FLOWER OF REMEMBRANCE

Red Remembrance Poppy, Jamestown, NC

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
between the crosses, row on row,
that mark our place; and in the sky,
the larks, still bravely singing, fly,
scarce heard amid the guns below.
-- In Flander’s Fields by John McCrae

“Honor the Dead by Helping the Living”

Memorial weekend is a great beginning to the summer beach days in the sun with outdoor grilling and good times culminating with Labor Day to bookend the season. But the blooming poppy in my backyard garden on this overcast day with a tropical storm on the doorstep gives us all pause to remember the reason for the holiday. Memorial Day was created to remember the men and women who died while serving this great country while Veterans Day celebrates the service of all military veterans. It also gives us all pause to remember those loved souls who have gone before us.

Whenever I see a poppy flower I’m always reminded of my grandmother who all of us grandkids called Mom. She proudly displayed a gold star in her front picture window like many others in our central Kansas town. The practice was started in World War I when families hung Service Flags in their windows. A blue star on the flag represented any family member serving in the military during a conflict and it was replaced by a gold star if that loved one died. My grandmother and our family tragically knew that grief along with Grace Seibold of Washington, D.C. who lost her son in WWI. Grace realized that self-contained grief is self-destructive, so she organized a group consisting solely of those special mothers whose sons had lost their lives in military service and named that group the Gold Star Mothers.

The Gold Star Mothers held regular meetings which we would call support groups today. I distinctly remember my grandmother dressing up and never missing her Gold Star meetings. I didn’t understand the full meaning of those gatherings, and her profound grief, until much later in life. And I remember my sister and me standing on a Main Street corner with Mom passing out VFW Buddy Poppies to shoppers. These small artificial flowers are made by disabled and needy veterans in VA hospitals and other locations. You do not sell them, but the donations from those that accept the poppies are returned to these veterans along with widows and orphans of veterans. I do believe that Mom suggested a five cent donation when we were asked, however. These red poppies were inspired by the WWI poem In Flanders Fields. We always looked forward to accompanying Mom on those ventures, never suspecting that she was modeling a lifetime of partnering with others to help heal the world and us too.

And she was also modeling a behavior of partnering with our Creator to always try to bring something good out of a tragic situation when a loved one does not emerge from one of the devastating storms of life.

THANKSGIVING 2015

Honor Flight, Washington, DC

So thankful on this Thanksgiving week that I paused my busyness long enough to wait on an elderly man wearing a navy hat and using a walker. As I approached the heavy door of our local Jamestown Post Office, I noticed him slowly making his way to the entrance. I waited and held the door open for him as he approached. He looked up under the military insignia on his hat and with a wry smile said, “I walked across Europe and into Germany but now I can’t even get into the Post Office.” Wow. I returned the smile and told him I was thankful for his service.

On the drive home, I was reminded of a time when I was waiting on a connecting flight at Washington Dulles International airport. A noisy crowd was gathering close by so I got up and walked over to witness a plane load of military veterans coming off an Honor Flight to see the WWII Memorial on the Mall. Some were gamely walking with canes and walkers, while some were attended in wheel chairs. Some had tears in their eyes. Every hassled passenger in the crowd paused and began clapping as a men’s chorale sang fight songs.

I paused once more to thank God that I am among the very fortunate to be born in a land of freedom and to have known the greatest generation that sacrificed so much for it.

EARN IT

Merci, Normandy, France
Uncle Lewis, Emporia, KS

Our Memorial message this past Sunday included a reflection back on the final scenes from the movie “Saving Private Ryan”. A small squad led by Captain John Miller had been ordered to find the last surviving son of a family so that he could be sent back home from the Normandy invasion. The dialog in those final scenes stirred up my curiosity enough to review them again last night. I fast forwarded to the final gruesome battle scenes when the soldiers were defending both Private James Ryan and a strategic bridge from the advancing German Nazis. The action was intense and gut wrenching, although I’m certain nothing Hollywood can create could come close to the horrors of actual combat.

Captain Miller was mortally wounded as the tide turned in favor of the American troops when reinforcements arrived at a the bridge. Captain Miller beckoned Private Ryan close. He whispered with his dying breath, “James…earn this. Earn it”. Those two words were obviously seared on Private Ryan’s heart for all eternity. The camera then focuses on his face which morphs into that of an aging veteran standing in the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial many years later. It’s one of those hallowed places you encounter in Europe upon cresting a hill to discover that all the memorial markers were set in place at the same time and aligned in perfect rows. There’s no mistaking their origin and there are not too many locations in America like them with the exception of Civil War battlefields in the East.

Like so many other veterans before him, Ryan has returned to honor his fallen comrades and specifically the man who gave his life so that he would live. His family is standing in the background, giving him space. When Ryan’s wife approaches him, he turns to her and asks “Did I live a good life? Am I a good man”? He desperately needs his wife’s affirmation because he deeply understands the ultimate price that has been paid. She quietly responds, “You are”. That poignant exchange choked me up as much as any experience in my life, perhaps because I had just finished my lesson plans to teach a session on Jesus’ final week on this planet. He made the ultimate sacrifice for all of us so that we may have eternal life. My Uncle Lewis served in the medical corps in WWII and tragically lost his life at the all too young age of twenty nine. I too should be living my life to honor their sacrifice. God gave all of us the priceless gift of life. And how we live it is our gift to him. Earn it.