Josh and Helaman left for their European trip yesterday.
Naturally, when Josh woke up our oldest, his bag wasn’t packed. At all. But by the time I left for church with everyone else, Helaman had made progress.
Helaman hadn’t tried on his slim RFDI bum-bag I bought weeks ago until yesterday. He found out it was huge, so Josh adjusted it and slipped some straight pins in the right spots and I sewed it up for a custom fit.
Growing up, I would have stuck a safety pin in it or even said it just won’t work and thrown it out. I had no idea how to repair or replace parts. I love being able to fit and fix!
Text updates included the boys running into family friends on their drive to the Baltimore Airport at a rest plaza and the 3 delays their flight made before take-off. Food, medical asistance and a broken tow bar slowed down their airplane launch but then the texts stopped, so I figure they’re in Germany now.
Today is Memorial Day and the five girls, Hunter, and I are headed to meet some friends at Moraine State Park.
We’ll take the long way since the swimsuit I bought Mer for her birthday in January doesn’t fit anymore and she couldn’t bear buying one at the warehouse store we shopped in last week.
Car time provides me a captive audience. Today I’ll talk about my paternal grandfather, Horace Mason, who served overseas in WWII as an ambulance driver. My maternal grandfather, Michael Lennon, served the war effort as a railroad man in Iowa, transporting critical supplies.
The kids’ paternal grandfather, Douglas Tillotson, served in Desert Storm in the Air Force and retired as an AirForce Captain. Their dad’s cousin returned from an overseas deployment 2 weeks ago, and my cousin’s husband has 2 months left on his foreign deployment.
A week ago my brother sent us his 40th birthday photo from his deployment abroad. He was smiling and looked badass in his uniform, ready to blow up explosives so the desert landscape doesn’t remain hazardous to the locals for centuries.
None in my family have fallen in the line of duty yet. I hope and pray that trend sticks.
But to those Americans who have sacrificed their lives for my freedom, I thank and honor you. To my neighbors, young and old, who have wept over their loved ones’ gravesides, thanks and honor.
To those who did not pay with their lives, who lived through the conflict, but have lived altered somehow ever since, thank you. May you be honored all the rest of your days.
The wholeness we civilians enjoy is an extension of your sacrifice. Because you lost and suffered, we live free. Our health, wholeness, and lives are yours.
I intend my words and actions to ever honor yours.