I hope all of you enjoyed your weekend, for some it was a holiday off; for others, it was a normal working day.
I am easily overwhelmed on days that celebrate the lives and sacrifices made by men and women for countless years to keep America a free and vibrant land. As experienced by generations before affected by war, that we see it as normal. It isn’t normal.
While a “Thank You” is always deserved and welcomed by our military personnel, I have to wonder how many soldiers willing to give all for the freedom of our country, who returned wounded and in pain; their lives completely upside down; look at us “free citizens” and think, “ooohhh yeah… you’re welcome”- sigh.
I thought about them yesterday and I think about them on the 4th and everytime I see an army convoy driving down I-95 near our home; and I am overcome that someone- so many- are courageous enough to die on my behalf. On my children’s behalf to keep us out of the bonds of oppression. I think how foolish our society that doesn’t take care of it’s wounded; physically, mentally and spiritually. I mourn for the loss of men and women who return home from war unable to go into a restaurant without scanning for weapons, or foreign objects designed to wound those they have sworn to protect.
I think about how many children young and old, who mourn the loss of their mother’s and father’s, aunt’s and uncles, as they knew them. I think- I wish I was that courageous. That I would be willing to die for the country I believe in it and the people that I love and those I dislike; who’s positions and opinions I disagree with.
We have become good friends with a Soldier stationed here near us, and have had such a wonderful time getting to know him, and what he shares about military life. Tim and I haven’t had any active military personnel in our life, so we have always been fairly disconnected with the realities of knowing someone enlisted. Our children in a short period of time have given an honorary name to our friend and we have adopted him into our family. I watch Cash in a serious case of hero worship, and can’t deny him the right to feel that way. He wants to be, “just like Uncle Bobby”. He wants to know and understand everything that Uncle Bobby does, he asks questions, I am too afraid to ask; and he loves him like its his job to do so.
I don’t have anything that I can give to a soldier who fights on my behalf; that I would consider a gift of value, but I can pray and I can ask the Lord to guide, protect and grant them wisdom. I can lift up those who have lost physical abilities, or those who have been traumatized until their ability to think as they once did, is gone, and pray that they be renewed in their thinking. I can pray that their spirit will be re-awakened, that they can sleep again- through the night. I can believe that the Lord does not fail, leave or abandon his children.
It seems unfair that while I sleep with no thought of war, danger or fear haunting me; that someone else lives with it on a daily basis to provide me that comfort.
How blessed are we as a Nation? We are un-parralled, un-like any other Nation on the planet. I know today isn’t Memorial Day, but would you find a soldier, any soldier and tell them thank you in a way that proves you mean it. Buy the soldier in line behind you lunch; drop off a gift on the porch- it doesn’t matter that they don’t know it was from you; it matters that they know they matter and are appreciated.