Ain't She Crafty

Make a Change Monday - Medal of Honor Gala

"This has been life changing."

That was what I said through teary eyes to Bruce Brereton - one of the co-hosts of the Congressional Medal of Honor Foundation's Celebration of Freedom Gala - as I hugged him goodnight on Saturday. I am rarely at a loss for words, but that phrase was all I could muster after two days of the most humbling, awe-inspiring events Don and I have ever experienced. I will try to organize my thoughts here, but let's all start off knowing that I will not even begin to capture the stories and the lives of the men I've met.

As I've mentioned on my FB page - Don and I were honored beyond words to be invited to the Gala at the Ronald Reagan Library last weekend. The Gala is an opportunity to celebrate living MoH recipients, remember the ones who have passed on, honor people who have made a difference in the lives of soldiers and their families, and raise awareness for the incredible programs the Foundation has created.

On Friday night there was a small luau-themed welcome dinner for the MoH recipients and their families, as well as a few other guests. Gary Sinise, one of the co-hosts of the event, was there - but what amazed and thrilled me throughout the weekend was that HE was not the celebrity. He was not being mobbed by people wanting photos, he wasn't the key speaker, he was just Gary. The real celebrities were the 36 MoH recipients and a young Australian named Ben Roberts-Smith who recently received the Victoria Cross (the British Empire's version of the MoH). The dinner was a reunion of old friends - Ben was welcomed as a brother and us "young'uns" (as we were called more than a few times) were treated like family.

with Ben and Emme Roberts-Smith

At our table were MoH recipients Harvey Barnum, who retired as an Assistant Secretary of the Navy, and Robert Ingram, who had to wait more than 30 years to receive his Medal because of...unbelievably...lost paperwork. We spent a good part of the evening talking to Robert Patterson - a MoH recipient who regaled us with crazy pick-up lines he used when trying to woo his "new bride" (of five years). At the table next to us was George Sakato, who - at 95 - is the oldest living MoH recipient but his sharp mind and sharper wit would make you think he is 30 years younger. Pvt Sakato joined the Army to avoid the internment camps and distinguished himself during WWII by charging an enemy position and taking command after his squad leader was killed, but he was not even considered for the MoH due to societal prejudices until 50 years later (he received the MoH in 2000). My favorite photo of the weekend was the one I snapped of our friend Kyle and Pvt Sakato. Kyle is a young Asian-American soldier whose great-uncle fought in the same unit as Pvt Sakato, and as I saw them sitting with their heads close together in conversation I was moved by how much the world has changed, but how much the brotherhood of soldiers remains the same - even across generations.

with Harvey Barnum

Kyle and George Sakato

I vowed to myself (and to Don) that I would not be a dork over the weekend snapping photos of celebrities at every opportunity - because that is not what the weekend is about. For the most part - I was good. HOWEVER - literally 30 seconds after we walked in to the Reagan Library, Oscar winner Jon Voight came up behind us to talk to Don's boss - and he could NOT have been nicer. I pulled out my camera and we took a photo, then he said "check to make sure it is a good one!" and stood there happily while we checked to make sure our eyes were open and I didn't have a double chin, and then he casually strolled down the hall with us as if we'd known each other all along.

with Jon Voight

There were lot of other celebrities (warning - if you are under the age of 40 most of these names might not ring a bell. There was a young woman sitting at our table who did not get ANY of my references to Jon Voight and his movies - it wasn't until I said "he is Angelina Jolie's father" that she had a clue.) - Ernest Borgnine, Powers Boothe, Connie Stevens (pictured below - Don's dad was in Vietnam and Connie was - according to one of the MoH recipients standing with us "every man's fantasy over there"), Mykelti Williamson, John Ratzenberger, Karri Turner (coolest chick EVER - loved her!), Joe Mantegna, Robert Forster, musicians, producers, directors and other Hollywood types who came out to celebrate the lives of this country's greatest heroes.

Don and Connie Stevens

While of course the setting was breathtaking (our table was less than 10 feet from Marine One and Air Force One hung overhead), the cermony itself was filled with laughter, tears, and the kind of genuine, heartfelt American pride that is rarely seen these days. Our Friday night friend George Sakato stood next to Sal Giunta (the youngest MoH recipient in attendance) and in a clear, strong voice led 600 proud Americans in the Pledge of Allegiance. The Azusa Pacific University Men's Chorale serenaded the crowd with beautiful renditions of patriotic songs throughout the event, and when they asked us all to join them in singing "God Bless America" at the end of the night, there was not a dry eye in the house. Politicians, celebrities, military leaders, billionaires, MoH receipients and their families, young soldiers - we all stood and sang with arms out and genuine pride in our voices - no one was worried about appearances or being off-key. I know in the future I will have days where Don is deployed and I am feeling alone and forgotten, and this memory will be the one I turn to to comfort me - Americans proudly celebrating the country they love.

Marine One and Air Force One from our dinner table

Joe Mantegna received the Bob Hope Award for Excellence in Entertainment for his dedication to soldiers and their families through his work with autism (ACT Today for Military Families) and his involvement with the National Memorial Day Concert. Admiral Mike Mullen (former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs) and his wife Deborah received the Distinguished Citizen Award and it was clear that for them - caring for soldiers and their families is not just part of the job, it is their passion. Former Secretary Robert Gates gave the funniest speech of the evening - with pointed barbs at Washington and fun, heartwarming stories about his former boss, Ronald Reagan. Don and I had the opportunity to meet with him privately for a few seconds before the dinner started, because when one of Don's men - CPL Benjamin Kopp - was buried at Arlington Cemetary in 2009, then Secretary Gates showed up at the ceremony with no pomp and circumstance, didn't give a speech, he just came to show his respects and honor Ben. It meant a great deal to us and to Ben's mother Jill, so we finally had a chance to thank him. It was just one more incredible moment.

It wasn't all solemnity and ceremony - you haven't lived until you've spent the evening in a hotel bar with a bunch of retired generals, billionaires, celebrities and Medal of Honor recipients singing karaoke and making jokes about the highly intoxicated hotel guest wandering around in her bathrobe. More than the memories though, more than the photos and the stories we will treasure forever, we left this weekend with a new mission - to spread the word about these incredible men.

hanging out with my new friend Karri Turner at the hotel bar

Over the past few weeks as I have been excitedly talking about going to the MoH gala, I was surprised and saddened at how many people had no idea what the Medal of Honor is. While America idolizes drug addicted celebrities, musicians who commit serious crimes, and athletes who behave like spoiled children - the stories of men like Tibor Rubin go untold. He survived a German concentration camp (where he lost his entire family) as a young boy, and was so awed by the American soldiers who liberated the camp that he moved to America and joined the Army, only to be captured during the Korean War and survive 30 months as a POW, and THEN be denied the MoH until 2005 because of blatant anti-semitism in his chain of command. Old age has weakened his body, but from his wheelchair he is still a dynamic, charming, fascinating storyteller and apparently quite a ladies man (he told my husband repeatedly "I'm going to steal your pretty wife before the night is over!"). This man - his love of this country, his dedication to his fellow soldiers, his faith and bravery and character and ability to overcome adversity - his name should be known by every American. If CMOH Foundation has their way - it will be.

One of the Foundation's programs is the Medal of Honor Character Development Program. Created to promote responsible citizenship and examine the ideals of courage and selfless service - the Foundation's goal is to see this program taught in every middle and high school across the country. Through videos, lesson plans, and opportunities for teleconferences and in-person visits with MoH recipients, this program gives students and teachers first hand accounts of some of the most important moments in our history, offered by real heroes - true role models whose stories are touching and inspiring. If you are a teacher or the parent of a school-age child, I ask you to spread the word about this amazing program. To quote Brian Williams, "these are the best Americans I've ever met". Let's share these great Americans with our children and grandchildren through the MoH Character Development Program. A teacher's resource can be found here - this video will give you just a glimpse in to the incredible gift that the CMOH Foundation is offering to the students of this country.

We are changed forever - Don and I. To be in the presence of these men is to see the very best of what this country has to offer, and to understand what its heroes have already given. Help us spread their stories through your schools, invite a MoH recipient to speak at your next community event, watch these videos with your children. Honor them in ways large and small - it will enrich your lives in ways you never thought possible. God Bless these incredible men - and God Bless America.

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day and Advent Musings

Reposted from 2009 - just as true today as it was then.  So incredibly grateful to have Don home with me this Christmas.

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day and Advent.  Two things you don't usually think about in the same sentence, but several years ago while Don was deployed during the holidays I was asked to write an Advent devotional for a booklet that was being created in the church where I grew up. 

Those of you who know me in real life know that I am quick with the sarcasm and comedy, but my faith is something I hold very close and sharing it publicly isn't one of my strengths.  Allowed to pick the date of my choosing I selected December 7th, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, which that year also happened to be the second Sunday in Advent.  I figured with the military theme I was sure to be inspired, but what poured out on to the page surprised me.  I have kept that Advent Devotional with me through five moves and seven more deployments - and discovered it again this weekend as I was unpacking our Christmas decorations, so I share it with you here.

Thinking of all the military families who will have an empty seat at their table this season...

Beth

There is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and its endurance.  Love will never come to an end. -I Corinthians 13:7-8

It is funny what it takes for some people to fully understand God's love.  I grew up in church, this church in fact.  I was confirmed at Grace, volunteered at Grace, worked at Grace, got married at Grace.  But once I moved away and Don and I got wrapped up in our everyday lives we didn't make the time to go to church, and - to be honest, I didn't think much about God.  I still said my prayers every night and came to church when I was visiting my folks, but that was it...until I sent Don off to war.  It has been hard.  I miss him, I'm scared for him, and there are many people in this world who don't believe in what he is doing.  But we love this country so much that he is willing to sacrifice everything for its people, and I am willing to give it my most precious gift - my husband.  God loves us SO MUCH that he gave his only begotten son to a world where many people STILL don't believe, in hopes that we might know forgiveness, eternal life, and the true love of Christ.  Does that make me like God or Don like Jesus?  Of course not.  But now I have a real, tangible idea of how much God loves me - loves all of us.  Now I understand how powerful that depth of love is - and I am awed by it, I am humbled by it, but most of all, I am blessed by it.  We all are!

Dear God, Help us to feel your love for us always.  In our joys let us feel your glory, in our sorrows let us feel your comfort.  Thank you for being our strength and our salvation.  Amen.

 

Sharon Callis Christmas Project Bonanza - take one!

At the beginning of this week we announced on the Xyron FB page that longtime friend/Xyron user Sharon Callis had won Cardmaking and Papercrafts Magazine (a popular magazine in the UK) 2011 Cardmaker of the Year. She is so excited and so gracious that she wanted to pay it forward* by sharing SIX - count 'em SIX! - Christmas projects with our other Xyron friends.  We'll feature two projects per day for the rest of the week - instructions and all.  This is sure to get you inspired for the Christmas season!

*This quick story will tell you what kind of person Sharon is. When we were writing back and forth about ideas for this week I told her that we also needed to figure out how we would pay her for all of her time and effort.  This is what she wrote me back:

Beth I have had an idea. I was thinking about the offer you and Xyron have made to pay me and I was wondering if we could make an alternative arrangement. 

With Christmas on our door step I always get sad this time of year thinking about the fact that my Father, Mother and Brother are no longer here to share it with me. It's hard for me but it must be a million times harder for the children of service men and women who will not see their mum or dad for Christmas or sadly for some never see them ever again. 

Soooo I would like it if a donation was made to a fund for these children for Christmas or some toys for them to play with. I'm sure you and hubby have the right connections. 

I am grateful for the opportunity I am been given by you and I just want to pay it forward. 

Hugs

Sharon

So, in honor of this wonderful woman we are making a donation to the TAPS Good Grief Camps, which provide regional and national camps for children and teens who have lost a parent, sibling, or other family member through military service.  Sharon's generosity is a wonderful reminder of what this season is all about.  Thank you friend!

So without further ado...I give you Sharon's first project - "A Visit with Santa"!

This project uses the following supplies:

coordinating patterned paper (Sharon used K&Co Yuletide Scrapbook Kit)
red mirror board
gold cardstock
thin chipboard or kraft cardstock
red and green velvet ribbon
acetate
red and white glitter 
Xyron Creatopia
Xyron 1.5" Sticker Maker (also known as the X)
Xyron 5" Creative Station (also known as the 510)
Xyron Mega Runner 

Cut the Santa image out of one of the 12x12 patterned papers and cut and red and gold silhouettes each slightly larger than the original image.

Repeat for the topper, then use decorative scissors or your Creatopia Cutz component to trim each end of the gold paper.

The base for this card is 8x8. Top it with red mirror board cut slightly smaller, gold cardstock cut slightly smaller than the red mirror board (and edges trimmed with decorative scissors or Creatopia) and then the candy stripe paper cut smaller than the gold cardstock and trimmed with different scissors/Creatopia blade.

 
Place all of your cut items though the Creatopia Sticks component EXCEPT the card base.

Rub all of the edges before removing the top film.

Run the red and green velvet ribbon through the X.

Start layering the base pieces together.

Layer the image layers together and place on top of the base.

Use red glitter to highlight the darker shaded areas of Santa's clothes and use white glitter on his beard.

Make the dome cover by cutting the acetate to 8x13. Fold in the left and right edges about 10mm.

Curve the acetate by using the Mega Runner down the edges and sticking in place. On the outside of the dome stick the 'Merry Christmas' topper to the front of the acetate with the Mega Runner.

To make the inside greeting, cut a tag from a piece of 12x12 patterned paper. Cut a piece of gold cardstock slightly larger, then a piece of candy stripe paper slightly larger than the gold cardstock. Run all pieces through the 510.

Rub all edges before removing the top film.

Layer all of the pieces.

Place the finished greeting inside your card and tie sheer green ribbon around folded edge of card.

Gratitude, Attitude and Angry Beth

Last week the country recognized/celebrated/honored Veterans in a variety of ways. I have to admit that Veterans Day is not usually a big deal in our household – most of the people we know are veterans, and we/they appreciate each other every day. However – a strange series of events made this year a little bit different, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same. 

Thursday – I was coming back from a business trip and stopped at a restaurant in the Atlanta airport for dinner.  When I was paying the bill the waitress asked to see an ID with my credit card.  I pulled out my military ID and handed it to her, and when she stared at it for longer than normal I reached up to flip it over for her (thinking she might have been looking for my birthdate or some other info that is on the back). Instead, she reached out and grabbed my hand with tears in her eyes.  “Thank you Major” she said. “Thank you so much for everything you do for this country.” I didn’t feel like I could take praise that wasn’t for me. I wanted to explain to her that I was a wife, not a soldier. I even got as far as saying “I’m married to a Major…” but she was not to be stopped. She went on, holding my hand, telling me she couldn’t imagine how much my family had sacrificed and how grateful she was for the chance to thank me. In that moment – even though she was thanking me “by mistake”, I took in all the love that she and most of America have for my husband, our friends, our family.  Teary eyed myself, I whispered “thank you”. We hugged (as well as two women can over a small table in a crowded airport restaurant) and I headed home, filled with gratitude. 

Friday – Don was lucky enough to be in the Veterans Day parade in NYC. He was also lucky enough to be in the same room with my boyfriend (Tom Selleck) and didn’t get a photo, but that is a story for another time.  Anyhoo – at one point he needed cash and walked away from the crowd and on to another street to find an ATM. When he told me what happened next he described it as “emotional” (and those of you who know him will be surprised he even knows what that word means) – but as he was walking down what turned out to be Wall Street he was stopped by no fewer than ten people. Wall Street guys in their expensive suits, people coming from the Occupy Wall Street protests, doormen, teenagers – Americans from every walk of life, every political belief, every generation stopped this lone soldier to thank him for his service.  I leave the house and see 20 soldiers before I get to the grocery store. These people may have gone their whole lives without meeting someone in uniform, and when they saw their chance they were proud and grateful to take it. The moment meant a lot to Don, and to me as well. 

Then came Saturday. 

Don and I attended the wedding of a fantastic, lovely, precious, wonderful couple. The groom (Sean) was stationed with Don in Alaska, so the wedding was also a reunion of some of our other Alaska dudes.  The ceremony was amazing, filled with love and gratitude (not the least of which being that Sean made it home from deployment in time).  The reception was festive, welcoming, filled with laughter and dancing and a coming together of families. While we were sitting around the table I felt a small pang, because it was with this group of men that Don lost one of his PLs and our friend – 1LT Colby J. Umbrell. Just three weeks earlier we were at a wedding where there was no best man, because CPL Benjamin S. Kopp also paid the ultimate sacrifice for his country. When you are part of the military family, sometimes festive occasions are also sprinkled with sadness, so I didn’t think my “pang” was out of the ordinary. 

At one point in the night two of the guys at our table leaned forward and started telling us about something that had happened earlier – one of Sean’s friends (for the sake of this story I’m going to call him Pita – as in P.I.T.A.) had made some incredibly derogatory, ignorant, inaccurate comments about soldiers.  Not the war – the soldiers. To guys he KNEW were soldiers. They had walked away from the conversation but were pointing him out to Don and I as a “stay away from that dude” heads up - which was all fine and good until we got on the shuttle to go back to the hotel, and Pita was on there too. Our friend Chris was chatting up the girl sitting next to him, and out of nowhere Pita decided to “cock block” (for lack of a better term) Chris by embarrassing him in front of everyone else on the bus. 

People who know me well know a side of my personality called “Angry Beth”.  She RARELY comes out, but when she does it is because she feels like someone she cares about is being hurt in some way. It is NOT pretty.  I am embarrassed about what transpired over the next ten minutes or so, but after what the guys had said about Pita and what I had just seen him to do Chris, Angry Beth appeared. I won’t go in to details, but it started on the bus, continued in the parking lot, and then he was dumb/drunk/something enough to follow me up the stairs trailed by Don and one of our other Alaska buddies, Brandon. Don was literally inches away from getting me in to our hotel room and Pita on his way when Pita intimated that people like Don and Brandon didn’t care about their friends getting killed and that he (Pita) was a better friend to Sean because he DID care. 

For a moment I think I actually, literally, lost my mind. Don and Brandon had to physically step between me and Pita and pull me in to the room (like I said – not my proudest moment). Brandon stayed behind to get me under control while Don went back out in the hall to make Pita go away. 

Then something happened that I never in a million years would have expected. 

I started sobbing. 

Most Americans don’t know that when a soldier is killed during a deployment, it is the women who deal with what happens stateside. With the exception of maybe one or two guys from the unit, soldiers do not get to come home for the funerals of their friends/men, so the wives represent their husbands however they can. If the families are local the wives make meals and help with arrangements. If the families live somewhere else the wives still try to help as much as they can, and Don and I agreed a long time ago that I would attend every funeral as long as I was physically able – no matter the cost or distance or heartbreak.  I have had the most amazing and devastating honor of attending five funerals over the past few years. I have stood over five flag draped coffins and whispered my goodbyes. Held the hands of five grieving families who will never be truly whole again. Felt the tremor of five twenty-one gun salutes ringing in my ears as I thought my heart was going to break right out of my chest. Five times I have seen my worst nightmare played out in front of me, and then gone home to an empty house wondering if the next knock on the door would be for me because my husband was still in the place that was sending his men home in body bags. Five weddings we will never go to. Five voices we will never hear again. 

Over the last ten years I think America has done a good job of teaching itself the whole “even if you don’t support the war, you support the troops” mentality. I am fine with people who don’t even think about the war and our troops at all.  I have even been ok with knowing that there were a few crackpots out there and have prided myself on knowing what I would say/do if I ever came across one.  On Saturday though, I was blindsided. Blindsided because someone who appeared so “normal” could be so ignorant and hateful.  Someone who claims to support the troops but thinks so little of soldiers that he could look them in the eye and discredit their sacrifice, belittle their losses, and question their loyalty to one another. The realization that there were people like him out there was just more than my war weary heart could bear. 

The next thing I knew I was standing in our hotel room, my body wracked with sobs, my face buried in my hands, repeating over and over to Brandon “I watched them put Colby’s body in the ground – does this guy have any idea what that feels like?” Then I started listing off the names of the funerals I had been to and telling their stories as Brandon put his arms around me and let me cry away years of sadness. “Doesn’t he know our hearts are broken?” To suddenly have all of this emotion surprised me, and I’m sure it surprised the bejeebies out of Brandon. Don didn’t know what to do with me either when he came back in the room, but they were both total troopers as I sniffled my way through my apologies and tried to pull myself together so we could go meet up with the rest of our friends.  

About twenty minutes after we arrived Pita came up to me and asked if we could talk. He told me that he and Don had been out in the hallway when he heard my sobbing through the door. He’d heard every word I’d said and wanted me to know that he was completely overwhelmed by my grief, and embarrassed that he had been so wrong about “us”. His worst nightmare, he explained, was losing Sean, but it had never even occurred to him that military families like ours have been through it not once, but two, three, four and five times over. Wives bury their friends while laying awake nights worrying about their own husbands. Parents hold their breath every time the phone rings or there is a knock on the door. 99% of America has no idea what it feels like – and I pray they never have to. It is a heavy honor to bear, and a lesson I hope Pita takes with him as he moves back out in to a world void of Angry Beths. 

So here’s to the waitress in the Atlanta airport and the people on the streets of Manhattan for honoring this country's veterans in ways both large and small. Here’s to Brandon and Sean and Chris and the other men we love like they are our own kids. Here’s to Don – a man of incredible talent and honor and dedication – to his men, his country, and his wife. And here’s to Pita – for bringing me to the point of no return where I found my grief and let go of years of anger and pain, even if it was in a horrendous, train wreck sort of way in the lobby of a Hampton Inn.  Thank you for the gift of clarity – I hope I have given you just a little of the same.

Flat Kurt

This is our friend Kurt.

Kurt is a funny friend, easy roommate (he accidentally lived with us for six months last year), great husband, wonderful father, getter of Dairy Queen after dinner, dog lover, motorcycle rider, and soldier.

Next week he is leaving for a year to Afghanistan.

His wife Shealyn is also funny and fabulous and I would do anything for her, so when she sent me this message and photo:

Hey crafty lady, if I were to send you a good photo of Kurt, could you use your sticky goodness to make me a few of these so Daddy can go everywhere with us?

I was in.  I have been lucky enough to have Don home with me for the past year and it is a blessing I do not take likely. So while I would make a million of these if it would help some of my fellow military families make deployment even a tiny bit easier, I wanted to post the instructions here (even if you don't think you are crafty it is VERY easy) for anyone who wants to make their own.

DIRECTIONS:

First, I took Kurt's photo and cropped it as tightly around his head as I could.

Then I printed out several copies on to 8.5x11 photo paper.

I cut out each face (to quote Don: "Kurt needs to shave his head.  I can't cut out all these little pieces of gelled hair.")...

then I ran the face through my Xyron 9" Creative Station*,

adhered the face on to a piece of chipboard (you can use an empty cereal box in a pinch)

and cut out the face again.

Then I just took a paint stirrer (they are free at any home improvement store), added a little glue, and let dry!

*if you don't have one of these you can use a glue stick or a tape runner - just be sure to cover all of the edges as smoothly and evenly as you can.

I had to put these in the mail ASAP - Don was having a little TOO much fun with them.  Our dog - as you can see - was not.  :)

So these Flat Kurts are on their way to Texas - to two precious children who will spend the next year doing what military children have done for generations - growing and learning and playing and loving all while waiting for the day that their daddy is home to give them bear hugs and tuck them in at night.  If you have a friend, family member, neighbor or co-worker getting ready for a deployment with small kids, ask for a photo of their soldier and make a few of these. What a wonderful gesture and tangible way to let them know you are thinking of their family.

Love you Kurt and Shea and James and Sammi - already waiting for the day Kurt is back home safe with you.

 

What America Means to Me

Ok...so I couldn't wait until tomorrow to honor my husband.  :)  Happy Veterans Day babe - to you, the men you fight beside, and the ones you've lost.  Prouder than any words could explain.

 

(text from layout - written in 2005) I grew up in the Washington DC area.  I rarely visited any of the monuments or went to the museums unless we had company from out of town.  Our family went to the Independence Day and Memorial Day concerts on the Mall every year.  We wore our red, white and blue outfits.  We sang patriotic songs.  Our church always prayed for our nation's leaders and military people serving overseas.  I had friends whose dads worked at the Pentagon or in some other branch of government.  That was what America meant to me.

Then I moved to the South and started working in a job that put me in close contact with members of the military.  My roommate was a pilot, my boyfriend was a navigator, all of my friends were in the Air Force.  I dutifully sent them care packages when they were gone.  I watered their plants.  I picked them up in the middle of the night when they came home.  We never talked about where they were, or what they were doing, or what it meant.  My political views started to change a little.  I became more interested in the news.  I supported my friends and began to understand a little bit about military life.  That was what America meant to me.

Then I met my husband.  We moved to Hawaii.  In August 2001 he left for Ranger School.  We had no contact for three months.  On September 11, 2001 our world changed forever.  I sat on my couch for two days and wept.  I prayed for the families of those who had been killed.  I donated money to a fund for New York City firefighters and police officers.  I put up an American flag in our window.  I waited anxiously for my husband to come home to me - knowing that it wouldn't be for long.  That we were at war.  That was what America meant to me.

I have sent my husband off to war four* times since we've been married.  I have received hundreds of cards from school children to send to his men because they would be far away from home at Christmas.  I have prayed every night to just see his face or hear his voice one more time.  I have walked to the other side of the street when I have seen protestors downtown.  I have shipped care packages from men and women at a Senior Center who wanted to do something for the troops.  I have argued with people I love about the need for this war.  I have received emails from strangers to thank me for my sacrifice and my husband for his bravery.  I have wept at the feeling of his arms around me after so many months of being apart.  I have taken photographs of signs and yellow ribbons all over town.  I have held my husband as we've mourned the loss of one of his soldiers.  I have thanked God that I live in a country where I am free - where we are all free - to do and say and feel all of these things without fear.  THAT is what America means to me.

*note - that number is now nine.

 

Defining Fred

Over the last 15 years or so I have had the honor of being surrounded by veterans.  I used to say that I didn't really understand or appreciate America until I married one, but looking back, the seeds of patriotism and devotion to this country were planted in me many years before.  This Veteran's Day weekend, while I honor those who have served and remember those who have fallen,  I wanted to share my feelings about two veterans specifically.  So tomorrow, my husband, but today...Fred.

 

(text from layout) It has always been hard to "define" Fred. Although he and Grandma never married, they lived together for almost 40 years as husband and wife.  Although he wasn't really my grandfather, I wasn't very close to my biological grandfather, so Fred seemed pretty "real" to me.  Everyone else in our family, it seemed, saw Fred as the resident grouch.  According to them - he never wanted to be in our photos.  When the whole family came to visit he spent most of his time in his workshop.  Didn't have too many kind words to say.  Didn't really seem to care about us.  Drove my grandmother crazy.  Wasn't even close to his own children.  But that isn't the Fred I remember.

Somewhere in one of my mother's scrapbooks there is a picture of Fred and I at the house some Christmas when I was small.  It is a rarity to be sure.  Fred is holding me in his arms, and we are both smiling.  Touching and smiling were not things Fred did often.  When we look at that photo my mother tells me that I was Fred's favorite because I was the oldest grandchild and a girl.  But I don't think that was the reason.  I think it was because when I would come to visit in the summers, I would sit with him at the table after dinner and listen to his war stories.  I think it was because I would go on car rides with him to visit his brother and sister-in-law.  I think it was because he was able to convince me that mustard tastes good.   I can remember so clearly the faded military tattoos on his arms, the smell of his tobacco, how he talked to the cat, the way he made me laugh when he wasn't trying to be funny.  That is the Fred I remember.

The last time I saw Fred was a few months before he died.  I had been in Denver visiting and Fred was helping me load my luggage in to the car.  We had gone through this routine dozens of times over the years, but this time - although I didn't know it would be the last time - something told me to hug him.  It was awkward.  It was short, and afterwards I thought it was probably silly and that he didn't like it.  But now I think that hug encompassed an entire lifetime of what we were never able to say to each other.  That I loved him - and in his own way - he loved me too.

After Fred died I specifically asked Grandma for his picture (left), his ID and his dog tags.  They had been hanging in his workshop for as long as I could remember so I knew they had to mean a great deal to him - but strangely enough no one else had wanted them.  These little things define for me the man he was, the memories he shared, the life he led.  And I think he would be proud that I have found my own brave soldier to grow old with, to sit around the table with and listen to stories, while eating lots and lots of mustard.

 

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day and Advent Musings

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day and Advent...two things you don't usually see together.  But several years ago while Don was deployed during the holidays I was asked to write an Advent devotional for a booklet that was being created in the church where I grew up. 

Those of you who know me in person know that I am quick with the sarcasm and comedy, but my faith is something I hold very close and sharing it publicly isn't one of my strengths.  Allowed to pick the date of my choosing I chose December 7th, Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day, which that year also happened to be the second Sunday in Advent.  I figured with the military theme I was sure to be inspired, but what poured out on the page surprised me.  I have kept that Advent Devotional with me through three moves and five more deployments - and discovered it again this weekend as I was unpacking our Christmas decorations, so I share it with you here.

Thinking of all the military families who will have an empty seat at their table this season...

Beth

There is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope, and its endurance.  Love will never come to an end. -I Corinthians 13:7-8

It is funny what it takes for some people to fully understand God's love.  I grew up in church, this church in fact.  I was confirmed at Grace, volunteered at Grace, worked at Grace, got married at Grace.  But once I moved away and Don and I got wrapped up in our everyday lives we didn't make the time to go to church, and - to be honest, I didn't think much about God.  I still said my prayers every night and came to church when I was visiting my folks, but that was it...until I sent Don off to war.  It has been hard.  I miss him, I'm scared for him, and there are many people in this world who don't believe in what he is doing.  But we love this country so much that he is willing to sacrifice everything for its people, and I am willing to give it my most precious gift - my husband.  God loves us SO MUCH that he gave his only begotten son to a world where many people STILL don't believe, in hopes that we might know forgiveness, eternal life, and the true love of Christ.  Does that make me like God or Don like Jesus?  Of course not.  But now I have a real, tangible idea of how much God loves me - loves all of us.  Now I understand how powerful that depth of love is - and I am awed by it, I am humbled by it, but most of all, I am blessed by it.  We all are!

Dear God, Help us to feel your love for us always.  In our joys let us feel your glory, in our sorrows let us feel your comfort.  Thank you for being our strength and our salvation.  Amen.

prayers and miracles

I apologize that I have been absent the last few days.  As some of you may know by now - one of Don's soldiers, Benjamin Kopp, died yesterday from injuries he received during combat on 10 July.  While I originally started this blog as more of a "craft" site with some other things thrown in - life has a way of redirecting you when it needs to.

I'm still grasping at my own emotions - but am honored to share the thoughts of Ben's mom Jill here with you.  Jill started a website for Ben last week and it has been a Godsend for those of us who needed to connect with him somehow - even if only through cyberspace.  Today Jill posted this entry and I am humbled by her faith and her courage.  In just a few short days she has given hundreds if not thousands of us a glimpse in to true, everlasting, unconditional love - for Ben, for God, for her family, and for all of us mourning him today.

Thank you Jill and Ben - for giving us your most precious gift.

Beth

Hello Prayer Warriors,
Since arriving at Walter Reed Army Medical Center on Tuesday 7/14 to be with Ben, he has not been conscious. This has not kept us from talking to him or holding his hand and feeling his presence. From his initial injury, Ben's condition was very serious. The core issues being loss of blood, which lead to cardiac arrest which deprived his brain of oxygen, making it difficult for the body to maintain and perform to a level of normalcy that all of us know. From point of injury on to Germany and then here at WRAMC, his care has been top notch.

I created this web site on Sunday 7/12 and released it to the masses about 1pm CST. As I write this it's Saturday night 7/18 and I see this site has been visited 5510 times. I am amazed beyond words. It can be shouted from the mountain tops (pick one), that the world is held together by love. If you ever doubted it, please re-read what I just wrote. The messages here of prayer and hope and love and encouragement are all written here for my son, Ben. He started this, not me. Ben made this happen because he has shared his love and friendship with so many and if you knew Ben through me, its because he shared his love with me and I with you because I love him.

Many of these messages have offered prayers of healing and recovery and for a miracle to make happen something
extraordinary. From day one, I have whispered to Ben the number of prayers being said and told him to be strong. He's a fighter and if anyone could overcome odds and claim a miracle he could.  I learned some time ago that while God always answers prayers they may not be in the manner we've asked for them. When it became apparent that Ben's condition was as critical as it was, I told him that it was up to him to decide if he wanted the prayers and the miracle for himself or if they should go to someone else. I knew Ben would let me know.
In the middle of that night, his condition grew worse and his body couldn't recover. The doctors began preparing us to make a decision. In their best medical opinion, Ben's brain could not sustain itself to any level of normalcy and if he survived, his qaulity of life would be poor, at best. There would be no walking, no speaking, no talking, in need of 100% care. WE ALL KNOW BEN WOULD NOT WANT THIS. We came to terms with the reality of his fate and began talking about organ donation. As I contemplated this, I realized that there are families out there whose loved ones need new organs and tissue in order to continue living AND THEY PRAY AND ASK GOD EVERYDAY FOR MIRACLES! It was an enlightening moment to say the least. BEN chose to give them away. He chose to give them to people who still have a chance to live their lives with a sense of normalcy because of his very young and healthy organs! The prayers and miracles weve all been asking for were not meant for Ben. There is no question that many of them were used and will continue to be used to hold me and all of you up. The love and support I have received has been phenomenal. I cannot express words  powerful enough to say thank you with the deep sincerity I feel towards all of you.

You have probably reasoned by what I have just said that Ben has passed on. I am saddened to say he has.

There will be a service in Minnesota and Ben has also requested to be laid to rest at Arlington National Cemetary. I am going to honor those wishes. I have no details about these services yet. I will post them here when they are finalized.

Please continue to say prayers for all of the men and women who so proudly serve our country. Ben had a deep love of country and has just left a legacy of heroism for all of us to cherish. Be as proud of him as I was as his mother. I have been blessed for 21 years with a beautiful young man who came to be loved by thousands. I thank God for sharing him with me and for allowing him to die proud.

Please say a special prayer for the men of Ben's unit who remain somewhere out there. They need us! They need our prayers! They are fighting in Ben's honor and won't give up, just like he never did!

RLTW!!!!

God Bless Ben! God Bless All of you.

Jill

What July 4th means to me: gratitude and Colby

Much of this entry was previously published on my S4I blog in June 2008.  With Don deployed again and the 4th of July upon us Colby has been much on my mind, so I wanted to reprint it (with a few new thoughts) as a reminder of how blessed we all really are.  This July 4th weekend - hug your families a little tighter, stand a little taller when you see a flag, appreciate the little things around you, and please remember the families all across the country who are missing their brave soldiers today.  Happy 4th everybody...

Beth

Tuesday, June 3 2008 - We had a project at IRW that was behind schedule. It was coming along, but it had caused a lot of frustration and angst.  Don had recently returned from a long deployment and we were home visiting our families - but the stress of this project had caused me to be grouchy to everyone and I’d been sneaking off to do work instead of spending precious and rare free time with my husband. If you’d asked me on Sunday to name some things I was grateful for – I would have been hard pressed to give you a list. Then came Monday.  On Monday something happened to me that Oprah would call an “ah-ha” moment.  I would call it a “God slapping me upside the head telling me to get a grip” moment - which is probably one of the many reasons why she has a tv show and I…uh…don’t.

This is a picture of our friend Colby Umbrell a few summers ago. I took the picture while we were making fun of Don because he had asked Colby to come over to "help" move the entertainment center (in the background), and Colby had essentially strapped it on his back and carried it up the stairs by himself. I know bosses aren't supposed to have favorites, but Don had really taken to Colby and we both treated him like a cross between our kid brother and our son - from making sure he had enough to eat to teasing him about his lovelife, and I wouldn't be half surprised if they were giving each other wedgies at work.  A few nights before the guys left for Iraq, Don and I took them out to dinner and while the other boys shamelessly hit on the...uh..."loose" girls at the table next to us, Colby hung back with me, making sure that I didn't feel left out.

On May 3, 2007, 1LT Colby Umbrell was killed by an EFP in Mussayib, Iraq while he and Don (and thousands of other brave men and women) were on that 14-month deployment. Yesterday – Monday - I took Don to Arlington National Cemetery to visit Colby’s grave. For those of you who have never been to Arlington…it is a humbling, overwhelming, inspiring, heart-wrenching journey. Once you have lost someone dear to you it also becomes personal - a place of sadness and pride, of questions and of healing. But I am ashamed to say that even while we were driving there I was thinking about work. I was not thinking of my husband or how he was feeling, I was not thinking of Colby, I was not thinking of the stories of sacrifice and braveness all around us. I was thinking about that project and was completely wrapped up in my own head. I was missing the moment.

As we drove through Arlington to Colby’s gravesite Don got quiet, and when we arrived he asked me if he could be alone. So I stepped a few feet away…and as I stood there watching my husband mourn his friend, listening to the wind rustle through the trees and the birds singing and the tinkling of a red, white and blue windchime that someone had hung from a tree – I was suddenly overwhelmed with…I don’t know if you’d call it a new perspective or an epiphany or a good hard God-slap – but the best word I can think of...is gratitude.

Now – my friends will tell you that I am not the most introspective person in the world. I speak my mind more often than I should, I am quick to react (positively and negatively) and I believe in actions more than words or ideas. But at that moment – in that place – I was reminded that if you do not come at the world with a sense of gratitude…you will spend your whole life worrying about the little things and miss what really matters. I have to admit that even though I’ve heard that for years from talk shows (yes – Oprah again) and self-help books and well-meaning motivational speakers – it never really “took” until we were standing there – Don and I – saying goodbye to a friend and finding our own sense of peace.

July 4 2009 - Since that day a year ago a lot has changed - for us and for this country.  The economy seems to be in a free-fall, Don is deployed again, my dad's health is deteriorating, some days our house seems to be falling down around me - and there are times when I just want to throw in the towel and wallow in self-pity and a big ol' tub of ice cream.  But I wear Colby's bracelet around my wrist every day as a reminder, and in the end I am brought back to that afternoon at Arlington - and I remember everything I have to be grateful for.  Don came home, when so many did not.  My family loves me, and I have a chance everyday to make sure they know how much I love them.  This house I complain about shelters me from the sun and the rain and gives me a place to safely lay my head at night.  I am here - and I know that I am blessed beyond measure.

So to Colby...I know how much you touched the lives of the people around you, but I want you to know that this is the gift you gave me.  You have changed me in ways I can't even begin to measure - thank you for helping me find my way back to what really matters.

 

To Mark, Nancy and Casey...thinking of you today - thank you for sharing Colby with us.