I don't know what it's like to say goodbye to my love as he leaves the country to fight for our freedom, to defend our peace. What it's like to bring children into an uncertain and dark world while their father (and for others, their mother) may never come home. But my grandmother did.
I don't know what it's like to wake up in a foreign and hostile land wondering if I'll make it to sundown, trying not to imagine all the ways my life could end that day. But thousands of others did and do.
I don't know what it's like to be born into a country at war with itself and the world. You have no choice in birth. You arrive where you do, and the work of living is to do your best with where you are. But for some, where they are seems to be a prison, a death sentence. I don’t know what that’s like. But millions around the world do.
I don't know what it's like to return after years of combat, seeing things so unnatural of humanity, partaking in those things, and then trying to live with it… make a “normal” life. Wrestling with horrors in my dreams, feeling the ache of old wounds in my body, see ghosts as I walk the streets… But my grandfather did.
It's a sacrifice and a story that ruins me.
I don't know what to do with it. The history and war and violence and death. We share scripture and verse on this day about love and laying down lives, and I’m not sure we really remember (or know) what that means. What it looks and feels like.
What we’re asking of people when we say this. I am beyond thankful for my (and my children's) freedom. With gratitude, I don't want to take the peace I enjoy for granted.
Remembering my Grandfather and all that he and his friends did for us, and all that our service men and women have done for us over the years, all of the sacrifices made by their families at home waiting… they have made (and do make) decisions I have not had to. Choices I could not even begin to make. Things I don’t dare ask of them for the weight it burdens their lives with.
If we took it upon ourselves to love and not to hate, to lay down our ego’s and make room at the table… if we waged war with forgiveness and hope and grace and mercy. What would that look like?
Powerful, two minute reads that have helped change the script in thousands of people's lives.
And it gets me thinking: we outsource our peace in times like these to the military and the government, thinking that it is their job to keep us safe. It's an easy demand for us to make from our armchairs in the front of the TV. But I wonder what kind of an impact a personal pursuit of peace would have on the world? On our government and for our armed forces? If we took it upon ourselves to love and not to hate, to lay down our ego’s and make room at the table… if we waged war with forgiveness and hope and grace and mercy. What would that look like? Perhaps our service men and women would be freer to do what they born to do: serve the world with the blessing of their country.
It stirs me to hope that someday we will find a better way to exist with each other together in the world through the commitment of love and peace.
Here in Australia, on Anzac Day we say “Lest We Forget,” a little like Jesus said, “eat this bread in remembrance of me.”
Lest we forget the horrors of war.
Lest we forget what terrible things we are capable of when we forget that we belong to each other.
Lest we forget how painful and tragic the sacrifice really was and is.
Lest we forget the ache of loss.
Lest we forget the trauma and glamorize the violence.
Lest we forget that hope lies not in winning, but in not having to.
If you, dear reader, serve your country in any capacity, but particularly in the armed forces, we hold space with you. We honor you. We send you our love, our prayers, and our thanks.
Written by Liz Milani
Beautiful, sincerely and succinctly, and directly to and from the heart. “A love no greater.”
Jim, thank you for your encouragement. Means so much to us.
Liz.