Mr. N* could not attend church with us this morning. He had something Army related to do which we thought would take all day. Surprise, surprise, he was home working on an assignment when we got home from Sunday School. Upon his suggestion of going out for lunch, we lost no time in getting to a local buffet.
We filled our plates and had just started eating when a young family with four little ones was led to the table just beyond ours. They had two boys and two girls, the oldest of them no more than 4 years old. As the younger of the two boys walked by, he slowed down next to Mr. N* and said, “Hi!” Mr. N* looked at him, smiled, and said, “Well hi there.” The little boy smiled and kept going. Mr. N* and I looked at each other and smiled, both of us thinking, I am sure, about the days when we had cute little boys. 
As we were smiling at each other and remembering the olden days, it occurred to me that the little boy wasn’t merely friendly; he was talking to a soldier. Dh still had his uniform on. I leaned over and whispered, “He was saying hi to an army guy!” Dh nodded.
Toward the end of our meal, I noticed that the mother of the little boy was saying something to the older brother of the first little boy. I don’t know what she said at first, but then she kept quietly nudging the boy, saying, “Go ahead.” He finally came up behind dh and said, “Excuse me.” Dh looked back and said, “Oh, pardon me.” and moved his chair, thinking he was in the little boy’s way. The mother said, “Oh, no, you’re not in his way; he wants to tell you something.” She looked at her son and again said, “Go ahead.” The little boy gazed up into dh’s face and nervously but with great courage said, “Thank you for protecting us so our country can be safe.”
That totally caught me off guard, but dh has had that happen before. He said, “You’re welcome. Here,” pulling off his American flag arm patch, “you can have this.” The little boy’s eyes lit up, he said thank you, sat back down at his table, and he, his mom, dad and little brother oohed and aahed over it.
I wish that I could have a pleasant look on my face when I’m working through something in my head, but I’m afraid that more often than not I look spaced out or displeased. I sure hope I didn’t look like that to that family, but I was trying to take the whole situation in. I didn’t want to miss any details. It struck me that most little boys don’t say hi to some random guy at a restaurant, but some little boys will watch or even go out on a limb to speak to someone who represents something bigger than life. Those boys were very much interested in my dh right then. I remember when Homer was little and first encountered a group of guys who looked just like his Dad – his hero - from a distance. It was quite something to him!
I am regularly annoyed when I discover loose patches in plastic bags. It seems like dh is always buying more patches. Now I know why, and I will remember those little boys forever and never complain again about excessive patches!
