I live a few miles from Luke Air Force Base, just west of Phoenix. Sometimes I hear people in my community complain about the noisy jets. But I take their sound as a call to prayer.
Every time I hear the roar and swoosh of a fighter jet overhead, I stop to pray for the airmen and airwomen. I honor the sacrifices they make to keep our country safe.
My grandkids help. When Landon, now eight, was younger, he’d yell, “Jet! Jet! Pray!” Charlotte, who’s three, proclaims “God bless America” when she sees or hears a jet—often inspiring people nearby to say, “Yeah!” Eleven-year-old Taylor helps too.
We may not pray for every aircraft, but we get most of them. And my grandkids are growing up with respect for our men and women in uniform.
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