Loving someone in the military is tough, carrying with it way more than its fair share of stress and hardship. But along with the difficulties comes the knowledge that we’re part of something bigger than ourselves.
Our pride in the soldier we care about should also translate into a sense of pride for ourselves.
I thought I knew the meaning of patriotism, but it took our son’s enlistment for me to truly experience it. Now, everywhere I look I see flags and emblems of our country. It’s almost like I’ve developed a radar that homes in on red, white and blue.
Because of my son’s decision to serve, I now feel that stirring in my soul at the sight of the flag or the sound of the Star Spangled Banner. Experiencing patriotism in this way isn’t a gift to be taken lightly.
Every flag tells a story. Some of the flags I see are massive, flying over immense businesses. As the wind gusts and they billow out, I think of the incredible numbers of people who have agreed to put their lives on hold and spend time serving our country.
One time I passed a flag out in the country, flying proudly from a rusty mailbox. The edges had begun to fray and the colors had paled in the hot sun of many summers.
From it I heard about the the veterans who had paid a price for their service. They were no longer whole, but they still carried that sense of pride for the country they served.
During celebrations like the Fourth of July and Veteran’s Day, I see multiple flags, lined up with mathematical precision. Every line straight no matter what angle I view them from.
These tell about the soldiers now serving; proudly arrayed in ranks and exhibiting excellence and pride in their service around the globe.
On a still day, the flags I pass hang limp, hugging the poles that support them. These speak to me of those that have paid the ultimate price. I breathe a prayer for the families they left behind.
One day, as I stood high up in an office building overlooking Saint Louis, I caught a glimpse of the familiar red, white and blue.
There was a parade, far down on the streets below. I couldn’t see the street from my vantage point, but the huge flag being carried was a shattered reflection in the squares of mirrored glass of a nearby building.
That flag reminded me that however different our opinions of patriotism, our flag still flies; shining bright as a beacon of hope around the world.
