This spring has definitely been a wet one here in Dallas. Everything is green and spry. And as I sit here on our back deck thinking about this long weekend, I reflect on a family trip last year to Paris and Normandy. I love history, but I wouldn't consider myself a war buff. The visit to the beaches of Normandy was educational, humbling and moving. However, the most impactful part of the trip was a moment of clarity and perspective provided by our then five year old daughter.
After a visit to the beaches, we arrived at the American cemetery. The beauty of the grounds is both breathtaking and designed with profound precision... a sea of perfectly placed white crosses. As we ventured into the first row of crosses, Stella stopped abruptly and delicately traced the carved letters on the first cross with her fingers. Once I finally caught up to her and am about to give a lesson in selfless sacrifice, dedication and respect, she asks me to "read the words". So I do. Then she proceeds to the next cross and again, "read the words, daddy". This gesture happens for the next eight crosses... we read the name, where the soldier is from and the date of their death. As we are about to move to the ninth cross, I ask how many she would like to read. Without pause, she says "all of them". In that moment, I stand and motion for her to look at all of them. The magnitude and realization overcomes me, and while she perhaps didn't fully understand, I felt as if she too was taken aback by the sacrifices made for our freedom. This was but a small part, a fraction, of those who have given their lives in one small corner of the world.
So this week's post, where humble, is a bud vase turned from oak burl with a glass vial. The grain is a swirl of pattern with a portion of the exterior exposed. The grain reminds me of the paths our lives take, winding and turning, like the spirits of American youths rising from the waves. The missing portion reminds me of those we have lost.
"Nothing in life will call upon us to be more courageous than facing the fact that it ends... but on the other side of heartbreak is wisdom."