Writing to Heal

As this year winds to an end charitable donations fill our minds and hearts. We all want to know our dollars are being spent well and as we intend them to be.

I have in mind the ones I know to be run wisely and to the benefit of our military service members, serving and retired. Operation Mend, The Bob Woodruff Foundation, The Semper Fi Fund and Marine Parents are at the top of my list.

This year is different. This year I can donate to an organization and know exactly where my gift is going—and to whom it will be given—and for what it will be spent on.

This year I will be donating to Building Homes For Heroes—to be given for the benefit of Marine Cpl. Aaron P. Mankin—for a new home built for him and his children.

The home is in the process of being built. With the foundation poured and cured the walls were up in short order. Then the roof and windows were put in place. At this point we were told to stay away. They told Aaron he’d be in his new home before Christmas. Apparently they want to surprise this marine and his family. I’m so excited for him I can’t sit still.

Ok, yes Aaron is my child. After watching him struggle after being blown up and burned by an IED in Iraq, there’s very little that he doesn’t deserves. A home built with his disabilities considered and dealt with, will, it’s a dream not imagined come true. When you think about what these wounded war fighters, and their families, have gone through and continue to go through, I’m humbled. And I believe you are too.

There are a lot of books out there that tell the stories of our veterans struggles after being injured. Yes, I’m going to plug my book, A Mothers Side of War. I felt when I wrote this book that there needed to be help and support for the families, the caregivers, of these veterans—to let them know they aren’t alone. They aren’t the only ones to stand in those hospital halls wondering, “what next?” So, I opened the door to my heart and told the story of life after injury through a parent’s eyes. I hope you will read it. It’s not an easy read. But, it’s a necessary one.

This is how Building Homes For Heroes works— The more money raised for Aaron’s build the less that comes out of the Building Homes For Heroes funds. And that means more homes can be built— more veterans and their families lives made a little bit easier. And I’m all about making life a little easier for these families.

Please join me with a tax deductible donation to Building Homes For Heroes, to the benefit of Marine Cpl. Aaron P. Mankin’s home.

I can’t thank you enough for reading this and for considering a donation. What an unbelievable Christmas this will be!

-Diana Mankin Phelps

I miss the America of 9/12. I would never want another 9/11. Ever! But, I miss the us we were on 9/12.

The stores ran out of flags because they were being flown everywhere.

People were Americans above anything else. It did not matter if we were Republicans or Democrats, upper or lower class, what religion we were or if we had none, younger or older, or what ethnic group we were. All that mattered was that we were Americans first and foremost.

We hugged strangers and lifted up our neighbors regardless of what they wore (Nike was being protested against) or where they ate (Chick-Fil-A was also being picketed) or where they shopped, (Hobby Lobby was at war with our government.) It only mattered that they too were Americans.

I cannot count the number of songs that were quickly written and sung by those who were inspired, even angry, yes definitely angry, about the attack on our land. (“Still In The Fight” by Mike Corrado is still my favorite.) Have you heard any such songs written lately? There are some who are still producing patriotic songs like Mike. Gary Sinise is one that comes to mind.

War was inevitable. And we were willing and able (even eager) to fight for our country! I would not wish war on any country. Nor that anyone would go to fight if it could be avoided. The cost is far too high.

In the last decade roughly 2.5 million service members have been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan. There have been 16 Medal of Honor recipients (our nation’s highest award) and over 35,000 Purple Hearts have been awarded to those who have been wounded or died in service to our country in this time frame. These are not awards that are strived for by any of these heroes. But, they do show the level of commitment to defend the safety of our citizens. And I am truly grateful. These numbers show me there are still some who remember.

Yes, I miss the America of 9/12. I miss our country standing together as one nation.

The older I get the more I wish I had known then what I know now.

I wish I had known when I was a youngster that time would fly by so quickly. I wish I had spent more time savoring each day, each experience, each friendship. And not wishing I was older, more “grownup.”

Those childhood days are gone and I know now that I spent too much time hurrying to the next “thing.” Like most I just wanted to hurry up and jump that next age hurdle. You know, when you’re 10 you wish you were a teenager, at 15 you want to be 16, then 18, then 21. If only I could have told my younger self to slow down and enjoy the moment.

I wish I had known how foolish it was to worry about what others thought. As a youngster my concerns were focused on trying to measure up to those around me, peer pressure. And I never felt as though I had it right. My clothes were made by my mom, (I wish I had appreciated this more) and most of the other girls had the latest styles from the stores. My mom cut my hair, she did her best, because going to a salon wasn’t in the budget. My hem lengths were too long, my hair never looked right and I was so, so skinny. All these things lead to my being ridiculed and teased as the jokes flew my way. And it didn’t help that I was so shy it hurt. In short, I spent way too much time trying to fit in. I wish I could have told my younger self that I was fine just the way I was.

I wish I had known while raising my children that they would grow up way to fast. With the passing of each stage, be it the last bottle, the last diaper or the last sippy cup, I felt the loss of a piece of them. When they entered school, well, that was a trying time for this mom. On that “first day” of kindergarten I could be found dropping them off with a cheery smile stamped on my face. Then, whether it was back at home or at work I would be crying. I don’t mean I was a little teary eyed. I would be shoulder shaking, nose running, makeup smudged all over my face, making unrecognizable utterances and waterworks freely flowing kind of full blown sobbing. This was especially true when my baby, Aaron, started school. After dropping him off I went to work with a stiff upper lip, shoulders squared, and with the utmost confidence that I had this under control. Well, that lasted until the first person said “Good morning.” That was all it took for the dam to burst and off to the races we went as my blubbering was totally out of control. I did always manage to pull myself together before picking them up after their first day of school. I wish I had known just how fast those days would fly by.

I wish I had known how fleeting middle age would be. The kids finishing school, going to work, moving out and getting married. And there it is, the empty nest syndrome. (Dirty words, dirty words!)

How on earth did I become the grandmother? Just yesterday I was the one having babies. Oh, but those grandkids are such a joy to have around. Isn’t it funny how we are able to enjoy our grandkids more than we did our children? (I wouldn’t have thought this was possible.) Do your kids say, “ you never let me get away with that?” Yes, I hear it too. And, they do have a point. But, that’s one of the privileges we’re awarded with when we’re proclaimed a “grandparent.”

I wish I had known that retirement would not be as fun as I thought. I seem to spend more time getting over illnesses. Some say you are paying for your playing. But, I sure don’t remember playing hard enough to wear out the parts I have had replaced. (Hips, knees and spinal fuses have all had to be dealt with.) And I hate the word “rehab.” Aaron calls this torture with consent.

I wish I had known as my children grow older that getting together would be so difficult. Their schedules are focused around their family unit, as it should be. With the traveling restrictions and health issues, time is fleeting.

There it is again. I wish I had slowed down and enjoyed more the light of each day, each season of life. I guess that’s what I’m trying to convey in this message.

Today you’re a youngster and tomorrow you’re the grandparent. Yes, it happens that fast.

No matter where you’re at in this life journey, slow down and enjoy the day. It will be gone before you can blink.

We celebrate the Fourth of July, our Independence Day, with picnics, parades, speeches, camping by a lake, and fireworks to entertain us. Most of us have no idea, or no longer remember our history lessons, what this day was like in 1776.

The words declaring our independence from Great Britain, written on a piece of parchment paper, was adopted by the Continental Congress. The document was signed on August 2, 1776 by 39 men representing all Colonies, States. No big deal. Done and done, right? Wrong!

Signing this document, literally, was like signing their own, and their families, death sentence. They knew that the British Army would bring down the full wrath of the King. These “United States” did not have the numbers, nor the arms, to defend and defeat against an attack of this magnitude. Wrong again! They had “fight and fire” in their bellies with a determination beyond description to be FREE!

Against all odds, and against all reason, those sheets of parchment paper, that Declaration of Independence told the world that these United States (Colonies) are FREE!

The only importance of the 4th of July in 1776 was to mark the birth of a new nation, these United States of America! The first celebration took place after the public reading of the Declaration of Independence and the ringing of the Liberty Bell.

The coat of arms of the King was taken down, canons boomed, and as a parade took place, the people cheered! They cheered while knowing full well that the army’s of the King would soon bring unspeakable lose. They cheered as a new nation was born! What courage these men and women had!

That is what this day is about. Courage to stand for what is right and rightfully ours, as well as for every other person on this earth, FREEDOM!

John Adams, a signer of this document, wrote to his wife:

“It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illumination, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever.”

That type of celebration would not take place again until 1788. And, after 12 years of rivers of blood, the deaths and bankruptcies of many who signed that Declaration of Independence, families torn apart, and farms and businesses destroyed, they did cheer once again. And on every 4th of July since, the sky across this nation  of ours is filled with fireworks!

The price has always been, and always will be, very high for freedom everywhere! Remember this, as you go and celebrate these United States of America.

Remember to thank God.

And, thank a veteran!