What Is The Price Of Freedom?

What is the price of freedom, do we really know?

The price they paid in Normandy, Bastogne and Haguenau.

The list of friends and leaders lost along the way,

Mere fraction of the bloody wage that they have had to pay.

The sacrifice, devotion; blood, sweat and tears

Has lost all sense of meaning throughout the passing years.

Where has this country gotten to, that we forget the past

And how we wouldn't be here if, it weren't for heroes lost.

Lost in the battles, gunfire, raids, lost in mind and soul.

Going home to families, but not returning whole.

How dull we've gotten to the truth; ungrateful, selfish, blind.

Blinded by the luxuries of freedom, left behind.

I asked "What price is freedom," but we may never know,

Civilians get the safety net of staying in our homes.

But may we ne'er forget the price our heroes of war pay,

And may we never cease to bend a knee and for them pray!

What Is War?

As I watched the 9Th episode of Band of Brothers today, there came a part where they discovered a concentration camp full of starving Jews. Most of them closer to dead than living, skin and bones, barely walking, barely breathing. Pale, skeletal fragments of what used to be a healthy human being. At one point, the part that struck me the hardest, many of the victims came up and were pulling at the soldiers trying to convey their appreciation in their foreign tongue. One embraced a soldier and began sobbing, the soldier started to tear up and hugged the man in return. I began to cry as well, realizing how much tragedy has gone on in this world even before I was born. Things I was spared from having to go through.

During one portion of the film, a soldier was reading a news article that was entitled, "Why We Fight...," and one answer given in the paper was, "...because the Germans are bad." I thought about that statement for a few minutes and realized that it was not the Germans who were bad. We all have the same make up in our being to be the worst individual possible, most of us just exercise self control and work on being the best person we can be. I then started thinking about the article title, "Why We Fight...." The first thing that came to my mind was "freedom," and then my mind went to that concentration camp and I realized that freedom is the end result, not the main source of war. War starts with power, greed, envy, selfish thoughts, personal gain. Nowadays we just call it money, that's usually how it ends up. Why does everything have to be about "me, my, mine?"

When I think about war and the military, they hold such a high rank in my eyes, for I know that I could never do what they do, see what they have to see and experience the kinds of things they consider normal; Innocent human beings falling victim to power hungry leaders who don't give one thought about who they are, where they came from, what they are about. They're just in the way, an obstacle to get through, so they bully and use undeserving force to keep them out of the way. Those people have names, ages, families, homes, children, grandchildren, memories, hobbies, talents, friends, likes, dislikes, opinions, thoughts, souls, hearts, passions... Who do these "leaders" think they are to take such a life into their own hands and do with it as they will? What gave you the right to treat people so poorly? How do you justify the wrong doings of these creations? How do you sleep at night with pictures of their faces soring through your mind, their screams pouring through your thoughts, their tear stains still on your useless uniform? How do you live with the visions of little children, knowing nothing of what's going on, crying tears of terror and fear, holding their teddy bears so tight for that's the only security they can cling to, watching their parents being taken away not understanding why their big strong daddy can't force these angry men into submission and piece their family back together? What are you really fighting for?

I know why our men fight. Our military fights to clean up the messes that other countries create, they fight to free the places where power hungry men have left their mark, they fight to keep us free, they fight to keep themselves free, not because if they don't fight their leader would kill them and their families and destroy their homes and possessions. They do it for others as well as themselves. They do it to keep our country as honorable as it has always been, to keep our name respected. America is their family, they fight to protect our family name, keep it untarnished. They fight out of necessity, not out of want or need of more power or possessions. Everything should be done for others, not self. There is no satisfaction in selfish living. To see the relief on the face and in the embrace of that victim was so humbling. I know it's a production, but that just means that they couldn't show you the immensity and real tragedy of the events that happened. I would imagine it was 100 times worse for the people who actually went through it and witnessed it.

How selfish, how cruel, how unbelievably wicked the minds of the world have become. How embarrassed I am to be considered the same as you...a "human being." On the other side of cruelty, my human heart wants to show them the same respect they showed the Jews. "This is what you put them through, how do you like it?" What ever happened to "Do unto others...?" Why would we treat someone in a way that we would loath them to treat us? What makes any one person any better than the next? Were you not created from the same pile of dirt as they? It doesn't have to be like this. But someone down the line got it in their mind that it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission, then accelerated into multiple wars fought, won or lost. Congratulations world, we're now in a life long kindergarten battle of "My truck is cooler than your truck!," and it's costing the lives of countless innocent individuals. You should be so proud!!!

What Is This Feeling?

It's funny how you touch every part of my life without even laying a finger.

It's funny how the brush of your arm; the smell of your skin seems to linger.

It's funny how you changed my life with just one act that pierced my core.

It's funny how just one look engulfs my being til I can breathe no more.

It's funny how at once I knew; my past, my present, my future all so clear.

It's funny how wrapped up inside your being is all I could ever hope to hold dear.

It's strange how you vanished from me like a ghost, a vapor, so close, yet just out of my grasp.

It's strange how I was sure that our coveted embodiment of mind, soul and heart would last.

It's strange how empty I feel; O how deep your love touched my being, was it a lie?

It's strange how one goes from joyous laughter to feeling as though there aren't enough tears to cry.

It's strange how every ache of pain seems worth it somehow; a pain that will bring happiness beyond compare.

It's strange how one minute my faith is limitless and the next my doubt has me paralyzed and unaware.

It hurts that you've taken every good part of me and left me to carry on in silence and confusion.

It hurts to think that you may end what could be the greatest love affair of all time for fear of illusion.

It hurts that you won't let me hurt for you and with you; carry your all too heavy load just to catch your breath.

It hurts that I know what can be but the fear of losing you further, cripples me from grabbing hold; taking another step.

It hurts to not hear your voice, see your face, hold your hand, feel your embrace, catch your scent.

It hurts that you'll never realize the depth, breadth, height, width of how much you really meant.

The hilarity, the confusion, the hurt...how many more emotions do I need to go through before you realize all this too?

How much more proof do you need to prove our greatness and potential together; to make you see my unconditional love for you?. . . .

Meaning

I'm a bit of a history nut, especially WWII history. I've been watching my daddy's documentaries lately and got into the Band of Brothers mini series. The program in itself is amazing, but as I watch the stories and events that happened in the lives of those men it makes me realize just how much has changed in the world over the years. The brotherhood, the respect, the honor given to great acts and great men. It was such a different time, a very difficult time, yes, but the integrity of the people back then humbles me. The pride that I feel in my heart when I see a war veteran or a person in uniform was very open and spoken back then. It was assumed and taught. That kind of respect is very rare these days and it makes me sick! I've always been extremely patriotic. My daddy is an ex Navy man and I'm so incredibly proud of that part of our family's history. I love the tattoo on his right forearm that bears witness to his love and respect for his country and the freedom we hold dear.

Watching Band of Brothers and seeing the hurt they went through, the relationships made and lost in battle. Trusting someone enough to put your life in their hands and fight beside them and for them. The fear in some of the men; boys even, the looks in their eyes as they watch their fellow soldiers' lives being taken wondering when their time was going to come. Feeling the emotion of the men who took some of the cities that still inhabited families and homes and seeing their reaction and instant change of expression when discovering a small child in the middle of their personal hell. Experiencing the applause, the cheers, the welcoming and celebration when they took a city back from the enemies, but knowing it wasn't long and they'd be back in battle amongst a rain of bullets and bombs, sacrificing their lives yet again for people they've never even met or seen, but carrying on because they know it's the right thing to do. Hearing the WWII vets at the beginning of the episodes talk about how they didn't feel like it was a duty but an honor to go to war and fight for their country.

I look around me sometimes and realize that I seriously have absolutely nothing to complain about. I have it so amazingly great in life. And at the same time I have those very men to thank for that. I try my best not to forget about where I came from. My family is huge on history and family history and keeping the family members, who have passed on, alive in our minds. I love talking to my daddy about our family past and the men who served in wars. The things he saw when the men started coming home from WWII, the pinned up shirt sleeves or pant legs or a patch over their eyes. How lucky I am to have my family members home safe and sound, in good health.

Watching war documentaries makes me take a look at what's really important in my life. The things I take for granted, things that I just assume will always be there, things I wait for and want. They all seem so petty after living a short time in the life of someone who encountered WWII and fought for their lives just as much as others'. It makes me realize how important the relationships in my life are and how unimportant the material things are. People mean so much to me. There aren't many who hold those special places in my heart but when you do you're a vital part of my life and you'll never want for someone to love you more. The people in my life are amazing individuals, I don't know where I'd be without them. Each one has contributed so much to who I am, I could ask for no greater gift. I want for nothing, I have everything I need in my family and the people closest to me. I'm the happiest girl you could find. I'm not perfect and I have struggles and hard times just like everyone else, but my low points are nothing compared to the level of happiness I possess.

I'm so thankful for my heritage and my past. I'm thankful for the people that have meant the world to me, the people I've had the privilege to love, those I've been allowed to give my love to. I'm thankful for the life I've been given, the second chances, the third chances, the fourth etc. I'm thankful for my faith and the foundation my parents gave me to build on. I believe my family to be the greatest ever created. There are a couple that come seriously close though. But I wouldn't trade my crazy family for anything in the world. They're my crazy family and that means everything! Sometimes I feel like life is so short, that just when everyone gets old enough to really feel like you've gotten to know them and can start learning from them, they slip away from you. I know it's all a part of the plan, but sometimes I just don't understand. I crave to learn from some people sometimes, it hurts that I missed my chance. I feel robbed of the time that I would've gotten to spend talking to them, picking their brain, learning of their amazing wisdom.

I love asking my daddy questions. He knows so much about everything, I can ask him something about any subject and he'd have an answer for me. My daddy is truly amazing!!! I love every relationship in my life and the people who are closest to my heart, it's such an honor to love you and to care about you. I would do anything for you!

His Heirloom

I wrote this with a relationship in mind, but it could be taken a couple different ways. There's no wrong way to read it.

A vessel destroyed, handled by one not worthy. The ruins lay waiting for a gentle hand to pick up the pieces. Waiting for one, just one, to look past the shards and see the Ivory magnificence it's form once knew. The remains of it's contents exposed for all to partake. Raw are the metaphoric feelings, laying there, grasping, slowly spreading thin. The sleek edges, that could once wound, are now beginning to dull and fade with time. With every look of the by standers, every breath of the passers by, they begin to weaken. Never again will this collection of once priceless beauty be flawlessly restored. Never again will the captivating aroma it once held be at it's fullest capacity. It's just a broken vessel!
The hands, so warm and strong, yet gentle and sure. Smoothing away the neglect and ignorance from the shattered pieces. Damming the flow of the lovely substance seeping through the cracks of what was once it's shelter. Shifting, moving, placing, replacing, caressing, molding, fitting; all the time, so patiently they worked. What were these beautiful hands trying to accomplish? These incomplete remains were never again going to be the same glorious piece of art that all once admired. The hands worked tirelessly, a vision in mind, they could see it, though no one else even came close. They wanted this vision!
The hands pulled back, full of dust, debris, cuts and blood stained to reveal, in their opinion, the most perfect, radiant vessel ever seen. Every piece in it's place, not a flaw to be found. Though the contents are nearly gone now, the potter sees it as an opportunity to replace it with an even deeper, more consuming substance that has meaning to him. This gorgeous piece will never experience a deeper, more passionate love than with the one who took the time to remold it into what he saw that it could become.
The vessel will always be a priceless heirloom in the hands of this potter.