My oldest, Josh, came back from Iraq doubting (as "just a f*****' POG") that he accomplished anything worthwhile. No matter what I've said to him, he's been wondering if the time away from his new wife, and the rest of us, was wasted. He, like so many warriors, came back to a surprising amount of negative news and questions from people who delighted in asking incredibly stupid and insensitive questions. Even after some bad firefights, he thought he hadn't "really served".

Josh and his wife finally found an apartment. He's been back from Iraq since October, and they've been staying with friends. Not cheap by Oklahoma standards ($950 for a small two-bedroom) but at least it'll be home. They spent the morning packing their few belongings. They didn't have much money left after the rent and deposits, but decided they'd spend a bit on some used furniture and eat sparingly until payday.

They found a small used furniture store. Inside, they spotted a green leather couch and a nice coffee table. Josh figured that could do double duty as a place to eat, and they'd wait to find a table for the dining room. While his wife wandered around looking for dishes, Josh approached the clerk and told him they'd like to buy the sofa and table and told him he'd have to go back to the apartment, empty the Explorer then come back for the furniture. The man asked him, "Are you new to town?" Josh said "Kind of, Sir...I just got back from Iraq. It's our first apartment."

The man was silent a moment, then thanked Josh for his service, and told my son to look around and see if they could find anything else they might need. The man told him that the items were on sale for half price. Josh was pleasantly surprised, and decided they might be able to add a few more things, since they were getting the furniture for less than they originally thought. They looked around for a while, deciding on a few more things like dishes, a chair, a few lamps and something to hang on the living room wall.

Josh approached the man and asked what their total was. That man looked at my son and said "Go over to the register, give us twenty dollars, and we'll call it even."

Josh was stunned. He stammered "Are you sure? I...I...Thank you so much!" The man said "Don't you DARE thank ME. THANK YOU for what you boys are doing for US." Then he said he'd help take the furniture to the apartment for them. Color my boy even more amazed. At this point my daughter-in-law was in tears.

It gets better. After following the kids to the apartment and helping Josh unload, that man who had just given my son a new outlook on his experience post-combat earned even more of my eternal gratitude.

My DIL went to get her purse from the car to pay him for helping them. She got back to the curb as he drove off, waving. Josh was sitting on the curb with his head between his legs. Dakota thought he was praying. He was, but his face was white as a sheet when he looked up. Dakota said, "Babe, what's the matter?" Josh, sporting a serious case of eyeball sweat, said: "He just handed me a hundred-dollar bill and told me to take you out for a nice dinner."

After they got over the nausea and shock, they called me to share this blessing. I bawled like a baby, of course, then asked Josh if the man might have been a Marine, or a veteran. He said, "Oh my Gawd, I should have asked!" (Uh, yeah. Duh.)

My son, who'd spent the last several months doubting the worth of human nature after combat around Fallujah and Ramadi, kept babbling "He MUST have been an angel, Mom. He had to be, he just had to. That guy was an angel sent by God." (Of that, I have no doubts)

I told him, "Yes, honey, he could have been...he could also be "just" one of the grateful Americans I keep insisting are around. I TOLD you they exist. And I TOLD you that you DO make a difference. You may now allow me to say 'I TOLD you so!' " In a tearful, but smug-mama voice, of course.

The kids were at a loss wondering what they could do to thank this wonderful man. I suggested buying a USMC OIF flag, having his unit sign it, and presenting it to that dear, sweet man with many thanks. I plan to thank him as well - with a letter letting him know just what he's done for my son's faith and confidence (and mine). That man might never really fathom what his gesture meant to my family, but I'm going to bust my ass trying to tell him.

My Marine now realizes that what he does DOES make a difference. And hey, we moms just love being right.