Today’s guest blogger is Kristen Hatcher.
The silence is loud, the stillness heavy.
Side by side, shadowed by white markers and red, white and blue flags, they lie quietly under the green grass in long, seemingly endless rows. It’s Memorial Day, and it feels right to begin my day at Arlington National Cemetery remembering the soldiers who paid such a high price for my freedom and that of the country I love.
The president will be here soon to express the gratitude of a nation. Living in our nation’s capital, I’ve grown accustomed to seeing monuments to presidents, generals and others who shaped our country, but the sight of white headstones stretching as far as I can see never fails to move me.
A desire to say thank you brought me to Arlington this morning. I did not expect to leave with a blessing of my own.
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When I arrived, a kind volunteer offered me two beautiful long-stemmed roses. “Place one on a headstone, and take one with you as a memorial,” she said as she handed me the flowers.
As I walked through the cemetery, it was difficult to comprehend that under each of the thousands of white headstones dotting the ground lay someone’s husband, wife, mother, father, sister, brother or friend—there in the ground—because of me. Because they believed in freedom. They believed that a government by, of and for the people was worth defending and worth dying for.
Placing my rose on the headstone of a veteran of World War II and the Vietnamese and Korean conflicts, I breathed a silent prayer of thanks for this brave man’s sacrifice. The words of a Civil War-era hymn echoed in my mind. “As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.”
This soldier’s sacrifice reminded me of another innocent life given for my freedom centuries ago. And while this soldier’s sacrifice freed my body and mind, my Savior’s sacrifice freed my heart and soul.
While dedicating Gettysburg National Cemetery, Abraham Lincoln said, “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did.”
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From where I stand, a river separates our national cemetery in Arlington, Virginia, from our nation’s capital, in Washington, D.C. The Peace Bridge connects the two. This bridge is only possible because of the men who surrendered their lives and were laid to rest here in Arlington.
In fitting parallel, I know that the peace I have with God is because Jesus Christ surrendered his life for me—because he loved me too much to leave me on the other side of the river without a bridge.
This Memorial Day, we must remember the price that was paid for our right to shop, barbeque, spend time with our children, protest, live based on our religious beliefs or choose not to believe at all. It’s our right. We have the freedom to do so. But we must never forget how much this freedom cost, and we must always be thankful.
Kristen Hatcher Madrid is a graduate of the University of South Carolina and a former Congressional staff member now living in Japan with her husband, who serves in the United States Navy. She enjoys traveling and experiencing new cultures.
