You can tell so much about a man by handling his books. I have been doing some deep cleaning, and I moved the book shelf in the living room to the den to make a place for a rather formal antique piece I had found and had restored. I first emptied the book shelf of its contents, then lightly sanded the nicks out and touched them up with matching stain. I meticulously cleaned the floor where the bookcase was to find new residence, as I knew this chore would not be repeated again for awhile once all the heavy books are in place. I polished the floor, placed the bookcase exactly where I wanted it, waxed its’ shelves and began the task of replacing my husband’s books.

My husband is highly intelligent and accomplished, and that is reflected by the books he has collected over the years. The first evidence of his intelligence being indicated by his four large year books from West Point, along with the original catalog he was sent when he first made application. It is still in pristine condition, as are most of the books. Of course his 1990 Dwight D. Eisenhower Centennial Edition of the Register of Graduates and Former Cadets 1802-1990 had to find a place on the shelves. Many of his books reflect his military career which is approaching thirty years in duration. There are the books of military history, the books of military strategy, the books about military leadership, and the biographies of famous military leaders. Titles including War and Moral Responsibility, World Tensions:Conflict and Accommodation, Maxims of George Washington, The Forgotten Soldier, We Were Soldiers Once… And Young, and Thin Red Line are place lovingly by me on one shelf. Venezuela, The Democratic Experiment, Colin Powell My American Journey, Cobra II, A Guide to the Study and Use of Military History, and The Final Move Beyond Iraq also lay in stacks on the floor waiting to find their placement on the shelves. I place countless copies of Parameters, The US Army War College Quarterly side by side, like soldiers marching, on their shelf. Soldier, the Life of Colin Powell, Reagan, A Life in Letters, and From Here to Eternity round out what I consider to be a representative look at selections from his military books. I find there is among these books one that is fingerprinted, worn, and showing signs of countless readings. Why Courage Matters, written by John McCain, profoundly influenced my husband during a particularly difficult time in his military career.

My husband has been in Afghanistan for fifteen months now, serving with the Army. The project of moving the book case and its’ contents becomes a delightful experience as I begin to sense a nearness across the thousands of miles as I hold his books. By this time I am holding each book far too long, and too carefully selecting its’ place on the shelf. In some books, I am discovering things underlined or highlighted. Many books reflect his love of the South American culture and countries. They are in Spanish, for he is fluent in Spanish. He wore a mustache for several years, because as he traveled and worked in South America in his civilian job, he discovered it brought to him a revere with his software customers. I recall his experience of being in Columbia when conflict suddenly broke out, as he had began a trip to the airport, along the route he witnessed gun fire and a shooting. He arrived to find chaos at the airport, and as “officials” began to inquire of him who he was, and where he wanted to go, he realized he did not want his military ID to be found. With providential timing, he spotted a Columbian colleague with whom he had established a warm relationship. He was a person of some prestige, and by his word my husband was able to board a plane and leave the country. As I think of this experience, and how often he has been in harms way, I hold the books which I know his eyes have rapidly scanned as he absorbed every detail of information. Suddenly I am yearning once again to be by his side, physically sharing the same home and life.

The chore is becoming a morning of both longing and delight. There are many science texts, Basic Statistics, Tools for Continuous Improvement, Understanding Industrial Designed Experiments, Mathematics With Application, Statistical Quality Control, An Introduction to Linear Regression and Correlation, and the evertitillating The Annual ASTM Standards Plastics-General Test Methods Nomenclature. Among the science books lies the one book to place on the shelves on economics, it is titled simply, Economics, the Science of Common Sense. Briefly, I consider dropping that one in the mail, but I do not have the White House address.

Countless books on management take up at least two shelves, with titles of In Pursuit of Excellence, Empowering Teams, The Dening Management Method, Reengineering the Corporation, Good to Great, The New Rational Manager, The Program Management Book of Knowledge, and Getting to Yes. His leadership style isn’t reflected in any of these works, he has developed his own style, he calls it “The Gideon Principle,” he identifies the key participants with the heart and skills for the work, concentrates on their refinement, and leads them as they mentor those who might be potential upcoming leaders. He leads from the front always, never asking anyone to do anything he wouldn’t do himself. Always integrity and character are his base, and always he uses moral courage as the compass of whatever mission he undertakes.

By far the largest collection of books contain many versions and translations of the Bible and Bible studies. Strong’s Concordance, Malachi, Rekindling the Fires of Faith, Masterwork, The Blazing Center, A Journey in Faith, Experiencing God, Faith Works, 1st Peter, Message of Encouragement, The Family Bible Encyclopedia, The Historical Atlas of Judaism, and many others are placed in a grouping on three shelves. It is his personal study Bible that I spend the most time over. When he left for Afghanistan he carried a small Bible that would pack and travel well. In his regularly used Bible, which is contained in a zippered leather case, I find dozens of church bulletins with meticulous notes on each sermon. I was always aware of his making the notes, however I had never read them as I was making my own notes, which I promptly lost. I spend a long time in that treasure trove of his deepest thoughts on the sermons from our pastor, and find myself so refreshed and encouraged.

Two more of my husband’s books are telling of the man my husband is. One is entitled, How to Open a Chess Game, by 7 International Grand Champions. My husband is the most intensely competitive person I have ever known, with a stipulating factor… he always is in competition with himself, others may be involved, but his quest is always for his personal best, his state of excellence. To him any endeavor worthy of pursuit, only gets his best, nothing else will do. The last book is a very thin, small book, and one could easily overlook it. The author is a seven year old boy, and it is titled, The Christmas Present, and dedicated to his mother and father There among all the lofty titles shines the little book authored by his son, ten years ago, which says so much about the man my husband is.

I love him and long to see him, talk with him, listen to his words, share our daily lives once more. I remember the tender little routine we had each morning. I would make his breakfast, press his work clothes for the day, and we would read the Bible together as we ate breakfast before he left for his day’s work and I tended to mine. A man’s books, and how he uses them tells so much of who he is, and what his character is made of. I enjoyed my morning’s chore, and felt the thousands of miles melt away, and knew things of my husband's heart as though we had shared breakfast in that "too tender" little morning routine.

The News

It has been a long time since I last posted here. A long and challenging year, with my husband so far away, so much work to do, and dealing with the fears that constantly try to creep into my mind and heart. There are so many when the person you love as you have never loved before, stands in harms way. It isn't the "known enemy," the terrorist bent on the overthrow of our democracy alone that I worry about. General McChrystal fell victim this week of a more obscure and sinister threat. A Soldier's personal thoughts on his job always have to be guarded so closely, never can his or her discouragement be given voice, not in any forum. There are dangers too from "climbers," those who serve out of the love of power and position. The Army is made up for the most part by the greatest of our citizens, those who serve from patriotism and love of this country and our way of life. However, by the definition of the job, making war against our enemies, guarding and protecting our country and its' constitution, there are those few who are attracted by power and the use of it. Like some of the eighth grade girls who try out for cheerleader, nothing is off the table in securing their personal goals. A good Soldier can become the target of these "climbers.

I've had some trouble sleeping, staying awake worrying about where he is, what he is doing, and what dangers lurk around him. At first he was only to be away a year, then when I had reached the half way part I learned he would be extended another six months, and I was at square one again. That was when I had to struggle as never before in my life with the creeping darkness of depression at the corners of my mind. Randy came home on leave, he was just as he had left, maybe even better. I could tell he was healthy, deeply satisfied by the work he was doing, and fulfilling all God created him to be. The only weakness I detected there was the dart of worry which crossed his eyes whenever he detected any hint of difficulty in my or Brian's life. The thought that any of us whom he loves being in difficulty without him having the ability to problem solve us through it, is his kyptonite. He can work eighteen hours a day, sleep four hours a night, and reach peak performance every day. In fact he is one of those rare individuals who finds those kinds of challenges empowering. When you are in his presence somehow the "ten foot tall and bullet proof thing" wears off on you, and in fact inspiration comes that this thing could be a cinch. I know the Soldiers working with him know this to be true.

When a year had past and it was time to sign his extension orders, they arrived with a one year extension. Somehow I had known they would, I didn't experience creeping depression this time, but rather a resignation, and a numbing feeling that never would he come home. Last week at a Commander's Conference at Rock Island Arsenal, I met two women at the training provided by Army for spouses. One was the mother of a fallen Soldier, and one was the wife of fallen Soldier. She talked of her life as an Army wife, how she had loved it and her Soldier. Then she told of a dream she had, and in it her husband had been killed. She told us through tears how two weeks later the chaplain and an officer arrived at her door with "The News." I have never heard such moving words.

When I was a little girl, my precious father read to my sister and I every night. Despite his formal education only reaching the eighth grade, he has been an avid reader all of his life, and it has carried him far. He loves poetry, and often that was the content of his reading each night. I love all forms of self expression, playing piano, gardening, painting, and anything else creative, but never had I written a word of poetry. When I returned from the conference, it poured from me. The following is a poem I wrote inspired by the words of the beautiful woman who spoke them to those of us who share the experience of a beloved spouse serving the country somewhere dangerous and far away. I will never forget her or the love she expressed for her fallen Soldier, and the sacrifice she made and still makes when the chaplain and an officer arrived at her door and she received "The News."

The News

Oh Woman, Woman, why do you wait?
There stands no person at your gate.

Oh Woman, Woman why is the tear in your eye?
He promised he'd be home, bye and bye.

Oh Woman, Woman, why do you turn your ear?
What soft voice is it that you hear?

Oh Woman, Woman, why does your heart lurch?
It is only a man coming from the church.

Oh Woman, Woman, now I see there are two,
One in a green uniform with something sad he must do.

Oh Woman, Woman, I definitely know,
How hard the way that you must go.

Oh Woman, Woman, surely you remember,
That he promised love like yours is ever tender.

Oh Woman, Woman, the wait will be short.
He's only gone before you for heaven's report.

Borrowed from some Marines

This communication arrived for me some time ago, it moved me profoundly. I am typing from my air-conditioned, comfortable, home... My husband and men and women like him from across the country are wearing 50 pounds of Kevlor in unbelievable heat, as our son said when we told him Randy was being deployed, "well Dad, you gotta do what you gotta do." So now I will share the thoughts of the brave men and women of Baker Company... and as they say, "one picture is worth a thousand words...."

SLEEP LAST NIGHT?

Bed a little lumpy....

Toss and turn any...

Wish the heat was higher...

Maybe the a/c wasn't on...

Had to go to the john...

Need a drink of water...?? ?

Scroll down

Yes.. It is like that!

Count your blessings, pray for them,

Talk to your Creator and the next time when...the other car cuts you off

and you must hit the brakes, or you have to park a little further from

Walmart than you want to be,or you're served slightly warm food at

the restaurant,or you're sitting and cursing the traffic in front of

you,or the shower runs out of hot water,

Think of them... Protecting your freedom!

To all the men and women doing "what you gotta do" this Memorial Day, thank you for your service, we are, because of you....,

THE HOME OF THE FREE BECAUSE OF THE BRAVE!

The proud warriors of Baker Company wanted to do something to pay tribute to our fallen comrades. So since we are part of the only Marine Infantry Battalion left in Iraq the one way that we could think of doing that is By taking a picture of Baker Company saying the way we feel. It would be awesome if you could find a way to share this with our fellow countrymen. I was wondering if there was any way to get this into your papers to let the world know that 'WE HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN' and are proud to serve our country.' Semper Fi! 1stSgt Dave Jobe

The attached photo was forwarded from one of the las t U.S. Marine companies in Iraq . They would like to have it passed to as many people as possible, to let the folks back home know that they remember why they're there and that they remember those who've been lost.

When your heart is troubled...

No matter how difficult the life situation, all I have to do at Soldier's Heart is go outside and be still... there is a beautiful Bible verse that says, "Be still and know that I am God." The birds here offer a constant concert to the Lord, they sing of his love, power, and amazing grace. We live in a corridor that goes from the top of the planet to the bottom, birds as well as butterflies travel this space, and many live here. It is amazing to me how tame wild birds become. Cardinals always follow me to the back pasture to feed the horses, they are waiting rather impatiently for theirs. They fuss and chatter, always wanting their free meal. They love the bird baths, the feeders, and the bird houses, and sing of their joy constantly.

It would take too long in this writing to name all the species, in fact I have no idea how many there are. I do know there are rare birds here. That is why Soldiers Heart is such a great "birding place," and a place to listen to the bird's message that God still loves all who call this planet home, and his peace and assurance of a perfect plan in place to restore a peace that no one will disturb again is at work here, and we will war no more. Young men and women will not be needed, nor 50 year old men and women, anymore to bear the burdens of war.

Soldiers who come here often find it difficult at first to "be still." There are aspects of war that wound the soul, numb the heart, and cause the mind to doubt God is still on the throne, but He is. So many are very young, warriors are at their best concerning the skills needed to engage and defeat the enemy, when they are young, strong, and fearless. What 18 year old doesn't view himself as 10 foot tall and bullet proof? A tour overseas can reverse all of that for a young Soldier, and in fact inflict near fatal, and sadly, sometimes fatal wounds that cannot be seen with the human eye. My husband and I have worked with young men and women suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, not in a formal way, not because it is an appointed job by the military, but because Soldiers we sometimes do not even know reach out, it is more like cry out... We do not have the answers to the unseen videos replaying in their mind's eye, but tender words of gratitude from a nation, assurance that we know and understand the horrors they have seen, and most importantly refer them to professionals, (the Army really does have tremendous resources for Soldiers if they just know how to reach out, or when they can't themselves have those who love them and help them to access these resources.

We know also that some one's son, daughter, husband, wife, brother, sister, father, mother... has to stand in the gap for the freedom that the greatest country in the world offers, because the world has enemies in the cause of freedom. There are those who would eradicate democracy from our world, and those who champion it. Memorial Day is coming this weekend. Please don't let it just be another "free day" from school and work, but let it be a "freedom day." Let it be a day when you contact every Soldier or Soldier's Family that you know to say, "thank you, is there anything we can do for you and yours?" For truly, these young men and women of courage are making sacrifices... and when they return from theatre, it is hard for them to "be still," because of the vigilance they had to cultivate in order to stay alive and well.

Come and see the birds at Soldier's heart, especially if you are a Soldier or the member of a Soldier's Family. The stay is free to you, Randy and I owe you as well, and we wish to offer you a place to "be still and know." The birds are beautiful here. I have even seen two bald eagles, I know, I know, I thought I had been out in the sun too long too... I will tell that story soon, it is a wonderful story, and talks of "soaring on wings like eagles..."



Have a beautiful day, hug and kiss a Soldier for me please, mine is far away and I long to give him kisses and hugs, and if anything troubles you, watch the birds.

Right before Randy deployed, my 15 year old step son tragically lost his mother, and he came to live with us. He has the same "lion" heart of his father, his mother possessed it as well. His intelligence inspires awe in me sometimes. He has a beautiful sister hard at work on full ride scholarship studying to be a museum curator. They are both remarkable young people.

Brian also has the same tender heart that his father does. I can tell he has taken to heart his father's instructions to take care of me while he is gone. Brian can mimic so many of his father's little nuances. The way he laughs when he is making a joke, the little sayings his father uses to tease me, and keep that positive "Army can do" attitude reining no matter what the circumstances, even during a deployment. For the most part with the support of many good friends here in Sealy and Bellville, churches across the country, my family, Randy's family, one courageous and extraordinary 15 year old, and a great dog, I do well. Working hard is part of the answer, however sometimes I overdo, feel bad physically, and then really slip into wanting Randy right here to comfort and scold me about working too hard... Prayer and Bible study, a part of every day of my life, (having a husband in harms way drives that with even more energy,) is the source of my final triumph over this separation from the "Keeper of My Heart." One other thing has been a great comfort an inspiration to me, there is a country song by Brooks and Dunn, "Cowgirls Don't Cry." The message of this song is that difficulty comes to every life, but giving in to the emotion of the difficulty just isn't productive. When sadness and loneliness, and the realization that time stretches out so far before the completion of our separation, causes a wrench of pain in my heart that even stirs a very real physical pain, the words of that song slowly steal into my thoughts. The Lord uses it to give me courage and resolve to do this well... If you are facing your own difficult times, that song is worth listening to, as many times as you need to. Have a great day, the rose garden awaits my ministrations; come to see us soon. Tomorrow I must begin telling you of the birds of Soldier's Heart, they are so beautiful.

Power... is desirable... sometimes

One of the ways to deal with having a husband who is deployed is to work hard, really hard, that passes the time productively, and makes you tired enough at bedtime that you don't think too long... just fall into the deep sleep that comes when you are completely spent. In the interest of seeking that state I rented a large back-hoe, and for a week I have spent 14 hours a day shaping the land and creating spaces that control our tendency to flood during the occasional four hour rain that produces 10 inches of water running through the ranch.

For a girl who can't open a jar of pickles without assistance... the ability to lift all kinds of dirt in a single scoop is power indeed. I can lift bales of hay, move the stock tank, deepen the creek which runs across the pasture, and fill the new raised rose bed in a single scoop. There is such peace in being up as the sun comes up, listening to the birds, (the blue birds are back from where ever they go during the winter,) and watching the flowers begin to wave in the breeze. The new little goslings and baby ducks are anxious to get out of their little coup and explore their world, and the baby turkeys and baby pheasants run after their larger cousins peeping loudly as they try to keep up. They all attempt to follow me as go to the back hoe to begin my work because they have never known a mother having arrived from the hatchery orphans, and assuming since I feed and care for them that despite my unsightly appearance, I must be their mother.  I must shoo them back, and they protest.

Then the large machine rumbles to life, progress begins, and my mind is rested and centered on productive and good things, and the worries of war and white phosphorus, suicide bombers, and the sufferings of humanity for the time are shooed from my consciousness.

Now it is time...

Today it is time to start this blog in earnest. I have begun a journey that so many others have taken before me. Early Saturday morning Randy left for a tour of duty in Afghanistan. He will be gone a year with a leave in the middle of that time frame. My entire life I have been an independent woman, always capable of taking care of myself and those I love. I had always been the "care giver," but when I married Randy he was so capable, so energetic, such a stickler for doing things promptly, completely, and to the best of his ability, I slipped into a state of "spoiled woman syndrome," before I knew what happened. It was just so easy to let him do things for me. At first it made me uneasy, made me feel a little guilty, but then... what can I say, I just melted into that warm safe place of not even having to think about so many things, he just took care of them. Planning... oh does that man love a plan, almost as much as he loves the completion of a plan. Of course I have already found that the independent capable part is like riding a bicycle...

But Soldiers Heart will be my solace... The birds, flowers, the horses, Ginger, and of course the work we have begun here. Randy loves it here, finds his own solace here. When we were married his daughter, Rebecca, sang Twila Paris' song, "The Warrior is a Child." The words talk of how even the bravest warrior needs a place of rest, where he can lay down all of stresses of war. Randy has always found that here. We had one weekend recently when everyone was away but the two of us. I watched him as the two of us spent the day working together, feeding the horses, working on the new round pen, eating lunch on the porch. There was such tranquility in his face, such love for this home. I could see him thinking of how he would miss it. I can often see what Randy is thinking of. His eyes reflect his intelligence, and I love watching them when he is deep in thought. Randy has a saying, a mantra that he lived by through his years at West Point, Ranger School, Jungle Survival School, and so many other difficult things, he tells himself, "if the man in front of me can do it, so can I." So I am telling myself of this journey, "if the woman in front of me can do it, so can I." So many women have done this before me, came through stronger for it, and empowered by the experience, with their love between their Soldier and themselves deeper and more meaningful. I don't know if my love can deepen, I am certain no woman has ever loved a man so deeply as I love Randy. I sometimes think about whether I admire him more, or love him more. Today, surely, I cannot decide. The story of my Soldier's life fascinates me, I think it will you too. The life we share, the ideals that govern all he does, and his moral courage no matter what the threat... in a world where seemingly more leave behind the ideals held in the Army's Seven Values every day, all these things are worthy of sharing. Many Soldiers truly live a life "above the common man." So another way I will endure this separation from the love of my life will be to write here, write about Randy, write about other Soldiers that it has been my privilege to come to know, and write about this small ranch that my Soldier loves so dearly.