There is a woman who waits in the post office nearly every day. She's watching for people who are sending "Care Packages" to our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. When she spots a package, she offers to pay the postage.
My wife was overwhelmed by her generosity when she carried several small boxes into the post office last week, and couldn't help but ask her why. "It's for my son," was her response. "I promised him I would take care of all the boys over there."
"I see," my wife replied, "and who is your son?"
She pointed to a picture on the post office wall. "Him," she replied.
The picture is of Sgt. Lea Mills, who died at age 21 during Operation Iraqi Freedom. The post office is named in his memory.
So this is for the woman who waits at the post office, and all the family members of those who serve.
With a bloody knee he pushes his bike slowly up the lane,
He’ll try to put the training wheels back on.
There’s a little girl whose daddy won’t be watching her tonight,
As she dances in her very first ballet.
There’s a woman in the kitchen fighting silent tears alone,
It’s mac ‘n cheese for dinner once again.
She prays to God for strength to make it through another night,
And wonders when her husband’s coming home.
A faded yellow ribbon hangs in tatters on the door
The candle in the window’s lit each night.
One day a gentle wind will see our weary soldiers home
To find the peace that they’ve been fighting for.