That's what you're supposed to do

I've never considered myself a "scripture quoter extrordinaire" but I do have a clue what the Bible tells us. Jesus instructs us to feed the hungry, tend the sick, visit the prisoners, clothe the naked, and welcome the stranger, because as we do this we also care for Him. If everyone would just do this sort of thing, how much better the world would be!

My aunt and I were talking last night about my grandmother. When there was a death or illness or new baby in a family, Mawmaw would cook enough food to feed an Army. As I'd load dish after dish in the trunk of her "land yacht" she would caution me about setting things where they wouldn't spill, even though I had loaded more food for her during my teenage years than a catering company. But Mawmaw was a well-loved and well-respected lady. Even now, almost 15 years after her death, it is like proclaiming royal lineage when I tell someone that I am Louise's granddaughter! If anyone entertained angels unaware, it was Mawmaw.

I consider myself very fortunate to have grown up with lots of good examples to follow. I was taught that you don't do things because you expect something in return. You just do them because that is what you're supposed to do. Daddy always told me to be good to the old folks because they need somebody, and through my work in the nursing homes I have always tried to live by those words. I have met some interesting people and made many wonderful friends that way.

JT was a man that I only got to know over the past year. As the brother of my aunt, growing up I knew who he was and that was about it. Alcohol played a prominent part in his life in his younger days. JT also served time in prison for the killing of his adult son. But JT came into my life in 2005. My uncle asked me to look after him when he had to come into the nursing home following the amputation of his leg. Over the next few months JT lost more of that leg, as well as the other one too. But he and I built a friendship that I treasure. I'd explain his medical conditions as best as I could and try to get answers for him on things. I gave my honest opinions on his prognosis. In return he'd try his hardest in therapy, eventually getting to the point that he could get himself in and out of the bed and do pretty much as he pleased. I spent many afternoons before leaving work sitting on the foot of his bed just shooting the breeze! He went to live with my aunt and uncle for seven months before passing away last weekend. I must have made some kind of impression on him, because my aunt called one morning and said he had called out for me all night in his confusion. At his funeral on Tuesday, I was pleased to see a large crowd, though his own kids did not come. In my year-long acquaintance I found JT to be a kind man with a good sense of humor, so I went to say goodbye to someone I am glad to have had as a friend.

My husband's grandfather had a friend who did prison time for a white-collar crime. When the man was released, he lived with Grandad for while. The tall, robust gentleman who came to our wedding was replaced by a frail, sickly old man. This man, who at one time was worth millions, would attend church with our family in a suit gotten from a thrift store. He was eventually able to get a small apartment of his own. After Grandad's death we helped take some of his things over to him. He just seemed so lost and pitiful that I gave him a slip of paper with my name and number on it. I told him not to sit there alone and need food or medicine, to call me any time and I would come. Some months later he missed an appointment with his parole officer, got scared they would take him back to prison, and disappeared. Around 2 AM one morning I was awakened by a phone call from a hospital chaplain asking if I knew this man. The chaplain said he had been in the hospital for a number of days and had just passed away. The only name and number he had on him was mine.

I cannot speak as to what someone was like before I knew them. I only know both of these gentlemen were always kind-hearted to me and had a good sense of humor. One died with his sister and her family by his side. One died alone among strangers. But both knew there was at least one person on this earth that cared.

Gotta brag!

Don't you hate to run into someone who brags incessantly about their children? Well, sorry about that, but I am one of them! After lunch yesterday I went to the elementary school for the spelling bee. My older son was the winner for his classroom and was going to compete with the other winners for the schoolwide title. This being the same boy who adds extra letters into things when he is doing his homework, I really figured I would not be there very long. Before I knew it, my baby was the only one standing there!!! I don't know who had the bigger grin - him getting awarded a beautiful pin or me watching! I must also say that the other kids he competed with were very sweet and gracious. They all congratulated him and were very friendly to me. As I waited in the school lobby for dismissal, many teachers and kids came by to inform me of his victory on their way to their busses. It is nice to be the mother of a celebrity!

Of course we had to call the family and spread the good news. My husband was understandably thrilled about our big guy. Mama was excitedly telling her whole office about our champ. Granny (Mama's mama) had to be the cutest one of all. Everything I told her over the phone, she relayed to Papa about a second later. She was almost as quick as the translators at the U.N. In typical grandmother fashion, I heard her say as she hung up the phone, "Well, bless his precious little heart!"

It's What They Do

Last Tuesday brought surprising and sad news. My husband called me and told me of the death of a fellow soldier, a man he had known for years. Tom was a full-time soldier who liked to work late, and co-workers found him dead at the armory that morning. Tom was young (41) and of slender build, so his death was very unexpected. Though I get an ear-full about some people, I have never heard anything but positive about the 23 year career of MSG Tom Lenett.

Friday was a chilly day that added windy and rainy to the description by afternoon. I met my husband at the cemetery at 1:30 PM. There were many soldiers already there, including the funeral team. A light mist was falling and the wind was getting blustry. I stood to the side of the funeral tent under my umbrella and watched the preparations. One team stood to receive the casket from the hearse. They went over the steps a dozen times to make sure they had everything just right. The rifle team and bugler stood some distance away, already in formation. Several officers stood to one side of the tent. One by one the soldiers arrived and took their place in perfect rows on the other side of the tent. The sound of cars pulling in signaled the arrival of the funeral procession, and the rows of soldiers snapped to attention. The family began to move toward the tent, but were easily outnumbered two to one by military members. The team received the flag-draped casket from the hearse as Tom's beautiful 6 year-old daughter stood by, and they marched it to the gravesite and placed it down with precision. They held the flag outstretched just above the casket as the chaplain began the service. By now it was pouring down rain, and the wind was flipping umbrellas inside-out. I looked around at the soldiers. To my left about 50 soldiers stood at attention. Though fully exposed to the wind and rain, these men and women never moved a muscle. I saw the rain dripping off their noses and ears, but all ranks of officers and enlisted stood unwavering in silent tribute to one of their own. As the chaplain prepared to pray, I stole a glance at the rifle team standing in the rain. Seven heads bowed, and their rifles rested at the toe of one boot and in one white-gloved hand. Twenty-one shots rang out, and the notes of Taps sounded above the wind. The flag was folded perfectly with several shell casings inside, and the general knelt to present it to Tom's little girl. Only when the funeral ended did the soldiers move, and from generals to privates I heard no complaints about being cold or wet.

It is just what they do for one of their own.

Rest in peace MSG Tom Lenett.

Very first blog

Well, I'm finally ahead of my technology-guru husband, and have my very own blog!!! I thought it would be nice to have a place to put in my "two cents worth" on whatever crosses my mind, so here it is! If you don't know me, I'll give you a little background. I'm a Christian, an Army wife, a working mom, a therapist, and a Cub Scout leader. I love my family and my country, and try hard to give back to both in whatever way I can. I have a wonderful husband serving his 18th year in the Army, two wild and wonderful little boys, 3 birds, and 6 fat goldfish. I am prone to half-baked plans and last-minute ideas, and can usually find willing accomplices in my husband and my mom. Usually, where you find one of us, you find all 4 of us (or 5, if we can get Mama)!

I am usually an easy-going person, but some things really get on my last nerve. The recent debate over "Merry Christmas" vs. "Happy Holidays" was ridiculous. I have friends of other faiths who had no problem wishing me a Merry Christmas, just as I had no problem wishing them a Happy Hannukah or what ever they chose to celebrate. I have friends who celebrate nothing at all, but didn't begrudge me the Christmas spirit. I also have a problem with those who put politics over people. I don't rightly care how you voted or what your political affiliation is. When the troops are on the ground, you're not Republican or Democrat, you're an American and you give them the support and respect they deserve!

OK, now we're on one of my favorite soapboxes - our soldiers! The media just does not give a good idea of what they are really doing in Iraq and Afghanistan. They are very obsessed with giving you a body count and showing the worst of what happens. In reality, our troops are doing an INCREDIBLE job!!! Case in point is the tiny Iraqi baby our Georgia soldiers helped get to Atlanta for life-saving surgery. Little Noor came through the procedure well today, and the doctors are optimistic for her recovery. What you don't hear about are the soldiers who pay out of their own pockets for wheelchairs and walkers to be sent over to an Iraqi they befriended. You don't hear of the soldier requesting little stuffed animals for a hospital in Afghanistan treating the children injured by old land mines. You don't see the photos of boxes of warm clothing being given out in Afghanistan by our troops, and the smiles and tears of the village elder who is overwhelmed by something so nice. You don't realize that the soldiers who got the power restored to Baghdad after Saddam's fall were Georgia National Guardsmen. Yes, Iraq and Afghanistan have a long way to go - but look how far they have come!!! Now we must "stay the course" and complete the mission, or our children will be going back and re-fighting the same battle. My husband was a Desert Storm soldier, and 12 years later found him once again donning desert tan and heading into harms way. Ten years from now, both of my sons will be of fighting age, but I pray if they choose to serve, they can serve in peace-time. God bless all our troops, and our veterans as well. We owe them more than you can imagine.

Mama and I spent last week fighting with 12 meters of silk that my husband brought back from Operation Iraqi Freedom. I had this great idea of making an oriental-style dress to wear to the Annual Paratroopers' Ball. The big catch was that I found out on Tuesday that the ball was Saturday night, and neither Mama nor I had ever sewn silk before. Though she may have thought I was a nut, Mama cut and pinned and pieced while I sewed. We came to the conclusion that the oriental-style pattern must have been cut to fit an oriental woman, and let's just say some alterations had to be made to fit a tall Georgia girl like me! The dress was finished just in time to put it on and head to the ball Saturday evening. (Thanks a heap, Mama!!!) Though we had a wonderful evening, the absence of many friends currently serving in harm's way was certainly felt by all.

The last vent of this post is regarding children. Mine aren't angels, and neither are yours, but they are gifts from God!!! I see special needs children in our public school system for physical therapy, and they are all precious in their own way. Several were "shaken babies" and that makes me furious! If the person who did this to them was caught, they got a little jail time. These little ones have this for life! Who knows what these little people could have become? Now they are forever trapped in a body that doesn't do what it is supposed to, they can't see, and they can't speak. It takes a low-life, scum of the earth to hurt an innocent baby. But I am loving this job, and getting to work with these kids. When they smile, it makes the whole day brighter!

Well that's it for now. Life, and dinner, are calling! We live in the best country on earth. Don't take it for granted.

Pray for our troops!