There are a couple of World War II veterans at our church. One of them sits ramrod straight, and when I go to shake his hand during the sign of peace, his is an iron grip.
The only thing he ever said to me about fighting in Europe in the winter was I had an awful lot of good boys there.
We spent a chunk of time this winter watching HBO’s incredible series `Band of Brothers,` a Christmas gift to one of our sons. All I can really say to you about it, is: see it.
I thought of our friends at church when I watched it, and of my own grandfather, now deceased, who served on a battle ship in the South Pacific. I think of my uncle whose eyes sometimes show shadows, which might be from his days in Vietnam. I think of our troops in Iraq, and all the people who didn’t make it out of the World Trade Center on 9/11.
When I watch the vets in the Memorial Day parade, I clap as hard as I can.
Around Memorial Day and Veterans Day, I try to thank the vets at our church for guaranteeing the amount of freedom I take for granted. But my throat closes and my eyes water, so I just shake hands a few minutes longer and hope that they understand that I’m thanking God for their presence in this world.
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