Psalm 28:7 “The LORD is my strength and my shield;
My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped;
Therefore my heart greatly rejoices,
And with my song I will praise Him.”

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

1:00 A.M., Houston

10:00 A.M., Fallujah

Good Day (which it certainly is),

Chris may not compose music to honor God, but he has composed some poetry in praise of Him.  He continues to write about what fills his heart.  He finally wrote one about his Iraqi Kurdish friend, Abu, who died for him on his first deployment.  It still hurts him too much to have this particular poem posted anywhere (including on base).  Perhaps some day he’ll be able to share this one with others.  He’s only permitting family to have a copy right now. It is beautiful, but a tear jerker.

He’s been thankful for all the people who have taken such good care of him.  We share in the blessings that Chris receives from everyone.  My brother’s mother-in-law, Mrs. B, had a wonderful idea that they were going to implement for Thanksgiving.  Each family was to bring an item to put into a Thanksgiving box for Chris.  He knows that he’s thought of in so many ways, at so many times.  The items he and his buddies have been craving lately are simple, tuna and crackers.  Canned cheese, any flavor, is another favorite. These are easy for them to eat whatever time they get off duty.  They can get protein without the chow hall being open.  Most of our military keep strange hours where food is concerned.  Chow halls are not kept open 24/7 (although I believe they should be).

What a ruckus one Marine can cause.  They certainly can project their voices!  Is this a skill learned in Boot Camp?  While Chris and I were talking his buddy, T, came by.  It sounded as if he was shouting his lungs out, but I have a hunch that’s his normal speaking voice.  T keeps close watch on Chris and his junk food/drink habits.  He’s caused him to drink far more water and fewer sodas.  He caught sight of the Coke in our son’s hand and told him off.  T has caused him to cut back to 2 per day.  Anyone who knows Chris well is aware that he’s been addicted to Coca Cola since he was a young teenager.  I’m impressed!  Thanks, T.  This young Marine hails from Eugene, Oregon.  He and Chris stand post together daily.  The two of them are constantly getting into mischief too, I don’t doubt.

When Noodge calls we frequently talk of Tolkien’s works.  He is wanting The Silmarillion.  I almost forgot about that.  I did just send him several Tolkien books.  Our last discussion centered on just which character he identifies with the most in the Lord Of The Ring series.  He says that Faramir is his man.  He was the second son who was always struggling for recognition.  Walking in his heroic brother’s footsteps was difficult for this character.  Apparently he’s posted Gollum up on his MySpace.  He’s decked out “as a gangsta”.  I haven’t tried to find him there yet.  When I go there I usually am listening to a song or watching a video that Chris has asked me to check out.  I send him messages there, but the really important things I email to him.

It seems that there was another football game between the Marines and the Army deployed at Camp Baharia.  If you root for the Army be prepared.  They got whupped 70 to 7.  Chris sends a message out to the Marine Moms: “Be proud for a Marine win!”  During this game he was able to open up the stitches from his last game.  He has a rare talent for The blood running down his face gave a most warrior like aspect to his expression.  I would be interested in seeing the pictures of that game.  He always has enjoyed picking at scabs.  This must have been even more fun.  I’m glad that I don’t have to clean up after him anymore, physically, or doing his laundry.  The USMC has earned that right, and they are welcome to it.  I have done more than my fair share with that boy!

Now we reach the saga of the promiscuous (Chris’s description), chocolate colored squirrel.  It turns out that this squirrel is not just trying to sleep with unsuspecting grunts; he’s a thief as well.  He has no conscience where lance corporals are concerned.  Chris’s good buddy, P, had just received a large shipment of his Mama’s brownies.  He was bragging on them big time and rightfully so.  Chris & company followed P into the tent.  Nobody was going to miss out on homemade treats from the States.  As they entered the tent they were greeted by a mind numbing sight.  The squirrel had decided to share in their treat.  It was standing bolt upright, squarely atop the entire batch of brownies.  Clutched between its greedy little claws were the crumbling remains of one P’s treasures.  Apparently, the sight of so many enraged Marines frightened it.  They scared the $#%^ right out of it which liberally dropped and spread over the rest of the brownies.  P became unhinged at the insult to Mama’s cookin’ as well as its subsequent destruction.  He chased the infernal monster out of the tent screaming, “Where’s the S.O.B., I’m gonna kill him!”  In his mind that squirrel had to die or be severely punished.  I believe I heard tell that P finally caught up with him.  The details of this remain fuzzy, pun intended.

I hope that preparations for Christmas are going smoothly for everyone.  I’ve baked a couple of batches of cookies that are on their way to Iraq.  Chris is still requesting pictures.  Now he’s hoping for Christmas festivities in the snapshots.  He’ll use them to help decorate his part of the tent.  He makes a bulletin board to post them up.  All that he has to do is to look over at the pics and feel that he’s at home.

November 21, 20075:00 A.M., Houston2:00 P.M., Fallujah

He had a great day.  He’d gotten off guard duty just prior to the call.  The greater part of the day was spent in range shooting.  He claimed it was good “fun”.  He likes it when he’s doing the shooting, not teaching the Iraqi Army to shoot.  He’d put up another poem for me on his MySpace.

We were setting up the Thanksgiving table and made Chris a place of honor.  He requested that he would get to sit next to Patrick, his fifteen year old brother. He was excited that he had a place at our table yet.  He was uneasy when I told him he’d get the place of honor, but I really didn’t care!  He doesn’t see what he’s doing as something that should be honored.  He’s doing his God given duty. Here at home we see it a bit differently.

The SQUIRREL saga continues. Someone (with a wicked sense of humor) found a nice little stuffed animal for Chris.  What a marvelous gift it could have been.  It was tenderly placed inside his sleeping bag down at the foot.  The unsuspecting Noodge came in dog tired from guarding.  He took off his boots (which must have killed everything in the room) and prepared to snuggle down for a comfy sleep.  His bare feet plunged into the safe depths of his bag.  When they encountered the unexpected, he screamed bloody murder.  I think they could hear him in Baghdad. It was a stuffed squirrel in his bed.  His feet knew it was alive somehow.  He will never regard these animals in quite the same way.  When he gets home he says he’s declaring a “Texas Holocaust” on all squirrels unfortunate to live in the area.  This has the potential for a lifetime’s worth of mischief for me.  I can have a lovely time tormenting my son……..

Putting Christ into our Christmas,

J