thedrifter
12-03-06, 05:59 PM
Backing up our military families
George Watson, Staff Writer
Article Launched:12/03/2006 12:00:00 AM PST
HIGHLAND - It would be inaccurate to portray Pat Moore and Barry DeVries as having a lot in common.
But what they do share - they are devout believers in their religion and each has a son serving overseas - has fashioned a bond that grips their lives.
Moore, 57, wields a grandmotherly charm. Her voice is soft yet clear. She sits properly and keeps her emotions in check.
DeVries, also 57, is a former master sergeant in the Air Force. He speaks rapidly, emotionally and with a slight Massachusetts accent. When he sits, his legs stretch out, resting upon a nearby chair while he runs his fingers wildly through what's left of his hair, which he keeps in a short buzz cut.
Together, this unlikely duo is creating a support team for military families at the church where they work and worship, Immanuel Baptist in Highland. They realized such an effort was needed after many months of looking at the prayer list submitted by military families in the weekly church programs.
The list fills an entire page.
"We have these names asking us to pray for their relative in the military, and we don't even know what branch most of these people are in," DeVries said. "We should be helping them."
As the conflict in Iraq has continued - and its effects visibly grew among church members - Moore and DeVries chose to start the support group. One family recently lost a daughter in Iraq.
DeVries expects the group to act as a clearinghouse for information that helps military families burrow their way through the bureaucracy of the military.
"And I want to try and get our Sunday school classes to adopt a soldier," Moore said.
Moore teaches a class that has done just that for her son, Shane Claytor, 32, a medic serving with the Marines in Iraq.
"My son tells me, `It just helps to let us know that people are thinking about us,"' Moore said.
Moore cannot stop thinking about her son. It's a phenomenon that she and DeVries know strikes every parent of a soldier or airman or sailor or Marine.
"You think about them all day long," said Moore as the fingers of her left hand fumbled with a bracelet on her right wrist that bears her son's name. "There are very few moments that I am not."
After DeVries' son, Joshua, 24, chose to enlist in the military, his father helped him navigate the recruiters and end up with the Navy.
It was nothing new for DeVries.
"My kid's a different kid - I always felt I had to stay one step in front of him," DeVries said. "I haven't allowed him to be himself. And I need to.
"I miss him. And he is very important to me."
DeVries' voice stumbled. The grizzled veteran's eyes glistened, and then tears tumbled down his cheeks.
He muttered something about how military men aren't supposed to cry. But the tears kept falling.
"I just want to see him. And it's not like anything that Pat has in front of her," DeVries said, alluding to Moore's son serving in one of Iraq's deadlier cities.
DeVries' son is currently stationed off of an island in Italy. His duties have taken him to Spain. It's not exactly a hotbed of danger, but his son has dreams of tackling more dangerous assignments.
Even now, as DeVries knows, anything can happen in the military. For DeVries, it's that unknown that sometimes leaves him weak, but it's through the strength of others, along with his belief in God, that leads him onward.
Now, he and Moore will do the same for their church.
Ellie
George Watson, Staff Writer
Article Launched:12/03/2006 12:00:00 AM PST
HIGHLAND - It would be inaccurate to portray Pat Moore and Barry DeVries as having a lot in common.
But what they do share - they are devout believers in their religion and each has a son serving overseas - has fashioned a bond that grips their lives.
Moore, 57, wields a grandmotherly charm. Her voice is soft yet clear. She sits properly and keeps her emotions in check.
DeVries, also 57, is a former master sergeant in the Air Force. He speaks rapidly, emotionally and with a slight Massachusetts accent. When he sits, his legs stretch out, resting upon a nearby chair while he runs his fingers wildly through what's left of his hair, which he keeps in a short buzz cut.
Together, this unlikely duo is creating a support team for military families at the church where they work and worship, Immanuel Baptist in Highland. They realized such an effort was needed after many months of looking at the prayer list submitted by military families in the weekly church programs.
The list fills an entire page.
"We have these names asking us to pray for their relative in the military, and we don't even know what branch most of these people are in," DeVries said. "We should be helping them."
As the conflict in Iraq has continued - and its effects visibly grew among church members - Moore and DeVries chose to start the support group. One family recently lost a daughter in Iraq.
DeVries expects the group to act as a clearinghouse for information that helps military families burrow their way through the bureaucracy of the military.
"And I want to try and get our Sunday school classes to adopt a soldier," Moore said.
Moore teaches a class that has done just that for her son, Shane Claytor, 32, a medic serving with the Marines in Iraq.
"My son tells me, `It just helps to let us know that people are thinking about us,"' Moore said.
Moore cannot stop thinking about her son. It's a phenomenon that she and DeVries know strikes every parent of a soldier or airman or sailor or Marine.
"You think about them all day long," said Moore as the fingers of her left hand fumbled with a bracelet on her right wrist that bears her son's name. "There are very few moments that I am not."
After DeVries' son, Joshua, 24, chose to enlist in the military, his father helped him navigate the recruiters and end up with the Navy.
It was nothing new for DeVries.
"My kid's a different kid - I always felt I had to stay one step in front of him," DeVries said. "I haven't allowed him to be himself. And I need to.
"I miss him. And he is very important to me."
DeVries' voice stumbled. The grizzled veteran's eyes glistened, and then tears tumbled down his cheeks.
He muttered something about how military men aren't supposed to cry. But the tears kept falling.
"I just want to see him. And it's not like anything that Pat has in front of her," DeVries said, alluding to Moore's son serving in one of Iraq's deadlier cities.
DeVries' son is currently stationed off of an island in Italy. His duties have taken him to Spain. It's not exactly a hotbed of danger, but his son has dreams of tackling more dangerous assignments.
Even now, as DeVries knows, anything can happen in the military. For DeVries, it's that unknown that sometimes leaves him weak, but it's through the strength of others, along with his belief in God, that leads him onward.
Now, he and Moore will do the same for their church.
Ellie