This is a picture of my favorite serviceman, my "brother" Bruce, the one who was just down here with his family. He has been in the Navy since 1992 and I am really proud of the man he has become today.
I am not pro-war (or anti-war), nor am I pro-violence, but I am proud of the people who serve and protect my family, my state and my country, often with the criticism of those they are helping. And I believe strongly in giving them and their families prayer support.
Please pray for the safety of our service men and women. In my own family I am praying for my step brother Jack who is serving in Iraq and my nephew Anthony who is serving at Fort Bragg, NC for the time being but will be deployed soon. I am also praying for Kimberly's husband who is deployed overseas at well. Remember the families, like Kimberly's. She has 5 children, some with special needs, to care for. And remember the families of those who don't come home.
And for the veteran's who come home, having lost their limbs, some bodily function, some brain capacity or some other part of their anatomy that causes them to look, feel and act differently than when they left, they need our prayers for healing - physically and spiritually/emotionally! Recently I read Lee and Bob Woodruff's book, In An Instant, about his recovery from traumatic brain injury in Iraq. He was so touched by his process and what happens to the soldiers and sailors coming home that he began a fund to help them. Last but not least, pray for the soldiers, sailors and marines who have fought in wars and conflicts past.
In an old envelope, my Great Grandfather's sister saved a pressed purple poppy. My Great Grandfather Albin Sven Johnson served in France, Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany during WWI. Perhaps the poppy came from Flanders? I will leave you with this haunting poem. When you see a red poppy, the American flag or hear a political debate, think of these men and women and pray.
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915
by John McCrae, May 1915
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,though poppies grow
In Flanders fields