Memorial Day Weekend

I come from a family (on both sides) who believed in caring for our country – Marines, Navy, Army – just to name a few. When I saw this, I realized that I had never really thought about the difference between each holiday, so I thought I’d share in case you wanted to know too.

With so much going on in our world, I’d like to take a peaceful moment to just be grateful for all who sacrificed their lives and for their families. I’d like to share a story about my uncle who was in the Army during WW2 from what I know…

He was about eighteen years old when his brothers were already Marines. He’d never left his small, quiet Southern town. A good tennis player and pianist, he enjoyed reading. Good looking and shy, except around family. He was the sixth child of my grandparents and fourth son.

He wanted to be a Marine like his brothers, but unfortunately he was color blind, so the enrolled in the Army. He was shipped out with his best friend (who had never left their small town either) and off they went out into the big, bad world….but, at least the friends were together.

Fast forward to a day that changed their lives completely. Heavy artillery fighting and the two were on the front lines in a foxhole. Two terrified 18 year olds…just imagining their fear as bullets wizzed by and bombs were dropped…it makes me teary.

Suddenly, there was a loud boom and his best friend was blown to pieces right next to him in the foxhole.

While I don’t know of the chaos that ensued, nor the gory details of the situation, I can only imagine the horrific emotions that were churned up by such an event. What I remember is being told that somehow he survived, but shellshocked, and he was left up in the front lines for a few weeks afterwards (family lore shares that you spend a week on the front lines, then move to the back and each following week, you move up until you reach the front lines again). But somehow, his superiors were unaware that he sadly ended up staying in the front lines for weeks (even though he didn’t want to be there).

When the war was over, after his Mama prayed every day on her knees at noon for all of her sons to return home alive (which they all did), he returned a changed man. The sensitive young man’s mind had been altered by circumstamces beyond his control. I believe all four of her sons (my uncles) were changed by the war, as many men were. I cannot fathom the fear, the terror, nor the unimaginable gore that they witnessed, so how could it not change them?

Please allow me to honor all of those whose lives were/are irrevocably changed on this Memorial Day weekend. Today, and everyday, let us pray for peace throughout the world.

Shine On!

xo