Gabby's Poem

I have the most beautiful grand-daughters.  One of them wanted to write a 

poem, and she asked for my help.  I love Gabby's poem.

 Gabby and her mom Beth.

                                                

 Samantha, Gabby's older sister.

Gabby's Poem  

 

Sometimes even a Soldier needs a quiet place to rest,

When he has worked hard and given his best.

Their children at home offer prayers to God above.

Asking Him to send His protection on wings like a dove.

God hears and answers their sweet prayers.

When their petitions are lifted for the fathers who dare.

To face evil enemies who against our country make war.

Freedom and liberty are what they are standing for.

They ask the Heavenly Father their mom or dad to defend,

As the struggle goes on to make the fighting end. 

Two of my grand-daughters are from a military back-ground, including Gabby and her older sister Samantha.Their mother was a Soldier for eight years, and she now works in the civilian side for the Army Corps of  Engineers. Their father will shortly retire with 20 years of service.  The girls just returned last June from living in Germany as their father served the country there in the military, and their mother served in the civilian sector. Their uncle was seriously wounded in Iraq in 2003. Another uncle worked in both Iraq and Afghanistan as a contracted electrician. My husband served 30 years.  Their dad deployed five times during the last 12 years, and will shortly deploy again.  The stress and strain of the last 12 years has led to the dissolving of the marriage of their parents.  I will never forget what Samantha said when she was four, and her dad deployed for the first time.  We were riding in the car to Walmart.  She and her cousin were in the back seat, and had grown quiet.  Sam asked, "Nana, does the enemy have families too?"  I felt my heart catch... and I knew I had to answer honestly.  I told her that probably some of them did.  There was a pause, then she asked, "Nana, if my daddy kills their daddy, who will take care of them?"  I took a very long time to answer, as I was praying... Finally I answered, "We will have to let God take care of them..."
 

Gabby with her dolls.

I Came Home to My Daughter

Aunty Brat, my good friend and fellow supporter of the American and Coalition Forces, sent me a note about a Soldier coming home on leave to see, for the first time, his new baby girl.  She was born while he was deployed.  It brought such beautiful images to my mind immediately, and when I went to Aunty's blog and saw her picture, my heart just melted at her sweet little self.

http://assolutatranquillita.blogspot.com/2011/05/every-day-hero-welcome-home.html

To her parents and all her family, thanks for making my day, and thank you all for your service and sacrifice!  We are a grateful nation!  This is what I sent to the new baby and all those who love her.  May she thrive in your love, always live in liberty, and come to know of your sacrifices to the preservation of freedom.

You know, if Aunty Brat says you are a special Soldier, you must indeed be a special Solider. It is always difficult for me to put into words how I feel about Soldiers and their families. When I try to open a ketchup package, and it is difficult for me, there is a thought that never fails to cross my mind. No matter how much I love my country, if it had to depend on me for for some of the most important of the protection needed from its enemies, we women would all be wearing burqas. We must have young men and women of the caliber and skills which you possess, or our heritage of freedom will disappear.... As the sign on my gate says, "Land of the free, because of the brave."

Since my husband went to war, poetry concerning this great conflict has haunted me until I express it. Your homecoming to your new daughter caused beautiful images in my mind. I wrote words that I hope will comfort and empower your family as you serve. So here is my gift to the new baby:

                                               I Came Home to My Daughter

                                   There she lay, so warm, pink, soft, and sweet.
                                               When first we finally did meet.

                                I saw so much of her mother there in her eyes,
       The stamp of my own features on her countenance threatened to make me cry.

                                 Wonder at the first sight of my darling daughter,
                          Swept my soul, and I knew my life she would forever alter.

                                         Feelings too tender for the battlefield,
                            In that moment caused all my vigilance briefly to yield.

                                   Then I realized more clearly than ever before,
                  I was called to war because of an evil good people everywhere deplore.

                               My newborn child and all the children of the world,
                              Need those of us in service, the flag of liberty to unfurl.

                     In my daughter’s face I saw the hope of our world and our nation,
                           Waiting for her contributions, which true peace will hasten.

                        I knew that in a land far away, where long I had stood the wall,
                      Children were seeing first hand our intent in the service of us all.

       As they watch, I know they too will learn,

                         Their own hearts for peace and liberty will come to yearn.

In this the power of the enemy will disappear,

The truth of all our brotherhood will finally do away with all fear.

So though my heart longs to stay,

I will again return to the war zone in just a few short days.

In my mind, images of her gentle beauty,

Will give me strength and bring complete commitment to my sacred duty.

Rock Gently the Cradle Lullaby

 

Rock Gently the Cradle Lullaby 

Rock gently the cradle of the Soldier’s baby where he sleeps.

Make certain he has no need that you have resources to meet.

Who would not with his life his son or daughter defend,

If an enemy stood in plain sight ready to make that child’s life end?

Somewhere across great oceans a Soldier tonight,

Stands for his country ready to fight.

Keeping watch to protect not only the son he left behind,

He keeps watch too for your son and mine.

For each of us, our children hold fast our hearts,

In order for them to grow up in liberty, someone to war must depart.

Remember the sacrifices of those left behind and take care should they weep.

Rock gently the cradle of the Soldier’s baby where he sleeps. 

His Presence His Mother Will Miss

This photo belongs to Sheri Tester

His Presence His Mother Will Miss

Today I read of a young man's vow, and I cried considering this.

A son is leaving home, I know his presence his mother will miss.

I know of such things, and pride and love rose in my own heart.

For someone I have never met, who from home and family will depart.

Sacrifice will be required, and challenges will be many and great.

At home, for his return his family, friends, and mother will wait.

As I have watched those I hold most dear for many years serve,

I know what honor and regard such a selfless commitment deserves.

Today I read of a young man's vow, and I cried considering this.

A son is leaving home, I know his presence his mother will miss.

 This Peace Rose was raised in my garden by the front door.

This poem is for Sheri Tester and her son Steven, January 30, 2014

Old Soldiers Sleep Soundly at Night

Old Soldiers Sleep Soundly at Night

When they lay down their gray head, old soldiers sleep soundly at night.

They have borne the battle; they have fought the good fight.

When liberty and the freedom which Our Almighty ordained,

Was threatened forever to be forgotten, and liberty to be stained.

The call had gone out for men with bold courage and heart,

For those willing to wage war, yet from honor never to depart.

He had been young then, confident, and full of vim and vigor.

Muscled and strong, he had possessed the necessary will to pull the trigger.

Soon he learned just how hard and unforgiving meeting the enemy would be.

In those moments another life would be taken, no other way could he see.

Because the enemy had been impossible by any words or reason to hold at bay,

Inside without pause, he realized he could defend all he loved in no other way.

After that first battle, when the stranger lay dead at his feet.

His mind had reeled in despair, knowing that he had sent him his Maker to meet.

It seemed forever he was in a foreign land where all he could see was sand.

Victory, he knew, could be won only by making a committed stand. 

Years had rolled by as in service to the conflict he came and he went.

His children grew up while he was at war, the enemy would not relent.

The sparkle in the eyes of his beautiful wife had slowly died.

For too many nights she lay lonely and sad as she had cried.

They both had known that his absence had been without doubt required.

While she grieved at time forever lost, his dedication she deeply admired.

At long last he had put in his time and had come home never to leave.

For a long time what he had seen caused him deep inside to quietly grieve.

Then the years and hard gained wisdom softened the wounds of his soul.

Peacefully and never forgetting the cost of freedom, he had grown old.

The nightmares and images seared on his heart at the time,

Always he had deliberately kept in a contained corner of his mind.

Whenever the flag passed or the pledge of allegiance was said.

Love of his country and memories of the fallen caused a tear to be shed.

More than most, he knew the price that always had to be paid,

To preserve the country from those whose vanity sent them on evil crusades.

 His own answering of the call for defenders of all that we hold dear,

Was the thing that caused him to sleep without worry or fear.

His debt for the privilege of life in our country whose truth is self-evident.

Had been paid and he knew that his final sleep was growing eminent.

Sometimes good men must do dreadful things to pass on to those they love,

The gifts and blessings of that great precept that comes from above.

When they lay down their gray head, old soldiers sleep soundly at night.

They have borne the battle; they have fought the good fight.

The Poem That Means the Most to Me, "If"

Sometimes  it is difficult to get a gift for a Soldier, I always think very hard about what to get mine.  For Christmas I got him a little canoe.  When he was a kid he would  go fishing with his dad in a little row boat, his dad has been gone many years now, but he still talks about fishing in that boat with his dad.  One Valentine's I decided that carefully  chosen words of admiration and love were fitting,  I wasn't going to share them with anyone but him, but when he read them, he felt they might speak to others as well... and so here for every Soldier, and everyone who loves a Soldier, words from my heart.  To my beloved: 

If

If there stood before me 1000 men,

Each of whose lives I had observed again and again.

If I had watched them closely at command,

Of Soldiers, equipment, and resources try to meet war’s great demands.

If I knew their lives, credentials, and previous work,

 How they handled things, and I were privy to each little quirk.

If the fate of personal liberty, the freedom of us all,

Hung in the balance, and without the right leadership would forever fall.

If there would be before us, only one chance,

To meet in battle some terrible foe, and the art of war to dance.

If by the wisdom and expertise of only one man,

The defenses of our country would fail or stand.

If you, my love, stood among those men in their rows,

The one whom no other I have ever loved so.

If somehow it were my duty the right decision to deliver,

My mind could easily make the choice, but my heart would quiver.

If I knew the man I chose would never come home,

Could I give what it cost, the most valuable thing I own?

If in my decision, would the moral courage by which I have watched you live,

Empower me to do the right thing, and the sacrifice to give.

If as I considered all that lay in the balance, to me you would clearly state,

What your own choice would be and how you would face your fate.

If, as I know would happen, I knew who stood above the rest.

Could I, in selfishness, select the one who was second best?

If there stood before me 1000 men,

This I pray before God, that I never will know how it ends.

PTSD

Oh War, Oh War, How Sad to Say

This next poem I wrote in tribute to the other woman who spoke at our spouses seminar at the Commander's Conference at Rock Island, she had lost a son, and even as she attended our conference and spoke of the loss of her son, she had another son serving in Afghanistan.  Some women, have a strength which reminds me of one of my favorite books, East of Eden, by John Steinbeck, 

"I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she happens to have love in her heart. I guess a loving woman is indestructible."
 

Oh War, Oh War How Sad To Say

Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,

You take our sons and daughters far away.

To subdue tyrants and those who rule,

With hearts so evil and ever cruel.

Oh War oh War, how sad to say,

Always there is a price to pay.

There born on shoulders bowed with care,

Comes the coffins of the young who dare.

Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,

Many are the tears of mothers that fall on that day.

When their dear child is finally laid to rest,

In the soil of their country for which they gave their best.

Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,

Too many are the children who cease to play.

Tears fall from little eyes which will never begin

To understand why they won’t see Mother or Father again.

Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,

You take life’s one great love in your disarray.

No more in this life their cherished face to see,

The darkness of that hour bends the knee.

Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,

Stray bullets that wind and find whatever target they may,

While turning and winding, an innocent victim take,

And those deadly spheres leave two in their wake.

 Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,

Hearts of the courageous break as those shells betray.

Memories must be carried by those who are brave,

Of necessary deeds which make their souls rave.

Oh War, Oh War how sad to say,

Sometimes the best return with wounds from the fray.

They leave strong when first they depart,

Then come home and a new life they must start.

Oh War, Oh War, how sad to say,

Always again the ruthless will follow the same way.

Once more the call will go out

For those who know what warmongers are about.

Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,

The price of freedom is never stayed.

Pruning hooks and plows must be beat,

Into weapons your dread disease to defeat.

Oh War, oh War, how sad to say,

With words and pleadings greedy men will not be swayed.

Yet the promise will one day be made complete,

By One who to a cross was nailed by his hands and his feet.

Oh, War, Oh War, on that glad day,

The Son of God will come to lead the way.

The final victory He will take,

No more will sin sad hearts make.

Oh War, Oh War, you are going away,

Peace and happiness for all will come in your stay.

The lion and the lamb will together lie down,

And God’s praises we’ll shout, with a joyful sound.

By Debra LeCompte

June 2010 

"The News"

In June of 2010 I attended a Commander’s Conference in Moline, Illinois at Rock Island Arsenal, where my husband’s Division was head-quartered, and began writing poetry.  The Commander’s wives were provided training in the needed skills of deployment, for we too serve and offer support whenever we can to the families of our nation’s heroes as they undertake the defense of the greatest nation the world has ever known.  It is an immense job, both for the Soldier, and for their families.  

At the conference two women spoke to our group, and never will I forget the impact they made on my life.  One beautiful forty-eight year old woman shared her story of losing her beloved Soldier.  It was a beautiful love story, a heart wrenching story of loss, and yet as she told it, we all knew despite the passing of her husband from this life to the next, she had known a love many never experience.

Through her tears and ours she told of her experiences both before his death and after as “the wife of a Soldier.”  She told of how she loved the life of the Army, and how she loved being the devoted wife of a Soldier, with all that experience entails.  She also shared the story of learning that her husband had lost his life in The War on Terror.  She told of how she had somehow known for around two weeks that her husband was never coming home, and how she had waited and watched for the Chaplain and an officer to come, as they always do, to bring her the news that had already began to steal over her heart.  She waited the news that he had “given his last full measure of devotion” for us all. 

The vision of her face streaming with tears, the earnestness of her broken heart, and sharing of the joy that had been hers in a once in a lifetime love, will never leave me, and indeed haunted me until I needed to find the words to express what the experience had meant to me.  

When I was a little girl, my father read to my sister and me every night, and often it was poetry.  He is a veteran, although he says he does not deserve that title, as he never fought in battle.  He was a part of the occupation forces right after WWII, and almost died of malaria and its' complications, and later served in the Texas National Guard while I was a young child.  Those childhood memories of his reading to us each night before sleep are some of the sweetest of my life.  My father is giant of a man.  He loved being a Soldier, and if not for the love of my mother, and her need to be close to her large family, he would have been a "lifer." I had never written a word of poetry until I met the two women at this conference, heard of their losses, and then somewhere deep in my soul, I heard the whisper of my father's voice from childhood reading "The Road Less Taken," and I have not stopped writing poetry since...

The News

Oh Woman, Woman, why do you wait?

There stands no person at your gate.

Oh Woman, Woman, why is the tear in your eye?

He promised he would be home, bye and bye,

Oh Woman, Woman, why do you turn your ear?

What soft voice is it that you hear?

Oh Woman, Woman why does your heart lurch?

It is only a man coming from the church.

Oh Woman, Woman, I see there are two.

One in a green uniform with something sad he must do.

Oh Woman, Woman, now I know,

How hard will be the way that you must go.

Oh Woman, Woman, surely you remember,

That he promised love like yours is forever tender.

Oh Woman, Woman the wait is so short.

He has only gone before you for heaven’s report.

By Debra LeCompte

June2010