When the Blessed Mother looks at a priest, she sees her Son.
When the Blessed Mother looks at a priest at holy mass,
She sees her Son on Calvary.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Remember to Pray for Priests
When the Blessed Mother looks at a priest, she sees her Son.
When the Blessed Mother looks at a priest at holy mass,
She sees her Son on Calvary.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Thanks to the Greatest Generation
Just couldn't let Memorial Day go by without a post. Public television ran a documentary all day long about four school teachers that went back to Omaha Beach with some of the soldiers that had landed there in 1944. They looped the story and it ran over and over. I must have watched it at least four or five times. It was truly a heart wrenching journey. The main idea was that these teachers knew that they had a responsibility to keep the memories alive, and pass them on to the next generation.
When I looked at the crosses in the cemetery of the fallen at Normandy, and realizing that there was a life, a face, that belonged to each cross, a young life. Many of these were mere boys, 15, 16, 18 years old, just at the beginning of their lives, it was almost overwhelming. Seventy five thousand lives lost in military casualties.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Freedom. One of the most beautiful words in the English language, and one of the most misunderstood, until it is lost.
I took my 3 grandchildren to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery yesterday at sunset for prayer and remembrance of those who had served. The cemetery was quiet and peaceful. The ceremony of the days events had long ended. Each grave was rightly adorned with its own American flag, the symbol of freedom. Deer fed unaffected by us as we made our way through the ranks. It seemed as if even they realized in some remote way that they were protected by those who rested beneath the grass that nourished them. May we never, ever, forget them.
May God have mercy on those brave and honorable specimens of humanity. May God comfort the hearts of their families. May God grant them the peace that surpasses all understanding, and a place of Eternal Light and rest.
I remember you Dad, thanks for your service and love of country, hope to see you again in just a little while. I love you.
When I looked at the crosses in the cemetery of the fallen at Normandy, and realizing that there was a life, a face, that belonged to each cross, a young life. Many of these were mere boys, 15, 16, 18 years old, just at the beginning of their lives, it was almost overwhelming. Seventy five thousand lives lost in military casualties.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Freedom. One of the most beautiful words in the English language, and one of the most misunderstood, until it is lost.
I took my 3 grandchildren to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery yesterday at sunset for prayer and remembrance of those who had served. The cemetery was quiet and peaceful. The ceremony of the days events had long ended. Each grave was rightly adorned with its own American flag, the symbol of freedom. Deer fed unaffected by us as we made our way through the ranks. It seemed as if even they realized in some remote way that they were protected by those who rested beneath the grass that nourished them. May we never, ever, forget them.
May God have mercy on those brave and honorable specimens of humanity. May God comfort the hearts of their families. May God grant them the peace that surpasses all understanding, and a place of Eternal Light and rest.
I remember you Dad, thanks for your service and love of country, hope to see you again in just a little while. I love you.
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