An Inspirational Letter from a military housewife

[GySgtRet]

I just thought that this was appropriate:

Subject: A Military Wife's Request

The following story was written by Lori Kimble, a 31 year old teacher
and proud military wife. Mrs. Kimble, a California native, currently
lives in Alabama.)
I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you
find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on
every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college
kids racing around with long neck beers and sizzling platters.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my
glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no
uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely
"military:" clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look
that comes with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my
husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this
very booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East.
That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back
to this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In
turn he would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking about him
until he returned home
I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he
was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm?! Was his cold any better?
Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these thoughts,
high pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.
"I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think
that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an
idiot! I can't believe he is even in office. You do know, he stole the
election."
I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an endless
tirade running down our president. I thought about the last night I
spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned
from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him standing
in our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about oil,
you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the oil they
can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent people
they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see how
handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it on
my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his desert
uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy bulletproof
vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are
hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase
the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the military
budget at the expense of our social security and education. And, you
know what else? We're just asking for another 9-ll. I can't say when it
happens again that we didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering
outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men and
women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom? Do they
even know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw their
courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each
other dejectedly, listening to the women talking. "Well, I, for one,
think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly sick of
our tax dollars going to train professional baby-killers we call a
military."
Professional baby-killers? I thought about what a wonderful father my
husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see our children
again.
That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in my
husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one
voice will answer on behalf of our military, and let her pride in our
troops be known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and
placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with
them, smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you
know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway
around the world defending your right to say rotten things about him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of
my business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I
will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY
husband, and all the other fine American men and women who put their
lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to complain.
Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your actions
cheapen it."
I must have been louder that I meant to be, because the manager came
over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I
replied. Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of
your meal."
As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for
making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked
up their check and scurried away.
After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the manager
returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those
soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay for
my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I asked
who, the manager said they had already left, but that the gentleman was
a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and
thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over
and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know
we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what
you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I
didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the
other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too, were
proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers. I knew their
flags would fly a little higher the next day.
Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their pride in
our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just maybe,
the two women who were railing against our country, would pause for a
minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers, and the price it
pays to maintain it's freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference. Maybe
the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I
live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own.
It will simply say, "Thank You!"
To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the protected
will never know. GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Please pray for God's protection of our troops and HIS wisdom for their
commanders. Pass this on to as many as you think will respond. "Lord,
hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us
in our time of need. I ask this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and
Savior."
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for our
ground, air and navy personnel in every area of the middle east. There
is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful.... Just send this to
all the people in your address book.
Do not stop this prayer chain, please.... Of all the gifts you could
give to anyone in the US Military, be it Air Force, Army, Navy, Marines
or National Guard, Prayer is the very best one.....Amen!
--
Sarah Ryan

[booksbenji]

http://www.snopes.com/politics/war/speakup.asp

As the World turns.

[maverickmarine]

Thanks for the follow up Books. The paper said they removed it. Why remove it? I understand they want to be able to verify it but it's outstanding and motivational at the very least and should stay.

[booksbenji]

A little better reading:



It could have been any night of the week, as I sat in one of those loud and casual steak houses that are cropping up all over the country. You know the type- a bucket of peanuts on the table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college kids racing around with longneck beers and sizzling platters.

Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my glass. I let my gaze linger on a few of the tables next to me, where several uniformed military members were enjoying their meals.

Smiling sadly, I glanced across my booth to the empty seat where my husband usually sat. Had it had only been a few weeks since we had sat at this very table talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East? He made me promise to come back to this restaurant once a month, sit in our booth, and treat myself to a nice dinner.

He told me that he would treasure the thought of me there eating a steak and thinking about him until he came home. I fingered the little flag pin I wear on my jacket and wondered where at that moment he was. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better? Were any of my letters getting to him?

As I pondered all of these things, shrill feminine voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.

"I don't know what Bush is thinking invading Iraq. Didn't he learn anything from his father's mistakes? He is an idiot anyway, I can't believe he is even in office. You know he stole the election."

I cut into my steak and tried not to listen as they began an endless tirade of running down our president. I thought about the last night I was with my husband as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots and the image of him standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask still gave me chills. Once again their voices invaded my thoughts.

"It is all about oil, you know. Our military will go in and rape and pillage and steal all the oil they can in the name of freedom. I wonder how many innocent lives our soldiers will take without a thought? It is just pure greed."

My chest tightened and I stared at my wedding ring. I could picture how handsome my husband was in his mess dress the day he slipped it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing at that moment. He probably had on his desert uniform, affectionately dubbed coffee stains, over the top of which he wore a heavy bulletproof vest.

"We should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are hiding any weapons. I think it is all a ploy to increase the president's popularity and pad the budget of our military at the expense of social security and education. We are just asking for another 9-11 and I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."

Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men and women who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom? I glimpsed at the tables around me and saw the faces of some of those courageous men, looking sad as they listened to the ladies talk.

"Well, I for one, think it is a travesty to invade Iraq and I am certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train the professional baby killers we call a military."

Professional baby killers? As I thought about what a wonderful father my husband is and wondered how long it would be before he was able to see his children again, indignation rose up within me.

Normally reserved, pride in my husband gave me a boldness I had never known. Tonight, one voice would cry out on behalf of the military. One shy woman would stand and let her pride in our troops be known. I made my way to their table, placed my palms flat on it and lowered myself to be eye level with them.

Smiling I said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. I am sitting over here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. Do you know why I am alone? Because my husband, whom I love dearly, is halfway across the world defending your right to say rotten things about him. You have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none of my business, but what you say in my hearing is and I will not sit by and listen to you run down my country, my president, my husband, and all these other fine men and women in here who put their lives on the line to give you the freedom to complain. Freedom is expensive, ladies, don't let your actions cheapen it."

I must have been louder than I meant to be, because about that time the manager came over and asked if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you." I replied and then turned back to the ladies, "Enjoy the rest of your meal."

To my surprise, as I sat down to finish my steak, a round of applause broke out in the restaurant. Not long after the ladies picked up their check and scurried away, the manager brought me a huge helping of apple cobbler and ice cream, compliments of the table to my left. He told me that the ladies had tried to pay for my dinner, but someone had beaten them to it. When I asked who, he said the couple had already left, but that the man had mentioned he was a WWII vet and wanted to take care of the wife of one of our boys.

I turned to thank the soldiers for the cobbler, but they wouldn't hear a word of it, retorting, "Thank you, you said what we wanted to say but weren't allowed."

As I drove home that night, for the first time in while, I didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of all the patrons who had stopped by my table to tell me they too were proud of my husband and that he would be in their prayers. I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day. Perhaps they would look for tangible ways to show their pride in our country and our troops, and maybe, just maybe, the two ladies sitting at that table next to me would pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom this great country offers and what it costs to maintain. As for me, I had learned that one voice can make a difference. Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I live, I will proudly stand across the street with a sign of my own. A sign that says "Thank you!"


It truely makes this MARINE'S http://www.thesquadbay.com/forum2/Smileys/default/love9.gif 2 KAs*.

Semper Fi books