Memorial Day

Another Memorial Day has come and is almost gone. Flags wave, flowers and wreaths rest at the foot of various monuments and stones, soldiers salute, dignitaries have given speeches, people have had picnics, been boating, and have or are driving or flying back home.
It wasn’t always this way. Memorial Day used to be on the 30th of the month regardless of what day that happened to be. It used to be called “Decoration Day”. It used to be not observed in the South. And it used to have much more meaning than it now seems to have.
According to the US Memorial Day web site (www.usmemorialday.org), people are beginning to bring back the original and intended meaning of the holiday. Some are even advocating taking the day back to the 30th of the month (Sen. Daniel Inouye, a WWII veteran).
Those things are good and probably need to be at least considered, if not done. However, we as a people should take a collective look at our desire for leisure, recreation, and holiday and weigh it against our obligation to remember those who have gone before us, paving the way for us to have the best the world has to offer.
I know that the latter is not nearly as much fun as the former. But sometimes the better is not always the easier, or the more fun.
Do what you will this holiday. But along with it, take at least a couple of minutes to reflect on those who gave all they had for you. And while you’re at it, reflect on the One who, some two millennia ago, gave all He had for you and your obligation to Him.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

—By John McCrae