There's a sergeant I write to in Iraq. I send him care packages, too. I've never met him, maybe I never will. But I consider him a dear friend, a precious gift, a true hero. I pray for him, and for "his guys," every day.
I found this soldier through a wonderful foundation called "Soldiers' Angels." I heard about this volunteer organization coming home from work one day, listening to Hugh Hewitt's radio talk show. The Angels match up Americans who want to help our country's war effort by supporting the troops who are deployed in the Middle East.
It's a small thing to do, really, when you think about it. These men and women in our military are laying their lives on the line each day to protect us at home. How hard is it to drive to a mall, in my air-conditioned car, and have fun shopping for snacks and candies for the troops? It's easy, it's fun, it makes me feel like I'm helping in some small way.
I send a box the first week of each month. My husband and I have a good time filling it up with goodies in the weeks before we ship it out. Last month, we had so much stuff that we split the booty into two different boxes, one for the Sgt. and one for "his guys."
A few weeks later, I received a thank-you card, like I always do from this particular soldier. Only this time, all "his guys" signed their names and thanks, too. I read the names and ranks, all ten of them, and watched as they grew fuzzy under the haze of my tears. These amazing heroes are thanking me. How in heaven's name can I ever repay their sacrifices for me? Not with Cheese-Its and cookies, that's for sure.
"Greater love has no man, than to lay down his life for his friends." I have a soldier. May God keep him, and "his guys," safe.