The American Soldier
By Anna Poston
As some of you already know, I have been caught up lately in a whirlwind of “Welcome Home” activities for our dear K troop soldiers. We are looking so forward to their return and the joy that it will bring to us.
On Thursday afternoon of last week, I found out that one of our young men from K troop had been killed in Iraq by a roadside bomb and another dear soldier that was with him had been critically injured.
I came home that night with a real heaviness in my heart and I sat down in my chair and did much of nothing. All I wanted to do was cry. I sat there for a couple of hours and I did cry and then I pulled myself together and a real determination filled my soul. “What can I do, I asked myself”, I am not going to just sit here and let this family down. What can I do to ease their pain?
I had already been making K-troop flags in my basement for the big “Welcome Home Celebrations”. I had found out from others that visited with the family that night that they wanted no black, but brightness and vivid colors at this soldier’s funeral. They wanted him to receive the “Welcome Home” that he deserved; for he was truly coming Home.
I picked myself up and I pulled myself together and I went downstairs and I began to sew, I sewed and I sewed and with each stitch of the red, and the white, and the yellow, I thought back over this past 16 months and the tremendous sacrifices that our men and our families have gone through. The task became a real joy to accomplish and I cherished the thought that I was so fortunate to be the person that could do this task. It lifted my spirits and I so wanted to go in person and give the family this gift.
Last night, I went down to the home place with my flag in hand. When I walked up the sidewalk, I instantly saw the mother of this soldier. I work with her at the hospital where I am employed. When she saw me, she quickly got up and went inside the house. I thought to myself, ‘Oh, I have done the wrong thing”. I and the young lady that drove down with me just sat down on that front porch and waited.
Finally the mother of the soldier came out of the house and I stood up and presented her with the flag. She didn’t say a whole lot, but took my gift and went inside and closed the door. I stood there feeling really bad that I had brought that flag and I just sat back down and waited.
In a few minutes, that door opened and someone came and got me and told me that I was wanted inside. I went in feeling even more sorry that I had brought the flag and what a mistake I made by bringing it in.
I was directed to the mother and dad’s bedroom and I slowly stepped inside. There they were, just the two of them, and my flag lay on their bed. The mother started thanking me for that flag and telling me that everyone had done so many things, but that this flag was the one thing that had really touched them and held so much meaning for them. They were planning on using this flag at the funeral.
I was so relieved and so thankful that I had allowed my pain to be directed into that cloth.
The mother took me outside and let me tell you what I saw there:
I saw a country home that sits on a hillside in Tennessee. I saw a flag up on the highest eave of the barn, and I saw a name board near the door that says ‘Welcome” and an eagle hanging below it. All across the front of the house with the big huge porch was plagues of things like the liberty bell and revolutionary soldiers and flags and banners. All of these things were already hanging there. They weren’t staged- they were there!
The mother took me out to the edge of the yard and looking towards the left of the house down in a little valley, a freshly graveled road circled around a grassy little peaceful looking spot that had the American Flag right in the middle of it. That was the son’s burial spot. His coon dogs were tied to the left of this and his brand new truck sat to the right on the grass in the front yard.
I thought to myself what an all around Tennessee country boy this had been and a family that is just awesome!
That would’ve been enough if that was all I had seen but then I was asked to follow the younger women up the gravel driveway to a trailer that sat just as you turned in. This was the home of the soldier and his special little family.
His wife was a young girl, just graduated this past May from high school. She was absolutely beautiful with her long, lean, frame and her black hair and soft spoken voice. She carried on her hip, their small baby girl that will be a year old next month.
We went into this little home and I saw pictures; Pictures
everywhere; Pictures of a mom, a dad, and a small little girl. Everywhere you looked; there were pictures of the love between these three people; on one wall, was a picture of the young woman at her senior year prom and the little baby was on her hip in the picture. She had taken the child to the prom for the soldier was away in Iraq.
I thought back over my own life and myself getting married at age 17 and the man who in my life was a soldier before he ever married me. I thought of all the years of my soldier and how many times that he has been away from us drilling and learning soldier kinds of things. I remember getting up one bright early morning and having to load all of our kids in the car and go with my soldier and drop him off so that he could travel to Memphis and take care of that city when their police and firemen went on strike, I remember him being in Colorado when our little twin daughters learned how to walk. I remember catching my kitchen on fire one summer while he was away doing his two week drill. All of these things flooded through my mind and I could see myself in that young girl and small child that had welcomed me so graciously into their home.
Nobody knows the sacrifices that our military and their families go through unless you are a member of this rare breed.
I left there last night with a pride that is indescribably.
This is the stuff that the American Soldier is made of! The family that the American Soldier has! Nobody made him do this! Nobody made him die for his country! He did it all freely and they did it freely. They all did this thing together and that is what I saw last night. I saw the love; the deep love for a country and for a land.
Don’t ever take that gift of the American Soldier for granted. Appreciate it every day and cherish the fact that you live in a land that is FREE! Freedom is not free. Someone paid the ultimate price.
Someone just did
Robert Wesley Tucker
I don’t age by birthdays……never have. Life events age me and Mother’s Day is my yearly self-evaluation day.
Today is my oldest son’s 45th birthday. I think a lot about him this time of year as he passed away 7 years ago.
Today our first born granddaughter celebrates her 20th birthday. We won’t get to spend the day with her as she will be in heaven celebrating with Jesus and family that have already gone on.
In a few more days Brandi’s sister drove to Tennessee and picked Brandi, Balee, and Marlee back up to drive them back to Oklahoma. I remember crying when they left and saying to Mark but no one else that I would never see Marlee again alive. It was the weirdest thing but I had this terrible gut feeling. On the night of June 1st my gut feeling became a reality. Our precious little granddaughter died from SIDS. I had had an heirloom christening gown made for her and she was buried in that gown. The beautiful quilt that I had made with the silky edging was draped on an easel at the head of her little casket. The first time our son got to see his baby daughter was in her casket. I hurt so bad for him and I hurt for all of us!
This holiday season is going to be so much different! My Mom and Step-Dad had an accident on November the 17 and I have stepped into the role of primary caregiver. I realize that many before me have been in this role too but it was like if I am not the one then it doesnt affect me. Funny how we don’t take the time to really see another’s pain.
PEACE BE STILL BY ANNA 