I adore red, white and blue for a profusion of reasons. Obviously, they just POP together! And of course the inherent patriotic meaning appeals to me immensely.
And that brings me to the serious note of this post. I know, I know…many of you want just pretty pictures…but I also know that most of my blog friends and family don’t mind it when I pontificate.
The truth is simple:
Freedom really isn’t free.
I know you *think* you know that.
I always *thought* I knew that, too.
I grew up in a family, after being miraculously adopted at almost age 6, that had many who had served our great country. Both my uncles, my father, my brother and…then I married a naval officer.
As those of you who read my September 11th post know, we lost tons of friends that horrific day and my husband came so close to dying, too.
Tom has served on numerous deployments, including the current one where he is in Afghanistan.
It wrenches my heart.
I frequently feel sick to my stomach because I miss him so much.
And I WORRY so much.
Of course I try to turn it all over to God, as this is a worship journey for us more than anything, learning to be faithful and truly believe in Christ’s love amidst the sometimes horrors of this world.
Yet, my husband is (relatively) more safe than many there.
So, I keep thinking about the ground troops, those going door to door hunting for insurgents. I keep thinking about all of the troops, TRULY brave men and women, who are traveling in their humvees over treacherous terrain.
And then I REALLY feel sick at my stomach.
Because not only do I worry about them and their families at home worrying about them (yes, worry begets worry), but I worry that so few honor them.
I worry that people have forgotten.
Forgotten all the men and women who have gone before.
All of the troops out there right now facing terror.
Who have bled.
Who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom.
For our country.
I worry that because this war has gone on so long and that we are inundated with a plethora of images every single day, via 24 hour news sources and the Internet, that we have grown immune to it all.
Numb.
But then I put my hand over my heart.
Yes, like the Pledge of Allegiance.
And I feel my heart beating.
It pushes my blood throughout my body, sustaining life.
I always have an epiphany each time I do this and pause to think.
TRULY and DEEPLY think.
How many hearts have stopped beating.
For me.
For you.
For all of us.
Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
