We were having a beautiful homeschooling day when Little Miss asked for a snack. I quickly checked Facebook on my phone and I saw it. One of our local city council was announcing the procession (starting in 30 minutes.) for Sgt. Noah Korte, who was killed Dec. 27 in Afghanistan when insurgents detonated an improvised explosive device. He was a home grown hero from Lake Elsinore. I called my little sister who quickly arrived, dumped the math lesson and off we went.
I went because I am privileged to call myself, American. This perfect stranger, a hero, paid the ultimate price for my freedom. I went because for a moment, I wanted to pause and honor him. I went because I knew that in one of those cars, was a widow who needed prayer. I went because I am the mother of a future Marine.
There were not very many people there, just about 20 adults, a boy scout, a Navy Veteran, and a couple of reporters and one other child about my daughter's age. As I stood there with my hand over my pounding heart, I prayed. For him. For his widow. For his children. For his mother. For MY son.
Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.
John 15:13
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