Hope. Faith. Sometimes it’s all we have.
Elusive and fragile, these are also the strengths that make us resilient. The triumph of the human spirit thrives in the moments when evil seeks to be the source of its demise.
Remembrance Day gives us pause to put into perspective the beauty that lives in the horror of war, in spite of it: the courage to love.
I can think of no greater bravery than this: the courage to love your freedom, your values, your country and to love your family so deeply that you’d sacrifice your life to protect theirs.
When I reflect on why November 11th matters so much to me, it’s less about the sense of obligation I feel to show respect, to wear the poppy and to stand at the cenotaph in silence.
These things I do because they are the right things to do, because it matters to me.
But I am less concerned now with remembering battle names and dates and the stats and figures of deaths and conquerors.
Now I found myself fascinated with the stories of enduring hope, the faith and testament of love between families, friends and yes, lovers too. There is beauty even in the horror of war, even in the depths of loss.
Hope is what enabled our ancestors to strive through wartime, on the battle lines and the home front. Faith enabled them to endure fears I hope I never realize. Ever.
Love made the unspeakable able to heal, or at the very least, seek to recover. And for those for whom the ultimate sacrifice was the legacy of their lives, we need look no further than our cenotaphs, memorials, and even the front lawn of the Wellington County Museum these past weeks to realize that respect and gratitude for these heroes remains generations later.
“Lest we forget” is not a phrase we say; it’s a promise we keep.
Remembrance Day draws out my empathy for the women of my family who endured the World Wars, because theirs is a story I can relate to.
They shared the inherent nature of maternal love, the raw anxiety born in the fear of losing a child. They knew the fear of losing the man they loved and the years of worry and wonder if the man who left will ever return – at least as the man they would recognize.
It makes me respect even more the women who found their place in the service of others and risked so much because it was the right thing to do. It makes the things I stress over every day so petty and ridiculous.
What a world we live in, so determined to rob us of hope. Don’t let it. Believe in the triumph of the human spirit, the resiliency of faith, and the power of love in all its precious forms.
Keep the promise.