c. 2005 Religion News Service

(UNDATED) The last words of the Marine Corps Hymn proclaim the streets of heaven are “guarded by United States Marines.”

Marine moms know it for a fact.

And though they may go kicking and screaming into the job, the majority say they come out having gained that often elusive sense of resurrection that comes after a battle with sacrifice.

Mercedes Butts of Granada Hills, Calif., still approaches Easter with expectant hope and a strange peace. She plans to spend some time on Easter Sunday at the National Cemetery in Los Angeles.

There, her two sons, 20-year-old Marine Lance Cpl. Matthew Butts, and his 13-year-old brother, Mark, are buried side by side despite the cemetery’s initial refusal to do so. A crusade by the Marine Corps and scores of Marine Moms stifled protocol so the siblings could keep the promise they made to each other to be “Semper Fidelis _ Always Faithful.”

“I have no doubt in my mind the two of them are together,” she said. “And I have no doubt Matthew went first so he could welcome his little brother home.”

Matthew was killed in April 2000, a week before Easter, in an auto accident at Camp LeJeune, N.C. Despite his mother’s protests, he signed up for the Corps on his 18th birthday.

“If there’s a war, the other branches of service come in after the bullets are spent on the Marines,” she told him. Not that it mattered to her son, whose dreams were filled with tales of the coveted “brotherhood” of the Corps.

After all, Matthew already excelled at being a brother.

Mark was born with numerous “handicaps,” Butts said, so many a neurologist told her not to “expect too much.” Although he was never able to speak, his actions spoke volumes, and by the time he died in September 2002, at age 13, of neuroblastoma cancer, he had touched Marines stationed around the world and had earned the proud distinction of having been made an honorary Marine.

“It had been a sleepless night for me at the hospital when two staff sergeants from Camp Pendleton walked into Mark’s hospital room and gave him the title,” his mother recalls. Since Matthew’s death, Mark had become a well-known “unofficial” ambassador for the Marines, and was even allowed to visit recruits struggling through the grueling rigors of Marine Boot Camp.

Matthew’s death made Mark’s leaving easier, Butts said. She has no doubt he died so he could be waiting to help Mark “cross-over” to the other side.

“The relationship between Matthew and Mark makes me truly see what it means to conquer death, to know that eternal promise. From the beginning Matthew was the one that refused to give up on Mark. I can feel them together,” she said.

Lance Cpl. Shane Conrad joined the Marine Corps as a result of Sept. 11, said his mother Deb Conrad of Albany, Ore. Since then, he’s been deployed twice and is currently stationed in Iraq on the Syrian border near Husaybah _ a town so hostile that Shane’s battalion commander won’t bring visiting brass over the 12-mile stretch of road _ it’s just too dangerous.

“And that’s where my precious son _ my heart is,” Conrad said.

For weeks she sat glued to her television remote, channel surfing for any news coming from Iraq, until she realized that was certain “emotional death.” What she needed was a resurrection of faith.

“I planned a statewide troop support rally on the steps of the Oregon Capitol,” Conrad said. “We sent over 5,000 pounds of school supplies to the children of An Narif _ where the Marines were rebuilding a school.”

She also founded the Marine Corps Moms Web site, which puts a human face on the troops and helps isolated mothers feel connected.

“My son and his brother Marines are rebuilding a nation and reclaiming a land for the innocent. Watching the resurrection of Iraq is an awesome experience. And I’ve found, through my own small part in this, that nation-building can happen on a very small scale _ one person at a time.”

As Easter approaches, Phyllis Osborne of Paducah, Ky., prepares herself for yet another holiday sans her son, Lance Cpl. William Tyler McCutcheon, a third-year Marine assigned to security forces. McCutcheon’s mom has endured his many deployments as if she were “hanging on to a roller coaster for dear life.”

“Every mother whose Marine has come home has experienced that sense of resurrection, that God has been listening, ever so carefully, night after night. When we set eyes on them again, we count each of their fingers, like when they were newborns. It’s as if our child’s birth has occurred all over.”

(OPTIONAL TRIM FOLLOWS)

Heading out to meet other Gold Star mothers for lunch, Sharon Westbrook of San Angelo, Texas, said she doesn’t believe it was the war that took away her son, Pvt. 1st Class Jason Poindexter. He was only a Marine for nine months and had been in Iraq only 7 days when he was killed on Sept. 12, 2004, in Ramadi, Iraq.

“His destiny was chosen at birth. I miss him but I don’t have any tears of regret. He was a goofy kid that loved life, and his death has brought me a faith in mankind I never had before.”

Laura Temple of Eagle River, Alaska said since Jason’s death, her good friend Sharon has been a testimonial for the network of mothers who touch each other by making comfort quilts, condolence books and angel tags for the families of fallen Marines. Her son, Lance Cpl. Bryce Temple, served in the 2nd Battalion/5th Marines with Jason.

“Just as Christ still has his wounds, these families too still keep their wounds as they are resurrected through the depths of grief,” Temple said. “Hundreds of Marine Moms across the nation, whether they are believers or not, are doing God’s will by providing stepping stones of healing.”

“One evening the UPS truck pulled up and delivered a Marine Comfort Quilt. Each square was made by another Marine Mom. Right then and there I knew I would never skip holidays,” Westbrook said. “Grief is not an enemy to be avoided, it is a healing path to be walked.”

“Other mothers are planning homecomings for their sons, but I’m not,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish this on anybody, but I know I will see him again. The wait will be just a little longer.”

MO/JL RNS END ROZNIK

(Sharon Roznik is a reporter at The Reporter in Fond du Lac, Wis., and the mother of a discharged Marine)