New Meanings ...

American. Patriotic. Freedom. Country. Honor.

Words. Just words to me for the longest time.

Then I moved to Norway. And being an American was not exactly a popular thing. It would have been easy to back down and agree about what ever system they were deriding at the time, much harder to stick to your guns and try to help explain that maybe they didn’t have the big picture, maybe the system was flawed, but we were free! We had freedoms that the Norwegians did not have. Although I walked away the loser in every argument (of course – I was not going to change anyone’s opinion about politics – never have … never will). Just got to the point where I politely said “Why don’t we agree to disagree and still be friends?” Surprised with this response, and really having no choice – they most always agreed.

This still was no biggie – just differing of opinions of one countryman views from another.

These words still didn't mean very much to me, but I still tried to defend them the best I knew how.

Then, on about July 1st, 2005 I got a call from my mom. I was worried about what she was going to say. You see – a Navy Seal had been downed behind enemy lines, his fellow Seals all killed, with his rescue Chinook helicopter being taken down by a RPG. My brothers job, there in Afghanistan was to rescue injured soldiers behind enemy lines. And here was an injured soldier being talked about relentlessly over the airwaves.

My worst fears were realized as my mom said “Jeff has dropped off the radar. No contact with Penny for days. This means only one thing. He is involved with the rescue of Marcus Luttrell.” And I started to cry. I have never felt farther from my family than that day in Norway.

My little brother, my beautiful, funny, insane little brother was in danger - huge danger.

I spent a lot of time thinking about him during this time. Our youth, his visits.

When Ryan was blessed:

Family reunions:

But it always came back to the photo he sent me - with guns strapped on and ready to fly (and of course the typical Jeff silly kiss ...):

This was my brothers life and I couldn't come to grips with my little brother and this soldier that was going to go behind enemy lines to rescue an injured soldier being the same person. They just wouldn't mesh - so I spent a few days stumbling around, not thinking about much and praying like I have never prayed before.

A few days later, it happened to be the July 4th, 2005 we were sitting at the picnic table out on the deck with the missionaries having hot dogs and apple pie -the best we could come up with in Norway for a July 4th celebration. When the phone rang.

I froze. Then jumped up from the table and ran to grab the phone. It was my mother. "He is safe" was all she got out before I burst into uncontrollable sobs.

She said they didn't know much. He had called his wife and since they cannot talk about missions, they had a code that they had worked out before he had left. I can't remember what the guys name was - but if he told her "I'm with Jack" it meant he was safe. And that is all he had told her. Since he was very emotional - having been the most dangerous thing he had done in his life (this includes putting a plastic bag over his head to 'see what it was like' - luckily walking by my sister as he passed out, and burning down our grapevines in the backyard with gasoline and matches, breaking his collar bone skiing off a cliff, and oh so many other things we won't go into).

Safe. My brother was safe. The mission was successful. At the time we didn't know how dangerous it really had been. He later visited us in Norway and told us the entire story which sound like the action packed motion picture that I believe I keep seeing references to on Marcus Luttrells facebook page (although that might just be Marcus Lone Survivor story which didn't really touch on the rescue) but an unbelievable rescue.

It made me realize that my brother was someone special. That Lt. Colonel Jeff Peterson - or Spanky as everyone calls him is a hero, fighting for our country, our freedoms, our safety. I love him to pieces.

But I thank him - over and over - for teaching me what those words at the top of this post really, really mean.


Love you little brother and every single other soldier out there keeping this country safe.


Three Generations:

Have a wonderful July 4th, y'all ...