As the sun begins to peak over the trees and the world around slowly awakens from its slumber, the sea of small white crosses remain still and quiet.

A bird perches from one cross to the next, in search of its next meal and the wind blows its gentle breeze, swaying the limbs of the trees, playing at the whisps of a young girl's hair.
She stands in silence, her small fingers gripping the flag in her hands, her cheeks wet with the tears that raced down her face. Her back is straight, her knees don't bend, one hand clutches the flag, while the other remains fisted at her side. Mother holds out a hand, waiting for her to clasp it, but she does not. Daddy said to always be brave, if she held mother's hand now, she would lose all strength to remain standing.
The thousands of crosses stretch out over the lush green grass, and she thinks about all the other little girls that also lost their daddy's over the hundreds of years, over the many wars that were fought.
There would be no daddy to wait on to come home. She would be no longer able to wrap her arms around his neck, breathe in his peppermint scent, rest in his safe embrace, to believe that no matter what, he would come home again. Never again, would she see his smile, hear his deep laugh, hold his hand as they walked through the park, or hear him say, "I love you, squirt."
Tears begin to race down her cheeks again, and she fists both hands, her heart aching so bad she can feel the pain all the way to her toes. Her chest burns with anger, and she wants to scream all her hurt and pain into the sky and break the deafening silence around her. She wonders if she will ever see her mother smile again, or if she will ever feel happy and safe again, but she does know that nothing will ever be the same.
This is not where her daddy was laid to rest, but Mother insisted that they come here today to honor and remember everyone that died for her country.
"Go ahead, sweetie, you can put the flag on the cross now,"
She looks up at her mother's tear streaked face and then takes a step towards the white cross. She loosens her grip on the flag and places it on top of the cross, smoothing out its wrinkles and then takes a step back. The red, white and blue colors on the flag turn blurry under her watery gaze. She squeezes her eyes shut, and the tears begin the fall. Her mother gathers her into her arms and carries her away from the sea of the white cross graves.
They all died for the same thing, the same country, no matter how different these people were, this one thing they had in common.
She's seen the disrespect some have for her country, heard the snide remarks for its leaders, watched as grown men knelt for the country's national anthem, and she's witnessed the hate from countrymen for a country her daddy died for. With this in mind, she looks back at that small flag lying on the cross and takes in the magnitude of the many crosses. She thinks about her daddy and the painful truth that she will never again see him on this earth. She remembers his sacrifice, as well as every other man and woman that died for the great land of the free and home of the brave, and she wonders, "Was it worth it?"

As I sit here and watch the misty rainfall from the sky, listen as my family goes about their normal daily activities, I realize how easy it is to forget the meaning of this day.
Here I sit, in a free land, free to speak as I please, to do as I wish. Sometimes, I forget what cost I am able to enjoy these freedoms.
Today, we honor all the men and women that have fallen for our country, we honor the sacrifice they gave so that we could have the freedoms we do today.
When the call came, they answered, giving up everything for a people, for a country, for a belief. They died so that the next generations might have the freedom to worship, to speak as they please, to chase their dreams and grow old with a loving family, to enjoy rights and liberty's some people dream about. They gave up their life and family for you and I, for this land, for the people in it.
They are our heroes, and we can never repay them for their sacrifice.
I don't deserve it, and neither does anyone else. All I can do is honor and remember the price they paid, and live my life to preserve what they fought for, to make sure it wasn't for nothing.
The life they gave reminds me of a man who gave up everything to free us from our sin, to provide us with an eternal home in heaven. These brave men and women are a picture of the gospel.
We don't deserve Jesus and what he did for us, but he loved us anyway, showed us grace, and died so that we could live. He took our punishment.
So today, in the comforts of my own home, surrounded by the family I love, safe and free, I thank all of those who gave their lives for this country. I thank the men and women who gave up so much, I thank my Savior for giving his life so that there is hope after death, and I thank those serving today.
May we not only live in thankfulness today, but every day, and may we live our life as proof of the price that was paid.


~Madison Suzanne