The holiday has incredible meaning, especially in light of recent events in our community.  I find it hard to believe that anyone would not recognize the sacrifice of our servicemen, even in peacetime.  I think we take our lives for granted and have no understanding of military life...unless you have lived it. 

It is hard to comprehend all that they give up.  They leave spouses and children behind for months at a time, sometimes even years.  They move every two years sometimes more often.  Have you ever moved?  If you have, you know what a major undertaking that is. If three moves is the equivilent of a fire, what is 16 moves equivilent to?  The families of servicemen know how it works.  They have learned to make moves as smooth as possible, but that does not change the sacrifices they make.  The children have been uprooted and uprooted until they do not know where they belong.  When orders come they are followed.  No questions asked.  It is a hard life.  One that civilians no nothing about. The very least we can do is to say "thank you" one day a year.  Hopefully, we do it more often than that.  Thank you to the families and the men that work hard so that we can have a holiday in their honor and in their memory.  Do not forget the ones that died...and their families...that is why Memorial Day was created. 

Servicemen at our church were recognized today.  As they returned to their seats, people stepped out to hug them and shake their hands.  Hearing people say thank you outloud brought tears to many of these men and womens eyes.  Is it so unusual for them to hear?  It acknowledges their lives and the part the military played in their lives.  When you ask an active duty soldier what they need in Iraq, they will tell you prayers and thanks.  The letters from school children are their favorites, I have been told they love the letters because it reminds them of why they go, and why they fight...so the children can remain innocent and childlike.  In other countries children are older than their years.  They have watched people die since they were toddlers.  Our servicemen do not want our children to have to live in that kind of a world. They hate war more than the people at home do.  They have seen it up close.  They know the damage it creates.  They can taste the fear and yet they serve with courage...for you and me. 

  People in the military are normal everyday people.  They do the same things we do everyday.  There are probably people you see each day that were in the military at one time or another.  There were several today that stood and came forward that I never knew served.  When you meet one, or their family please say thank you. And when you know a family that has lost one say a prayer.    

Sixteen years ago today I was in labor about to birth our first son.  It seems like yesterday.  I know they say time moves faster when you get older and I am finding it to be true.  Aaron was my first big baby and he paved the way for the ones after him...he still does.  I am grateful on this day to be here to celebrate with him.  There is a new perspective about birthdays. It is not about the stuff but about making memories.  We went to Red Lobster for lunch...his favorite resturant.  Then to see the new Pirates of the Caribean movie.  We went back to Skitts Mountain for swimming at the Gunnins where we had cake and ice cream.  It was just us and his girlfriend.  It was a good day.  In a few weeks, after our trip to Alaska, he will be taking his drivers test and getting a car.  He will taste freedom in a new way and I will let go a little more.  It is sad for them to grow up but at the same time it is the right thing.  Bittersweet.  New challenges ahead.  Happy Birthday Aaron.

It's over!  It's over!  I will tell you that teachers look for the end of the year more that students.  It is not that we don't love them....but it is a high pressure job.  The down time of the summer is a much needed break, and it is here!  That means I will be leaving for Alaska in just a few days.  Now the pressure of getting ready to go!  In life there is always some kind of pressure.  🙂

Tonight I sit on my back porch listening to the sounds of dogs barking in the distance, and cricket chirping.  I love this porch.  We had a candle light dinner out here tonight and I decided to stay.  I has been a hard two days at work.  Today was a half day and it seemed to take twice as long as a whole one.  There have been discipline issues with one of my students.  The law was involved and the family who was all for punishment yesterday, changed their minds today.  Today it is the teachers fault.  Pulling us from our end of year party to demand an apology...rough day.  Our superintendent was called and now there is an investigation of what we did in the situation.  It is a terrible way to end the year, being questioned.  I fully believe that we were professional in our handling of the issue.  I know that has already come out in our written report.  It is just the idea that I hate.  That after all we poor into these kids...this one in particular...our motives are still questioned.  It is part of being a teacher.  A bad part.  The public feels it has the right to come in during a party and call you down.  Then they are offended when you refuse to bow to their pressure.  Bad day.  Maybe tomorrow, this will be resolved and the last day of school will be salvaged.

Word of Advice

Parents that are reading...please put yourself in the position of the teacher before you barge into a classroom on the attack.  Think about how you would complain to a doctor or lawyer.  I don't think you would run into their office while they were with another client or patient and yell at them in front of the other person.  Please do not do this to your teachers.  We really do love children and want the best for them.

It is the last week of school.  It is exhausting as the students are excitable and we have had to turn in all books.  We have field day, pie in the face day, awards days, and parties.  Hype...and discipline issues because of the hype.  I will be glad when Friday comes!

It is astounding to me how one person can affect so many…like ripples in a pond.  The rings of a life travel far and touch many.  Jason Harkins life was like that, affecting many people that he did not even know. I am one of those people. Hundreds of others lined the streets of our town Friday.  They closed their businesses, left their jobs and stood for hours in the hot sun to pay tribute to a man they never knew.  It was quite a sight to see.

On the way to the funeral, over the road there was a humungous flag draped between two bucket trucks. My heart began grieving for the family at that moment.  It was the beginning of many breathless moments that day. Our church family lined the streets around the church for the processional. We held flags to show our support and thanks to this family for the ultimate sacrifice they have made.  Dignitaries arrived by a helicopter that landed on the baseball field across from the church.  Soon after, we could hear sirens at a distance.  First, the police cars came with lights flashing, then the van with the honor guard, then about 50 Patriot Riders on motorcycles rode with flags; their duty…to protect this day.  Then the hearse came with the flag draped coffin in the back.  Next in line was the rider-less horse, with Jason’s empty combat boots in the stirrups.  It was a solemn moment…breathless.  All eyes were moist and then the tears really began to flow as the black limousine with the family went past.  Helicopters flew overhead, and I wondered what it must be like for a family to grieve in such a fishbowl.  The world is watching you bury your son, your husband, your brother; it cannot get tougher than that. 

The funeral was both heart wrenching and patriotic.  The formality of the military honors mixed with the compassion of the people to create a sweet atmosphere of love and care.  The color guard brought the flag and placed it beside the flag draped coffin. The pledge was said and the National Anthem sung. There were PowerPoint presentations set to patriotic songs that captured the meaning of Jason’s life.  And then the slides of his childhood through adulthood caused all mothers to hold their own children a little tighter and pray for Nancy with great sorrow.  Wives held husband’s hands in a firm grip and mourned with Emily

 Each minister that shared brought another piece of Jason’s life into the spotlight of his death.  The youth pastor that led him to the Lord spoke first about Jason’s desire to know God even as a young eighth grader.  Then the minister that married Jason and Emily told of their love for each other and their desire to have a Christian marriage. A song that his Emily wrote called You Get Used to Goodbye (The Military Wife) followed this.  She wrote it as he left for Iraq never knowing the double-edged meaning of the words would pierce every heart at his funeral.  Compassion and tears flowed from the people as her words, sung by a cousin, hit home.

 Last, the pastor of Concord shared about Jason’s service to the Lord and to his country.  He told about just a few weeks ago when Jason had returned into a hostile firefight to save an injured buddy’s life as he carried him to safety.  He took a bullet in his helmet that day, and it earned him a bronze star.  He saved the helmet with the bullet still lodged in it as a trophy of that victory.  Two weeks later, he died in a roadside bomb.  It does not make sense, but we know that God is holding Jason and his family now, his compassion overflowing for his children.  In private before the ceremony, a Brigadier General presented the family with a purple heart, a bronze star, and other commendations.  The general was recognized at the end of the funeral.  The color guard removed the colors and the body was removed behind them. 

The ride to the cemetery was the most amazing part to me.  I was ahead of the procession trying to find a place to stand among the crowd.  As I rode, I saw diversity standing by the roadside.  Old men in overalls, little children in strollers, men in suits, all varieties of people lined up to pay tribute…for miles.  These are the people for whom Jason was fighting; this is a picture of the USA in all of its diversity coming together in unity for one moment in time.  These people were putting aside their differences and their lives for an hour or two to show their respect to this soldier and his family. 

On the street, we were realizing that our freedom is not free. We saw the cost as it drove by us in a black hearse.  We saw it in the faces of a family in painful agony as they moved to bury their loved one.   It was hushed in the crowd as the cars filed by.  Each one was holding his/her flag up in silence.  Quiet sobs and curious children; tear filled eyes, and veteran salutes were the sights and sounds of respect…breathless.

Once I was back in my car, I proceeded to the cemetery.  The day was beautiful; it was sunny with a cool breeze and bright blue skies. They presented and read a long list of honors earned by this young man.  The honor guard fired the salute that made startled children in the crowd cry out and hold their ears.  In our hearts, we were crying with the children…Stop, this is not right.  It is loud.  It is wrong. Stop. But they did not stop and we did not cry out…breathless. 

The honor guard removed the flag from the casket just as the wind picked up.  They folded it ever so slowly and carefully.  It passed with slow salute from one officer to another, until it finally came to rest in the arms of his wife; then another for his mother and one more for his father. The presenter spoke words of comfort and gratefulness, as the family clung to the red, white, and blue fabric for which Jason died.  The pastor gave a message of hope to the family and The Lords Prayer was sung.  In a final moment, the young widow stood, kissed the casket and said her goodbyes as she clung to the only thing she has left…the flag…Jason’s flag.  Breathless.

The day was full of ceremony but in the end, Jason is still gone.  A family is still hurting.  Our community is in mourning for one of our own.  Our hearts are ripped out. The ripples in the pond are expanding, moving outward.  I did not know Jason personally, but I know his family.  They are remarkable people to handle this event with such dignity and to allow us to watch their very private, personal loss in such a public way.  They are people of faith.  Their desire is that Jason’s sacrifice will lead others to know their Savior, Jesus Christ.  After all, He is one that Jason modeled his life after.  Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.  John 15:13  

There were no protesters...thanks for the prayers.  The funeral was very moving as was the ride through the crowded streets to the cemetary.  I have no words...yet :)  Stay tuned.  I will paint you a picture when I can stop crying...

Calling all my praying friends...a member of our church, Jason Harkins, was killed in Iraq.  I have written about him in an earlier blog.  His funeral is on Friday and it is going to be big.  The whole town plans to line the streets between the funeral home in Cleveland to the church in Clermont.  It is to be a show of support for the family that gave the ultimate sacrifice.  We recieved word that a group is planning to protest the funeral.  It is the same group that protested the gay club at the high school and picketed our Easter parade.  They have a twisted and hateful message...and they are always looking for a spot light.  Jason was a native of Cleveland and many of the locals are very angry about the protesters.  Our prayer is that there are no confrontations and that the funeral can be a time of honor to this fallen soldier.  Please join with us in praying for the family and community...you are all the greatest!

Today is Live Strong Day.  It is a tribute to cancer victims and survivors started by the Lance Armstrong Foundation.  The goal of the day is to unify those that have suffered from this deadly disease.  On my way to work, I heard stories of strength and courage.  I have such a story myself, and I have a new appreciation for anyone that is going through or has gone through Cancerland.  The tears come quickly when reliving the details of my own journey, as others share their painful stories. 

This terrible disease brings out the best of the human spirit, the spirit God created within us to fight for life.  It changes your priorities and perspectives.  Everything looks differently after surviving such a challenge.  I think it is like some big sporting event such as the super bowl, only the stakes are much higher...life and death.  Oh, yeah…and you do not get to train.  It is thrust upon you totally, unaware and suddenly you are in the fight of your life.  The only preparation you have is what has been developed in your life up to that point…faith, strength of character, endurance, emotional health, physical strength and stamina.  This fight will try to take all of that away.  Where you are the weakest is where it will hit the hardest.  I have never been through anything that so consumed every part of my life.  Without the Lord and a fabulous support system, I do not see how anyone could survive. 

The incredible part of this journey is that in all of this weakness, with a weary body, soul and spirit…God comes through.  He shines out like a beacon…his strength is displayed through this desire that rises to fight, to endure…to survive.  He built this into the deepest parts of our being.  It is his design.  When all else is weak, He is strong. When you cannot lift your head, you can feel him pouring strength into your spirit.  His breath surges into you, as he whispers to your heart.  “Fight!”  “Survive!”  “Live!” 

My motto…live fully. Lance Armstrong’s motto…live strong.

God’s motto? Live Free.  Free from cancer, from unforgiveness, from bitterness, from sin, from darkness, and from death.  Be free to love, share, give, and live.  I applaud the human spirit that fights for life.  I pray that all of us can Live Free.

Every person in the world has a mother.  Have you ever thought of that?  All the diversity in the world but every person was born in the same way.  God designed this universal uniqueness. His ability to create these kinds of paradoxes is what makes him God. In his plan, we cross over from woman to mother when we nurture and bring forth life.  It is a miraculous thing for God to share this ability, because it is his alone to give.  It speaks volumes of his love and respect of the women he created.  If a woman is unable to bare children, she is not disqualified from this call to bring forth life, for it applies to much more that the physical act of childbearing.  Every mother, every woman is has a unique style about her.  No two are alike.  Motherhood is the same…individual abilities that help to form the next generation.  Some mothers are good.  Some are not.  The fact remains that every mother is designed to bring life to the world around her.  She imprints the people within her life one way or another.  She forms and shapes as the master potter watches and instructs.

This year I know several people facing this day as the “first” without their mothers.  My father is one of these.  My grandmother has left her imprint on his life and on ours.  She had her way, her style of loving and showing love.  She nurtured and brought forth life that was poured out in her own way to those of us she cared about.  It left an impression on my father.  In him, you can see the marks of her artistry as they come forth to us for the next generation.   

I have two mothers to honor this day.  My own mother, who teaches me to be whom God created me to be.  She is my encourager and a quiet confidence within me.  This year has been a particularly bonding time between us as I have faced down death with her by my side.  The marks of her nurture are deep within my being.  They surface and life comes forth even in the midst of a deadly disease. 

My Mother-in Love, Louise is another woman whom God has used to bless me.  For more than 20 years, she has been caring about me.  Now a common road through Cancerland bonds us.  Chemo is not what I would choose to share to unite me with another, but God did not ask me.  Now that we are both on the “other side” of treatment, the imprints of our trial are visible through our scars.  They have created a beauty all their own as life comes forth from them. 

I praise God for my mothers…both of them.  I thank him that I was blessed to know and love my grandmothers as they brought their own personalities to my life.  I am grateful that he invented motherhood as a way to nurture his creation around the world. His blessings to us never cease to amaze me.