Down a Different Path

I took a different path today.  I drove a road I would have preferred to detour around.  My heart is heavy. As a mother, there but for the grace of God go I. 

Today we said goodbye to a United States Marine.  I pulled into the already full parking lot at the funeral home, looking for a spot.  What I saw brought the first of many tears to my eyes.   Simultaneously I saw uniformed service men and women.  And kids.   This Marine was 23.  Younger than my own sons.  

His mother, as I am, is a member of the Houston Marine Moms.   We are a support group that extends in many directions.   Packages to the troops, fund raisers, all questions answered about any subject, and sometimes fun lunches with a shot of Tequila to toast our Marines. I joined them before my son left for boot camp and with their guidance, was able to know exactly what was going on for my son.

 

This mom and I have carpooled together and stopped to chat in the aisles of the grocery store.  She is someone who laughs easily and loudly.  You cannot help but want to be with her.  As hard as it was for me to BE THERE, I HAD to go to show my support. I could not imagine how hard it was for another mother.   

I approached the body, said a prayer, and added my son’s photo to the row of photos and boots lined along the floor near the casket. The boots are arranged at a 45-degree angle, just as they would be if they were worn at attention, a symbolic act of protection and respect.  Holding small flags and the pictures of their owners, they are this Marine’s fellow warriors, there to support and honor him.

The first five rows on the side were reserved for us HMMs. Even there, we supported each other in small ways that meant so very much.  At one point we all stood, holding our bandannas, and recited the 91st Psalm. 

Since 2005 the Houston Marine Moms have adopted the 91st Psalm Bandannas as one of their major programs. We've sent over 5,000 of the Psalm 91 bandannas to Iraq. We work with churches to adopt a Marine or soldier. They pray over the bandannas and we send them to Iraq. We work with Chaplains of whole battalions to pass these out.1

This Marine, a Lance Corporal, served two tours of duty in Iraq. He was awarded several distinguished medals. But he did not die in combat.  He was struck down by a drunk driver in town, not far from his home. 

I cry as I type this.   My own son will soon be home for a visit.  I will hug him and laugh with him.  

There but for the grace of God, go I. 

 

I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

1. http://www.houstonmarinemoms.org/bandana.asp