(The following story was written by Lori Kimble, a 31 year old
teacher and proud military wife. Mrs. Kimble, a California native,
currently lives in Alabama.)


I was sitting alone in one of those loud, casual steak houses
that you find all over the country. You know the type--a bucket of
peanuts on every table, shecks littering the floor, and a bunch of perky
college kids racing around with longneck beers and sizzling platters.

Taking a sip of my iced tea, I studied the crowd over the rim of
my glass. My gaze lingered on a group enjoying their meal. They wore no
uniform to identify their branch of service, but they were definitely
"military:" clean shaven, cropped haircut, and that "squared away" look
that comes with pride.


Smiling sadly, I glanced across my table to the empty seat where
my husband usually sat. It had only been a few months since we sat in
this very booth, talking about his upcoming deployment to the Middle
East. That was when he made me promise to get a sitter for the kids,
come back to this restaurant once a month and treat myself to a nice
steak. In turn he would treasure the thought of me being here, thinking
about him until he returned home


I fingered the little flag pin I constantly wear and wondered
where he was at this very moment. Was he safe and warm? Was his cold any
better? Were my letters getting through to him? As I pondered these
thoughts, high pitched female voices from the next booth broke into my
thoughts.


"I don't know what Bush is thinking about. Invading Iraq. You'd
think that man would learn from his old man's mistakes. What an idiot! I
can't believe he is even in office. You do know, he stole the election."


I cut into my steak and tried to ignore them, as they began an
endless tirade running down our president. I th! ought about the last
night I spent with my husband, as he prepared to deploy. He had just
returned from getting his smallpox and anthrax shots. The image of him
standing in our kitchen packing his gas mask still gives me chills.

Once again the women's voices invaded my thoughts. "It is all
about oil, you know. Our soldiers will go in and rape and steal all the
oil they can in the name of 'freedom'. Hmph! I wonder how many innocent
people they'll kill without giving it a thought? It's pure greed, you
know."

My chest tightened as I stared at my wedding ring. I could still
see how handsome my husband looked in his "mess dress" the day he
slipped it on my finger. I wondered what he was wearing now. Probably
his desert uniform, affectionately dubbed "coffee stains" with a heavy
bulletproof vest over it.

"You know, we should just leave Iraq alone. I don't think they
are hiding any weapons. In fact, I bet it's all a big act just to
increase the president's popularity. That's all it is, padding the
military budget at the expense of our social security and education.
And, you know what else? We're just asking for another 9-ll. I can't say
when it happens again that we didn't deserve it."

Their words brought to mind the war protesters I had watched
gathering outside our base. Did no one appreciate the sacrifice of brave
men and women, who leave their homes and family to ensure our freedom?
Do they even know what "freedom" is?

I glanced at the table where the young men were sitting, and saw
their courageous faces change. They had stopped eating and looked at
each other dejectedly, listening to the women talking. "Well, I, for
one, think it's just deplorable to invade Iraq, and I am certainly sick
of our tax dollars going to train professional baby-killers we call a
military."

Professional baby-killers? I thought about what a wonderful
father my husband is, and of how long it would be before he would see
our children again.

That's it! Indignation rose up inside me. Normally reserved,
pride in my husband gave me a brassy boldness I never realized I had.
Tonight one voice will answer on behalf of our military, and let her
pride in our troops be known.

Sliding out of my booth, I walked around to the adjoining booth
and placed my hands flat on their table. Lowering myself to eye level
with them, smilingly said, "I couldn't help overhearing your
conversation.

You see, I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my dinner alone. And,
do you know why? Because my husband, whom I love with all my heart, is
halfway around the world defending your right to say rotten things about
him."

"Yes, you have the right to your opinion, and what you think is
none of my business. However, what you say in public is something else,
and I will not sit by and listen to you ridicule MY country, MY
president, MY husband, and all the other fine American men and women who
put their lives on the line, just so you can have the "freedom" to
complain. Freedom is an expensive commodity, ladies. Don't let your
actions cheapen it."

I must have been louder than I meant to be, because the manager
came over to inquire if everything was all right. "Yes, thank you," I
replied. Then, turning back to the women, I said, "Enjoy the rest of
your meal."

As I returned to my booth applause broke out. I was embarrassed
for making a scene, and went back to my half eaten steak. The women
picked up their check and scurried away.


After finishing my meal, and while waiting for my check, the
manager returned with a huge apple cobbler ala mode. "Compliments of
those soldiers," he said. He also smiled and said the ladies tried to
pay for my dinner, but that another couple had beaten them to it. When I
asked who, the manager said they had already left, but that the
gentleman was a veteran, and wanted to take care of the wife of "one of
our boys."

With a lump in my throat, I gratefully turned to the soldiers and
thanked them for the cobbler. Grinning from ear to ear, they came over
and surrounded the booth. "We just wanted to thank you, ma'am. You know
we can't get into confrontations with civilians, so we appreciate what
you did."

As I drove home, for the first time since my husband's
deployment, I didn't feel quite so alone. My heart was filled with the
warmth of the other diners who stopped by my table, to relate how they,
too, were proud of my husband, and would keep him in their prayers. I
knew their flags would fly a little higher the next day.

Perhaps they would look for more tangible ways to show their
pride in our country, and the military who protect her. And maybe, just
maybe, the two women who were railing against our country, would pause
for a minute to appreciate all the freedom America offers, and the price
it pays to maintain it's freedom.

As for me, I have learned that one voice CAN make a difference.
Maybe the next time protesters gather outside the gates of the base
where I live, I will proudly stand on the opposite side with a sign of
my own. It will simply say, "Thank You!"

To those who fought for our Nation: Freedom has a flavor the
protected will never know. GOD BLESS AMERICA!

Please pray for God's protection of our troops and HIS wisdom for
their commanders. Pass this on to as many as you think will respond.

"Lord, hold our troops in your loving hands. Protect them as they
protect us. Bless them and their families for the selfless acts they
perform for us in our time of need. I ask this in the name of Jesus, our
Lord and Savior."

When you receive this, please stop for a moment and say a prayer
for our ground, air and navy personnel in every area of the middle east.
There is nothing attached.... This can be very powerful.... Just send
this to all the people in your address book.



Do not stop this prayer chain, please.... Of all the gifts you
could give to anyone in the US Military, be it Air Force, Army, Navy,
Marines or National Guard, Prayer is the very best one.....Amen!

I'm proud to say this brought tears to my eyes.
Very emotional.
Thanks.