My grandson Andrew joined the Air Force when he was seventeen, just a few days after graduating high school. He spent his birthday in basic training in Texas, and I felt so bad for him. He'd always been my special grandson, a little man when he was barely able to toddle. We took vacations together from the time he was three years old. He kept me laughing with his wonderful sense of humor.
As Thanksgiving grew closer this year, he fell into a depression. It would be the first Thanksgiving he hadn't spent with his family. We all felt so bad, but knew it would be in his best interests for him to stick it out, though he talked about quitting. He decided to talk to the Chaplain. What a joy to get a call after he left the Chaplain's office. He said the sun looked so much brighter and he felt as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. Our prayers had been answered. God had been watching and working in his life.
Then Christmas drew nearer. I worried that he might get depressed again. We all prepared packages to send him for Christmas. My hubby and I hosted a family get-together and I videotaped the festivities. Each person said a special message to Andrew. We also went to church and had members who knew Andrew say a few words on video. We coordinated the mailing so that all our packages arrived on the same day. Andrew called us to thank us and said that he had to change uniforms before going back to work because of the tears of joy at having the scents, tastes, sights and sounds from his family "back home."