Gold Stars and Fallen Heroes

I stepped into the hallway.
I wasn't expecting this....
I wanted to turn and walk away -
Maybe nobody'd notice.

It was overwhelming.

"Let's leave," I wanted to say to my husband.
I don't belong here.
We don't belong here.
No.

Rows and rows of pictures lined the tables....hundreds of pictures with small votive candles in front of each one.
Hundreds of beautiful faces, personalities beaming from each one - so many smiles - faces that said, "I love life. I love this adventure."
Faces that lived for today, and the tomorrow that never came.
Loving faces with moms, dads, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives and little children they held and kissed.

There would have been so much laughter if they would have all been standing there with us.
But, these were reminders of our fallen heroes...

Scanning the many rows of photos,
I found him.
There he was...
My son's picture.
My hero.
My fallen warrior.
It didn't seem right that his picture would be there.
It didn't seem right that any of them should...
They were all so young and full of life.

We walked into the banquet hall where many were already seated.
I really didn't want to be there either.
I felt removed from everything and everybody.
Knowing all these people were there because they had lost a son or daughter was overwhelming.
How is it that we are here?
It was a strange almost surreal feeling.
We sat down. The people were cordial and welcoming.
Yet, I couldn't engage in any kind of conversation, which is weird for me.
I listened for a little while, still surveying the huge room of parents,
got up and left.

I found a place in the hall, a tucked away place, and the tears came.
I bent over with the heartache - yes, I did belong there.
All these people hurt and were heartbroken, too.
Parents from all over Colorado - some from New Mexico and Utah.
Wow.

There was time for roll call for each hero represented.
We had a time to remember those who have been MIA/POW since the early nineteen hundreds to now...those did not/have not returned home. It all took on a different meaning.
We were blessed. We had closure.

As it turned out, I'm glad we came.
I met a facebook friend - we only knew each other through facebook, and knew we were Gold Star moms.
My husband and I met other parents with stories of their own. We shook hands, and hugged - we understood.

When I returned to the banquet hall, the speaker announced that we were ok, and were in good company. If we needed to leave the room, or cry, it was ok. If we felt overwhelmed, it was understandable.
Whew.

This journey is difficult.
No doubt about it.
All these families at this retreat are on the same journey.

This morning we ride the gondola to the top of the mountain for a prayer service.
I'm looking forward to it.
I look forward to spending time with the families we've met.
Now,
I'm not ready to leave.

My son was the most recent fallen hero represented here.
We are so new to this journey, but somehow I get the impression that this journey is always new.
Like the wonderful speaker we had last night said, "You don't get over it, but you get through it."



PS - Today is Gold Star Mother's Day - to all the moms I share this day with - you are brave and amazing. God bless you all. 

A Mom's Heart

I heard recently that I needed to get over it.
I heard I only needed to think of what I have instead of what I'm missing.
I heard I just need to thank God for the things he is doing.

I heard.

I also heard some words of encouragement.
Things that made sense and were helpful.

Sue, a new friend, a military mom who lost her son,
recently told me -
We with children are all in the same boat.
When one of us loses a child, we are out of the boat.
That's it.
We can never get back in the boat of  "everybody's-here."
Because we're not in the boat anymore, we will spend the rest of our lives swimming.
Some days we will barely be keeping our heads above water.
Some days we will feel like we are drowning.
Other days we will swim along and do well.
At times we will float on our backs.

My children are a huge part of my life.
I would gladly give my life for any of them.
It just so happened God had other plans.

I've been told the devil did it. God's plans for my child were not accomplished.
I've been told our children make choices and they live or die by those choices.

I believe there is a much bigger picture than our puny minds can even begin to comprehend, but we so want to explain and have the answer, that we can put ourselves in the position of wisdom that we do not have.

I  am not in that position.
I do know that God promises to hold us in the palm of his hand and that satan cannot pluck us out.
I know that he hears our prayers...he heard my prayers for my son that very day. He hears my prayers now.

His plans are not our plans.
His thoughts are not our thoughts.
His ways are higher than ours.
That is what the Bible says.

He is God.
I am not.

All I know right now is that this journey has changed my life forever.
In brokenness I will live.
Through Christ alone am I whole in any way.

He knows my heart.
Grief, peace and  joy all fill the same heart.
On the outside it may look like I'm just fine.
Or it may seem like I'm a crying mess.

I will not 'get over it.'
There is nothing to get over.
The absence of my child will be with me all my life.
Will I go on?
Of course I will.
I'm still here in the land of the living.
But, don't think that if I just think happy thoughts it will all go away.

I look at the sunrise every morning as it peeks through clouds or through the trees, and I am in awe of my mighty Maker.
I watch as birds balance on telephone wires and marvel.
I smile as I watch little children in their innocence, run through the splash park.
I breathe in the fresh, early morning air, and thank my God for his goodness.
I praise my Lord through the tears.
I know the beauty I see here is nothing compared to the beauty my son is a part of now.

I am glad for each day, for each blessing.
There are many blessings...God sends beautiful people who bring sweet comfort and friendship.
I am mindful of all the great and wonderful things I have to be so thankful for.
The greatest of all is that I know where my son is,
and that one day the space that separates us will be no more.

Selah.