My husband’s grandfather passed away last week.  He was a sweet, diminutive man who loved the Braves.  My husband was named after him.  He was a World War II vet.

At his funeral, the local VFW (I assume) came to pay their respects.  They formed a procession in salute as his casket passed by with flag draped.

I tried to speak to many of them and I found I had trouble keeping my composure when doing so.  The first man I approached, I shook his hand and told him “Thank you for helping to secure my freedoms” through stifled tears.

In this day when I begin to feel my freedoms slipping through thoughtless, inactive, and trusting hands, I have become more acutely aware of the beauty of those freedoms to which I have so long become accustomed.  Someone didn’t sit on the sidelines.  Someone paid for that.  Someone wasn’t thoughtless, inactive, selfish or trusting.  This wasn’t free.

As I shook their hands and found myself overwhelmed with thanksgiving that they had done more, I flashed forward to a time yet future when I might have the opportunity to repeat the words of thanks.

These elderly men still saluting their comrades enabled me freedoms I’m so calloused to that I let them slip away without noticing their being stolen.  They fought so that I could live here with this ease and opportunity.  They helped supply the freedoms of this life.  And my sense of gratitude in that moment completely overwhelmed me.

There is One whose efforts secured for me far greater freedoms than they.

What will I do when the moment comes to shake His hand and express my thanks?

This life isn’t free.  Eternity isn’t free.  Relationships aren’t free.  Forgiveness isn’t free.   Freedom isn’t free.  Someone paid for this.

So often I neglect to notice the value of that which has been purchased for me on this earth.  Regrettably, so often I neglect to notice the value of that which has been purchased for me for eternity.

Where might I be without the sacrifice of others?  What ‘necessities’ might I be enduring life without?  What hope might I cling to then?

Thank a vet.  Then fall on your knees before God and practice the moment when we might thank a Savior just as personally.