Happy Memorial Day!
I started the day with a surprise call from our Army Ranger grandson, Jonathan, this morning! It was so good to hear his voice. I think he will be coming home in July — I think. He can’t even tell us where he is, what time it is or what the temp is. Secret mission.
My kids came over today and we took family pictures. Mostly the Original Six. We looked at old family albums and reminisced. We talked about the grandson we lost to cancer almost two years ago. He was 24. How we miss him! He told me the day he was diagnosed that he hadn’t even begun to live. He hadn’t even started yet. But at least I know where he is and that I will see him one day … soon.
We watched old videos. The adults haven’t changed much – but the KIDS!!! Their hair styles were hilarious!
Years ago our family visited my old hometown in Colorado, a little place in the foothills of the Rockies where my maternal grandparents had a ranch. My grandfather was born in 1854. He was a tough old guy! Lost his first wife during the birth of their 4th child. The baby girl died, too, and was buried in her mother’s arms. He came out west to make a new life, met my grandmother, married her and spent their first year in a “dug-out” at Elk Springs. It was simply a cave dug out of the side of hill and had one log wall in the front where the door was. They had two children. The baby was my mother. Grandpa was 66 and grandma was 44 when my mother was born.
They lived 75 miles from town and made the trip twice a year. It took a week. Three days to get there, one day to shop and three days to get home. My mother remembers the Nez Perce Indians being ‘herded’ to a reservation up north. They were starving. Grandma gave them all the meat and dry foods she could spare. Grandma was tough, too. She was born in 1877, wanted to be a doctor, learned all she could about medicine and was the local mid-wife and health care giver. Once a hired man, chopping firewood, chopped his big toe right down the middle!. He hobbled up to the house and Grandma got his bloody boot off, filled the cavity with sugar, wrapped it up with strips of a flour sack and poured turpentine on it. You know, it healed with a barely visible scar! I read not too long ago that sugar is a great healer.
Back to our visit to my hometown. It was Memorial Day. The town, like all do, had wonderful customs. Memorial Day was no exception. In the morning, the whole town had a Sidewalk Sale. The residences and the businesses! A parade followed and ended up at the town cemetery up on the hill. (Our town is full of rolling hills and horses – a wonderful place to grow up.) Every body brought a picnic lunch and went to their family plot to sit on the grass and eat. The little children ran around the tombstones, having a great time. I wasn’t sure what to think of that!!! But at least they were there. How many of us take time to really spend any at our cemeteries?
After lunch, we gathered at the big Memorial Wall and a strange looking group of old soldiers marched up carrying flags. They were old veterans wearing any part of their old uniforms that they had left. One had an army jacket and overhauls, one just his khaki colored hat. They looked so awful, ancient and rag-tag! But they were proud Americans. They stood straight and tall and saluted as the town council read the names of all the boys that had lost their lives in the Wars.
My uncle was a hero who made it home. I can still see the big blue star in the window showing Grandma had a son in the military serving his country. She had a big scrapbook full of newspaper clippings about him. He was in most of the big name battles. He passed away last year. My dad enlisted after Pearl Harbor and spent almost four years in the South Pacific in the Army Airforce as a supply sergeant. I have his dog tags. He is still my hero!
My husband and I sat near my grandfather’s grave with it‘s home made tombstone! My mother insisted we MAKE grandpa’s tombstone once when we went back to visit. I was shocked and appalled when she first suggested it. Whoever heard of such a thing? She finally made me realize how fitting it was – and we did it! We took the bottom out of a cardboard box and poured about 6 inches of cement into it. I wrote grandpa’s name and dates in it while it was still damp. I also drew his cattle brand on it and lined the edges with tiny pretty pebbles. His registered cattle brand was called “Bar S Rafter”. It consisted of a line (called a bar) at the bottom, an “S” for Spurgin, his last name, over it and a rafter over the top ofall that. (Sort of like a wide inverted V.) Grandpa would have been proud! Last summer a grandson went through my town, stopped at the cemetery to see the tombstone there. It was a good thing.
Life is so precious. We need to enjoy each other and make the most of every day. The old saying from a plaque on my grandmother’s wall said:
“Only one life, ‘Twill soon be passed.
Only what’s done for Christ will last.”
So think about your blessings this weekend and cherish your loved ones. Life as we know it isn’t going to last forever! Remember those who have gone on and especially let’s appreciate the one’s who gave their lives for us. Not only the soldiers but the martyrs and most of all let’s thank Y’shua for shedding His blood for all of us!
Well, I need to go and take flowers up to our grandson’s grave…… But I’m going to eat here first!
Happy memories!
Shalom, Sharaka
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