In a way that has left an indelible mark. 

Right before I left, Luke’s mother stopped to thank me.  Not for coming to the Medical Center or sharing my time with the veterans.  But for something much simpler: making her son smile – something she hadn’t seen in a very long time.

As I drove away from Walter Reed, it occurred to me that my help had not just ended – it was just beginning.  I knew that I had to do more for these veterans – not out of obligation but because it brought so much joy to both them and me.  I was determined to find a way to give back and to thank them for all they have given to us.

So after a very long lunch date with a dear friend of mine (Fletcher Gill) Luke’s Wings was given flight.  I shared the story of “Luke” with Fletcher and he too was charged with the same emotional desire to want to find a way to give back to these veterans that risk their lives everyday for our safety and freedom.  Fletcher truly gave the [idea] of Luke’s Wings its wings.