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This morning I spent time with my son not once fearing that anyone would force their way into our home. I worked in a yard that, for the past 3 years, I have called my own. Never in the 3 years I’ve been here have I been concerned that someone would try to forcibly take my house. I bought supplies at a Home Depot and didn’t have to wonder if the guy next to me in line was wearing a bomb. I bought groceries in a store where I wasn’t ridiculed and singled out because of my race or religion. I spent time with friends over cheeseburgers, hot dogs, and baked beans. We never feared an air raid from US enemies.

A lot of “Monday” holidays are (I’m convinced) just an excuse for government offices and banks to have a 3-day weekend. Memorial Day, however, is a good one.

Today when I was moving rocks around my back yard, I thought about what Memorial Day has always meant to me. I’m sad to say that it always hasn’t been more than a brief showing of appreciation to a few living veterans followed by a day of not working. All the veterans I had ever known were old and couldn’t fit into their military uniform if their lives depended on it (Hi, Reed), so I never had experienced first-hand the sacrifice these soldiers (and their families/friends) make.

All of that changed in August when our friend Joshua Dingler was killed in Iraq. Now the face of that 19 year-old kid has become, in my mind, the face of the good people who gave their lives for all that freedom I enjoyed today. May we never take that freedom for granted.

Randall Goodgame wrote (speaking of a pair of camo pants he bought at a thrift store):

I said they’ll never fit me, and I guess they never will.
I ain’t never cleaned a gun; I’ll never take any hill.
Sometimes soldiers die setting people free.
That’s more like Jesus than I’ll ever be.

To all of you folks who might be reading this that ever served our great country, I thank you. And to all the families who weep a little harder on Memorial Day as they remember their family members, know that this free citizen has learned to truly be grateful for your family’s committment to this country. I will gladly remember the men and women who died to make and keep this land free, whether it be just another day of working in the yard or the last Monday in May.