A Heartfelt Memorial For All Comrades
I stand in awe of the American soldier. Awe of those who have served and fallen. And my heart feels for those who still struggle with memories of the horror. I grew up a proud Vet’s daughter. My father fought in WWII. He served under George Patton, fighting many battles throughout Europe. But the worst one was the Battle of the Bulge in Belgium. And though I am the youngest daughter of seven children, I bear the symbolic name of war.
My father named me Valerie Faith. My name means strong faith, which is a requirement of sanity for those who have seen the worst evils of human nature. My initials are also VFW. I grew up as the VFW flower girl, placing wreaths on the graves of the Fallen and throwing wreaths on the water for those who were Lost At Sea. As little as I was, I would go into solitude after the memorial and cry for the soldiers who were not present.
When I was a child, living soldiers were honored with parades. And flowers were given to those who had fallen. Today there are few parades and if there is one, few people stand up and clap in respect for the Vets as they walk by. For me, each Memorial Day is an honorable memory. I remember the dedications, uniforms, metals, guns and salutes. The beautiful treasures of my past. I feel so honored to have been a part of that.
When I lived in the Netherlands, I traveled to Germany, France, Belgium and Luxemburg, visiting the various battle sites of my father. As I stood in the Arden, I could hear the cries and feel the dying, the desperate, the grieving and the shocked, knowing that blood saturated the ground and cries filled the air. The spirit of war was still alive.
That same spirit remained alive in my father, he could not forget. Until his death, he grieved for his comrades who fought and died beside him. He cried for his brothers who gave their lives, so he could live. Now generations later, I can not forget standing by his grave, the taps playing softly on the hillside as the veterans saluted their fallen comrade.
Let us always remember, praise and honor the brave men and women who have served and died for this country.
The Value of Discretion
There is a particular event that often asserts it’s self in my memory, reminding me of truth. It occurred while I was vacationing on the island of Ibiza, a beautiful paradise in the Mediterranean.
Before I embarked on my journey, I knew that my stay was going to be for ten days. So I decided to create new garments to wear while I was there. I also knew that for the first time in my life, I was going to witness nude beaches. That was not an issue, since I drew nudes in various positions for eight years while attending the university. Still, I was not completely sure of what my experiences would be in a different culture or what would be required of my appearance.
I recognized the conservative Wisconsin girl and the spiritual, freedom-loving Minnesota woman in my soul. So I decided to create a variety of apparel . A few were conservative and a few were somewhat “risqué”.
On the day of the event, the weather was quite cool. So I decided to wear warmth. The dress I chose was conservative. It had sleeves below my wrists and it’s length was to the ground. It’s color was pastel blue-green and it’s fabric was a tiny terra-cloth. I wore my waist-length hair unbundled for extra warmth, since it covered me like a shawl.
Walking down the boardwalk, I shivered as I watched women roller blading and walking the beach while nude or scantily clothed. I thought, “They must be very cold”. The sun had gone behind the clouds and with that..…..the wind was a penetrating chill. Then I noticed five yacht captains, dressed in their dark blue uniforms and standing in front of an eatery. They looked so demure while conversing about the day.
As I walked by, they tipped their hats and bowed their heads in respect. I looked around me to see who they were tipping to. There were nude women everywhere and I was trying to see who had the better body. When I looked back at them, I caught their eyes and they smiled in unison. I felt perplexed at the chivalry.
After a season in thought, I realized what that moment in time taught me. There is value in discretion, even though the world whispers to me differently. I also learned about the true core of a man’s heart. In it is a desire for purity. Even though…….the world shouts at him to take a different path.
A Field of Wild Daisies
As a child, one of my favorite things to do was to walk in a field of daisies. As I got older, the daisy remained one of my favorite flowers. To me it was and is symbolic of purity and wholesomeness. When I was married back in the early 70's, weddings were beginning to lose their traditions. Wanting to be among the "Flower Children", I chose to wear daisies strung through my ringlets instead of wearing a veil. I wanted to be married in a field of wild daisies, but that was too shocking for the village community. The village was made up of conservative farmers and Norwegian Lutherans. Being naive and people pleasing, I agreed not to be so "radical and eccentric". However, today I wonder how many of them sleep beneath a daisy in the field of their eternity. And would a child bride married in a field of wild daisies still cause their sleep a disturbance.
It took years, but I learned to trust Christ and His Truth as my guide, instead of the will and thoughts of others. For I am now free indeed!
Dancing in His Light in a Field of Wild Daisies.
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