Some Soldier's Mom reviews a book that took her down memory lane:
I cannot imagine that there are more heartfelt professions of Faith -- or a time of greater need of Faith -- than in time of war. In my own experience, after I cried me a river, “I cried and begged God, His Mother and all the saints in Heaven to protect my son… and his new brothers.” And after my son would communicate with us, I would exuberantly "thank the Good Lord for the call and our son's continued safety.” Just hours after we heard from the Army that Noah had been wounded, I asked the blogsphere to "Please pray for my son." And the next day I told of how I busied myself the previous night and said, “Although this seems like a logical string of actions, in reality they are herky-jerky tasks strung together by time and episodes of gasping sobs and crying... and praying to God to please, please let our son be OK. I'm not really praying, I'm begging God to please spare my son. I'm bartering... I'm badgering...
Read it all, and the excerpts of the wonderful book that she is talking about.
