Monday, January 25, 2010
Hell. It seems to be a pretty good topic for this year. Tomorrow morning my son flies to Iraq to spend the next few months wearing army fatigues and carrying around packs that weigh more than his younger brother and seeing and dealing with the atrocities of war. Yesterday we said our good-bys. That was "hell". You try to be so brave and strong; you don't want your children to see how much it affects you, you want them to go forward with their life with your support and trust. Which he has, he is a great young man. But I don't like putting my son in harms way, when they are little you watch them and care for them and shelter them. You don't let them swim unattended at a small age, or cross the street until they are well prepared and have learned to "look both ways!" You ran along side while they learned to ride a bike, even if it almost killed you and scraped your arms as you caught them. But army, there just doesn't seem to be a motherly kind of feeling when you say the word 'military'. He's a man, not a boy, he will do me good, he will do his country good. God Bless him. Pray for him and all the soldiers.