Thanks of a Grateful Nation

I just love a man in uniform.  More specifically, I love my man in uniform.  I love a woman in uniform, too!  And from what I’ve been able to tell, lots of people do.  On the occasion that our family is out and about in the community while Corey is in uniform, inevitably someone will want to shake his hand and tell him “thank you for your service.”  Maybe you’ve done that, too.  But have you ever wondered exactly what you’re thanking them for?  I never understood why our military was so important (except for having been told it was) until we joined the ranks ourselves.  The next time you tell a member of our military “thanks,” you should know that it will be taken to heart.

When you offer your thanks for serving, you are actually saying thanks for choosing to put a nation’s priorities and safety above their own.  You’re saying thanks to their family for never being able to choose where they are going to live regardless of how far it is from family or friends.  You are saying thanks to their children for being willing to have their hearts broken every couple of years as they say good-bye to good friends, and for being strong enough to say hello to new ones.  You’re saying thank you to their children for sharing their mom or dad with, not only the entire United States of America, but also with another country to whom our nation is offering its services.  You’re saying thank you for the birthdays that get celebrated with one missing family member, the Christmases that get celebrated on Skype, the anniversaries that come from the florist delivery guy with a sentiment attached in someone else’s handwriting.  You’re saying thanks for walking into a new, empty home days or weeks before their belongings arrive, only to begin making mental preparations for moving out in a couple of years.  You’re saying thanks for living “on the edge” when orders are about to come due and they have no idea where the military is going to send them next, except that it probably still won’t be near family or friends.  I could go on, but I’m not sure how long a paragraph should reasonably be in a well-written blog post.

It never gets old.  It’s the simplest, least expensive thing you can do, but when you walk up to my husband—especially when we are all with him—and tell him “thank you!” we know you mean it.  And when one of us says, “It’s an honor!” you can be sure we’re not just saying that.