I'll spend some time Monday in quiet reflection at a spot on our farm where a tree line sits atop a distant rise. I'll think about the man who used to sit there with me. This time of year, the sunlight begins to appear through patches of leaves. We were sitting there once and he said, quite softly, "That always reminds me of seeing those parachutes hanging from trees, sometimes with one of those boys still attached to it."
He is the same man who said of artillery attacks, "You just pray let me live one more second … just one more second."
As I'm writing this, there is distant thunder and I'm reminded of my own experience "in harm's way." I didn't thunder where I was. The rain would just come and stay for days. If you heard rumbling, it was the sound of war, and you could only wonder who was the perpetrator and who was the victim.
On this Memorial Day, let us honor the victims who left home and family to go into situations where they might have to pray, "Just let me live one more second." Many didn't.
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