Memorial Day is tomorrow. By the time many of you read it, it will be today.
Over the past several days I have read many Facebook status' that say they're so grateful to the men and women who have died for our freedoms. Every time I read these I feel awkward and guilty because I really don't have that kind of passion. Don't hate me, but I don't FEEL the burning gratitude that I should have. And I found a word for what I'm feeling: apathy. I kind of just don't feel anything.
This makes me sad. I don't want to be apathetic to the liberty and freedoms I enjoy because of the men and women in our military.
I was talking with my husband about this and I said, "It's probably because I've never been close to anyone in the military." After all, when you don't experience something firsthand, or even second or third, you are less likely to be zealous about it.
Then he said, "That's not true. My sister's husband is in the military. He had three tours in Afghanistan and came back every time!" Of course! Silly me, how could I forget the faith and prayers our family went through for him (even if I wasn't married in the family at the time).
Thank you Mike for fighting and serving for my freedom.
As I was contemplating this something else popped into my mind.
During my first year of marriage my husband and I were blessed to lived with his grandmother. She had been married twice, and her second husband is my mother-in-law's father, and my husband's namesake.
She met, fell in love with, and married her first husband when they were both young. They were probably together less than a year, because very soon thereafter he was deployed to fight in WWII. She never saw him again, because he died.
Even sixty or seventy years after loosing her first husband she still cries for him. Her heart is still broken.
Thank you Rai for dying for my freedom.
I am grateful to have this blog where I can sit and explore my thoughts and feelings. I think I am a little less apathetic to memorial day now.
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