August 21, 2006

• The following article, written lovingly by my daughter, Courtney, has been accepted for publication in an upcoming Compassionate Friends, "We Need Not Walk Alone" Magazine. Compassionate Friends is a grief support network for those who have lost children, and siblings and is a blessing to many who are hurting. Since most of you, thankfully, will have no need to read that magazine, I'd like to share her article with you here. 

  
  

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  Comfort Food

  
  

  by Courtney Steed

  
  

  My brother joined the Army Reserves when he was 18. He joined, having been romanced by ideas of glory and heroism and a paid for college education. He was in three years as a Reservist before he chose to enter the Army in full time service. Of course, our family challenged this idea, there is a war going on, after-all.

  
  

  He assured us that he would not be deployed, that he would be safe from Iraq. I am not sure any of us believed him, somehow we knew he was destined for such great things. When he arrived for his first assignment at Fort Carson, Colorado, he was welcomed with orders to deploy to Iraq within 6 weeks. He left the Monday after Thanksgiving, 2005. After spending three weeks in Kuwait, he arrived in Iraq a few days before Christmas.

  
  

  He had been unable to take anything with him to Iraq, besides what had been issued and some personal clothing and pictures. He was not able to receive packages until the week after Christmas, so we sent him a 'stocking' box then. We filled it with the requested beef jerky and deodorant, as well as lots of granola bars, Skittles (his favorite) and shareable goodies.

  
  

  The last time I talked to my brother, he had received his package and was extremely grateful for the 'awesome' box. He specifically mentioned the granola bars, saying he wasn't gonna share those with anyone. He had to rush off the phone, saying a quick 'love you, Court' and he would call back soon. How I wish he would've.

  
  

  He was killed no less than three weeks after he arrived in Iraq.

  
  

  Six months after he died, we learned that he had been very protective of his granola bars. His friends said that he shared everything, except his granola bars. They laughed at his protectiveness and shared with us how that had stuck with them. Even more so, was the day that they were on patrol and they ran into a group of Iraqi children. The granola bars with which my brother had been so stingy were unselfishly shared among them.

  
  

  It's been seven months since the Lord took my brother home. There are many days that are dark and none go by without remembering his smile and heart. It always warms my heart, however, to realize how even granola bars can bring comfort ... if they are in the right hands.

  
  

   

  • 6:12 am
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