A blog entry borrowed from Erin Bigler's blog

As I read this entry on Erin's blog, I was moved by it. She was able to put into words how I feel much better than I ever could, and I wanted to share that with you. Thank you Erin.

First Fourth in a While
from all because two people fell in love... by A Way Down South In Dixie
We are back in Georgia after a long month on the road, and while I loved (just about) every minute of our trip home (that car ride's a bit much with three young'uns), I must admit it's good to be home.We arrived just in time to celebrate a fabulous Fourth of July. Our heroes the Strazisars put out an incredible spread and the whole night went down with a bang--literally. They live in nearby Ft. Mitchell, Alabama where apparently there are no firecracker restrictions! You know you're having a good time when the night sky's ablaze and there's shrapnel falling to and fro.Independence Day has long been my favorite holiday. Initially it was probably just because nothing ever seems to go wrong on a hot summer day. A'int nothin' bad about sparklers, watermelon, good friends and a big smokey BBQ grill. Sure your popsicle may melt, but there's a lot more where that came from. No one's worried about snowy roads and the long drive home. Nobody's disappointed by the gifts they didn't receive or the friends who didn't send a card. Your dad doesn't expect you up at dawn to clean turkey giblets, and I'm pretty sure there are no NFL games going down--therefore all bets are off and everyone wins!However, as I got older the Fourth began to mean much more. Growing up, Brite Music was big in my house--and among my collection of favorites was the "Take Your Hat Off When the Flag Goes By" cassette tape. While the music played my mom would lead my sisters and me around the house as we waved small American and marched with our hands over our hearts. While we danced and sang along, we learned of our courageous founding fathers--of their carefully constructed Declaration of Independence, and that "all men are created equal." Perhaps more importantly, those times in the living room gave my mother and opportunity to teach all of us that ensuring the rights of all our fellow country men required sacrifice--but it was worth it.Throughout my years in elementary school I proudly recited the pledge of allegiance each morning, and happily belted the Star Spangled Banner. It wasn't until high school however, that I truly began to consider the lessons my mother had taught me so many years before.Each year on the Fourth I'd rise early to ride my bike across town and attend the memorial service for fallen veterans at the Provo Cemetery. Seeing old men in uniform handle the flag with such care as they saluted lost comrades first led me to consider those who had put their love of country before love of themselves. I remember the goosebumps that rose on my neck as they marched silently through the still wet grass; the tears that came to my eyes as they prayed together that the Lord might watch over those still at war. An overwhelming sense of gratitude came over me as I stood near the graves of the soldiers who had given their lives so that I might be free. Free. To choose my god, my husband, my career, my life. Their sacrifice gave me a voice. At the time, patriotism meant not to take their gift for granted--so I set out to save the world and let my voice be heard.It was in the process of preparing to join the Peace Corps that I found myself sitting across from an incredibly handsome Nathan Bigler in an advanced Spanish class at Utah Valley State College. His rugged ways and sweet dance moves were enough to sweep me off my feet. So I changed my plans a bit, and sweet talked him into marrying me and letting me have his children. Six blissful years and three kids later, patriotism has come to mean even more. Being the wife of a devoted soldier has taught me that mere gratitude for those who've gone before us is not enough--but that I must be willing to sacrifice my own desires for love of country as well.Now, being a patriot means caring for my children alone, and reminding them each night as I tuck them into bed how much their daddy loves them, because he's not always home to do it himself. It means countless worried nights of lost sleep and tears because my husband hasn't called in days and news reports are grim. It means learning to deal with any problems that arise, even when I'm so exhausted that just getting dressed in the morning seems a daunting task.Being an Army wife is overwhelmingly challenging. There are times I hate the Army, yes the whole stinking organization, so badly that I swear if someone could hand us a "GET OUT OF JAIL FREE" card, I'd pack my bags and never look back. I miss my family, the mountains, our old home, my HUSBAND. There were nights I so resented him for "leaving me" in the first place I insisted I wouldn't want him to come home if he could.And yet, despite the hardships our family has faced, I have never been so proud to be a part of something in all of my life. The ability to defend our borders and give aid fellow country men is what makes our country great. At times the mission seems hopeless. Nate appears to be presented with one futile task after another. And yet he realizes the need to stand up--to rise to the challenge and do what is asked of him. I AM PROUD TO BE THE WIFE OF A SOLDIER. My husband, my husband, is willing to fight to protect the things that we cherish--our family, our home, our nation. He does his job thoroughly, he does his job well, and speaks of the men who fight alongside him with awe and respect. I am lucky to be married to the kind of man.