As Valentine’s Day approaches I am left with thoughts of how I can make a difference in the lives of those that are far from home. Those that live a life I personal do not understand because I have never been there, but that deeply impact my life; the men and women of the armed forces of America.

My son served two terms in Iraq and missed most of his son’s early life; a period that can never be recaptured. He traded those moments of the first few inches of crawling across the floor, ever mindful of loving arms waiting, the first precious tottering steps surrounded by laughter and affection, the holiday of that first word sputtered around a mouthful of joy. During this time my son, my boy now a man, drove a scorching and arid Humvie crawling across endless sand; 39 hours without relief and ever mindful of enemy fire, the first tottering steps of setting up camp in a friendless land, the silent holidays spent around a mouthful of MRE (otherwise known as flavored cardboard).