The 1195th Transportation Company made it home to a welcoming celebration that I feel honored to have shared! They rolled into Kearney, NE on Friday the 16th of April in the early evening. For the last 11 months the unit has been stationed at Camp Victory in Baghdad, Iraq. Amid their ranks was a one, Sargent Jeremy Brill, 2nd eldest son of my dear friends, Mark and Coleen Brill.

Sargent Jeremy Brill

I knew him from a baby, watched him grow, fussed over him with his brothers and little sis over the years of hanging with this family, and worried for him when he was stationed in the Middle East...twice! Jeremy's first deployment was with 12 servicemen and so the return of those 12 was not celebrated as was this company of the 140 service personnel returning from deployment.

This was a SWEET celebration!

More than 180 members of the Nebraska Patriot Guard Riders escorted four chartered buses to the Kearney High School for a, standing room only, Welcome Home Celebration. Hearing those Harley's rumble in front of and behind those buses as they drove under a huge suspended United States flag was a goose bump producing moment!!

The Brill family had donned black t-shirts with Welcome Home Sgt Jeremy Brill, to identify their 'pack' of eight. Even the newest addition to the pack, a nephew, born not quite a month ago, was wearing the smallest version of the 'pack' t-shirt. AND one of those shirts was gifted to me.♥

The unit's commander, Eric Baptiste of Omaha, NE brought home all members of the company with only one injury. Praise the Lord for blessing him and the safe return of all these awesome soldiers!

Still...
wish there was no war.
No killing, no need to protect.
No sleepless nights wondering if our kids are going to come home...intact emotionally ~ physically ~ mentally...all still there, like these soldiers.., now here, for us to wrap in our arms and smother them with relieved love. ♥

Prep Work for a Ride

After twenty plus years of riding on the back of a Harley, I should be a pro at dressing for a ride or trip. So why does it seem to get harder than when I first fell in love with motorcycling? In fact, those early years I stressed more over trying to condense what I thought I would need on a two week trip from trunk of a car size to just under a bread box size! Now I can pack light, often much lighter than Ron, which is saying something if you knew how little he packs!
Now, I'm this seasoned rider that stresses about how to pack what I need in the layers of clothing, prepping for various weather changes, in such a way that I don't look like a bag lady in black leather. In pockets go all my 'needs' and I often feel like I look about 6 months pregnant. Tolerable when I was younger and this was a possibility. But looking pregnant and sporting a face full of the furrows of age reduces me to looking like an overweight old lady....ugh!! I should apologize for my vanity, I suppose, but if you knew me, you'd know that weight and ageing have been big issues most of my sober life. When I got drunk all the time, I didn't care what I looked like, really. Now I care ....

EASTER SUNDAY 2010

Easter Sunday in the sandhills of NE and in my small world the sun is hidden by clouds and the threat of a sprinkle is about to become real. Hm...not much different from the thoughts and feelings whirling in my heart's mind.
I've been haunted these past few days with such an 'impending sense of doom' cloud and a blah that teeters on the verge of panic. Easter has often soothed my soul and given me hope and comfort in forgiveness and the desire to change and reflect on what that forgiveness means to me.
Well, here it is... Easter Sunday 2010 and my reflection of Easter's past compared to this year's Resurrection Day celebration, finds me stuck in many regrets and reeling from the number of losses that appear to mount with each coming year.
Is it my imagination or is Death singing it's song around me more than ever before? It is getting so hard to hear the peals of joy in life with death's song blaring so loudly!
Oh, and I don't just mean the death of the body but the death of the soul as well. We are born to die and each of has our own time line to walk. How we walk on that time line is the story...one of joy or sorrow. And that's what I'm saying. Sorrow's song is singing louder than Joy's song ... on this cloudy Easter Sunday, 2010.