Make it home, make it safe.

I have always been a patriotic kind of person. I think my Grandpa instilled that in me…He was one of the most honorable men that I think I will ever meet. He was always sporting red, white, and blue. He loved the troops. He prayed for them. He wept with them…He knew what they were going through. When he heard about a fallen soldier in the news, he didn’t just turn the channel or flip the page…He closed his eyes; he prayed. He hurt, he broke, he remembered. He knew that they did not die in vain. He knew the price of freedom.

He didn’t talk much about his experiences in WWII, but when he did, there was pride in his eyes…But there was also pain, tears, and brokenness. I remember interviewing him for a project for school about war…I wasn’t going to interview him, but he wanted me to…It was the first time that I cried with my grandpa. His stories of war shocked me…His watery eyes as he shared with me revealed the fact that he wasn’t just answering my questions, he was reliving the pain…He talked slowly, as if each word brought another picture that he had buried. He spoke of the evils that his eyes saw, the brotherhood that he experienced, his love for America and freedom, and the fear he had. It changed me. He came back to a broken marriage, and constant memories of his friends dying before his very eyes. Grandpa is my hero, always and forever.

This week, my dad had a patient come into his office who just returned from Iraq where he worked with special operations…He told my dad of the horrible things he saw. He told him that the media is telling us that things are getting better…but they really aren’t. He talked about how there are more casualties today as there were 5 years ago. He told of friends that he saw killed. He shared stories of hope….He spoke with a passion for freedom…for Americans and Iraqis. This man is my hero.

The fallen soldier from Knoxville that I saw on the news this week…He is my hero.

The soldier that leaves his love to go fight for me…You are my hero.

The one that leaves his/her kids to fight for justice…You are my hero.

The one that misses the birth of their child or their child’s graduation for America…You are my hero.

The family left behind, worrying about their husband, wife, daddy, mommy, child, or friend…You all are my heroes.

To the family without a loved one at Christmas this year, you all are my heroes.

To the people who are my age who gave up college to protect me, you are my heroes.

I love America… I feel blessed to be here. I am thankful for the freedom that I have here…So cliché, I know.  Yet, I really feel that way. I feel an overwhelming thankfulness for the troops. This week, I have wept for the troops and their families…I have been broken for them, proud of them, and loving them. They have been heavy on my heart. I have been praying for them…praying for strength, wisdom, protection, healing, and comfort. I don’t ever want to forget their sacrifice for freedom and hope.

“You’re good, and you’re brave…What a father that you’ll be someday…Make it home, make it safe.”