Air Force Academy...

There are a few people I think of immediately when the subject of the Air Force Academy comes up. It doesn't matter if I'm watching a game, seeing news footage of the graduation ceremonies, or actually visiting.

I can't help but think of Kristina, who I competed against on the local horse show circuit while growing up, was accepted to the AFA and turned down a killer job opportunity to answer that call. I can't help but think of Mark, who was the absolute best officer I ever had, even if he does think Krispy Kreme are the most delicious donuts in the world. I can't help but think of Rob, who is the son of my mom's boss, became an F-15 pilot, and is quite a person.

And I can't help but think of my dear brother, David. He was actually ridiculed by a fellow high school classmate because he chose to forego the Academy for a program at a small private school that suited him better. That classmate was accepted and came out here to the AFA for school. He lasted one whopping semester and quit. David is now a Major with 14 1/2 years of service behind him. I am so proud of him! Jealous, too.

Why am I jealous? Well, I REALLY miss my own military career. I regret having left Active Duty, I regret not being a better Airman, I regret not setting a better example for my subordinates. I don't regret my decision to return to Ready Reserve status to stay home with my son, but I miss the military life. David has known nothing but that life, which sometimes leads to arguments about how the "real world" works (trust me, there are huge differences, and the "real world" sometimes royally sucks), but I think he does realize just how beautiful a life he truly has.

As one may guess, we made a trip to the Air Force Academy today. Not a big visit, just one to see the chapel. I love it on that base, it's just a beautiful setting, but it also makes me a little sad. I do hope to "serve" again when I finish nursing school, though. I hope to work in a military hospital as a surgical nurse. Only God knows, but since I stopped serving before I felt ready, I pray I can give back to those who continue to protect us.

Anyway, Luke was impressed. I'm not sure how many out there in bloggerland have visited any of the Service Academies, or the various chapels, but the 17-spire structure set in the foothills of the Colorado mountains is very, very pretty. Luke is a fan of lights and thought the sun coming through all that stained glass was worth staring at, and worth telling the whole world about. He didn't understand why he couldn't explore more, but he was still a very good boy (which is saying a lot because he feels horrid right now with two of his 2-yr old molars cutting at the same time).

After we got back outside Luke got to run around the bronze statues of the WWII planes (only one picture, and it didn't turn out well). Since the parade grounds with the static displays of the newer planes, including the ones Grampa Mel had, were off-limits to us, this was the best I could do for him. He didn't mind. He ran on the marble walkways, tripped, and discovered when you fall on smooth marble (not polished, just smooth), you sllllllide! He thought that was fun. I laughed. Then he chased a magpie.

The walk back to the car was full of thought. I hope and pray that I can raise my son to appreciate the military. I hope and pray he will not be against serving his country. I hope and pray he'll understand the sacrifices made by those who serve. I hope and pray that he'll appreciate and understand all that he's blessed with in his life here in the United States....even if he never wears a uniform. I hope and pray that his crazy parents can raise him to know his life of freedom came at a very high price. It's a big task, and one that gives me an even greater appreciation for my own parents....