Those Who Serve, Those Who Wait

On Saturday, February 6th, my husband and I traveled to the Naval Academy with my daughter, her husband and her father in-law.  We were on our way to watch my grandson, Midshipman Christian Correale compete against Army in gymnastics.

Now, I could write about how beautiful the academy is, how Navy beat Army, and how my grandson scored his personal best on the parallel bars and rings; but I’m not.

Tonight, I choose to write about the parents of these wonderful young men and women, who chose to serve their country, whether through the academy or enlisting in one of the military branches.

My pleasure and more…….

It has been my pleasure to visit both the Naval Academy and West Point. I also have many friends who have a son or daughter serving at home or abroad. My oldest son,enlisted right out of high school in the eighties, as well. Whenever I travel, and see a man or woman, regardless of age, dressed in uniform, I always try to strike up a conversation. It is important to let them know how much I appreciate what they do not only for me, but for all of us.

Whether I am at a military football game, gymnastic meet, or talking with parents,  who have a son or daughter serving, I am always in awe of the tremendous love and pride they feel for their loved ones.  It is written on their faces, and heard through their beautiful words of love.

These amazing parents worry about their sons and daughters everyday, but continue to support them through letters, filled with what is happening at home, encouragement, and somewhere within the body of words, telling them how proud they are of their accomplishments.

They send packages filled with home baked cookies, candy bars and anything their soldiers need. Many wait for phone calls and some have the privilege of face time or skyping.  Communication is the key to helping families cope with missing each other.

I could go on and on about the feelings parents experience, the fear they feel and the patience they practice everyday waiting to hear, ” I am coming home!”

One mother shared with me that she starts her day with a prayer for her daughter and all those who are serving. The prayer continues throughout the day and ends when she climbs into bed.  This precious mother touched my heart.

A father’s prayer……………

It was dark when we started  home from the Naval Academy. Before we left the yard, my son in-law, pulled over and got out of the SUV. I thought maybe the hatch opened but instead, I saw him walk over to the water. My daughter shared that on every visit, and before they leave, this sweet wonderful father sends time in prayer. He prays for his military sons. He prays for all those young men and women at the Academy, and he prays for peace.  I must admit, tears meandered down my cheeks.

My heartfelt feelings……

As I finish this blog, or story as I like to call it, my heart is full of gratitude for the men and women who are serving our great country. I also think of the thousands and thousands who have served over the years.  There is,and never will be,enough ways to say “Thank You” for the sacrifices these men and women have made and will continue to make.  Because of their sacrifices,  I have hope for the future. A future filled with peace.

One more thing….

Please say a prayer for our military men and women and their families…

Remember when we reach out to others, we help ourselves too.

















Published by cynthiajeandeluca

My name is Cynthia Jean DeLuca. I am a wife, mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. I believe in following your dreams and never giving up! Helping others is very important to me, for when we help others, we help ourselves. It is my hope to make a difference in the lives of children and grown-ups. My hobbies are writing, quilting and painting. I am a novice at all three but, enjoy them immensely. I grew up on a farm with no indoor plumbing and no heat in our upstairs. I love life and have a very strong faith. Working on inspirational short stories for grown- ups. Love to speak on topics that touch my heart.

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