(The following story was written by Lori Kimble, a 31 year old teacher
and proud military wife. Mrs. Kimble, a California native, currently
lives in Alabama.)
I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you
find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on
every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college
kids
racing around with longneck beers and sizzling platters.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my
glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no
uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely
"military:" clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look
that comes with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my
husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this
very booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East.
That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back
to
this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn
he
would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking about him until
he returned home
I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he
was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better?
Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these thoughts,
High pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.
"I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think
that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an
idiot! I can't believe he is even in office.
You do know, he stole the election."
I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an endless
tirade running down our president. I thought about the last night I
spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned
from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him standing
in
our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about
oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the oil
they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent
people
they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see
how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it
on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his desert
uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains"
with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are
hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase
the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the military
budget
at the expense of our social security and education. And, you know what
else? We're just asking for another 9-ll.
I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering
outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men
and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom?
Do they even know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw their
courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each
other dejectedly, listening to the women talking. "Well, I, for one,
think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq,
and I am certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train
professional baby-killers we call a military."
Professional baby-killers? I thought about what a wonderful father my
husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see
our children again.
That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in
my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one
voice will answer on behalf of our military,
and let her pride in our troops be known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and
placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with
them, smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you
know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway
around the world defending your right to say rotten things about him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none
of my business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I
will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY
husband, and all the other fine American men and women who put their
lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to complain.
Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies.
Don't let your actions cheapen it."
I must have been louder that I meant to be, because the manager came
over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I
replied.
Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of your meal."
As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for
making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked
up
their check and scurried away.
After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the manager
returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those
soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay
for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I
asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the
gentleman
was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and
thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over
and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know
we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what
you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I
didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the
other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too,
were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers.
I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day.
Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their
pride in our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just
maybe, the two women who were railing against our country,
would pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers,
and the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference. Maybe
the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I
live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own.
It will simply say, "Thank You!"
To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the protected
will never know. GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Please pray for God's protection of our troops and HIS
wisdom for their commanders. Pass this on to as many
as you think will respond. "Lord, hold our troops in your loving
hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us,
in our time of need.
I ask this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior."
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for
our ground, air and navy personnel in every area of the middle east.
There is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful....
Just send this to all the people in your address book.
Do not stop this prayer chain, please.... Of all the gifts you could
give to anyone in the US Military, be it Air Force, Army, Navy, Marines
or National Guard, Prayer is the very best one.....Amen!
and proud military wife. Mrs. Kimble, a California native, currently
lives in Alabama.)
I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses that you
find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of peanuts on
every table, shells littering the floor, and a bunch of perky college
kids
racing around with longneck beers and sizzling platters.
Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of my
glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no
uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely
"military:" clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look
that comes with pride.
Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where my
husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in this
very booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle East.
That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids, come back
to
this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice steak. In turn
he
would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking about him until
he returned home
I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered where he
was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any better?
Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these thoughts,
High pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my thoughts.
"I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd think
that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. Good lord. What an
idiot! I can't believe he is even in office.
You do know, he stole the election."
I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an endless
tirade running down our president. I thought about the last night I
spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just returned
from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him standing
in
our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me chills.
Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all about
oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the oil
they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent
people
they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you know."
My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still see
how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he slipped it
on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably his desert
uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains"
with a heavy bulletproof vest over it.
"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they are
hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to increase
the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the military
budget
at the expense of our social security and education. And, you know what
else? We're just asking for another 9-ll.
I can't say when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."
Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched gathering
outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave men
and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom?
Do they even know what "freedom" is?
I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw their
courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at each
other dejectedly, listening to the women talking. "Well, I, for one,
think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq,
and I am certainly sick of our tax dollars going to train
professional baby-killers we call a military."
Professional baby-killers? I thought about what a wonderful father my
husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see
our children again.
That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved, pride in
my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had. Tonight one
voice will answer on behalf of our military,
and let her pride in our troops be known.
Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth and
placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level with
them, smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And, do you
know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is halfway
around the world defending your right to say rotten things about him."
"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is none
of my business. However, what you say in public is something else, and I
will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY president, MY
husband, and all the other fine American men and women who put their
lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to complain.
Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies.
Don't let your actions cheapen it."
I must have been louder that I meant to be, because the manager came
over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I
replied.
Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of your meal."
As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed for
making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women picked
up
their check and scurried away.
After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the manager
returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of those
soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to pay
for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I
asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the
gentleman
was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of our boys."
With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and
thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over
and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know
we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what
you did."
As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's deployment, I
didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the warmth of the
other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they, too,
were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers.
I knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day.
Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their
pride in our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just
maybe, the two women who were railing against our country,
would pause for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers,
and the price it pays to maintain it's freedom.
As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference. Maybe
the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base where I
live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of my own.
It will simply say, "Thank You!"
To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the protected
will never know. GOD BLESS AMERICA!
Please pray for God's protection of our troops and HIS
wisdom for their commanders. Pass this on to as many
as you think will respond. "Lord, hold our troops in your loving
hands. Protect them as they protect us.
Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they perform for us,
in our time of need.
I ask this in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior."
When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer for
our ground, air and navy personnel in every area of the middle east.
There is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful....
Just send this to all the people in your address book.
Do not stop this prayer chain, please.... Of all the gifts you could
give to anyone in the US Military, be it Air Force, Army, Navy, Marines
or National Guard, Prayer is the very best one.....Amen!
