Life Scapes I

There are two postings to this. Life Scapes I. And Life Scapes II. I don’t know which one will pop up first, so just to let you know: there are 2. 
I got to church earlier than usual on Sunday. I sat there in peace and quiet contentment.
Soon I heard a family coming down the aisle beside me. They scooted into the pew in front of me.
I looked up from my solitude.
It was a white-haired woman. Her husband, with matching white hair, had taken his seat beside her. They had two grown-up sons with them. One son had on blue jeans. The other had on dress blues.

Their Marine son was decked out for this Memorial Day church service in his dress blues, white hat, white gloves and all. It was moving just to see him.
He had just gotten home from the war-zone. He looked to be all of (maybe) 25 years old.
I choked up just thinking about what it must be like to be him, or his sibling, or his parent. I couldn’t begin to imagine the things he has seen. I didn’t want to.  
As the service was about to begin, a little boy scurried nervously towards the Marine. The boy, loooking sheepish, hesitated and almost turned back around. The Marine stuck out his hand and welcomed the boy to him. That gesture gave the boy the courage to come over and shake the hand of the Marine. The little boy’s blue eyes shone in admiration. I didn’t hear the Marine’s words, but I didn’t need to. I could see the boy’s face in response.
I choked up some more. This was some Sunday service so far.

Soon the singing began. The hymn was well chosen.

“Gloria, Gloria Hallelujah. Gloria, Gloria Hallelujah. Gloria, Gloria Hallelujah, His truth is marching on….”
Oh my goodness. You know I’m more than choked up at that point, right?
I dug through my pocketbook for a tissue. No such luck. I used my shirt sleeve instead.
Life is precious. Life is fragile. Life is a gift.
And war is not.
So many soldiers don’t make it back home to sit next to their parents at church, to shake the hands of little boys who are nervous.
I’ve still got my old patch from the ‘70s. It says, “Make Love, Not War.” Back then, in the ‘70s, when I was a kid, I thought that it was risqué of me to possess a patch with those words on it. Not the “war” words, but the “love” words. I knew nothing of making either.
I had another patch, sewn onto a pair of blue jeans long gone, it said “War is Not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things.”

 

Not much has changed since I wore those patches…and yet everything has.
Before I left church, my weepy self thanked the Marine for protecting us and our country and our freedoms. I looked into his mother’s eyes and thanked her for her sacrifices too. The sleepless nights. The worry.
So that was Sunday.
Life Scapes.
Until next time, Friends, savor the flavor of life!

Lots of love, The City Farmgirl, Rebekah

 

Leave a comment 0 Comments

  1. Gary says:

    Good Bloggie Rebekah…!
    I just returned from the VA Hospital, and while there, it was truely sad to see the very young take their place beside me in the room. It is good to see that today’s Soldiers are treated with respect by the public, as it was not so in my day, and that was difficult to deal with. We do indeed live in a Hostile world, and someone must guard our Freedom with Loyalty and Honor.
    Thank You for reading, and…
    GodSpeed…!
    Gary
    in Tampa

  2. Lyn says:

    City Farmgirl,
    Yes, it was a very touching week-end. My dad served in WWII,
    he will turn 90 in October. He still can’t talk of the war without a tear in his eyes. My niece once commented, that if Grandpa hadn’t made it home; all of us wouldn’t have been given life. He has always been my hero and to many more.
    God’s blessings to our Service men, and please come home for your family.
    lyn

  3. Sharon says:

    Dear Rebekah, what a lovely posting. I went to the graveside Memorial Day services in my little village, and sobbed through out the entire time. At the graveyard, an officer read a listing of every service person who died since the founding of our country. I realized that in another ceremtary, someone was reading my Father’s name,and sometime, in the very distant future, someone will read my son’s name, who just returned from the war in Iraq.I am so blessed to have him home, but I cry for all the parents who who are not as lucky as I am. Blessings to you.

  4. Reba says:

    Good comments, Rebekah. We are so blessed to have the privileges that we have. My brother (a Marine) spent three tours in Viet Nam some in captivity, and my husband is an Air Force veteran (he was called up for the draft). Their choices were taken in that war so that we could have choices now. I try to remember to thank them as much possible. I can only imagine what ran through that small boy’s mind. Many thanks to you for reminded us.

  5. Janice K. says:

    Hi Rebekah!
    I have a special soft spot for Marines, as my father served in WWII. He was injured in an explosion and lost his eyesight in his early twenties. My father taught me to respect our country and to proud of it. This weekend I flew my father’s flag on his special flag pole placed outside of our home (He passed away 6/25/99). I learned many lessons from my father and I will always continue to support our troops in their difficult job.
    Repectfully,
    Janice K.

  6. Kimberly D says:

    My cousin spent three tours in Viet Nam (Army) I wasn’t even born when he went the first time. It is hard to get him to talk about it even after all these years. I have two brothers who were in the Army during the 1980’s, even though it was peace time it didn’t stop our Mom from worrying about them. A friend of mine’s husband in the Army went to Dessert Storm in the 1990’s than went again for this war. He didn’t make it home, leaving behind a wife and two children. We are from a small farming village in Michigan, the whole town showed up and the next town also. For his funneral. When he wasn’t in the Army he drove truck for a farmer, they had his truck in the funneral prosecession. The wife had to go to the closest city to fine a church big enough to hold everyone for his funeral, and it wasn’t big enough. The longest prosecession I have ever seen. He died from a roadside bomb, he was 40, just weeks away from being 41 this was in 2003. Being a small town I knew him and his brother, and cousins growing up with them. Get teary eyed typing this.
    I also have a cousin in the Army, he been to Iraq got hurt, not bad thank the Lord. But he soon leaves for Afganastan. He has a wife and a young daughter. And a cousin in the Navy been to Iraq also.
    War don’t seem so far away when someone you know dies. I will always be thankful for our troops.

  7. cate tuten says:

    Thank you, Rebekah, for sharing this. It so represents Him, the Marine, and his family!……..Cate Tuten

  8. Bonnie Joyal says:

    Thanks so much for your great magazine! I ordered a subscription for both my daughter in Alaska, and myself after purchasing two of your magazines at my local quilt shop. My daughter moved to Alaska last summer, lives on a farm there and lived on a farm here in Upper Michigan. She also thinks your magazine is tremendous and awaits the arrival of her first issues (I sent her the ones I had purchased). I ordered several books from you and they are marvelous! Now if I just had one of your "Tear Drop Trailers" I would motor off to Alaska!! I think my foal should be to purchase a Tear Drop and then my sister and I could drive the Alkan Highway in 2010 to celebrate my 75th birthday—sound good!! You bet! Have a great day and thanks again for youquality magazine and products! Bonnie Joyal

  9. Alexia says:

    Beautifully written. I look forward to your posts.

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