Memorial

I want my kids to grow up being proud of their country. Proud enough to stand up and fight (vote, shout, implore) for what they believe to be right. I also want them to remember to pause and be grateful for those whose sacrifices have made it possible for us to do just that- the men and women who have given all they had to give, and those who risked giving it all.

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This Memorial day we let Halle pick out some flowers and we made a trip to the Fayetteville National Cemetery. We talked about our brave soldiers and prayed, thanking God for our country and the men and women who are willing to fight for us. I don't think she understood much, but hopefully a seed was planted. .

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When I think about Memorial Day, this is what I see in my head:

It's Rose Hill Cemetery in Lamoni, IA. I have always LOVED it when we happened to be in Lamoni on Memorial Day. It is so cool to see the big flags lining the gravel road, and to see the tiny ones beside each stone of a person who has served the US. I always feel a little bit of pride rise up in me when I see my Great Grandpa Martin's miniature flag, waving stiffly.

So, thank you, if you've served in the Armed Forces. And a special thank you to those we are proud to call family: Grandpa Parker, Great-Uncle Jim, Uncle Steve, Uncle Don, Uncle Terry, and Uncle Ellis. We are grateful, and we haven't forgotten.