From the Ranch: Again, I Love that Facebook Blessing

From the Ranch: Again, I Love that Facebook Blessing

Again, I Love that Facebook Blessing

Happy Birthday Fairy Daughter

I have a dear friend on facebook, who brings to my life delight.

Though I’ve never seen her face or from her eyes their light.

When I asked her, she said her favorite color is blue.

I knew when I asked it would be some such soothing hue.

The messages that she sends in intervals to me.

Tell of her youth, her true heart, and the woman of honor she will be.

In my mind, from her words, a delicate beauty I see.

From images of the women of her land, I can imagine her face to some degree.

Kindness lives within her and on her face it must leave its’ distinctive mark.

Women without kindness, even though great beauties, have faces that are stark.

From her mouth only genuineness and truth does she speak.

This tells of the strength and courage she possesses, something others seek.

Her heart, though she lives in a war zone, reaches to live in joy,

There are enemies in her country who endeavor always to destroy.

From a picture she saw of me, in her sweetness she named me “Fairy Mother.”

I ponder what thing so quickly could make me smile, and I can think of no other.

Every morning as I pray for each of my children, and all those my loved ones,

Though her face I do not know, among my children's names, hers comes.

Some of God's Blessing in Life Are So Rich, Like Cake

At this point in life, God's blessings, which He heaps upon me, no longer surprise me, but they never stop taking my breath away. I never grow use to the wonder I feel at His love for me, I know exactly how unworthy I am before a Holy God. Yet still, because of Jesus Christ laying down His life for me, I stand always before God covered by the perfectness of His Son. My Heavenly Father spoils me so...

I have recorded before, I love facebook. I love it because of the very special people it has brought to my life. I had an exchange of some length today with one of those new friends. I had first befriended her because of her talent. I saw the cakes she bakes, oh how I love cake! I really need a twelve step program concerning my appreciation of cake... if I start, I am likely to eat a whole cake in a day. As I often say, we all have our Achilles Heel.

On her facebook page today, she had yet another beautiful talent on display, and I began exchanging "posts" with her, then one on one messages as I began suggesting to her that she do a blog. (I can't wait for this blog to be birthed!) Then part of her life story began to pour from her heart. I am rich to have been the one who received it. I asked her permission to place here our exchanges, her words will lift and inspire you. All words that lift and inspire should be passed on if at all possible, I had known before I asked she would say yes. Here for each of you are words that will not fail to touch your soul. There are messages in them for someone somewhere who feels God doesn't see, or if He does, He doesn't care. He is going to prove you wrong as you read these words, for you are going to know, they are for you, from Him.

From my friend:

I absolutely LOVED the donkey story...it's my fav!!! =} I've never thought about anything like the blog thing....because I never knew it worked like that. I want a cake shop so bad I can taste it but I had 3 spine surgeries 2 1/2 years ago and developed a brain infection I was not expected to survive...but I did by the grace of God! During all of that they discovered a tumor in my hip that will eventually break my hip and require me to have it replaced. I knew something was wrong because it hurt so much but I never had it checked out. I said all of that to say....I want a shop...but I'm scared I can't physcially handle it. I have thought about teaching classes for it....I had a pastry chef at one of the venues I delivered one of my cakes ask to apprentice with me which is what gave me the idea of teaching....but I'm a hands-on kind of girl...I love to create!!! I am limited in my movements now and do most of my work sitting in a rolling chair. I had never baked a cake until 17 months ago....I had to find something to keep my mind busy or I was going to go crazy. I know (somewhat) how the guys suffering from PTSD feel. I have had to seek therapy for my illness...I was a very active out-going person until my surgeon tried to kill me...and then blamed me at every turn (we did seek legal counsel but it is next to impossible to make a doctor be accountable when he hides information) so...I harbor much anger for him....if he had only listened to me and not called me names when I tried to tell him something was wrong with me I wouldn't have gone on to have 2 more surgeries and have bathroom scum growing in my brain. I spent 3 weeks in the hospital and had a port sewn into my chest where for 45 days my husband gave me 9 injections a day trying to save my life. For 5 months I couldn't even turn my own body over in my bed. I wanted....needed for him (the doctor) to carry his share of the burden he had created thru neglect...I carry mine daily!!! I'm sorry...I'm rambling. Thank you for letting me know about the blog...hopefully I can look into it and who knows where it could go???? =}

From me to my friend:

Wow... what a story, and how God works in people's lives... God hears and knows the cries of your heart... what a story... please may I post what you have written to my blog without any identifiable info... you would encourage and inspire so many who are at a despairing place... so many Soldiers come home so broken, inside and out... and your words about wanting... needing the doctor to carry his share, and if he had only listened... how they will ring with Soldiers with PTSD..... For them just to know that you made it... and if you think it is difficult to hold that doctor accountable... think of trying with the Army.... type girl.... type.... you will get your shop, and an employee to run it when you need to rest....

Me Again:

What powerful words... I can't stop re-reading them.... and not a word of that was rambling.... it was all magnificent!

My Friend:

Of course you may share my story....sharing it is in a way therapy for me. I remember at first after it happened being scared to death...and the depression that came with the illness it's self and the depression the medications (I will have to take for the rest of my life) cause...I went thru some very dark days...even months...truth be told if I think on it very much I can still be drawn back into the depths of it. I felt like, if this is all my life will be from here on out...do I really want to be here? I know it takes having something to hold onto to pull yourself back out of the grips of depression....for me....it was my son. He is mentally retarded and has been my shadow all his life. One day I had gotten my husband to wheel my wheelchair out onto the patio and he forgot to come back and get me before it started getting dark. One side of our house has french doors down it and I could see my son going from room to room looking for me....I thought right then....Lord please help me....I need to be the Mom he's looking for! Without a doubt my strength and determination was renewed at that moment because the Lord believes in me! I have come a million miles since that day....I know I have many more to go but that's ok because I know I am loved!!! =}

I never would have had any idea that my friend had any struggles in her life from all I have read and seen on her pages on facebook. She is a remarkable woman as you can see from her words, with so much for each of us to draw strength from. She will never know, this side of heaven, what she did for me today. Each of us struggle in some way, God allows it. He is composed of nothing but love for each of us, and never gives us a stone when we ask for bread. In our struggles are found His love, grace, power, and glory, all we have to do to experience and have access to all these things, is glimpse whoever it is running from room to room looking for us. Thank you, Father God, for this blessing I know to be from Your hand.

Some Days for a Soldier Are Dark... We All Have a Responsibility.

Being acquainted with many, and very close to more than a few military families, I know well the sacrifices they make on a daily basis. Stronger or better people I do not know. Whether they are active duty, reserve, national guard, or retired, they are poured from a different mold, stand a little taller, and will go a lot farther for a person. They bear both the scars and the blessings of their association with the military. It doesn't matter how long ago their service occurred. Millions have served this country, shed blood on foreign soil, and left parts of their hearts there as well. They should be numbered and their names remembered as the patriots of this country that they are, and treated as such. Unfortunately, sometimes, they are not.

I will be the first to admit that among their numbers are some that are none of the things I described. They are few in number, yet they are scattered in among the heroes. Part of the reason these unfit are embedded with the noble lies in the nature of the profession. Our military are professionals in conducting war on behalf of our nation's national security. That, by definition alone, will attract a bully, and maybe even the deranged, an example being the Soldier involved in the attack on Ft. Hood. Then there is the self governing system by which the military operates. From the governance of each Soldier being legally obligated to follow all orders from his superiors, unless they actually break laws, arises the first weapon that can be used against a Soldier by those who abuse power. Make no mistake, a few are attracted to military service by nothing more than the opportunity to have power over other human beings, and seldom do these individuals use their power in anything but conniving and wrangling for yet more power. They would "serve" for free, because their real currency is the "rush" they receive in wielding power. Depending upon what is at the moment being awarded with promotion, hence, attaining more power, they can actually accomplish good. They will set goals toward what ever is being recognized by top military as positive and desirable. This is fairly easy to recognize in an officer, and almost impossible to control. Worse case scenario, the entire Army, and in fact the country, not to mention an individual Soldier and their family, can be damaged or destroyed by either a single, or a series of decisions by these leaders.

As they are "promoted," they become the "promoters," ensuring the procreating of their own kind, and as I said, they can accomplish much, even win wars. Probably the most admired General of all times is George S. Patton. I have no personal knowledge of General Patton, but many have described him as "ruthless." Without a doubt he made a large contribution toward winning WWII. However, I suspect many could have formulated the plans to win WWII, and many could have been the inspiring leadership to execute the formulated plan. I find so much between the lines of his many famous quotes. To me, many of them ring as calculated "sound bites" of very clever power monger. As an example of what I think are famous quotes more closely related to who Patton was in his heart consider, "All very successful commanders are prima donnas and must be so treated." Then there is this quote, "Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood."

I recently came across the writing of a two star who was endeavoring to school his troops in the worth of living the Seven Army Values. For those of you who are unfamiliar, those include, loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal courage. He did an "on the fly" poll among Soldiers, and found the most common response to be loyalty. He went on to extol the merits of all the answers and stated they were all of equal value. I disagree with that, for the following reason, I have seen Soldiers support a philosophy or concept, which even though it was negative in content and practice, their present leadership embraced. I have even seen a unspoken philosophy or concept that went against written policy and regulation of the United States Army prevail in a unit, because leadership expressed, even in only private, disdain for accepted policy. As a completely hypothetical example, say a one star general states in a planning meeting for family day, "whatever, lets just get the Kum ba yah out of the way." You might then hear from a colonel serving under that general, "Well I'm not looking for a Cadillac kind of Family Readiness Group, I had more in mind a Yugo."

By all written and stated policy and regulation, FRG is to be a "high priority." The Army's position is that family support is of the utmost importance... it wouldn't be in that unit, because loyalty to the man in charge of writing your OER, (Officer Evaluation Report, or something close to that,) might influence what that evaluation contained. A commander is only allotted so many "top blocks" to dole out, and a man who expressed by word or attitude, "All very successful commanders are prima donnas and must be so treated." is probably going to have a unit full of sub-ordinates who emphasize their own disdain of all things Family Support related as being fluff without any real worth, and unworthy of effort. Anyone can figure out what kind of Family Support that unit would offer.

I think Patton considered himself superior in all areas to most men, I suspect all that he accomplished came from the desire to demonstrate the same to the rest of the world. What other kind of thought process spawns a statement such as, "Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a human being can indulge. It brings out all that is best; it removes all that is base. All men are afraid in battle. The coward is the one who lets his fear overcome his sense of duty. Duty is the essence of manhood." I found no quotes concerning the price of war, for a nation, or a family in all the quotes I found made by General Patton. "Battle" to me isn't a competition, it is a struggle to defend good against evil, and should never be undertaken for any other reason. I, for one, believe that honor is the "essence of manhood." To me, duty is doing what is expected of you in any given situation by those setting up the rules and the content of the rules, honor is doing, at all cost, and by all that is within a man's ability, what is truly righteous and upright before God and man. In my observance, many a person, including myself has failed honor on behalf of duty. Loyalty represents to me an ever changing landscape of leadership with-in the Army from the lowest level NCO to the highest officer.

That brings me to why I have any right what-so-ever to comment or dare to criticize Army leadership in any way. I am the mother of a Soldier, the wife of a Soldier, my son-in-law is in Afghanistan, it would take too much time to type all the places and times he has deployed and been absent from his girls. One of my son-in-laws was blown off a vehicle he was refueling in Iraq in 2003, as he lay injured he was hit in the shoulder by sniper fire. I remember waiting at the end of the sidewalk as a child, and hiding my eyes thinking when I look up, I will see daddy's truck coming home from "drill." My father almost died of Malaria while serving in the Occupation Forces following WWII. My grand-father, eventually smothered to death, the mustard gas of WWI finally claiming him. My husband has been absent 22 months now from our home, I take exceptional pride in the above associations, ... exceptional pride, their value being unmeasurable to me.

As an American who considers myself a patriot, who daily endeavors to support every Soldier serving anywhere, and those who have gone before, I take even more pride in these exceptional men and women who have given so much. I not only take note, but take names, when it is brought to my attention that any one of them has been treated badly by anyone, including, "the Army." I owe them all... where would the nation be if the responsibility would be mine to defend it against our enemies? I am not possessed of what it takes mentally, physically, and emotionally to stand the wall. My protection falls to them, and I am not alone. If you are not one of the protectors, you are one of the protected. Never should a single Soldier ever fear reporting "issues" concerning service, and never should command bend to any personal agenda the handling of reporting. Never should the physical or emotional health, or claims of lack of health in either of those areas be treated as anything but sacred obligations of those in charge to hold as of highest priority, because if they are not, someone has little or no regard to the lives of Soldiers being offered up in "the competition."

I have not been able to sleep considering one young Soldier, his wife, and the rest of his family. My mind can imagine the embarrassment, the concern, the fear, the pain, because I have seen it up close too many times. His name is Spc. Jeff Hanks, of Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. Ft. Campbell may ring a tone of familiarity with you, they had a stand down because of the number of suicides at that base over a period of time, in the not so distant past. I have left numerous posts on their facebook page after researching the situation with this young man. It is the least I can do, as I am in debt that I cannot repay to he and his wife. I wrote a poem concerning my greatest fear for any Soldier experiencing what this Soldier and his family has, and I have a message for him, and any Soldier with any difficulty that threatens to overcome them. You aren't the first and you won't be the last to be treated in this manner by individuals in the Army, but, those individuals are just "employed" by the Army, they do not "belong" to that honorable organization. By the hundreds of thousands, the true band of brothers stands beside you, and by the hundreds of millions, Americans stand beside you. Hoo-ah, for all that is honorable about the United States Army and those who proudly serve, and those of their families, who proudly and confidently stand behind them! This poem is dark intentionally, God help the man or woman who ever contributed to all the Soldiers depicted in these words, and their numbers are staggering!

UNDERSTAND

After the attack, I joined with the brave who heard the call,

To protect our country from an enemy determined to cause it to fall.

This duty my mind and heart, could completely understand.

Then with my brothers and sisters, I went to a foreign soil.

Together we followed every order, and endured each mission, as on we toiled.

The need for this work I still understand.

I came home, and visions returned of things no man should ever hold in sight.

Always now I must be vigilant and watch for a means of flight.

These things are very difficult for me to understand.

Sometimes my mind begins to falter, and I feel cold fear rise.

I am now someone my family and friends do not recognize.

Of this I have no ability to understand.

Finally, in shame and despair, I went to my commander.

Grasping for words to make this man hear, I could only stammer.

I longed for him to understand.

The expression and tone of the words I received in return,

Have dealt wounds and pain that cause my very soul to burn.

All efforts have failed to cause him to understand.

Since this confession, I know, though long I stood strong,

To my beloved band of brothers I will never again belong.

I have slowly and painfully come to understand.

Tonight in the solitude of this lonely room, I’ll make my last stand.

Summon courage and my life lay down, by my own hand.

For no longer do I have the desire to understand.

Command Climate or Charm School for Donkeys

The day before Colonel LeCompte went back to Iraq a neighbor dropped by and asked if we would like to have a donkey. It seemed that the donkey was kicking and seriously injuring his cows, at least that was his theory. In Texas ranchers frequently keep donkeys in with cattle, sheep, etc., because donkeys will protect them from coyotes and other predators, and that was why the rancher had come to own the donkey. So we followed him over to his pasture to take a look at the donkey, as such offers always intrigue Colonel LeCompte. When we got there the little donkey immediately knew something was up and took off across the pasture. She was a cute little paint donkey, and obviously spunky. I said, "I don't know Sir..."  My husband said, "she's cute and spunky, that's exactly how I picked you."   Now, what woman can resist an argument like that? As we talked further with the neighbor he pointed out two calves that were down and not doing so well after being kicked, and pointed out a full grown cow who he discovered, as we drove up, that according to his theory, had died after being kicked and having a rib broke which punctured the cow's lung. The rancher told us he had the vet out to make sure the cows were not ill, and after examination of the three animals, the vet had pronounced that all of them had "blunt trauma injuries." All during this discussion the donkey was running around the pasture kicking, pardon the pun, "like a mule," with no target other than the air. She was indeed a "spunky donkey" with some bad habits and an attitude.  She tossed her head raised her tail and trotted around us way out of reach. The neighbor told us that he was going to give her "lead poisoning" if we didn't take her. I saw a lightning quick flash in Randy's eyes and I knew we now owned a cute, spunky, little paint donkey. Colonel LeCompte pronounced we wanted the donkey. Colonel LeCompte believes that every Soldier should be given the necessary instruction, training, encouragement, mentoring, leadership, and discipline to achieve "all they can be." He believes the same of animals.

We have four female horses, plus two female miniature horses.... it is like living with a squad of eighth grade cheerleaders. Obviously they aren't yet "all they can be," but it requires time, patience, discipline and diligent effort. You can't imagine the amount of jealousy, manipulating, and orneriness that still goes on in that pasture. There is a bit of hazing as well. In other words, poor little donkey, she was in for a "schooling," and there was going to be a bit of trouble at the "OK Corral." It would require leadership and direction to keep everyone from losing the ground gained thus far when the little way-ward donkey joined the group. After a great deal of effort and a display of intelligent strategy capability on the donkey's part, she was loaded in the back of the trailer,

I reminded Colonel LeCompte on the drive home with the donkey in the trailer in back, that remarks like the one about "cute and spunky" made toward anyone but the donkey constituted running with scissors. When we arrived home and backed the trailer to the pasture gate, everyone of the "girls" perked up with curiosity immediately and began circling the pasture in a most haughty way. Trotting, shaking their manes, and breaking into a full gallop periodically, the analogy of the eight grade cheerleader squad took vision in my mind once again. Colonel LeCompte just laughed and got out of the truck to let the donkey out in the pasture. He opened the trailer and she confidently trotted into the pasture. That was the last confident thing I saw her do for about a week. The "girls" ran up to her as a group, or if you will, as a herd, an even better description would be like the angry mob that beheaded Marie Antoinette.  They were all charging at her as fast as they could run.  She stood frozen for a minute, and then, being the intelligent animal she is, headed for the hills... trouble is, we don't have any hills.

Two of our horses are official "rescued mustangs." Mustang Sally as we dubbed the larger horse has abnormally short ears, they had severe frost bite at some point, and their tips fell off. Hillary, the other rescue is sort of short and chubby, and has fat ankles, but she is an excellent ride and has a beautiful mane and tail. We acquired these horses, when we moved to our place, from the family we bought it from. The family didn't have a place to keep the horses when they moved, so they were "thrown in" as part of the deal for the house. They would not even allow you to touch them. The other two horses I bought from a horse trader when we found out we were moving to Sealy. Once I had asked Colonel LeCompte one of my probing and strange questions, "what, as a kid, did you most want for Christmas that you never got as a child?" He had responded, a horse. He told me I was crazy for buying two horses when we didn't even have a place to live yet. I am a person of faith I told him.  He worried about the horses, which we being held by the horse trader until we found a place. He still talks about how reckless that was, and how much he loves the horses.

I paid $400 for Three Chicks Native, a registered quarter horse, chestnut in color and with blood lines going back to Red Rocket. She is a prize. Once in a Blue Moon is a blue roan I paid $600 for, and when these two horses joined the pasture, Mustang Sally ruled the squad, but that didn't last long. When the horses were fed, Sally served herself from the first portion and by the time all four had been "served," she was through and moving down the line to the next horses' feed. That was before Randy deployed, and this unfair bully practice was quickly extinguished by his standing with the horses with a long green horse whip which he whirled over the top of his head each time Sally gulped her feed and headed for Blue's or Chick's feed. She spared Hillary till last because they had first inhabited the pasture together, evidently loyalty counts. However, with Randy standing by the fence, she quickly developed manners. Soon, with this training, he could leave them after putting out the feed. However, if he were out of town for 3 or 4 days with work, the old habits would return, and his attention and discipline would again be required.

In fact, in all areas of conditioning of the horses, if even one of them is allowed to be a renegade, it spreads. When Sally went after the others feed, Blue would go after Chick's feed. In fact all the horses would pick on Chick. During one of Randy's absences, one of the horses ran Chick through a fence, leaving a horrible wound I worried she would never survive. I had to nurse her in a separate stall for several months once the vet released her from his care in the "horse hospital." This incident happened after dark, and even though I was outside working in the yard at first I did not notice the wounded horse until I heard her whinny had an urgent and constant call to me. She had always been a "mama's girl," and by the time she recovered, she really was. She and Hillary are not as prone to attempting to dominate the other horses as are Sally and Blue, it is just not in their nature. This power play will go on just as long as it is tolerated, and with its' tolerance, the behavior is adopted by the other two horses. They take turns trying to chase, kick, and bite one another, all bad habits in horses which lead to their uselessness as riding horses. Just like with Soldiers, tolerating the breakdown of discipline, bad habits, and bullying leads to worthless horses, prone to getting in trouble, and making unwise decisions.

So when the horses began chasing Donkey, as she had by then been christened after the character in Shrek, I began shouting commands to the running horses. Usually, because of it being established that I am at the top of the chain of command, and the person who controls the feed bucket, my commands are heeded, but not this day. So, as this ancient herding behavior surfaced as it does in the wild, where your ears can freeze off, for the good and usefulness of the unit, I had to regain control, and once again establish the boundaries of order and discipline. 

It hasn't been easy. Blue has long since coming to the pasture established that she is the rightful head honcho of the pasture. She has given Donkey a terrible time, requiring that she be sent to the time out pen. She has chased Donkey biting her, and kept her from her feed unless I stand right there, even though she is on the other side of the tack barn and separated from the others for feeding. Yesterday I caught Blue chasing Donkey down, biting a huge 8-10 inch hunk of hair off her rear and spitting it on the ground, still having a wad of hair in her mouth and just having to eat it, because she couldn't get the hair out of her mouth. I reported this to Colonel LeCompte by email and complained of it being cold, he emailed me back saying, "But there at the ranch…you can just stay inside, look out the window, and watch Donkey get her ass chewed." Sometimes Colonel LeCompte needs to be told, just keep your day job, you are never going to make it as an advice columnist.

This leads to the other horses, even the miniature horses who are in an entire different area, separated by a gate, running toward Donkey and turning to try and kick her, and of course she would make short work of them were they actually in the same area. Now this is really out of character for these usually "lap puppy" little horses, but evidently, monkey see, monkey do. 

Donkey has not had the time to position herself even one time to kick anyone, she has been ostracized to one area of the pasture, and just for good measure Blue periodically runs at her. You can watch Donkey try to turn, set, and kick, but again she is intelligent and accurately determines she isn't going to get to kick anybody before Blue runs her down unless she gives up the kicking plan and heads for the hills.   As I mentioned, we don't have any hills.


I have been working diligently to "harness train" both of the minnies for use with the Easy Access carts made by Buggy Bob, in order that Soldiers with more restrictive injuries can have an independent interaction with "travel by horse." 

So this breech of appropriate behavior can not be tolerated, hence I have been in the pasture an extra amount of time this week. I am happy to report that Donkey is a kinder, gentler, and more humble Donkey. In fact, this little animal is in actuality, very loving, and she has learned that I am her savior when she is being persecuted. She has bonded firmly with me in gratitude, and now demonstrates such a loving and gentle nature, and I can see her possibilities. When I was doing a repair job to the stall area today, she would not leave me alone so I could get it done. Instead she would gently nose me wanting to be petted as often as I would allow it. Perhaps I have misjudged Blue's behavior, and rather than bullying, she has just been acting as any good NCO would.... What do you think?

What the World Really Needs is More Vikings

Yet again this morning, I find that another young Danish Marine has fallen in Afghanistan. His name I cannot yet find, but I will know it when it is made public, and I will record it in order that I might remember it always. I have made friends with two young Danish Warriors, who are twins, on Facebook. They were born just ten days before my own twin boys. So immediately they drew my notice as they posted on military sites. Educated at the Naval Academy in the States, they are really quiet remarkable men. Daily they inspire me; the phrase “uncommon valor” comes to mind. Never do they fear or mince words for the sake of political correctness or at the cost of truth. The deeds of their daily lives are frankly recorded on Facebook in words and pictures which clinch my heart and soul, and with the two attributes that most readily identify extraordinary men, confidence in following the harder right at all cost, and humility before the Living God. Our world needs such men desperately.

I have always enjoyed history, the explorations of other countries, and coming to know the people who inhabit them. As I have followed the Sorensen men, I have learned much of their homeland, Denmark, and its’ people. My curiosity has been stirred not only by their lives, but by the words they quote of their political leaders and their royalty. It is in my own life rare to encounter young people of my country with such obvious loyalty and trust toward our government and leadership. When the citizens of a country, of any age, quote boldly their current leadership, with obvious assurance, it is indeed to be envied.

Because of my initial note of Denmark’s commitment to the War on Terror and its’ forthright recognition of the true extent of threat to the world, I first found current statistics concerning the fighting and support services which Denmark has committed. Thirty-eight Danish troops have been killed in Afghanistan since Denmark joined the Coalition in 2002, another suffered a heart attack and died, and sadly another committed suicide. War is such a painful endeavor, and extracts its’ price in many ways. Currently approximately 700 troops are serving in the NATO-led forces, most of them in Helmand Province. Of course at the end of any given day, those numbers can change due to another “ultimate sacrifice” for liberty.

As I have begun to research Denmark, the country, and its’ ancient culture and people, my fascination has grown. I’m not going to make it easy for the reader to glimpse this beautiful country and know of it history and virtues, other than producing magnificent sons and daughters, but hope to inspire in the reader their own curiosity for all things Denmark. I will say of Queen Margrethe II, what a stunning and wise woman at age 70, no wonder the Sorensens admire and respect her so. Instead, I will offer to you a link to Denmark’s official web site: http://www.denmark.dk/en/Denmark.htmu

The news reported that the Soldier who was mortally wounded, was on patrol Sunday, four miles northeast of the town of Gereshk, in Helmand Province, when he fell to the “cowards weapon,” to quote Buzzy, an IED. Evacuated by helicopter he was declared dead upon arrival at the field hospital in Camp Bastion. I can assure the reader, valiant efforts were made to save the man. This morning as I read the notice posted by Buzzy, my heart clinched once again in my own pain at the loss of this young man, and the knowledge that in reality, he had stood between me and mine and a vicious and soulless enemy until the end. What a debt we owe these men and women, how diligently we must attempt restitution, and so I offered to Buzzy and Rolfe, their countrymen, and the Fallen Warrior’s family, words from the Father, and the prayers of my heart before the Lord. I have copied and pasted below those words to share with a larger audience in order to do what I can to pay tribute to the Viking Warriors whose Nation Anthem title translates into English, “There is a Lovely Land.” Those words follow:

A friend recently posted a verse I am very familiar with, but had not read in a while. It reminded me that even in my deepest despair, God is extending "lovingkindness and compassion." I have but to embrace it. May this family and all the families around the world who have given their sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, and national patriots embrace this word of comfort from the Lord. "This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. The LORD'S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, For His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness." Lam. 3:21-23. As always my tears join those of your countrymen, the world, and his family.

To the Coalition Forces, and the Viking Warriors in particular, I can never fully understand the bond you share, but always David's cry to the heavens at the loss of Jonathan and King Saul, whom he fought beside in so many battles, and loved "like a brother," "iron sharpening iron," comes to my mind. David cried out in II Samuel the first chapter in grief and sorrow. Some of his words so directly apply to this Warrior Viking. "From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan turned not back, and the sword of Saul returned not empty. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions." In verse 25, David cries out in anguish, "How the mighty are fallen in the midst of the battle."

Father God, let us never forget this man's valor and sacrifice. I will remember his name, record it, as I do each name, tell my children and their children. Lord, it seems to me I read so often here of the loss of another Danish Warrior. ... I fear for the hearts of those who fight on Lord God. Empower them Father, lest they grow weary in war, and their hearts falter. Protect them, shield them, from the weapons of this world, and from the weapons of the unseen world, where Father God the forces of good and evil do battle for the souls of mankind. Without the freedom these men and women are dying for, spreading Your message of love and peace becomes so much more difficult. This man has died with honor not just for this day and age, but for the days, ages, and people to come.

Bear him home Father God to his just reward, from this world his light fades, may it shine brightly in Your presence.

A Story of an Old Soldier

I love facebook for many reasons. Keeping up with extended family and family living far away, and of course meeting and making friends with people around the world, with whom I never could have made connections, are just two of the blessings I have found on facebook . I have learned details of the war my husband has left home to fight, and seen the faces of people in the countries where he has been sent. I have come to know some of the people of these countries and now call them friends. They have given me great insight to the struggle going on in their homelands and the challenges standing in the way of lasting peace. Other family members of service persons going through some of the same experiences as myself have empowered and strengthened me. This clear help has happened both when the state from which I met the challenges of my husband's deployment with was positive, and when I found myself close to collapse.

I have come to know Soldiers from many of the countries making up the forty four Coalition Forces. Men and women who have banded together in this endeavor to preserve mankind and our God-given rights, and their noble hearts and lives, pledged to this effort, have been revealed to me. Their family members and I have shared and uplifted one another in good times and in difficult times. Ten years ago my husband's going to war would have been such a different experience, and much more difficult to bear, but the Internet and facebook have brought information and support I never would have known.

Another inspirational subsequence is I have come to know the stories of heroes from conflicts past, and for today's blog I offer a story written by one of my new friends discovered on facebook. As James and I have posted on our walls, we have come to know and share many things about war and our own lives being lived out against the background of this struggle. We have shared thoughts about our country and the direction in which it is headed, the divisions among our countrymen, which seem so much greater than at other times past, and the joys and hardships of our own daily lives. Of course, as always, my own conversation is full of my dear husband, "Colonel LeCompte."

James is a college student, and has writing assignments on a regular basis, I am often privileged to get to read these "stories" or assignments. Today he sent one that I found moving and delightful. It is the "story" of a boy and his grand-father, an old Soldier, who as MacArthur said, "fades away." It is also the story of the impressions his grand-son picks up and the life applications that result. So here for your enjoyment is James Echelbarger's latest writing assignment, the story of his grand-father and his memories of him. He was an old Soldier, known until the end as "The Colonel."

The Colonel

Grandma called him “The Colonel.” He retired a lieutenant colonel, but he was known as The Colonel. Sometimes Grandma called him “The Ogre.” It depended on my grandfather’s mood of the day and whether or not his steel-gray eyes were smiling or flashing with anger.

My childhood memories of The Colonel revolved around the television. We watched war movies together in The Colonel’s tiny den. The Colonel retired after twenty-eight years in the military. He was offered prestigious positions in other government agencies, including the U.S. Marshals. But after surviving three wars, The Colonel just wanted to sit in his tiny den, with its nautical theme, and watch TV. The Colonel usually sat on the small sofa with his gray tabby cat on his lap. I would sit in the rocking chair. The rocking chair also served as the desk chair. The TV sat on top of a dresser. The small sofa, desk and dresser were the only large pieces of furniture in the tiny den. The tiny den, one room of a small condominium, was the center of The Colonel’s world. It’s where we watched war movies. I was too young to put these war movies into any historical context, so I do not remember which war movie was what. But I do remember one was John Wayne in The Sands of Iwo Jima; I remember another was Audie Murphy in To Hell and Back.

My grandfather was not much for conversation, and he rarely spoke about his military experience. I’ve had friends whose fathers and grandfathers told great war stories. They bragged how they won medals for valor. The Colonel did not even tell me he was at Iwo Jima. We watched all of The Sands of Iwo Jima, and my grandfather did not once say anything about having been a communication officer on an LST, having dropped Marines off on the beach, and having braved Kamikazes. After The Colonel’s passing, my grandmother told me The Colonel had served at Iwo Jima, as if it was some dark secret I was not supposed to know about when he was alive. Instead, my grandfather had only told me what a great guy John Wayne was.

The Colonel was short of stature, like me. This is why Audie Murphy’s To Hell and Back My grandfather made me feel good about my height. The Colonel told me Audie Murphy was just a little guy, yet he was awarded every medal the military had to offer. My grandfather got me into sports where my lack of height would not make a difference: running, shooting, bowling and wrestling. I could see Audie Murphy doing all these things in the Army. is memorable.

My grandfather told me how to shoot a machine-gun. We were watching yet another war movie. A soldier held his machine-gun up over his head, reached over the top of the trench, and let loose a clip. The Colonel told me, “That doesn’t scare anyone.” He told me to fire a machine-gun the same way I fired a rifle: to actually raise my head up, line up the sights, and aim it. In the same movie there was a very brave soldier who later became a coward. The Colonel explained how people could change. Young, single soldiers were brave to the point of recklessness, but after becoming married and starting a family, they were a lot more careful. They did not volunteer as often.

My grandfather had his medals in the dresser where the TV rested. The Colonel never showed me his medals. Once, while watching a war movie, The Colonel told me he was awarded the Legion of Merit. I asked what for. My grandfather did not answer. He just pointed to the TV to imply the conversation was over. At The Colonel’s funeral service, my mom had all of my grandfather’s medals on display, with a photo of a general awarding my grandfather his Legion of Merit. I do not know which general, or which war, or which president signed the paperwork. (The Legion of Merit comes from the Commander in Chief.)

My friend’s fathers and grandfathers who bragged about their service all got high power jobs. They were police chiefs and corporate titans. They appeared on TV and in the newspapers. They had all the perks that come with power. And they seemed to get bigger and more powerful the older they got. The Colonel just faded away. He sat in front of his TV set and became more and more frail the older he got. Then he went on oxygen. Then he passed away. I envied my friends who were taught so much, and who had so much to brag about. I wondered why my grandfather was so secretive. Didn’t he want me to know a thing? It took a long time, and much thought, for me to realize that, in his own way, The Colonel taught me all he knew.