There was a young man who returned from war, Called home to his mother, his voice raw and sore. "I'm back in the States, Mom, I'm finally here." Her heart leapt with joy, her eyes filled with cheer.
"I'm preparing a feast, all your favorites, dear." He said, "Mom, I'd like to bring a friend near." "Of course, son," she said, "That's wonderful news." But he had more to share, his tone somber, subdued.
"My friend lost his eye in the midst of the fight." "That's no problem, son," she answered, polite. "There's another thing, Mom, he lost his right leg." "That's a bit harder, but we'll make it," she said.
"One more thing, Mom, his right arm's gone too." She paused, then replied, "We'll manage for you." "But, Mom," he continued, "I promised he'd stay." Her voice grew uncertain, "Son, not in that way."
"We can't handle that, it's too much to bear, The costs and the strain, it wouldn't be fair." He replied softly, "I'll tell him, it's fine." The next day, the news left her heart in a bind.
Her son took his life, the burden too great, The friend he spoke of was his own broken state. He sought understanding, a place to belong, But faced with rejection, he couldn't stay strong.
Now she lives with the guilt, the echoing pain, Wishing she'd seen past his words to his strain. A lesson in love, in acceptance so true, For every soldier, and the battles they go through.
Freedom is never free, A truth through history we see. Each generation, brave and bold, Must fight anew for rights of old.
In fields and streets, on land and sea, Men and women strive to keep us free. With courage, they stand against the night, For liberty, they wage the fight.
Sacrifices made, the price they pay, To guard the freedoms we hold today. For every inch of ground reclaimed, For every victory proudly named.
We honor those who faced the foe, In their footsteps, we too must go. For freedom’s flame, they lit the way, A torch we carry, come what may.
Let us remember, never forget, The debt we owe, the vows we've met. For freedom's song, a legacy, Each generation's guarantee.
It might sound a little old school, But the benefits of putting pen to paper are timeless, a golden rule. Whether virtually or by hand, Journaling can help you understand.
Heal from the past, let your heart mend, Through words on a page, let the journey begin. Increase your emotional intelligence with ease, As you unravel thoughts, find inner peace.
Achieve your goals with clarity and might, Map out your dreams in the still of the night. Improve your memory, let details stay, In the pages you fill, day by day.
Improve your vocabulary, expand your mind, New words and meanings, treasures to find. Strengthen self-discipline and routine, In the ritual of writing, keep your spirit keen.
Increase your levels of creativity, Let your imagination flow, wild and free. Improve self-confidence with every line, Discover your voice, unique and divine.
So take up your pen, let your thoughts pour, Embrace the timeless benefits, explore. In the practice of journaling, find your way, Healing and growing, day by day.
In the heart of giving, a soul does shine, With grace unmeasured, a love divine. To those who ask, give freely and kind, No strings attached, with peace of mind.
For in the giving, joy you'll find, A heart unburdened, a spirit unconfined. Let go of grasp, release the claim, And watch the world reflect the same.
If what you cherish is taken away, Do not demand its swift repay. For in the loss, a lesson grows, Of faith in life, and what bestows.
In selfless acts, our spirits bloom, A light in dark, a sweet perfume. So give to all who seek your hand, And know in love, you'll ever stand.
May 27, 2024 Created by MarkWaldrop
Luk 6:30 Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.
As I look out over the sea of people, vast and wide, I don't see strangers, just friends by whom I'm tied. Each face a story, each heart a hidden gem, In this grand mosaic, I find a place with them.
In every smile, a spark of kinship glows, In every gaze, a bond of friendship grows. Though paths diverge, in this moment, we are one, Underneath the same sky, beneath the same sun.
No strangers here, just friends I've yet to meet, Each step I take, new souls my own soul greet. In this sea of people, I find love's grand design, Every heart a beacon, every soul divine.
Good morning, echoes through the dawn's first light, A tale of valor, sorrow, and might. In nineteen-oh-seven, a boy was born, To a widow whose heart was torn.
His father, taken by a brother’s hand, Left a young widow in a desolate land. He grew up fast, a child no more, Dropped out in fifth grade to work, to toil, and bore.
Four brothers looked up to his guiding hand, In the logging woods, he made his stand. Married young, and children came, Seven in total, three angels to name.
In forty-four, when the world was ablaze, A month-old baby, he’d have to leave in a haze. From Harlan County to Normandy’s shore, This Kentucky boy faced the horrors of war.
Men fell like rain on that blood-soaked beach, One young soldier’s sanity just out of reach. “No need for a gun,” he cried out loud, As chaos raged and death's shadow shrouded.
Liberation brought tears to his weary eyes, Death camps unveiled humanity’s demise. In a foxhole, with a testament lost, He crawled through the night, in the cold and frost.
Hands bleeding, searching for hope, Found a Bible, bloodied, a way to cope. Twice wounded, he persevered, Shook Patton’s hand, a memory revered.
Post-war missions with Lt. Schaefer’s call, Hunting war criminals, he gave his all. Came home broken, inside and out, Shell shock, treatments, a mind full of doubt.
Twenty-five years, he battled unseen foes, A hero in shadows, the pain only grows. No bridges or highways bear his name, But his sacrifice remains, forever aflame.
A military family, devoted and true, To God and country, their hearts they imbue. When flags are trampled, in anger and pain, Remembering the fallen, tears fall like rain.
As taps play softly, a tribute to the brave, For your dad, your husband, the memories you save. In their honor, with pride, you stand tall, Heroes remembered, one and all.
Created by MarkWaldrop
Taken from a story on Facebook “Journey of a Mountain Woman”
