Soldiers

A few days ago I was standing in line in a convenience store to pay for my gas. The line was unusually long for that time of day, and I realized with annoyance that there was only one cashier, and the man at the head of the line was scratching lottery tickets. As my annoyance grew, I saw that next in line was a young soldier, in fatigues and cap, holding a carton of milk and some chocolate donuts. He turned to face me for a second as someone passed in front of him, and I saw that his shirt bore the name Breeden. His dogtags were neatly tucked inside his faded grey camoflauge shirt, his face young, rosy-cheeked and freshly shaved.

I thought of my own son, and pride swelled in my chest. He is in Mississippi preparing. Preparing for his second tour in Iraq. A simple high-school educated farm boy from East Tennessee who joined the National Guard to earn a little extra money. And suddenly found himself, along with his high school basketball coach and several good friends, in Iraq. He made it home the first time. I was/am so thankful. And now he is going again. I am so proud of this boy of mine, who has become a man, but will always be my boy.

Officer Breeden turned and looked my way again, and a shy smile crossed his face. I mouthed the words, "Thank you." He said just as softly, "You're welcome," and turned to pay for his snacks. As I stood there feeling like I had done something special for thanking him, my eyes drifted down to the young soldiers boots. On the inside of his left boot, just above the heel, was written in black Magic Marker "AB+". For a second I was oblivious, "Wonder what that stands for?" I thought to myself. Then with a gut punch I realized . . . this was his blood type . . . so that when the medics find him too blown up to tell them, they can read it on his boot. My mind immediately skipped to my own son again, and to the first time I saw him without a shirt after his first deployment. There, permanently tattooed on his left side, were his dogtags. I asked him why he would want to have that on his body forever. His words still haunt me. "Mom, this is to identify my body if something happens that I am unrecognizable. So they'll know who to call."

Both these young men with so much life ahead of them, and so much to experience. Yet both so willing and ready to lay all that aside to defend my rights. My right to speak out about whatever political candidate I don't care for, to defend my right to be free to watch whatever I want on TV, to have as many children as I want, to wear whatever clothing I want . . . so many things I do and have that I take for granted, because I live in a free country.

People, there is still a war going on. There are still men and women putting their lives on the line so we can be free to do and be whatever we want, Republican or Democrat, Christian or Athiest, gay or straight, thankful or selfish. Someone somewhere is giving all they are and have to guarantee us that right. Please don't forget these men and women. Say prayers for their safety and return, and say prayers for the leaders of this country as the make decisions that have such deep consequences for those who serve in our military. Don't forget young Officer Breeden, my son, Vince or his best friend Joey Hunt who didn't come back with the rest of the Sweetwater National Guard unit in 2005.

Please don't take them for granted.

They're doing what they are doing for you.

nothing happening here

Im just sitting here bored, wondering why I can't find out if my friend's had her baby. They're supposed to be posting updates on this site, but I can't find them. Evan if you are out there, help!