Turning Blue




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" March 20, 2002 Issue 032002 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com -------------------------------------------------------- By subscription only! Welcome to your next issue of "WRITE 2 THE HEART" You are receiving this FREE newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. ------------------------------------------------------- Do you have a heart-warming story to share with our readers? We are accepting story submissions at this time. Please email your original story to moderator@write2theheart.com ------------------------------------------------------- I promised that I would write more about Tim's graduation from boot camp. Here is my unofficial account of the events. ---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- Turning Blue By:Cheryl Speir --------------------------------------------------------- The parents of the graduates met to view a slide show depicting the training our sons had just gone through in boot camp. We watched wide-eyed as each picture showed young men learning the art of war. As I watched the training exercises, all I could think of was that it was my son that they taught to crawl on his belly through mud and lob grenades. My Tim shot a gun as big as he is. The little boy that I once held and rocked through numerous earaches, had to learn how to jump out of a helicopter and scale the sides of buildings. As I looked around the room, I knew the same thought was passing through the minds of the other mothers. After the slide show, we had to move to the area set up outdoors for the "Turning Blue" ceremony. The sky was clear and blue. Even though it was February, the temperature was not cold. Brides pray for such a day. You could hear the troops approaching long before you saw them. They marched down the street in their dress uniforms all looking alike. The question on everyones lips was "Is that him?" as spectators tried to pick out their son, grandson or sweetheart. Finally, as the last platoon took its place, there was Tim standing tall and proud. The speaker told us how proud we should be of our young men, they had finished training that many had dropped out of. He wanted to impress us with the special status the blue cord had. Finally, the parents were asked to join their soldier and for the father to attach the cord to their sons shoulder. What a joyful moment. After the ceremony, the soldiers were allowed to leave the base with their parents. We took Tim out to eat and to wander around in the mall. While we were shopping, a teenaged boy stopped Tim to ask him what the blue cord meant. He saw several people in uniform, but that was the first blue cord he had seen. Tim explained that he was in the Infantry. There was true respect in that young mans face as he told Tim, "You are the real deal". The next day we assembled for the final graduation ceremony. At the appointed time, young men dressed for battle behind barriers of sand bags began throwing smoke canisters till the air at the end of the parade grounds was filled with thick colorful smoke. They began shooting blanks from their makeshift bunkers. Suddenly a tank-like vehicle erupted through the colorful smoke. The young men cautiously advanced toward the spectators. The announcer gave us a lesson about the weapons they were using. At the end of the demonstration, the soldiers were loaded into the vehicle and driven off the field. Once more our young men marched onto the field in precise formation. We watched as they paraded and saluted in passing. The final ceremony was brief. When we were allowed to join our soldiers, we were able to meet the other young men who had gone through this experience of boot camp. Some like Tim would go home to serve in the National Guard, some to new bases and one had volunteered to serve in Afghanistan. Our boys, now men, had shared a comradery that only comes from shared hardship. They had endured till the end, gaining the respect and admiration of all who know them. Cheryl Speir moderator@write2theheart.com (You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses.) -------------------------------------------------------- Tim is now home and by the miraculous hand of God he was able to get into the college he wanted to attend. He wants to thank everyone who prayed for him while he was in boot camp. --------------------------------------------------------- What a delightful story. It reminds me of the way I feel about hot tea. When I was a small child, we lived next door to a lovely elderly British couple who seemed like surrogate grandparents to me and my brothers. Mrs.Wilcox used to treat me to hot tea laced with sugar and real cream, poured over soda crackers. Yum! She made her tea in a teapot, steeped to perfection. I used to drink coffee, but once when I was very ill, it upset my stomach. After that, coffee never tasted good to me again, but I still love the aroma of coffee. Pat Lowe Reading Debbie Jones' memories made me feel as warm and comfortable as my morning cup of coffee--OK, I admit it, two cups. I am a "morning person" and making the coffee is part of my morning ritual. Actually I drink two mugs, which means that I savor three or four cups. However, I do this only in the quiet of my morning, when I do most of my writing, like now. And like Debbie, my mind often drifts back to pleasant memories associated with coffee, including "coffee times" with a beautiful woman, now my wife of forty-eight years. Paul Leadem --------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner My sweet little daughter-in-law broke her foot. In two places. Do you think that has slowed her down? Not hardly, She is still faster and does more than any two women I know! She and my son Chris bought our country house and property. The changes they have made have turned that old homestead into a showcase. I stand in awe of Nicole, she has the best taste, after all didn't she choose me as a mother-in-law? God bless Cheryl --------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------- © 2002 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors. ------------------------------------------------------------