Day 8
My nephew has been deployed to Afghanistan. For 18 months. His plane landed in that country on Sunday at the exact same time that we were in church praying for him. The Pastor's prayer was especially moving for me and I broke down and started crying. I grabbed on to my sister's hand and held on for dear life. This man who is half way across the world, in a foreign country, in a war zone, is her first born and is also her only son. It hurts to think about him over there...in possible danger...unable to contact or communicate with us, or her, or even his wife, while he is "in country". He is Special Ops. We will not no where he is nor do we know what he is doing. After these first few days I can only guess that the silence will become deafening. We've all tied yellow ribbons around the trees in our yards. And my hope is that every morning when I open up the curtains, I will see those yellow ribbons and be reminded to pray. Not only for my own nephew, but for all of the other men and women who are serving in a foreign land, in a war zone, far away from their loved ones.
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