Memorial Day

Freedom. It's a word that's tossed around with as much care as the word itself implies. It has been called above the heads of warriors in battle. It has been chanted in the hearts of many in bondage. It has crossed the conference room tables and lips of the policy makers of liberty. It's an old adage, a cliche, and a rhyme. And it resonates deeply in the human soul. It's tied in to this day we call, "Memorial Day," and keeps crossing my mind.

Don't sugar coat it, stomp on it, or ignore it. Think about "freedom," and ponder what the gravity of ideals and passions create.

Giving your life for your country isn't a simple matter of making you an instantaneous hero. It doesn't make your intentions pure, your heart bright, your conscience clear. It doesn't make the cause you fought for the right one, and the enemy you fought a bad one. We all die, don't we? Dying for your country means you are one of the countless lives joined in purpose by the blood spilled for someone else. For me.

It means more than the word freedom or hero encompass. It's a complicated truth we stand on as Americans and human beings. Our lives are defined in part by the lives that came before our own.

I take a moment to reflect on all those lives and remember them. I wax patriotic of our successes as a nation and the lives we protected, and wane critical of the mistakes that caused others needless suffering. But, I remember. Because the individual that is too quick to look only to what is in front of them loses the most powerful lessons of all.

My way was built by a steady stream of humanity before me. My freedom is mine for the taking, but it was theirs for the making.