This morning I changed my clothes a few too many times.
Nothing felt quite right.
The energy was somber, and I knew why…
I was rearranging things when I came across my husband’s badge and gently ran my hands over it… tears in my eyes. It wasn’t there, but I could feel the black band that lay across it. It was the badge from his Honor Guard days. I gently put it back and went about getting ready for the day.
I pulled out the old jewelry I had designed a few years ago when another one had died.
I polished the black tarnish off.
The angel wings in my earrings, a sign of loss, of sacrifice.
The blue and black beads, a symbol of a cause, because it almost destroyed us.
I put them on this morning.
I changed my shirt again.
I found my black tee with a blue line through it that bore the phrase “Send Me”.
In my home this phrase bears meaning that few will ever comprehend.
It is inked on his skin.
The depth of its meaning runs deep in our veins.
I got in my car to greet clients for the day.
Again, disappointed by what I do not see.
The last few days the flags stand tall, as if it’s just another day.
But today I expected more.
It broke my heart see so few flags at half-staff.
It's hard to believe people actually care.
A time where blue families feel alone in their pain.
A sacrifice that appears meaningless some days.
The weight of the badge carries a steep price that I pray you will never know.
For now, I leave these words here for those of you who need them.
To know your sacrifice was not lost on me.
And I hold the words of Isiah 6:8 close to my heart…
When the Lord asked Isaiah who will be of service and be there to help, Isaiah responded with the words “Here I am Lord, Send me”, knowing that what was being asked of him would be great.
Think about those words for a minute and think about who has to answer the call.
Who has to process and analyze the scenes.
Who’s family sits home and worries.
We can at least honor them that way.
Would you run into danger risking your life to save another?
Would you risk damaging your brain (PTSD) to bring another closure?
This post is dedicated to the memory of Deputy Owen, who was shot and killed on a domestic call a week ago on his 44th birthday. He served both his country and his community.
It is also dedicated to Officer Gary Schroeder Jr (ret) who lost his battle with PTSD this past Monday. He too was well loved by his community, as both a police officer and a firefighter.
As a family mourns (both blood and blue), and a community mourns, please keep them in your hearts, even if just for a moment. They deserve that much.
With Love (and sincere gratitude for our law enforcement officers and families),
Becky Costello, Psychic Medium
Dancing Elk Shamanic Healing