Promotion: Brian Update

NaBloPoMo #1

As of today, Brian has been promoted from PFC (Private First Class) to

SPC JOLLEY, BRIAN

Specialist.

I haven't written about him that much, since he went back to Iraq. Truth is, I don't have a lot of new news. I encouraged him to write more often, if all he could do was reassure me that he's ok. He's done just that: an email every couple of days saying "I'm ok. I have to sleep."

In 2-3 sentences, we connect. I can appreciate that Viet Nam mothers could only have prayed for so much. I thank my lucky stars we live in the era that we do.

The truth is, I worry about him, pray for him. every. single. day.

But since I've seen him, in August, I've felt slightly better. Slightly, people. I beg for a little slack here. Many of you don't know that I've taken hits, publicly and privately. I've been accused of having a political agenda, and I've been called naive. The words "tragically sincere" finally amused, offended, and, after some thought, complimented me. I know this: I hope I'm never anything but.

At any rate, if I tell you I feel slightly more secure, I beg of you, anonymous commenters and e-mailers, do not send me reminders of what might happen to my son in Iraq, believing I have no idea.

I, as every other parent of a soldier, wear "what might happen" every single day, and I don't know that we ever won't, when this country is at war. Sons home or sons deployed, we will wear this, from here on out. Slightly more secure means that my son is, at this moment, ok. I've talked to him. I've touched him. I've hugged him, and grabbed his cheeks, and looked into his eyes. He has the same sense of humor, the same sense of pride, and dignity, and confidence, as he did before he left. If anything, he's more so, what he was.

From here on out, I'll be a soldier's Mom. I stepped into the recruiting office today, on my lunch hour. Can I get a few chotchke's for the fundraiser this weekend? While the adorable soldier ran for keychains and pens, I stood in his office, watching another young man and woman, in army fatigues, going about their work.

People, it takes every fiber of my being not go up and wrap them in my arms.

Yes.

I have turned into the crazy lady in the mall that asks if she can hold your baby, only I just want to race up and hug everyone in fatigues. It absolutely kills me to stand graciously outside that office, and act unaffected.

In reality, I want to settle in. I want to sit right down, and cluck-cluck-cluck, like a mother hen. I want to reach out and pet grown men and women on their little heads, and fix them spaghetti, and I, kids...

Well. Kids... My son is serving in Iraq. He was driving this humvee, when this happened...

He called it a "Thank you Jesus Moment."

Can you stop.

For one second.

And Imagine.

Close your eyes, and imagine.






It is only 1 of 100s of photos he brought home.

You don't have to remind me.

I know.

And you know what?

My son got PROMOTED today, and I am BURSTING with pride.

And I believe in him.

And I feel slightly more secure.

Give me that.

Please. Give me that.