waltr
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jul 3, 2005
- Messages
- 2,290
I just recieved this from a friend and deffinatly thought others would relate and enjoy it too... 
No matter what your opinion, I hope you will read all of this.
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'. Humph! 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 bee n 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 alamode. "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, that protects 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.
No matter what your opinion, I hope you will read all of this.
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'. Humph! 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 bee n 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 alamode. "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, that protects 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.
