My First-World Life (Thanks to Veterans)

Today as I sit here and enjoy all my first-world privileges, get frustrated about my first-world problems and live in the lap of luxury in a carpeted house with full temperature controls and bathrooms galore and all kinds of entertainment at my fingertips, plenty of food in the house, things to support my hobbies, wifi as a given and stores all around me where I can buy whatever I want, whenever I want, and a car to drive me there and literally lacking nothing at all.....I will bask in my first-world life because of those who served and the so very many who gave their lives so that I can have such a luxurious, plentiful life. 

Yes, I care about those less fortunate in the world and give to missions that take the Gospel of Christ to them (since He is the only way to improvement of their lives), and also take medical services to them, etc. I give to them since I am unable to go myself. 

But, when someone minimizes an American hardship by calling it a first-world problem, I think, yes, that's right....we have first-world problems because we will not stand for anything less than the best because the best of all of us....our veterans....fought, died and gave up everything so that we could live this way. Basking in our first-world problems is a tribute to them because we are the USA and we will not live in a way that would appear to be less than the best because they gave so much for us to do so. So, buy that $5 cup of coffee, get that extra pair of shoes, go for a drive just for the fun of it, live in and enjoy the luxury our veterans bought for you, never forgetting who gave all this to you.

Freedom is Luxury.
Thank you, Veterans,
~Tricia

My Hero, My Son

I wrote this poem after my son returned from his first deployment to Iraq....and the awful reality of the Battle of Fallujah. My Michael, just 19 years old at the time, was on the front lines of that battle. This poem is still relevant, nearly 10 years later. I've posted this on my blog before, but I had to post it again.

My Hero, My Son

You say you’re not a hero,

I beg to differ, son;

You went into the war zone,

Carrying your gun.

You faced all of the danger,

Without even looking back;

You did what you knew God wanted

You didn’t one time slack.

You followed your heart;

Did what you thought was right.

You just kept pressing on,

Did not give up the fight.

Oh, you really are a hero,

A hero fair and square.

So far from home, you dared to go,

You didn’t think of where.

Now that you are home,

Oh, so safe and sound,

I will not forget the others,

The ones who aren’t around.

The war zone was relentless

They paid the highest price,

I know you would have done the same,

And made that sacrifice.

But, God allowed you to come home,

He has work for you to do.

It’s His will you must seek,

It’s His calling you must pursue.

Follow Him with all your heart,

And a hero you’ll remain.

Don’t look off to the right or left,

And His reward you’ll someday claim.

You’re my hero, yes, my son,

I’m proud as I can be.

Thank you for what you have done,

You’ll always be a hero to me.

Love, Mom