My Champion of Freedom

Kim and I drove to Tennessee over Memorial Day weekend to walk through Mom and Dad’s house. As I mentioned in my last post, Dad is planning to move into a smaller place and needs to let go of some of the memories that my Mom spent a lifetime acquiring and organizing in all the ways that distinguish a home from a house.

My brother, Preston, and I moved through the different rooms remembering the stories behind each of the various items that had been pulled out and were laying in piles everywhere. There were beautiful pieces of furniture that are woven through my recollections of a family enjoying life together. There were other small trinkets like the polished, white stone with “Kainos” written on one side and Revelations 2:17 on the other. The tiny teacups my mom played with as a small girl. Tools my dad used to forge work ethic into two, young boys that had now become men and raised their own families.

As we picked up other items, they summoned memories of people and stories that are echoes of generations that are now gone. The small glass my mom’s mother used to drink sherry each night before bed. The various quilts that my grandmother and great grandmother carefully crafted decades ago. Ancient photographs of my grandparents that I only knew as old people contained vibrant, young faces with a lifetime ahead of them.

There were so many things that I had either forgotten or never known about that had rested in closets or chests for ages. I love the reminders of people who lived long, fruitful lives before being called home to their Maker. But my favorite treasure of the day was from a life that was cut short, someone who never got the chance to build rooms full of his own memories.

Carefully folded in a piece of fabric was an American flag that had honored my grandfather. Along with it lay his dog tag and a Bible that had belonged to him. It was my prize of the day. You see, my grandfather was a hero.

His name was James McAfee and he was born into a generation that was thrust into greatness. The Nazi scourge was a virus that threatened our freedom and way of life. It had to be destroyed but was a powerful enemy. My grandfather was one of countless youths who had barely become men but had to stand in defiance of evil. Whether they volunteered or were conscripted is irrelevant.

Each one became a hero as he recited his oath of enlistment. With those words, they laid down their lives for something bigger than themselves.

“I [state your full name], Do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

To become a soldier is to forfeit your family, your health, and everything you have for the sake of other people. Before you can step onto the field of battle, you must set aside your hopes, dreams, and even your future.

When the war is over, the lucky ones are given back the lives they offered for a greater good. They return to their small towns and the loved ones who prayed for them every night they were gone. They build careers, families, and communities that reflect the courage they demonstrated.

Others aren’t so lucky. Everything they laid down is demanded as a sacrifice for our freedom. At twenty-two years old, my grandfather’s plane was shot down over Germany on April 10, 1945. His bright light was snuffed out so that a country could shine even brighter.

James McAfee never got to see his youngest child and barely held the toddler that would become my father. Our freedom never allowed him to carry my dad on his shoulders to see over a crowd or teach him why manners are important. He would never sit in his favorite chair next to his wife of fifty years and reflect over everything they shared together.

Our country and our freedom were bigger than that single life.

There is no gift I can offer to each person who has repeated the same oath, promising to place a greater good above their own lives. All I can say is “Thank you. You are a hero.”

To every person whose life was lost, thank you doesn’t seem enough. You have my gratitude, my respect, and all the honor that I can offer.

To my grandfather, who sacrificed everything, I pray that my life will be worthy of the one that you gave for me. You are the champion of my freedom.

A flag, a dog tag, and a Bible are my cherished reminders of how precious life is, and how much others have sacrificed for our enduring freedom.

Happy Memorial Day.