For the Ones Who've Survived: I've resurrected this from the not so ancient past because I can't write anything better today than what I was feeling then. In honor of Memorial Day and the ones who came back but now have to live with it.

Dear Marine,
It's September here in Missouri, still hot but with a hint of Autumn in the air today. I walked out to get the mail this afternoon and couldn't resist the hammock in the shade of the peach tree on the trip back to the house. I laid across it, just for a few minutes, as I sorted through today's bills and flyers. There was a sweet thank you note from a friend who had left for college for the first time only 3 weeks ago. I recognized her big round letters and smiled before I even opened it, knowing that the small package I had sent had brought a tiny moment of joy into her exciting, new and homesick world. Then my thoughts turned to you, my faraway friend.

I remember the first time you went off to Iraq. You had no idea what to expect. I barely knew you then except through your mom. She was so upset when you enlisted but she also recognized that you had been having difficulty finding your place in life and prayed that the Marines would fill the hunger in you. You were so young and fresh and eager then.

I talked to your mom for a long time the other night. She didn't cry this time. You have just deployed for your third tour of Iraq. The fear inside her still fills her up for she, too, has lost her innocence. But she has had to learn to trust you and your instincts and your comrades... and God. There were times when I didn't think she would survive Iraq but she is a survivor. You get that from her.

As I lay in the hammock with that hint of late summer in the air...a few lone cicadas buzzing their constant circular song with a gentle breeze rustling the pages in my lap, I remember that you are over there. I send up a silent prayer, as I do every time you cross my mind, and wonder how you are faring. Your mom told me how, when you phoned last week, you told her about the new guys who jumped at the sound of mortars each time and were astounded at you guys who never even flinched. She chuckled.

Once upon a time the mortars frightened you something awful but you learned that most of them don't hit anyone. One time one hit right near you and your buddy and you never even blinked, you'd become so accustomed to them and perhaps to death, too, by then. But then you realized after that... your hands were shaking. Yes, Marine, you are still alive, amazingly and gratefully, still alive.

So, you are probably one of the old men in your unit this time, at 22 isn't it? Respected for your battle scars perhaps, even though they can't be seen. Are you able to sleep yet, friend? Do the nightmares still come? Can you put them aside and rest? Can you be a leader and a role model to these young men that look up to you and teach them the battle skills that they will need to survive the horror they will see out there?

The weight is heavy. I know that most of your buddies didn't survive the 2nd tour. I know that some of those that did are out now and that it was hard for you to see them escape, even as you rejoiced for them. I know that the memories haunt you. But I also know how strong you have become and how beautiful you still are. When you get through this next journey you will have learned some things that some people, most people, never know.

You will know how to rejoice in every day and in every person around you for you know how fragile life is. You won't take anything or anyone for granted the way the rest of us often do. You will have learned that human beings are capable of things that we can't imagine, both great and horrible. You will know that one can survive anything as long as there is hope. You will learn to hope again. You will learn to push aside the most awful of things your memory tries to show you but you will retain it in the back of your mind to make you into a kinder more aware person. You will have learned to trust God in all things and give your burdens to him.

It was a beautiful day here. My prayer for you today is that you find a small piece of beauty out there and share it with someone else.

Go with God.

They left without Zeke.

Our church put together a Mission Trip down to Abbeville, Louisisana for our college kids to help with the continuing need with hurricane relief down in that area. Zeke, Kevin & I went last year when we made a similar journey to Gautier, Mississippi. It was a life-changing experience for me so when I heard about this trip, with these kids that have known each other for years, some since preschool, I knew it would be a beautiful experience for them. ...only Zeke didn't get to go.

Last Sunday, a week ago today he broke his wrist. He's only been home a week and was already enjoying all the thing he's missed. He had set up a little sound booth in the basement so he could really get into his music making, he'd signed onto an indoor soccer league and a sand volleyball team, there were pick-up games, too, of soccer and ultimate frisbee. He was looking for a summer job.

But that's all changed now. It was at the end of his first indoor soccer game when he and an opponent collided and they both went down. He said he heard it crack. They gave him a bag of ice and he joined us a Gramma's where we were all celebrating Uncle Tim's birthday. (Kevin and Beau had are both on the team, too, so he didn't have to drive himself.) Everyone looked at it all swolen and there was debate whether it was just a sprain or a break and whether to wait 'til tomorrow and go to the Dr. or to go the the Emergency Room tonight.

I wasn't letting him spend the night in pain for nothing so after everyone had their say and had eaten I took him to the ER. They showed us the x-ray and it (scaphoid bone) was clearly displaced. They sent him home with a weird little temporary "thumb cast", a pain killer, a nice new ice bag and an appointment with a Hand Specialist the next day.

Surgery was Tuesday with a screw in the bone and a couple of pins for the torn ligaments (everyone was right! It was a break AND a sprain). The surgery went well although we were left with the warning that this bone is always a "problematic" break that has difficulty healing. It has to do with blood flow to the bone. But they got to it quickly, his bones are young and strong and he left us with a feeling of hope that Zeke's injury would be the exception and would heal quickly.

So ... he's been taking it really well. But yesterday was rough. The kids all left for the trip, including his best friend, Bella, and his brother, Kevin. Later, someone called to see if he was playing Volleyball last night. I think he is tired of keeping up the smile. His hand is still swolen and he still can't move his fingers and it still hurts.

I think he is weary of being brave. Yesterday I went to check on him and found him wearing his guitar and strumming it even though he couldn't hold the neck or make chords. Just the same sound over and over.

Okay, so I'm wading in the pity pool with him. Yes, he's so lucky it was his left hand. There are a lot of "lucky" things about it all. It's not a brain injury, it's not cancer, I was off work for the summer, his brothers were with him, we have health insurance, etc. etc. etc.... the "Lucky List" is never ending.

Somehow, thinking of how it could have been worse doesn't really help. I have no doubt that he will learn from this, that he will grow and be a better person. I know that God uses difficult times to strengthen us for what's to come. Now that helps.

Phillipians 4:13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

Do all bloggers go through this? I couldn't wait til I got a chance to get to the computer to blog. To type out my thoughts and share them with the world. I'd stay up late reading & writing. I'd get up early and was still sometimes late to work. I'd check blogs at work, too. I was trying to hide how much time I spending on my rearend in front of my pitifully slow dial-up computer. It was beginning to comsume my thoughts. If I wasn't writing I was thinking about what I would write.

I was craving comments, too, and I had never much cared before who was reading. I became prideful about it. I started writing less about my family and my life and what just spills out of me. I wasn't loving it anymore but it was consuming me. I started to worry about what "my readers" would want to see. ...My Readers.

What a joke I am!

Then suddenly I went all empty. Nothing I had to say seemed worthy of saying to "the public" ... so I stopped. One thing I know is that when you stop writing people stop checking your blog... and I stopped. How could I keep on with nothing relevant to say?

But today I am back... with a clearer head again, I think. Back to the joy of sharing, with the hope that there are still a few folks out there that will find my thoughts interesting but mostly just back to writing to help with my sanity.

If you are reading this, Thank you. I'm back down to earth where I belong. Plodding along and enjoying the journey. If I ever do that again; somebody smack me!

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Father God, Please keep me grounded in your love. Help me prioritize my busy life and guide me through it. Amen
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Psalm 131 ~ LORD, I have given up my pride and turned away from my arrogance. I am not concerned with great matters or with subjects too difficult for me. Instead, I am content and at peace. As a child lies quietly in its mother's arms, so my heart is quiet within me. Israel, trust in the LORD now and forever!

Her grass was tall… almost too tall to mow. Luann is a friend, who has kept chaperoning church Youth Mission Trips even after her daughter graduated several years ago. She’s a tough cookie and the kids love her.

She lives alone and rents a charming little white farm house with several acres of mowable yard. She’s been divorced for a long time and is a very capable woman… been taking care of herself for years just fine.

Beau was driving down the road after school with his friend Andrew and they noticed Luann’s yard. They knew the long hours she puts in working at the grocery store and knew she would be there til close. They thought it would be a kick for her to find a nice surprise when she got home tired that night so they drove out to our house and loaded up our lawn tractor onto the trailer.

She caught ‘em though when she came home on her dinner break. The surprise was spoiled but she was grateful. Turned out her riding mower was busted and she’d been having to mow it all with a push mower when she could.

I overheard Angus talking to a friend of his on the phone a few days later. He was asking him about the old mower he still had… how much would he want for it? $500? He didn’t think Luann could afford it… maybe he’d just tell her it was $350 and throw in the rest himself…

I smiled inwardly. Angus had just been talking with me about how we need to really watch our expenses with all the college debt we are accumulating on the kids… we should cut back and pay attention to the neccessity of every purchase.

....There’s just some things you don’t cut back on.

Like father, like son.

Like the Father, like the Son.