SPC Gresham

I remember the morning he left for Boot Camp. It was hot. He was sick. And I felt strange that he was leaving for six months. Yet I was so excited for this new endeavor.

Turns out, joining the military has been a huge blessing to this family. Not only do we benefit from great insurance, but we also have been granted funds to pay off Isaac's student loans, among other bonuses and things.

It does take it's toll upon us, though. Two days out of each month, and sometimes more - and overnight depending - Isaac has to commute to Ft. Belvoir to work his Human Resources Information Specialist Programming blada blada blah blah blah something or other job I still can't pronounce right. All I know is that he works on computers.

AND that he is top ranking in his shooting accuracy and was awarded two awards last month for something honorary.

Just a few days prior to his departure to boot camp he, Paul (his dad), and I went to Panera's for lunch. That same night, I woke up in the middle of the night throwing up something nasty. I couldn't even hold water down. Isaac woke up the next day with the same problem on the other end. And after speaking with dad a few days after he arrived back home, the same thing had happened to him.

We all got food poisoning.

Needless to say, when I dropped Isaac off he was pale, dehydrated, and nauseous, and had to spend the next few days and nights in bus rides with noisy recruits.

Poor thing.

He really is a trooper.

Speaking of troops, that's really what this entry is all about: our troops, and their service to this country. With a special attention to Isaac, since he is my hubs.

Do we really know the sacrifice they make, and have made?

I forget so often how lucky I am to have all the things I want and need at my finger tips. The drop of a hat, really. And when I get caught up in trying to be perfect for my family and my peers and all those who know me, I forget what it must be like to have nothing.

And then I remember...

my house is the Lord's.

my food is the Lord's.

my money is the Lord's.

my life...the Lord's.

We think we have it so hard, us commuters going to and fro and here and there, struggling with our little things.

But the truth is, we know nothing about struggling. About sacrifice. About challenge.

We think wrestling to put our kids down at night is hard. But can you imagine waking up in a sack of dirt in the middle of the desert or rescuing children who are malnourished and in danger on the very ground they walk?

When I think on all these things, all these sacrifices of those who have died or are still living, have made, I ask myself to think again about my life. And why I am so messy with grasping the truth that I am blessed. That we are blessed.

When he graduated from boot camp and all the family drove down to Ft. Jackson to celebrate with him, he was a changed man. Physically, he had gained weight. His neck was now larger than I remember. His hands, stronger and sturdier than ever. His countenance and demeanor, more humble and dignified.

He was quiet, respectful, and amazed at the outside world after being cooped up in camp for 3 months. I could tell that things did not matter to him as much as they did before. Piddly things. Except for the big cup of ice cream he devoured in the shop in town.

Seeing him on that field with hundreds of other graduates that day is a moment I will remember forever. 

Isaac, and many others, have served this country beyond the call of duty, including my brother-in-law John, a retired Marine, Sonny Lawrence, an Air Force chaplain, and a slew of others not directly in my circle. And they deserve recognition and honor today.

God bless America!