Just A Minute What's Going On Memorial Day

There are so many things given to "your own interpretation" these days.
Let's not put a clear definition on anything.
"I want to do everything my way."
"I want to decide."
It gets a bit tiring, if you know what I mean.


Here you go -


Sometimes, it doesn't matter what you think.




Some matters are not there for your own interpretation.
Some things are actually written, well defined with clarity, for  understanding.
By definition,  
Memorial Day is a federal holiday in the United States for remembering the people who died while serving in the country's armed forces.....
#rememberingpeoplewhodiedwhileservinginarmedforces


Not difficult to understand.



So, where do we get the idea that our own 'interpretation' of a clear definition is necessary?
Why should the definition change just because -
"Oh, I've decided it is a celebration. After all, those who died would want us to celebrate. I want everybody to celebrate, celebrate, celebrate."
You do know, don't you - there is a holiday just for that.
It is the 4th of July.




But,
Memorial Day?


The word in the definition is not celebration, it is 'remembering.'
Remembering -  to bring to one's mind an awareness of (someone or something that one has seen, known, or experienced in the past.)
For this particular holiday it is remembering those who died while serving in our country's armed forces.
Simple to understand.


And, "Happy Memorial Day" - really?
Someone wrote, "Saying Happy Memorial Day is like saying, congratulations at a funeral."
Some words just don't go together.
If you're thinking, lighten up... you're taking it too seriously,
in life there are things that are meant to be serious.
A respectful observance of Memorial Day is appropriate.
I know it's hard to think of a word to put before Memorial Day.
I know most people aren't trying to be disrespectful or flippant when
they say 'happy.' Please don't misinterpret what I'm saying.
For advertisement purposes, Memorial Day - Remember them, would work or -
Remembering on Memorial Day....








Moving along -
Oh, but I know - media is about commercialism (and so many other things) and we pay great heed to what we watch.
One of my favorites (not) is the "Big Memorial Day Mattress Sale!"
Then there is the, "Celebrate the beginning of summer! Memorial Day!"
Let's make a buck or ten off the remembrance of the dead.
In fact, let's forget all about them and push our own agenda.
After all, who will notice?


Memorial Day.
Ask a veteran.
Ask someone presently serving.






Honoring our veterans, our military men and women, is something we should  do every single day.
But, they will be the first to tell you, Memorial Day is not about them.
It is not about thanking them for their service in conjunction with remembering their fallen brothers, sisters.
How do I know this?
Because I hear from them.
I read what they write.
I listen to what they say.
Those are the ones I know.


Again, most veterans and those who are serving now will say, "Memorial Day is not about me."
There is a day set aside for the sole purpose of  honoring our veterans.
It is Veteran's Day - A public holiday held on the anniversary of the end of World War I (November 11) to honor US veterans and victims of all wars. (Ok, so Veteran's Day is for veterans and those who gave some or all.)
I'm not saying not to thank a veteran for his/her service, so don't misinterpret what I'm saying.
I'd be the last person to suggest NOT thanking them.
So, thank them - everyday.
Just don't make Memorial Day about them.
It is about their fallen brothers/sisters.






Memorial Day.
Ask a Gold Star mom, or dad.
Ask a Gold Star daughter or son.
Ask a Gold Star husband or wife.
Ask a Gold Star brother or sister.


We live Memorial Day every single day.
We think about our loved ones, our fallen heroes, on a regular basis.
We know the great price they paid.
It never goes unnoticed in our lives.




We know this, only too well.
That is why, to Gold Star families (I speak for Gold Star families I know)
and for those who served beside their now fallen brothers,
it is a shame, a great disservice
when Memorial Day is re-interpreted to meet the 'fluff' of life.
It is easier to avoid the seriousness of the day, to sidetrack taking time to remember, respect and honor those who sacrificed their lives so others are able go to the great mattress sales.


I'm not saying not to have family and friends over.
I'm not saying not to have a barbeque.
I am saying, take the time to consider the thousands who have died in our armed forces
for freedom.

What we desire more than anything, is that our loved ones be remembered.

It is one designated day a year.
Memorial Day.

Remember Caleb.

Remember Noah.

Remember Rob.

Remember Jamie.

Remember Derrick.

Remember Kale.

Remember Andrew.

Remember Bob.

Remember Jack.

Remember Jon.
Remember Ryan.
Remember Riley.
Remember Matthew.
Remember Tom.
Remember Kristoffer.

Remember - - -
There are so many.

If I continued to type the names of those I know of, I would be typing for a very long time.

What matters most to us is that you take the time to r-e-m-e-m-b-e-r -

Remember why you can have that barbeque.

Remember why you can water ski and have that family gathering.

Remember why you have the freedom to make choices for your life.
Remember why living here in this country is such a blessing, yes - even with all it's flaws.


On this Memorial Day.
Take the time.
Somebody who didn't even know you,
did,
and died.


Take a minute.

green pastures: A Mother's Dream

green pastures: A Mother's Dream: There is nothing quite like it. Nothing like hearing that first cry. Nothing like the first time you lay eyes on that sweet littl...

A Mother's Dream

There is nothing quite like it.

Nothing like hearing that first cry.

Nothing like the first time you lay eyes on that sweet little life.

Nothing like the first touch, the first second you hold that little bundle in your arms.

I remember each pregnancy and how overwhelmingly emotional it was to think there was a little life in my tummy - an actual human person!


My first thoughts were always -
This is so surreal.
I feel so unprepared.
What an awesome responsibility.
This was a life I was going to be entrusted with to love, raise, and mold.
To me that was huge.


Even when I could still fit in my skinny jeans (they were bell bottoms or parachute pants back in those days,)
I started talking to the little life I carried.
I would say things like, "I know we haven't met yet, but you are so special."
I would pat my tummy and tell that little one, "I love you so much."
With each pregnancy,
I would pray over their lives, and talk to my heavenly Father about them.


When it got closer to delivery, I was so uncomfortable, and yet - the thought of that little life
coming into this foreign, imperfect world was difficult.
Of course, I knew that little life couldn't live in my tummy forever (nor did I want that!) but
I knew they would face the challenges of life, the minute they wiggled free from that snug cocoon where they had lived for nine months.






For me, everything this life had to offer faded in comparison to the greatest calling of my life.
With the delivery of each little life, I wanted to be the best mom I could be.
There is nothing like the joy of holding my babies close, looking into those
trusting little eyes -
eyes that looked at me with all the trust and adoration in the world.


The cuddly, dependent years made way for other adventures in a mother's dream.




There were the toddler years...I refused to  call them the 'terrible' twos or threes...they were the terrific twos, the thrilling threes, the fantastic fours, the fabulous fives.
There was the crayon artwork on the walls, the floor covered with cocoa and flour (that's when I truly realized I really did have to put some things up higher) - those were the days of slobbery kisses and hugs. There were sticky hands, and "Mommy, I don't ever want to leave you when I grow up." I would say, "You don't have to." But, I knew the day would come when they would want to and would be ready to fly away.
There is nothing like the joy of watching a toddler waddle and wobble across a room - nothing like listening as coos, and babbles turn into fully understood sentences.
Nothing like hearing little voices say, "I love you Mommy."






Grade school, middle school and even high school were fun, and awkward years at times...for all of us.
We all wanted to grow up and do well - I think we all grew together. After all, parenting books cannot and do not answer all real life questions and situations.
I wanted to be a good mom. I wanted to set clear, healthy boundaries, but I wanted them to know I loved them so much, no matter what.
There were flashcards, and book reports, science fair projects - and there were pajama rides to Dairy Queen and picnics in the winter on a big blanket in the living room.
There were peewee wrestling matches with over-the-top screaming parents who scared me more than watching my little guys wrestle.
There were dance classes and gymnastics and band and choir and staying home on snow days.
Those years were the beginning of the crazy hamster wheel that wouldn't stop, with sports, and all activities that five children can be a part of in a small town.


We had wonderful teen-age years - wonderful memories overshadow any of the difficulties we had. Those were the busy, crazy, fun years of traveling far and wide for games, band contests/ski trips. There were plays, and play-offs, proms and all night after prom parties. There were cheerleading camps, football camps, basketball camps...then there were scholarship letters (except for Caleb) and college visits, (except for Caleb.) No matter what, I would always tell myself, "These years will be gone one day - enjoy every moment."
And I did. I may have been the over-the-top mom who went to everything, and was there for everything, but looking back, I wouldn't change a thing.
Oh, a mother's dream.
 




Something that remains important to me as a mom was/is to pray for my children. I prayed for them before they were born, I prayed for them every night when I tucked them in. We prayed together before we went out the door to school - or on the way to school. I read Bible stories to them, sang and taught them songs. They went to Awanas, church camps and yes, I remember the days we were in church every time the doors were open.
I stressed how God is a good God. People will let you down. Churches and pastors can let you down. But, those are people. God is not that way.




One by one, my five grew up and left home to find their way in the world I was so hesitant for them to have to experience.
Then, there was moving them to college...watching them develop into fine young adults.
I see them now, my adult children. I love them with all my heart, and know they love me.
That's a great gift.
Every mother's dream.






Something a mother never dreams, is to have to experience her sweet child's life  on earth, beginning to end - that child's life... that child you loved before he/she was born- that child you cared for when he/she was sick... the child you would go to bat for if someone was not treating him/her right.
A mother never dreams her child will leave life before she does.
She never thinks she will read the first to the last chapters of that child's life...
but, is it the last chapter?




Because Caleb is in heaven, I have seen his story unfold, I could say, in its entirety,
but that is not true.
His story is still unfolding, even though he isn't here in person.
I see dreams fulfilled beyond measure, in the lives he continues to impact.
I continue to hear stories of how Caleb's life is motivating and changing lives daily.
I know of babies who are named after him because of the impact he made on the parents' lives.






A mother's dream is never to have to outlive her child. It is devastatingly hard. It is heartbreaking.
It is difficult every day.
But, everyday I put one foot in front of the other and know that this broken road
brings joy.
Somehow, there is peace in the valley.




This mother's dream is to have the love of my children, to enjoy this family together - to be able to watch their lives unfold till I leave for Glory - and one fine day,
for us all to be together again with Caleb, with the One who created us.




I know I may not have the words, but He will know my heart.
I will bow in gratitude for the life I've had, for the children He blessed me with.
Because of His goodness, He entrusted me in all my humanness, with these five.
What a miracle.
What a blessing.
What a dream come true for this mom.






To all moms - have a blessed Mother's Day.






                                                   




                                                                  

At first I wasn't sure what the name of the melody was.
I listened as the pianist and violinist played.
It was beautiful.
Then, I remembered.
I had sung this song at my first wedding.
Words filled in the melody, and it was all I could do
to sit.
Tears threatened to escape my eyes,
and memories
and thoughts flooded my mind.


"In His time, He makes all things beautiful
in His time...."
I remembered that young, naïve bride.
I was sure God could and would fix any and everything.
Everything was going to be fine - always.
After all, He is Almighty and I - His child.


You know the saying, "If I knew then, what I know now....."
Actually, it's probably a good thing I didn't know then, what I know now.
It would have been unbearable.


All things haven't been or worked out so beautifully.
My first marriage was difficult, to say the least, and ended in divorce.
The 'd' word was worse than cussing back then.
I was outcast, told I was going to hell because I was divorced.
Little did people know the life we had been living.

Alone...The Journey

"This time it's not going to hurt so much."
"You can do this."
But, you know what?
It doesn't matter what I think.


Today has been one of the hardest days ever.
Today I'm not swimming. I'm not treading water.
Today I'm struggling to keep my head above water.
Today the waves are rushing over me.


Today is that day.
Today as I tried to be strong, panic set in.
It's been a very long time since I'd experienced this.
I recognize a panic attack when it's trying to visit.
I knew I was trying to do too much.
I needed to stop.
To rest.
Not fun...
But real.
What to do....
I keep my eyes on my savior.
I continue to pray.
Eventually it passes.




I know I've said it before, but everyday is a new day.
Just because the years pass, it's all new all over again.
I've never been through this exact day before.
This is the only one.
Tomorrow will be a new day. One I've never experienced.


I feel like some may think, "Just get over it. Seriously? So, you had a hard time on Caleb's birthday, heaven going day....when his stuff came day....and today, the day of his memorial service.
What's the big deal? You know it's coming every year.
So how is it hard every single time?
Why can't you just move on and let it go?
You should be over it by now.


I can't explain it.
I simply can't.
It's just how it is.
These are huge marks in my life.
Huge.
I don't try to make them huge - they just are.


For the most part, days go by....
but every once in a while, the hugeness of the pain, the loss
comes back as if for the first time,
and I buckle.
Oh, I continue to pray.
I continue to hold onto my Savior's hand.
After all, He knows, understands, and gets me through.




A few days ago my husband and I saw the movie, The Shack.
In the movie there is a place where Mac has to go it alone for a short time.
He has to face some tough things.
Jesus says, "I'll be right here waiting for you."
I thought it was a bit strange, because Jesus says, "I'll never leave you, nor forsake you." But here was Mac having to face things alone -
or so it seemed.
He was really not alone.
You see, Wisdom was with him.
Jesus was faithful and was with him -even if he couldn't see him.


I say that to say,
days like this, I feel totally alone.
It's a path I walk alone with the pain that doubles me over....
the absence of this important life in the here and now is unbearable during these times.
Yet, I know without a doubt, that even though I FEEL alone -
I'm really not.
I know He is faithful and is with me.
The enormity of the heartache is almost too much, yet I know
I will make it through.


I am not super woman.
But I know a super God.
I am having a hard day.
But, it doesn't make me a weak person.
I am taking a step at a time.
That's what I can do.
It is enough.


Being real is not easy.
I'd much rather paint a picture of beautiful roses, but today,
the painting is of thorns.
When I started writing about this journey,
I was told by my Father to be real.
Being vulnerable opens wounds for others to see.
I told him I would write if it would help others
somehow.
Somehow, I hope my words help.


The journey goes along.
Sometimes it's just plain hard.
Being real, in this oh-so-human state,
I know He is with me and is patient.
He never lets go of my hand.


Tonight, I will lie down to sleep.
The balm of Gilead is mine, pouring healing salve on my broken heart.
His Word will bring comfort.
His presence, whether I feel it or not,
will be with me.

Early Saturday Morning

There are mornings like this.
I'm startled awake in the wee hours of morning, and for a breath of time everything is 'normal.'
Just as quick, 'normal' is gone and I can't stand the thought of staying in bed.
I don't know what time it is, but I have to get up.


That deep gulf in the pit of my stomach reaches my heart and I take a deep breath.
I've got to do something.
I go through mail.
I start laundry.
I cry out to God.




I grab a blanket and my laptop and settle in a chair on our porch.
Birds are cooing, and chirping, and cawing, reminding me that it is a new day
reminding me that every single one of them is greeted by their Creator.
He takes care of them and He knows when even one of them falls.
A cool breeze sweeps across my face, reminding me that all things are fresh and new.
The smell of  fresh morning air, untouched by the busyness of life, reminds me, He is in every breath I take.
I am surrounded by trees and I feel so tucked away, so comforted by my Father's love.


Mornings like this I rush as fast as I can to find that solace.
It is close to creation...close to my Father's touch.


In the distance I hear traffic from the interstate, reminding me that people go on with their lives.
But, I have to be still...
I have to come to the secret place, to the quiet place to find peace,
to find strength.




The flag moves with the gentle breeze and I see the price of freedom.
I am humbled. as I reflect on the many who sacrificed their lives.
Lives - like my son's.
The rest of days I will miss my him.
The rest of my days I will long for his laughter, his hugs, his presence in this life.




A couple of sparrows perch on branches close to the porch. The delicate branches move back and forth as the little birds whistle a little tune before they fly away.


My heart is touched.


I've got to be near my Father.
I've got to embrace his nearness.
Without Him I could not endure.
I've got to have His peace.
I've got to have His grace.
It is in Him that I find joy.


He holds me close and I listen.
I listen to His heart as His words speak to the silence.


I  love listening to this nature's concert -
to the choir of birds as their melodies blend together.
An early morning symphony, just for me.




A couple of birds whistle at me...
Funny as it seems, I'd say they chuckled and winked before they flew away.




New day.


I can do this.
Because of Jesus, I can.
He wipes away our tears.
He is acquainted with every sorrow, with every grief.
He encourages my heart.
He refreshes my soul.


Good morning new day.
There is purpose.
There is hope.
There is triumph,
because of whose I am.

When I Can't Stand Alone

I can't stand alone on any given day.
Abba Father is my strength everyday.
Yet, there are still times ....
A few days ago, I had a more difficult day.
It's February and other things, and it's just been hard.
I was talking to Abba Father and said,
Sometimes I don't feel you near!
That evening I was thinking about a way to verbalize how I was feeling.
I told my listening husband,
It's like that poem, Footprints.
I've been feeling like the person who says, "Where were you God, in those difficult
times. I see there is only one set of footprints during the toughest times." I'm paraphrasing.
God looks at me and says, "One set of footrpints, you say? Well, the reason is, during those very tough times I was carrying you."


I know He carries me, but sometimes he's so quiet when he does it.
He doesn't need to be.
I'm crying and saying things.
I'm sure not being quiet as I chat away.
My heart is heavy, things are tough, you know?
I may even be quoting his Word to him - Lord, you're my Shepherd.
I lack nothing...
Yes, things like that.


There are days when I say, I need some life poured into me.
Like invisible life-giving Gatorade.
I'm drained and tired from trying.
Yesterday I had no energy.
None.
I've found this happens after going to a funeral (and I had been to one a couple days ago.)
It takes a lot out of me.
Just a fact.


I prayed a bit.
I rested.
I'm one who tries to push herself, and tell myself, you've got to do, go, don't stop.
But, sometimes I just have to stop.


After a full, long night's rest I woke up
still drained.
I watched Doctor David Jeremiah.
I really didn't want to, but I did.
He was talking about how God loves me.
Yes, me.
He has unreasonable love for me.
As I listened, I felt a little lighter.
If He loves me, He knows right where I am.
If He loves me, won't He take care of all that concerns me?
If He loves me, won't He continue to be faithful?
If He loves me, well, He loves me.
Just the way I am.


I got dressed and went to church.
I sat down, and soon, a young family sat next to me.
Their little four month old baby boy bounced into my arms, and that's
all it took.
The sweetness of a baby.
Thank you God.
He loves me.
He knows I love babies.


After  church I spoke to two new Marines, fresh out of boot camp.
Two young men, standing tall like Marines do, speaking with such respect,
like Marines do, dressed sharp and neat - like Marines.
Humble from all they went through in boot camp to form them into the
Few The Proud.
Thank you God.
He loves me.
He knows I am a Marine mom forever.
It blessed me to hear their stories, to see the high and tights that I remember so well.


My husband came home with a bouquet of flowers - no not for Valentine's Day.
Thank you God.
He loves me...and so does my husband.
God and he know I love roses and hydrangeas.


My husband took me to a Valentine's lunch.
Crab legs and prime rib, along with Bananas Foster...
Thank you God, for the good food, and for the lady who asked
about the dog tags I was wearing.
I got to tell her about Caleb.


This afternoon I chatted with a special Gold Star mom, friend
whose son will be gone from this world, 7 years tomorrow.
Caleb's is coming soon.
We chatted.
We are there for each other, even if we live states apart.


Oh! I forgot something important.
I visited with a friend this morning and talked about heaven,
and how wonderful it will be.
We will be his bride.
We will be beautiful.
After church, as we were walking out, the organ was playing.
A button was pushed is my understanding, and
it started playing the Bridal Chorus.
I had to smile.
God was reminding me....
there is coming a day.


I am thankful.
I am mindful of God's love.
I am thankful for the one set of footprints, because I know he's carrying
me, whether I feel it or not.
You know,
If I stop, and look around,
sometimes I can tell.