My son is in the bottom row, middle.
No matter how old my son gets he will always be my baby. As I see him holding the weapon I flash back to him playing with his teddy bear.
July 1989I could go on and on about how much I cherish this young man and how concerned I was when he was in Afghanistan-because I am a mother of a soldier. Today, I am not thinking of my son in Afghanistan. I am thinking of other sons and daughters in Afghanistan and elsewhere far from home. I think of our soldiers that have come home injured and of the families of those that were killed. I don't think I will ever be able to disconnect my thoughts from the military. You see, they are not the ones that direct the orders on where they go and what they do. They are young. Some of the young men barely have facial hair. This is what I wrote when I went back east in 2009, to take my son some things from home for his barracks in Fort Drum.
Our soldiers that live in the barracks(at least here) are young- under 25, and are so normal. It was like going into my sons rooms at home. The troops have posters up, and TVs, game systems, and well~ guy mess, but the thing that resonates the most with me is the youthfulness. When I went to my son's room his roommate was playing Connect Four(a board game)...and they all were goofy to the fact that Bill's mom came to see him and brought lots of stuff from home. It was like Christmas for everyone around as they helped carry up stuff and then laughed and looked at what I brought. Fourth made brownies for her big brother- which then was shared by all...they loved the home made goodies!
And my eyes well up with tears once again. I love my country. I am thankful that we still have men and women that will put the uniform on. But I want to remind you all that to all the mother's and father's that are as I was last year...
My oldest son age 2 in Heilbronn Germany(just outside Stuttgart)
this is how their son or daughter is to them in their thoughts. May we all keep not only our troops in prayer but also their families.