Well, our Trinidad adventure has commenced! Four of us spent the night in a hotel near the airport - that was a very wise move (especially, for non morning people like me!) The hotel stay also afforded closer bonding with those present! We learned things about each other that were complete unknowns until last night. We also laughed a great deal and were able to start our morning off with prayer for the entire team, for our travels today, the families, friends and pets we all left behind...and for the women we will all encounter in a matter of hours.
So far, God has shown great favor in numerous ways: for instance, my checked bag exceeded maximum weight by .5 lbs - instead of a $100 fee - I got a casual wink and a nod! We are presently in the Miami airport and the flight from Atl to here was uneventful (and NO crying babies or barfing nervous flyers on board!)
With limited room in my bookbag, I packed minimal toiletries including "wisps". Most military moms are all too familiar with this ingenious invention: a small, pre-pasted, disposable tooth brush. As I was brushing my teeth this morning, I was reminded of the many "wisp-filled" care packages I sent to my son when he was in Afghanistan. He, and thousands of other troops have gone there to bring hope, peace, and a new system of government to the Afghani people.
Standing at the sink, it occurred to me that Kelly, Barb, Trish, Elizabeth, Kim, Hilary, Cathy and myself are "troops" - heading to the battlefield. Like Tyler, we are going to a war zone with a mission of taking the hope, and peace found in Christ to desperate people. We want to give them a new ruler as well, A King - THE KING!
Another interesting parallel- the value of encouragement and prayers from those we love back home! I was brought to tears when I realized my husband, my daughter and my "adoptive mom" wrote letters of encouragement, prayers and scripture for me to open each day we are in active battle. (The phone messages, texts, Facebook comments are meaningful not just to the individual recipients but to our entire team!) Please keep'em coming!
We will update from Trinidad when time and connectivity permit!
Pray for us as we board the next flight to Port of Spain - we'll have "boots on the ground" in just a few short hours! (chacos, sperrys, keds, and flip flops anyway)
Love to all,
T
PS-posted from my iPad - please forgive grammatical errors and overall aesthetics!
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Mirror, Mirror
“Mirror Mirror” was not on my list of “Must See” movies, yet it was the option selected by a group of friends tonight. The gist of Disney’s classic “Snow White” is still familiar to me. That same version, re-released in the early 90s just happens also to be the very first animated film I took my baby girl to...it was also the first and last film we ever had to leave early. (Looking back, it was a little too intense for a toddler – oops, a Rookie Mom mistake.)
Background/Refresher: Snow White was born into nobility, but her mother died leaving her without a mom. An evil woman later married her dad, thus becoming Queen. Through evil manipulation, the king was soon out of the picture, no longer reining over his castle or the Kingdom. The Evil Monarch (Julia Roberts) was rather conniving and manipulative to say the least. A woman engulfed with pride – yet obviously painfully insecure. She despised Snow White; so much that she manipulated others into believing deceitful lies about the “fairest of all” - the cherished and beautiful daughter of the King. In this modern day version, the embittered Queen attempts to land a fifth husband, not for love, nor romance – but for selfish greed and continued control.
Disclaimer: Having seen this film just once and only an hour ago (and without a notebook!), here are a few plotlines and quotes that, in my humble moviegoer opinion, have great relevance to life, especially, to the lives of girls; and to those of us who have known the sensation of being in the crosshairs of another’s unyielding jealousy and envy. Not everyone has experienced being the target of such animosity, but I’m willing to bet that most of us have. (If not, we have a friend who can likely relate.)
Quotes and Commentary:
The Queen Regarding Snow White: “She is a threat to everything, take her to the woods and feed her to the beast!”
Isn’t it interesting how bullies are often able to rally support simply by wagging their lying tongues? I see the Queen as nothing more than a “Royal Bully”. Bullies secure the loyalty of their “supporters” by implementing a “gift with purchase” business model. If you give me your support in destroying or at least significantly damaging the life of someone I loathe – validating me in the process, you’ll receive: a spot at the cool kids’ lunch table, a new bike, a luxury vacation, a partnership in business, a promotion, FILL IN THE BLANK! (Some people are willing to sell their integrity for minimal, quickly fleeting and superficial gain!)
In one situation witnessed recently, the “Real Life Evil Queen” built her army by funding various wants and needs of her constituents. She preys on the ones easily swayed, with the ultimate goal of controlling their actions long term. The “bought” person(s) eventually attain a level of dependence making it uncomfortable to break free from the control – even when breaking free becomes desired.
I’ve also seen it take years for some to realize they’ve been caught in this trap, but once free – they are all the wiser, and not at all surprised to see others caught in the same cycle, with the same conniving bully.
~~~~~
Like Snow, it can be a little too easy for us to view our significance in a manner consistent with the opinions of others. That is dangerous and shortsighted! Our value is not contingent with or decided by friends, family, coworkers - or other external factors. Too often we forget that!
~~~~~
hmmmm – fall? (Interesting, especially when we consider “All fall short…..”)
~~~~~
The Queen to Snow White
regarding a shiny red apple: “It would
warm my ancient heart if you could accept this modest gift on your wedding
day.”
Snow White: “It's very kind of you.”
The Queen: “Just one bite... and a good fortune to the
fairest of them all.”
Okay – I don’t have to
tell you what apple this reminded me of!
(The Evil Queen seems to have a great deal in common with The Evil One...pride, deceit, tempest, building a self-serving contingency....the list goes on.)
~~~~~
Dwarves
to Snow: “A weakness is only a weakness if you think of it that way.” In our weakness…His power is made perfect – and He makes us strong.
~~~~~
Perhaps, my favorite recurring theme of the movie was this: No
matter who plotted against Snow White, regardless of the weapons and war waged
against her, in spite of the lies temporarily believed by some, nothing,
nothing, nothing kept her from being the Daughter of the King! We can all rest in this truth. No one can
take away our birthright! No one can separate us from the Love of the
Father.
I looked it up and don’t
see any reference to Gregory Maguire’s faith (author of Mirror Mirror…Wicked,
and other fairy tale rewrites), however I did note that the Brothers Grimm
added Christian elements to their stories (authors of the original Snow
White.) Without time to research their
story methods, my hunch is they were well familiar with scripture. If not, they were well versed in human nature
and the ongoing battle between good and evil.
So, the “fairy tale ending” is not a fairy tale at all – it’s an eternal promise:
We CAN all be Snow White….
I hear the Savior say,
Thy strength indeed is small! Child of weakness, watch and pray, Find in Me thine all in all Jesus paid it all All to Him I owe Sin had left a crimson stain He washed it white as snow Lord, now indeed I find Thy power, and Thine alone, Can change the leper's spots And melt the heart of stone Jesus paid it all All to Him I owe Sin had left a crimson stain He washed it white as snow For nothing good have I Where-by Thy grace to claim I'll wash my garments white In the blood of Calvary's Lamb Jesus paid it all All to Him I owe Sin had left a crimson stain He washed it white as snow And when before the throne I stand in Him complete Jesus died my soul to save My lips shall still repeat Jesus paid it all All to Him I owe Sin had left a crimson stain He washed it white as snow Jesus paid it all All to Him I owe Sin had left a crimson stain He washed it white as snow
(Jesus Paid it All)
Note: comment/updated info on this song from "Terry" below:
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Thursday, May 31, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Dear Jason...(JJ)
We never met face to face, yet your very life had tremendous
impact on my family, me – and on countless others. You see, the October morning I said a tearful
goodbye to my baby boy – you were there in the crowd. Like your sweet mom and hundreds more – I was
hating those last few minutes before you boarded the bus. Whether your mom was on base, or she was
agonizing from home as many were - via cell phones, prayers, and maternal raw
emotion, we who adore our sons weren’t oblivious to the fact that those final
moments at LeJeune, may be your very last on US soil. The moments before you, Tyler, and the young men of 2/2
boarded the buses are moments that will never leave memory. Not just mine, not just your mom’s, but every mom and dad who cared deeply for their son, no matter where goodbyes were said,
those moments will NEVER be forgotten.
In a few days, our country will “celebrate” Memorial Day. For most, it means a day off of work. The United States Post Office and many banks
will be closed. Most schools in the
Southeast have already dismissed for the summer, but the ones around the
country who’ve not concluded their academic year will enjoy a three-day
weekend. As I’m writing this, there are
people in packed cars headed to see out of town relatives or in route to the
beach. People are planning menus for Monday
afternoon cookouts. Still others will just
be grateful to sleep in on Monday morning, avoiding the typical commute and
marking off a few task items.
You see, Jason – too often the meaning of Memorial Day has
been lost. They don’t know that it’s
about you and thousands of other young men and women who have lost their lives
while fighting for, defending or upholding the values of this incredible
nation. They don’t get it. They take freedoms for granted. “They” have never had a beloved son (or
daughter) deploy to a hostile environment, placing their physical lives on the
line, so that the rights and privileges of others can be preserved.
Enough of that; If you could hear my words today – Jason, I’d
want you to know that your parents and brother love you still and the memory of
you is ever present. They honor your
courageous life with theirs. You’d be so
proud of your family. You’d be blown
away by the strength of your mom. Never,
never, never - would I want to walk the path that she is on. Surely, my feet would falter – yet she does
it with humility, grace and with great dignity. She looks beyond herself and the physical void
that is left in your absence. Pressing
forward, she honors and remembers her sweet son through the way she loves and
encourages your friends – and their families.
One of the most unexplainably humbling moments of the past
few years, was sitting with your mom at the Memorial Service of another fallen
young man – Blake. (...tell him he has
great reason to be proud as well. His
parents are phenomenal people, pressing forward in faith and still an active
part of the Marine family community.) We
sat on a row which would make it convenient for your mom to exit the sanctuary
if the “still too fresh” reminders were too painful. I told her I’d walk out with her. Rest assured,
she would have not been left alone in her grief that day. She hung in there – with love for you, her
precious son. In some ways, the words of
encouragement that day – the talk of Heaven, the absence of strife – were a delayed
comfort. In her raw grief, at your own service
– there were many similar words shared – but I can only imagine, those words
were hard to penetrate the heart of a woman who had just lost her beloved oldest
child. I can’t say for certain how she
felt – and I hope that’s a certainty that will elude me for a lifetime.
Your parents were there when the 2/2 returned from their
last deployment in February. It was a
pleasant surprise to see them there – again, you’d be so proud of how they
honor you by serving others. Your mom
mentioned that she felt “close to you” at the recent homecoming. Words still fail me – but your mom and your
dad, show stellar resilience. Their
memories of you, your love and honor for them and for your country, your antics
and all that you stood for, remain here today.
Many have lost sight of what “Memorial Day” is declared to
be. I wish it fell routinely on the last
Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday of May.
It’s not meant to be a convenience to civilians, but that’s what Monday
has become for a great deal of Americans.
Please know that in my heart and in the hearts of those you have
personally touched – your memory and your life, will be forever honored.
No, you’re not physically here. Rest assured, no terrorist organization can
erase your legacy. You will live on in
the hearts of those you loved. Your
memory will stay with those of us who have watched in awe, the strength and
increasing faith in God that resulted from your passing. Your memory will not dissipate from the friends
you made at LeJeune and especially not from those who were serving alongside of
you on that fateful February day.
Interestingly, I remember vividly the day that you died – I wish
I didn’t. I hate the words “River City”
and will always recall the happenings of that day. The sound of my son’s voice when he called is
permanently etched in my mind. I’m
grateful for the sound of his voice, and so wish your parents had the same experience
that day. I don’t know how you felt
about tattoos while you were here, but I suspect you’d be humbled by the number
of young men who have a memorial tattoo on their bodies that reminds them of
you every time they see themselves in a mirror. Some
people have issues with “ink” but how could any parent object to a permanent
reminder of a friend whose life on Earth was cut short in an act of valor? Tyler has accumulated an impressive
collection since turning 18. Most
though, have been since his return from Afghanistan. His most recent tattoo – has your silhouette….and
your name. As a mom, I’m proud of him
for NOT wanting to forget you and others.
Having your name displayed on his bicep also provides ample
opportunities for strangers to hear of your brave devotion. See, people are going to be talking about you
long, long, long after you were here.
Interestingly, several celebrities have died since you – interestingly too,
they get a lot of coverage the week or two following their passing, but I haven’t
seen a single celebrity tattoo.
No, Jason, you may not have had as many years on Earth as most,
but there is no doubt – the imprint and the legacy you left behind will
outshine many lives with decades more of opportunity. You made a difference. Mine is just one life you touched. Believe
me, the hearts you impacted span across this great nation and into other
countries. Although you’re gone, others
will continue to learn of your bravery, sacrifice, devotion to family, and your
love of God. You’re not forgotten. You
never will be.
Sure, there will be cookouts on Monday, people will sleep
in, the lakes and beaches will be full - but no matter what we’re doing, or
where we are – there will be plenty of people remembering you and your fallen
comrades from years gone by. Know there
will be many prayers offered for the darling family you (and others) have left
behind.
Scripture tells us that you’re happy to be in Heaven – you know
no pain, you’re in the most glorious of all places. Your tears have been wiped away; there is
nothing you long for. You wouldn’t want
to be back on Earth because you’ve seen what awaits those of us who have come
into a saving knowledge of Jesus. While
the ones you’ve left behind still feel the pain of your loss- I pray they find
comfort in knowing you are with the Lord…and that one day you’ll all be
reunited for eternity.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
The First House on the Left
Our neighborhood is a comprised of approximately 96 homes
in a desirable suburb of North Atlanta.
We have decades old, well established yards, with gorgeous trees and even a
lake. We have swim and tennis and an
active Homeowner’s Association. A cornucopia of shopping, gourmet restaurants,
parks and leisure is literally minutes
away. The majority of homes are larger
than average. Most are “traditional” by
design – often with full finished basements.
It’s a quiet community with fabulous neighbors. Crime has not been an issue in the nine years
we've lived here. Our community
is nestled in a top ranked school system with convenient access to everything. When
we peer out kitchen windows, we see trees, flowers, and beautifully choreographed birds,
butterflies, squirrels and more.
A very dear, longtime friend once told me that throughout early high school, she thought I was conceited and very snobby. It took a little time for her to figure out
that I was only extremely shy and painfully insecure.
How profoundly opposite of her “first impression”! Then again, six years
ago – I ascertained a very positive initial assessment of someone who I now know
only “made a great first impression.”
Through conversations, actions and handwritten letters – it’s clear that
this individual was also too familiar with the phrase, “You only get one time
to make a first impression.” Time
revealed greater, darker truths – that are far from the persona presented to
immediate family, friends, and prospects. My desire to love this person made the positive first impression almost impossible to forget. Wanting to believe the best - the best was a remarkable front, and I was one of the last to see the reality. Some people are simply brilliant actors/actresses. (Keep both eyes wide
open! First impressions can be hard to
shake – in either direction.)
This is not an admonition - but a charge and a challenge to self.
It doesn’t hurt to make a great first impression...it really doesn't hurt to make a great first impression this is truly representative of the person you are. I've no doubt that I've left poor first imprints for others. Hopefully, they've extended a bit of grace in those situations as was the case with my childhood friend!
First impressions aren't necessarily a "Hole in One." Lesson learned - again.
IMHO
T
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| This is on one of the "better days" - yet, weeds galore |
Residents seem quite content here – with one caveat. There is a house on our street that is an
absolute eye sore. It has long been
vacant. The “phantom owner” fails to
maintain the property to the point of neglect. It’s my understanding that the issue has been
addressed with proper authorities and appropriate “processes” are in place.
While encouraging news, “processes” take
time and fail to lessen the eye strain every time anyone enters our
neighborhood. While this one horrendous yard exists there are many lawns that look as though they were carefully and precisely extracted from Pebble Beach or Pinehurst and plopped in our midst.
There is a lovely home for sale a few doors down. I’m sure that prospective buyers may be
inclined to turn around when their sight lands upon the yellow stucco that could quite
possibly house Gomez and Morticia. This
one horribly unkempt lot would be unfortunate on any street in
our neighborhood, but it is presently the “first impression.” The first house on the left has given me
quite a bit of pause lately.
We learn about first impressions at an early age. We grow up hearing the colloquialism, “You
never get a second chance to make a first impression”. From youth, we are conditioned to put "our best foot forward" - perhaps appealing to the masses, yet often far removed from
authenticity. How absurd. Yet, at my present age (43) – it’s still easy
to succumb to absurd, cultural conditioning. Just
yesterday, I found myself explaining to someone why a 5’9” girl (me) would
consider wearing 4” heels. Why? Because, generally speaking – people take you
more seriously with every inch of height. It’s silly
and superficial! (Although, I have a bias toward fabulous shoes - ascribing to the "keep your heels, head and standards high" philosophy!)
At some point along
the way, my wardrobe became somewhat contingent on what persons in “authority positions”
would be encountered on a given day.
Conversely, in recent months – I’ve learned
to appreciate (and encourage among friends) “cosmetic free days”. Those are coming about more and more! (It's great for the skin!) There is obviously an inner battle brewing within - one between
preconceived notions and time-proven reality.
On the flipside, my own first proclivities of others have been “generally
accurate.” Most often, intuition kicks
in and a façade is easily penetrated.
Although, history is not 100% accurate. There have been individuals encountered that
seemed “harsh and abrasive”. Through
further interaction, initial assessment has been replaced by one that is “quiet
and yet, incredibly nurturing and gentle.” Most
significantly, if my husband remained defined by the first impression – he’d
not be my husband now. It’s funny how
life works. …and also quite humbling. People perceived as friends may not be –
people perceived as adversaries, may turn out to be loyal and true companions.
A very dear, longtime friend once told me that throughout early high school, she thought I was conceited and very snobby. It took a little time for her to figure out
that I was only extremely shy and painfully insecure.
How profoundly opposite of her “first impression”! Then again, six years
ago – I ascertained a very positive initial assessment of someone who I now know
only “made a great first impression.”
Through conversations, actions and handwritten letters – it’s clear that
this individual was also too familiar with the phrase, “You only get one time
to make a first impression.” Time
revealed greater, darker truths – that are far from the persona presented to
immediate family, friends, and prospects. My desire to love this person made the positive first impression almost impossible to forget. Wanting to believe the best - the best was a remarkable front, and I was one of the last to see the reality. Some people are simply brilliant actors/actresses. (Keep both eyes wide
open! First impressions can be hard to
shake – in either direction.)
First impressions are a reality. We simply must not assume first impressions are correct. Just as potential buyers should drive past
the first house on the left to see what sits beyond the “entrance” – so should
we pursue further information as we first become acquainted with others. Don’t be
too quick to write someone off. Don’t be
too quick to give someone your heart. Be
prayerful. Be wise.
This is not an admonition - but a charge and a challenge to self. First impressions aren't necessarily a "Hole in One." Lesson learned - again.
IMHO
T
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Libre Euphoria: Roy G Biv Style
Interested in a little cheap therapy? Forget Dewey Decimal! After tackling multiple organizational
projects in recent weeks, I’ve grown particularly fond of the euphoria associated
with Roy G. Biv. If you’ve been out of
middle school for a while and have forgotten this mnemonic for the color
spectrum, here it is: RED.ORANGE.YELLOW.GREEN.BLUE.INDIGO.VIOLET. I first rearranged my dresser drawers and
closet in the order of the spectrum.
Opening the drawers of my dresser is uber pleasing to the eyes. I’ve discarded and donated so many pieces of
clothing that the remaining inventory is much easier managed. Especially, with the “rolled” shirts positioned
in ROY G. BIV fashion.
While perusing the April 2012 Redbook magazine, my eyes fell
upon a picture of a bookcase arranged in the color spectrum. GENIUS, I thought! New inspiration trumped my
existing project list and revitalized my organizational enthusiasm. So, here I sit on Day 1 of a 3 Day “Stay-cation”
– facing a newly arranged bookcase in my home office. Roy G. Biv is cathartic.
Try it. If you consider the
traits affiliated with right/left brain dominance – I come out in the
middle. People lovingly tease me for anal
tendencies while others pick up on the more creative side.
“Middle brain” is probably a more accurate
descriptor (with perhaps a slight leaning toward left.)
BEFORE: revamping my
office bookshelves:
- All books shelved by subject matter
- Within each section, books alphabetized by
author’s last name
- Corresponding excel spreadsheet on laptop with Title/Category/Author/Notes
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| "not terrible"..... just blah |
AFTER: revamping office bookshelves:
- All books shelved by color, following ROYGBIV
- Row of White books across the top shelves
- Row of Black books across the bottom shelves
- Corresponding excel spreadsheet has new column: Spine (color) - indicating location on shelves
To bring out your inner creative librarian, check out: bookshelfporn.com.To easily create your own online “library” –create a free account at librarything.com. (I just started one for kicks – maybe eventually I’ll combine my multi-purpose spreadsheet and the online library.)
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| My new bookplates - a TLH original! |
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| Portion of revised spreadsheet: title/category/spine color/special notes no more blogging/organizing! |
Friday, May 4, 2012
"Atlanta Blue Star Mothers Share a Graceful Strength" by Margaret Aikens (Reprint)
While doing online research just now, I literally stumbled upon this article from the March 2010 edition of the Atlanta Military Examiner, written by Margaret Aikens, now a member. Pretty cool discovery...and now forever saved for my kids with my other "stuff".
In the lobby level meeting room of Atlanta’s Mirant Corporation, for a few hours once every month, some women gather to discuss their lives. They bring coffee and soda, small pin wheel sandwiches and trays of snacks. They struggle to carry supplies for whichever activity they have taken on that month. This month it was filling plastic Easter eggs for our troops overseas.
But before the activity began, they sat down and spoke about what it is like to be who they are. They are special women; part of a special group of being common only among their own, and with a long heritage of sacrifice and courage beyond the pale of the normal civilian population. They are military mothers of the Atlanta Blue Star Mothers of America Organization, and they have something to say.
They want people to understand what they have given and are allowing their children to give so that others may sleep safely in a secure nation. They tell their stories with teary eyes unwilling to completely release due to habit of strength. But that strength gets tested, they say - and the tears do come.
While one member, Cindy Brown, a former Army service member and co-founder of the Atlanta BSMA group, can trace her proud lineage all the way back to the revolutionary war, many women in this group have never had any military contact at all.
They were new to the many burdens of being a military family in a time of great stress, and when their children came to them - certain and unmoving - to tell them they had “joined”, as member Cindy Visser confessed, she was “hysterical”. Boosted by her friends, she gathered herself and joined a journey that she had never seen coming. They all did.
Through the entire meeting, each spoke with tears brimming just along the rims of their eyes as if at any moment they could break. This is with them always, they say. Washing dishes, sitting in traffic, smiling at office parties and laughing with friends. Just below the surface of the smiles and warm social graces, these women struggle with an incomparable and constant reality that their child is in harm’s way.
The most basic of all instincts, to protect one’s child is ever present yet held down by sheer will and strength of character. And no one but another woman in this same situation, they tell me, can relate. “They don’t mean it. “ One member added, speaking of some civilian comments, “But the things they said were so inappropriate. They just can’t understand. That’s why I came here.”
Many other military families agree. In a March 2009 survey given by the Blue Star Families organization, military families were given the chance to address the following statement: “The general public does not understand or appreciate the sacrifices made by service members and their families.”
A whopping 94% of respondents agreed. Michelle Obama mentioned this survey in an interview with Samantha Quigley of the Armed Forces Press Service, stating, “I just saw the results of a recent survey done by Blue Star Families that shows that 94 percent of military families feel as if the country doesn’t understand their challenges,” Obama said. “That’s a pretty powerful statement.” But not all powerful statements come from the written word.
Sitting quietly, dressed in a bright red sweater with sun glasses tucking her hair neatly behind her ears, Tawnda Holley’s eyes told a story. Mother to a Marine son currently deployed to Afghanistan, Tawnda spoke softly and quietly of how proud she is of her son and of the choice he made. Not with tears flowing, but graciously poised as if she could not allow one to go for fear the rest would not stop. Tawnda’s eyes relayed the graceful strength and quiet will of all military mothers. A mix of bitter-sweet emotions anchored behind a remarkable pride.
President of the BSMA’s Metro-Atlanta chapter, Cindy Wiley, understands. Cindy, along with BSM Cindy Brown, the group’s secretary, and Cathy Schulte, treasurer, all have children serving. It is for these members and guests - which on this day included Cathy, a visiting Air Force mother, and former military wife Hillary Goldizen who, with her young daughter, donated candy and supplies for the Easter shipment - that this group was formed.
While each mother had her own story to tell, all of them shared the same undeniable sense of pride in their child. Military mothers send their children to serve the public in its most desperate of times and all that they ask in return is that it is appreciated and understood. Comments like, “How could you let them go?” or “I’d never allow my child to do that”, are often conveyed by those who choose to see only one side of a picture at which they stare with too broad an eye.
It’s in the details of this larger picture - which no one else sees - where these women must live. Painted with loving memories of skinned knees and chicken pox; first dates and broken hearts; lost dogs and nightmares, they raised their children by giving more to them than they would ask in return. And then, as their children grew into military members, they took with them this same sense of selfless devotion which they pass on to thousands whose names they may not know and whose faces they may not see yet whose lives they volunteer to protect simply because their country asks.
Harbored within the details of the lives their children chose, they gain a thorough and steadfast insight into the truest meaning of motherhood from all its winding angles. Hopes and dreams, wishes and prayers, some answered... some not. This is what it’s like to be a military mother. There is no pride or effort of emotion that can compare to that of being a military parent. Within the lives our children lead, from the journeys they ask us to understand, bitter and sweet… we are fed both.
To all of our Atlanta Georgia BSMA's whose flags NEVER fall, a heartfelt... "Thank you"!
Margaret Aikens has spent her life in the military presence. The daughter of an officer, wife to a retired Marine and mother to three military sons, her experiences span the broad spectrum of military life. As a freelance copy and technical writer, she saw a need to touch upon the very important stories of our Atlanta area military families. She has taken classes in journalism from Poynters and is attending classes in journalism at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst this year.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
If I could talk to you today....and You Could Hear what I have to Say...
(Let’s be honest – I’d hug you before saying a word!)
PS - this picture is on a memo board in my office - what makes it special is your handwriting on the back....along with your name and address. Knowing this photo was in your purse at one time makes me smile.
I’d tell you again how fortunate I am to have had you in this
crazy life. Your voice is still clear in
memory. Remembering the sound of your
laughter brings an immediate smile. Your big “bear” hugs were a cushy infusion
of protection, encouragement and love. Thanks
for understanding me, for listening to my words – and for reading between the
lines when words failed. You saw things
as they were when others were too easily deceived. You were one of the greatest encouragers ever
known.
Many favorite memories include you. Whether visits to your house or visits to ours
– we always had fun. It was often said that
we giggled like little girls at night when everyone was supposed to be sleeping. We did – and I’d not trade those memories for
anything. Certain aromas take me back to
the fresh baked cookies always in the kitchen; to sloppy Joes, Pringles and “pop”
and those fun metal tv trays. The butter
cookies with the sprinkles, yum – wish I had that recipe now! The Buckeyes too - of course, those held personal
significance! The smell of
cold water hitting asphalt is a reminder of you watering the rose bushes that
lined your little driveway on a warm day.
The combination of cedar and another unidentifiable scent reminds me of
your garage – which seemed like a magical place full of lawn equipment and toys
back then! Images of “having tea” with
you – with a small blue and white tea set in your living room, are embedded in my
mind. All these things and many more – still so clear and easily recalled.
When asked, “Who is someone who greatly influenced you?” – You’re
always at the top of the list. Not only
did you have a direct impact on me, but indirectly as well. You deserve credit for raising some pretty terrific
kids – one in particular! Long after
your last breath, your influence remains and your memory is alive – continuing
not only in me, but in the hearts of some of my favorite people on Earth. My husband and children have heard stories
about you over the years. It saddens me that
you were never able to meet them. You
would’ve ADORED them all – and no question, they would have adored you in
return.
You know that as a Mom, there is no shortage of moments that
take your breath away. As my kids have
grown into adults, it’s become painfully obvious that some of the difficulties
encountered when they were little – weren’t difficulties at all. The stuff of life that’s taking place now,
wow – it’s hard. You know what it’s like
to see your kids facing opposition – it stinks. You’ve watched your own walk some of the
paths that mine have taken. There are numerous
similarities. How I wish you were here so we could talk through these
things. Your perspective and insight
would be priceless.
You were a woman of faith – who prayed for all of us. I hope now, if you could see me – that you
would be pleased, and that you would recognize answers to some of your earlier
prayers. Having seen answers to my own has
been such a blessing – especially, those that took years to witness fully. This is not to imply that I have been or
will ever be “perfect” - trust me! You had a profound impact, but even you
were incapable of a miracle. J
Yours is an exemplary model of “how” to profoundly influence
generations that follow. The fact that
more than two decades after we said goodbye, you come to mind so often – only affirms
the significant role you held. Distance wasn’t a deterrent then – and although
I miss you, it’s not a deterrent now. Thank you for such a legacy.
One year, I was given
a cassette tape recorder with a microphone for the purpose of sending you audio
messages through the mail. You probably don' t know that after waving
goodbye to you one day, I recorded a message – and let Dad listen to make sure I
did it right. He suggested that I do it again – and leave out the part that
said, “As we were waving goodbye, I couldn’t see very well because I was crying
so hard.” My kid heart only wanted to
convey how much you were already missed – but he was right to suggest it would
only make you sad.
Dad’s not reviewing
my messages these days, so here goes: “The
day Pat told me you were gone, was one of the hardest days of my existence. There was an immediate void. No one else could
fill it – and I wouldn’t want them to. When
I remember you as I often do, tears still fill my eyes – as they are in this
moment. With time comes clear perspective,
even through tears. With the passing years and changes in family dynamics, I am
increasingly aware of how blessed I was to have you for the time you were here.
I love you and miss you like crazy. I'm grateful for the life you lived and for the way you loved. Hopefully, someday my children and
grandchildren will think of me in the same way you’re thought of still.
Just be on the lookout for me, because on the day I get to
Heaven – you’ll be the first one I’m looking for! (Okay, I know what you'd say... and yes, you're right - after Jesus, I'll be looking for you.)
TPS - this picture is on a memo board in my office - what makes it special is your handwriting on the back....along with your name and address. Knowing this photo was in your purse at one time makes me smile.
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