Taken Away
I read a short poem about a Kentucky soldier who was killed in battle during WWII. The country boy was taken away from the land he loved, away from the mountain bird songs, away from clear water brooks and the sound of hunting dogs to hunt with when hunting game. He’d gone off to another land to fight a battle and a single shot ended all the dreams he’d had as a boy, shattered the heart of parents who loved him and the chance to one day have a family of his own.
It’s sad to think we as a nation, still have the need to send our young men into battle in foreign lands, not unlike those battles fought in WWII. And still with a single shot one can still be lost. I know when our oldest son went over to Iraq some years ago, I was terrified. I was the proud momma of a Marine who was properly trained to battle, but knew his life could be taken in an instant.
Still there are those who walk the streets of big cities across the country and live in a “war zone” every day, right here in America. Is that much different? In some ways it’s worse. When we are fighting an organized military battle, at least there seems to be an amount of validation for the behavior.
Our young soldiers are fighting for the freedoms many have come to consider “owed” us, as allowed in our constitution. It’s sad, but true, that our “rights” as guaranteed in the constitution, sometimes must be defended. But we should never feel like our rights are “owed.” Our rights are a privilege and soldiers over the decades and across generations, have given their lives to protect it.
How does this compare to the upheaval in big cities, as people riot, burn buildings and cars, causing serious injury to others including policemen? When a person dies from a drug related battle, a drive by shooting, anger of any kind in the streets, desperation, plain meanness, power, terror attacks or anything like that, it is worse, much worse. We are supposed to be living in “the land of the free.”
Our lives are filled everyday with “what ifs?” We can get killed in an auto accident, a heart attack, or even a tree falling on us. We can’t know when our life will be over. We’re not promised another breath. It is up to us to make the most of our lives, in the most productive and encouraging way possible. It’s important to love purely, and to let those we care about know how we feel, because we may not have another day to tell them.
Every time another soldier dies, is another time to be reminded our sons and daughters are a gift and each moment is precious. Every morning the sun rises is another day to tell your loved ones you love them. Cherish each second, because you aren’t promised another breath.