Memorial Day

On Saturday I took the morning to go for a bike ride along the Jordan Parkway trail. I have gone running along the corridor that stretches from 35th South to 41st South on a few different occasions, but being on a bike I decided to continue south until I was too tired, or until I got a flat tire. It was a beautiful sunny day with very few people on the trail. Just past 45th South along the trail is a lonely monument erected by the city of Taylorsville called the "Freedom Shrine". Being unable to resist the pull of history, or miss a monument, I pedaled over to take a look at the cement wall plastered with replicas of historical documents on golden plaques. In the center of the wall was the Consititution of the United States and the Decleration of Independence. Surrounding those sacred founding documents were various reminders of events in our nation's history that define who we are. There was the Gettysburg address, JFK's inaguaral address, the 14th amendment, the treaty of Paris, and the letter containing the famous response to the German call to surrender at Bastogne - "Nuts". It was fairly clear that the memorial is not the most popular attraction on the trail, grass and weeds grow up through the bricks that lay neatly in the earth to form a small plaza from which to view the monument, but it was all the better for me. For a time I was lost in the story of America. I felt a sense of gratitude to God and to all those who have paid the price of freedom for me. I wonder what I did to deserve the extraordinary blessing of being born in the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Yesterday, I awoke early to the loud claps of thunder that shook my house. I looked out my bedroom window to see the sheets of rain that poured down on our already saturated lawn. For a moment I thought this just might be the first time in a long time that we would not perform our annual Memorial Day ritual, but I underestimated the determination of my mother. It has become a family tradition come rain or shine. We cut the roses and the irises from the backyard and load the trunk of the car up with crysanthimums to overflowing. We visit 4 cemetaries and literally close to a hundred graves. We stop briefly at each one and someone takes the initiative to tell the story and refresh our memories of this ancestor or that. We hear of the generosity of my grandpa, we learn about little Nola who was hit by a fire truck outside the family backery. We laugh as we remember the story of my great grandpa being arrested at 82 for driving his laundary truck with an expired license, only to be sent home from jail because he kept asking what he could clean next. We recall searching the cemetary a few years back for the resting spot of young Heber who lived only a day, and then purchasing a headstone to mark his grave. We try to figure out the family secrets that are now lost to time. We contemplate the sacrifices of those who left their homelands to come to Zion and gather with the Saints, and of those who paid the ultimate cost in struggles for freedom. Despite the pouring rain and freezing temperatures as we traveled about I felt a deep sense of gratitude to God and to those who have gone before me that have established a legacy of faith. I wonder what I did to deserve the wonderful blessing of being born to a good and fortunate family?
At this time of year as we honor those who have paved the way before us and now watch to see where we will go, I express my appreciation and praise to them, and pledge to carry on in their tradition of freedom and faith!