Lest We Forget

The memory of the just

is blessed....

Proverbs 10:7a

Our next door neighbor and another gentleman just down the road have peony bushes in their yards that bring back wonderful memories when I look at them. Some of the bushes have white blossoms and others have deep pink ones. I don't think I ever saw those in Texas so seeing them here has brought back the warmest of memories for me. These bushes remind me more of Memorial Day than any flowers I can remember. We had these bushes that lined the back of our yard during my growing up days.

My Mother began in March or April each year collecting tomato juice cans. They would be washed after use and carefully stored. They awaited the day when they would be lined up, peonies and perhaps some additional flowers put in them and then water would be added when we arrived at certain designated cemeteries. You see, it was Memorial Day weekend although that's not what we called it. My Mother always referred to that last Monday in May as Decoration Day. We would make our pilgrimages to three different cemeteries...two on Saturday and one on Monday.

Monday's trip to Hickory Hill Cemetery where my Dad's relatives were buried was our favorite place to go. When I was around 8 years old and my little sister was about 5, we loved Hickory Hill because Decoration Day was REALLY a day there. Everyone met at the cemetery by about 10:00 in the morning. People bustled around the grave stones placing flowers and wreathes of every sort beside at each grave. Even those stones that seemed to be ignored were given attention perhaps for the only time in a year. There were certain men though who had a special job. They were veterans from most branches of the service. Some were new arrivals back from the front while others were veterans of World War I. They were the only ones who placed flags at the graves of those buried there who were fallen soldiers. Things seemed to get quiet when those men went into that small country cemetery carrying those flags. Children asked to help but they were given quiet but polite refusals. 

With flowers in place and flags put at appropriate graves, it was time to EAT! Some men had been assigned to bring their saw horses from home with long boards to lay on them. Within minutes those men had put together the longest table you would ever want to see. The women would then take over and I do mean, take over. Clean white bed sheets were spread over the tables for tablecloths and then came the food. Never in my life since have I seen a spread of food like that. Each family brought baskets of food. No paper plates or cups could be found and no plastic dinnerware. No casseroles could be found on that long table. Casseroles were considered a product of lazy cooks. There was turkey, chicken & dumplins', sliced ham fresh out of the smoke house, fried chicken, and sliced roast beef. Then came the veggies...you name them and they were there, mostly fresh from the garden. Then if you were still able to walk after all of that, there were the desserts...every kind of pie (no frozen ones in those days), cakes of all sorts, fresh fruits...wow! Then to wash that down were gallons of sweet iced tea made from country well water. No iced tea in the world tastes like that. There were gallons of hot coffee for those who preferred it. Chairs and blankets had been brought from home. Ladies cleaned up, men sat around talking or playing washers and horse shoes. Babies & toddlers slept on blankets while we kids played hide and seek in the cemetery. 

All of this for what?...three words...”Lest We Forget.” As a little girl, during those post World War II days, I would see those three words frequently emblazoned on stone markers and statues. You see, Memorial Day wasn't designated a holiday for folks to put flowers at their grandparents grave even though Decoration Day came to include everyone who had passed away and the opportunity of remembering them on a special day. Decoration Day, as it was called originally, really started toward the end of the Civil War and it wasn't a federal holiday at the time. Different states honored their fallen dead at various times and places but most seemed to settle on doing this in the month of May.

By the 20^th century, Memorial Day was extended to honor all Americans who died in all wars, not just the Civil War. Decoration Day became Memorial Day, the official name by Federal law in 1967. The following year, it joined three other holidays in becoming Monday holidays so as to accommodate a three day weekend. Many protested this move as Memorial Day could become a day of misuse and it did. For most, it just became another holiday weekend.

Lest we forget...those service men and women who have paid the ultimate price that you and I might be free. You see, we really have known nothing but freedom in this great country of ours since it's breaking away from England in it's early days. That freedom has been costly and yes necessary for the sake of those who view war as senseless and unnecessary. I remember my Mother and Daddy sobbing when they learned that my Dad's best man and best friend had been killed in Europe during World War II. They grieved but were so proud of him. There was never a grave in our town for Charlie as he was buried somewhere in Europe. 

We have all known those who gave the ultimate...lest we forget. There are still those who are faithfully fulfilling service for our country who are alive and functioning somewhere in the world...lest we forget. There are those who have returned from service, some broken in body and some in spirit...lest we forget.

I realize that Memorial Day is a week away. I write at this time so that we might have a few days to ponder and remember. Perhaps we will take some time to place flowers on the graves of loved ones but in that same cemetery, when we see a military marker, we might just pause and say a quiet, “Thank you.”

There is One I like to remember on Memorial Day as well. He didn't die for a certain country and its citizens. He died for every citizen of every country. He did battle for us all against the greatest enemy there could ever be. The one I speak of gave His life on a cross that I might live and breathe the air of spiritual freedom. His name is Jesus...lest I forget.

Thank You Father, for allowing me to be born in this great country. I know it's not a perfect country but I'll put it up against any other. Thank You for the freedoms of America that I tend to take for granted. Mostly, I thank You for the free spiritual air You have given me to breathe and enjoy. Thank You for Jesus, in whose name I pray. Amen