Why We Remember

On Murph morning, I sensed trouble when I rolled out of bed. The tickle in my throat and aches in my joints warned me that my body’s defenses had been compromised. Hoping for the best, I went ahead with the plan. I survived for 25 minutes before becoming weak and lightheaded. I tried to continue, but had to give up halfway complete.

My spirit was crushed. I had expected to place last in the elite group that my brother assembled, but having to walk off without finishing made me feel like an absolute failure. It wasn’t supposed to end that way.

Later, when I had cooled down, I thought about the people who had lost their lives defending our freedom. They had trained harder than ever before also. Like my grandfather who died in World War II, it wasn’t supposed to end that way.

I wonder what he thought as he climbed into the cockpit of his B-17 bomber on that last fateful mission. Did he have a warning that today wasn’t going to go as planned, or did he go about his pre-flight routine like he had so many other times, totally unaware?

My grandfather, James McAfee, was a regular guy from Indiana with a pregnant wife and toddler back home. He had spent countless nights picturing his family that was half a world away. He must have dreamt of the day when he could return home to embrace his wife like he had the last time he saw her.

This weekend a different James McAfee walked through the door to see the woman who had patiently awaited her husband’s homecoming over seventy years earlier. The husband was replaced by his namesake great-grandson, who is now three years younger than the life that ended too soon.

She was visibly excited to see James. She hugged him again and again before engaging in small talk that only interests people who care about each other.

One James is now a voice from the past and the other is a part of the next generation we hope to inspire. The same, sweet lady has encouraged them both and served as the common link in the chain of events that forms their lives.

But so much changed in the time between the two, loving embraces.

The Greatest Generation went on to defeat the Nazis who threatened the world. Unfortunately, when the threat died, the evil was not destroyed. Instead, it rose from the ashes like a dark phoenix with a new identity in each generation. It has returned in the form of communism, then again as radical Islamic terrorism. It has continued to prowl throughout time, seeking to steal, kill, and destroy all of us in our weak moments.

But as the darkness rises, so do the heroes who stand in defiance.

Each generation must fight its own battles against the evil that threatens humanity. Each generation must do its part to guard the light of hope in a world that is under attack.

I wish I could thank my grandfather for his sacrifice and tell him that he made a difference to me, but he was gone long before I was born. However, I can honor him by remembering his bravery. I can also remember the sacrifices made by so many others. The memories of their acts of love strengthen us when the enemy returns.

I hope that my grandfather would be proud of what our family has done with the lives he paid for with his own. I hope we embody the liberty and freedom that he died defending.

It took a failed workout to remind me that evil will always be defeated and that God will continue to use common people to achieve his glory. Our goal is not victory in a battle, rather it is to live in the embrace of His love and stand in resistance to the evil that mocks Him, even at the cost of our lives.

Our fallen warriors are more than just stories. Learn their names. Remember their sacrifice. Then let’s go fight our enemy. It’s our turn to shine Christ’s light and drive the evil back into the shadows.

May our stories be told to strengthen our children.