My heart is full. So thank you.
Those of you who serve our country, thank you.
If you have served and gone to school on the G. I. Bill, then you join generations building an incomprehensibly astonishing country, complete with shortcomings the whole world can see. Please continue building.
If you returned broken, marred, missing parts of body or soul, then you join a long line bleeding in blues, khaki, and camo: striving to rebuild bodies, minds and lives in countless re-enactments of America’s miracle. Please don’t give up rebuilding.
If you’re eating turkey, or an MRE, or you’re quietly hungry again tonight, then fall in. Queues of hungry men and women reach back to Valley Forge’s freezer, doing the impossible in Inchon or sweltering in malarial silence. Please don’t shirk attempting the impossible with your wearied best.
And if you’re quiet in flag-draped box, ferried home by those who cannot flinch at your final high cost paid. Come take a place with the mighty and abased, heroes with names on small white crosses and stars in quiet, landscaped hills. Hallowed by you ransoming my dream.
No less so, Christ lovers, who were not surprised when those fearing your faith ushered you horrifically into eternity. You, did John certainly see in his Revelation, crying to God at justice delayed to the last chance for those martyring you to come to His grace.
Incomprehensible. Price. Possibility.
If you served my country or Lord, thank you. May my courage in these dearly bought days, address my debt to you at a Banquet to which we’ve been invited on death’s other shore.