I have read stories of many who have endured the horrors of war, both at home and on the battlefront. Heroes, who risked their lives to rescue the oppressed. Heroes who returned, emotionally and physically scarred. And heroes, who became the fallen comrades.
I have met a mere few who served and survived. These are our Veterans, and we revere them for their courage and contribution to our freedom.
Until seven years ago, I had never personally known any who had fought and fallen. Now there is always one face that comes to mind every Remembrance Day.
Scott J Procopio.
I first knew him as a youngster, vacationing with his family in Florida. He was a cute little guy back then, with an impish grin and sparkling brown eyes that usually meant he was up to no good. That grin became a broad smile when, just as I was least expecting it, he'd gone and pushed me into the deep end of the pool. And then I couldn't bring myself to scold him when he smirked at me with those dreamy eyes of his. Oh he was a charmer.
I remember receiving the news of the tragedy that took him in Iraq. Roadside bomb. He was 20 years old. Shock. Disbelief. Tears. A soldier, with whom I had a personal connection, had fallen.
Death, when it hits so close to home, has a stark solemnity about it. I am truly humbled and grateful for those who have served and sacrificed for my earthly freedom. Today, the eleventh day of the eleventh month, at the eleventh hour... I paused for a minute of silence.
And I also thanked God for the One who sacrificed His life for my eternal freedom. The Lord Jesus, the Son of God, became a man and died on a cross for me, so that I could have freedom from the bondage of sin. He is my Saviour. Is He yours?
1 comment:
Beautiful.
XO
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