My Father

 

Some people wonder how you can love someone who you cannot see, cannot touch, and cannot be heared. They can’t understand how you can follow teachings from a book that has no up-to-date authorship that can show proof of its claims.

How can you believe, without question, in so-called miracles that took place so long ago?

There are magicians today who can explain away these as trickery.

Who do you imagine you are talking to in that quite place you go to in the mornings and again before bed?

You say you are “led,” but, no one ever hears these discussions. What is the need for “secrecy” if your claims are true?

How can you believe in a place called Heaven, which cannot be verified as to its existence? There is absolutely no rational proof that a Heaven exists, or a Hell for that matter.

With everything going on in this world, there is still a prejudice, a need to persecute, those who believe in something more than we can see, or those who believe differently.  At the least, they belittle those who gather on holy days to celebrate this “thing” they cannot understand.

As for me and my house, we will follow this

-unseen (how can you look at a newborn babe, a sunrise, a flower pushing up through a winters cold ground, and not see His wonder?)

-untouched (how can you not feel His touch when you stand humbly before Him?),

-non-vocal (how can you not hear His voice when He speaks so loudly through the quite?)

-imagined (how can you ignore the ache in your own heart for Him?) “presence” that we call God.

The complex, simple answer to all these questions is FAITH. Through Faith we see, through Faith we hear, through Faith we feel, through Faith we believe, through Faith we are saved.

Father, I thank you for touching my heart, for giving me sight, and for talking to my soul. I praise you! I love you! I thank you!

Advertisements

#WORSTRESPONDERS

SHARE. SHARE. SHARE. SHARE

Support the first responders bill that is in congress NOW! It will extend the medical benefits of those who selflessly and courageously were at ground zero on 9/11/2001 in an instant. Their medical needs from working tirelessly in toxic conditions are critical. All you have to do is contact your Senators and Representatives. You don’t even need to call or write. Just post everywhere you can, on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and your blogs, #WORSTRESPONDERS.image

Here We Are

image

Well, Veterans Day 2015 has come and gone. Actually, it was a weeklong celebration of gratitude for what our veterans have given for us all. With all we did, every place we went, the people we met, the thing that stood out beyond anything else were the veterans themselves.

I love to stand back and watch as one veteran approaches another–whether they have met before or not– and without hesitation they reach out with an automatic acceptance and a camaraderie of spirit, which those of us on the “outside” cannot comprehend.

We try to see inside the heart of our war fighters–our sons and daughters, our spouses, our family members, our friends–as we try to pry from their shielded memories, from those thoughts that haunt them, wanting desperately to understand that which we cannot.

What we can do is simple. We can listen. We can observe. On one occasion, I was attending an event where there were wounded warriors and caregivers mingling within a crowded room. A room that was buzzing with warriors coming together with a release of spirit that only happens within the ranks of those who have served. And the caregivers huddling together to share their own joys and burdens. Again a closed group that only exists because of circumstances that redefined their own lives.

At one point I was standing in a hallway, waiting on a friend, when a young woman in uniform entered and stood across from me. I looked at her and saw someone who was desperately trying to hold down a full-blown panic attack. All she said was, “There are so many people.” I asked her to breathe with me. In through the nose and out through the mouth. We continued this breathing in unison for a couple of minutes. She watched me, as I watched her, with each motion in this simple taking of each breath.

Everything outside of that hall disappeared for a few moments. That was what she needed. Time to reach inside and find that strength within herself, which she had lost sight of in that crowded room. We parted not knowing each other’s names, only a shared moment of awareness.

That is the way we can help. We don’t need to know the why or the what. All we need to do is listen and observe. The answer will become clear. Then we act. And a bond is made.

NOVEMBER SPECIAL

DO YOUR CHRISTMAS SHOPPING AND GIVE BACK TO VETERANS!!!

For every one of my books purchased through Amazon, or myself, during the month of November,

$1.00 will be donated to THE BOB WOODRUFF FOUNDATION

and $1.00 will be donated to OPERATION MEND

Native Cover_5613720_Kindle Front Coverimage

THE OTHER SIDE OF WAR–PAPERBACK ONLY

A MOTHER’S SIDE OF WAR–PAPERBACK OR HARDCOVER

Contact me by email- alwaysamarinemom@yahoo.com or text-(405)818-7490

I Found My Voice

“I found my voice,” is the statement that I have heard most often from the caregivers of our wounded warriors. I have even said it myself. My son stayed up all night when he read the manuscript for my book. He did not remember everything in those early weeks of his recovery. When he came to the chapter where I fired his army doctor, in an army hospital, on an army base, because I had “found my voice,” he asked if I REALLY did??? Yes, I did. It did not matter that I didn’t have the authority, my son’s welfare was all the authority I needed.

The majority of caregivers are wives, spouses, significant others, who have found themselves thrust into an unexpected role that is impossible to imagine. Some caregivers that I have come into contact with are angry, and others are just plain scared. So many of them have sent their loved ones off to war just to have them returned back in a state that they have trouble defining. Some have physical injuries, others have post traumatic stress issues, and many are plagued with both.

There are times when all the medical needs and the psychological issues are so overwhelming that the families are at risk of not surviving, and many do not. The “leaders” of their homes have difficulty in just dealing with their own lives let alone thinking about the running of their households. That’s when the wives are put in the position of having to take care of their children, their financial dealings, and their husbands needs, all while working outside the home, which can be devastating.

Think for a moment, about marrying your high school sweetheart, having a child or two, and learning to live the military life. Moving frequently isn’t conducive to forming close friendships. As they watch their husband, their best friend, leave for war, never do they consider that the person who would return home might not be the same person who left months before. War changes all…

The preparations have been made in case the war fighter does not survive. The paperwork, the wills, the last wishes have all been recorded. Somehow, it never enters our minds that severe injury could be the outcome. That they may need to redefine their future, the future of their family, the future of their children. The needs of their wounded are now their first consideration. For many this is more than they can bear, and the marriages fail.

It is our responsibility to lift up the staggering number of families that are in jeopardy. With each warrior who becomes isolated, suicide becomes an option they consider. Can you live with this outcome? I can not. Operation Mend is one organization that is taking on the task of helping these “at risk” warriors. The Bob Woodruff Foundation and Operation Homefront are others that reach out to warrior families. Other organizations like IAVA have hot lines set up, staffed 24/7, to talk with the warrior or their family members when life spirals out of control. If you can gift to any crises organization, then you must. For their sake and yours.

When you give of yourself to any wounded warrior and their family, you will find that your own heart will begin to heal in a place that you didn’t even know was in need.

Native Cover_5613720_Kindle Front Cover

Our Scars Our Choice

Our scars, inside or out, only show where we have been. But, they do not dictate where we are going. That is our choice. Choose well. Be an example. Share where you have been. Give.

When Boys Become Solders, Life Becomes History

I have heard and read this statement many times. But when it became my son, my marine, only then did I feel the power in this simple phrase.

When our children, our spouses, our friends, go to fight battles to secure freedom, their lives, as well as ours, become so much more than we could have ever imagined. I’m not just talking about my son, about our family, I’m talking about all of our warriors and their loved ones.

My youngest child, Marine Cpl. Aaron P. Mankin, has been thrust into the media spotlight in a way that we could never have antisapated. Aaron has a natural ability to put into words the hard truths that we all need to try and understand. With his wit, and unexpected delivery, he makes us laugh as he draws us in to the reality of the wounded warriors life. He is making history.

As you listen to Aaron’s captivating personality, you find that you no longer see the scars that he proclaims to be badges of honor. All warriors who return home have their own scars that need to heal. These may be scars that are visible, but the majority of veterans have scars that can not be seen. This fact will be written in our history books.

These unseen scars carry the devastating power to destroy individuals and their families. We must become a nation that takes on the responsibility of helping these warriors who suffer from PTSD. If we do not reach out to these warriors, to these families, and help in any way possible, then we are murders through our complacency. Yes, I said we are murders. This could be our history.

If we turn our backs on the fact that death by suicide is claiming a warrior every hour of every day, then we are nothing! We have no future as a country, as a society, as a community, or as a family. We are nothing without compassion. Compassion to reach out and help our veterans. Is this the kind of history lesson you want your children to learn in school?

It is in our hands as individuals to make that contact, to listen with an understanding ear, to watch for the signs that are leading those who suffer down a dark and lonely road. We must be a light in that darkness. If not you…then who? We make our own history.

Native Cover_5613720_Front Cover