Freedom

Yes, this is a cheesy Memorial Day post. I am a very sentimental and emotional gal, so anytime people begin talking of patriotism, America, the soldiers who fought for our freedom, and sacrifice, you'll probably find my eyes getting teary. I had an experience recently, though, that put it all into context. 

Friday evening, we stopped in a picturesque small town in Texas (the one famous for ice cream) and had dinner. Afterwards, we went for a walk around the town square, where a gaggle of fancily-dressed 8th graders and their parents were taking awkward pictures precluding their graduation that evening. As we commented on our own junior high years, we started to notice small plaques and memorial stones around the courthouse. There was a particular monument that caught my eye when I read the inscription. 

... and to those who gave the supreme sacrifice for our freedom...

The words "supreme sacrifice" made me stop. In a moment, I got it. It made sense. Not only am I priveleged to be an American citizen, where soldiers have literally sacrificed everything they had so I could live the way I do, but I also have a Savior that did the same. 

He gave the supreme sacrifice. Not only in His death, but His life brought me freedom as well. I literally am free from the burdens of my past because he chose to sacrifice himself. Death brought freedom. 

Someone else's sacrifice gave me freedom. 

Freedom to make choices like what I wear or what my role in society is. Freedom to worship as I did yesterday morning, in a church in downtown Houston surrounded by veterans and grandmas and southern accents. Freedom to be myself. 

Also freedom from the past. Experiences that have hurt me, choices I have made, the scars from these remain but I am left with nothing but a story. My freedom in Christ has given me a new life. A new, fresh start every morning.

The pastor ended his sermon yesterday with a question I am still pondering: "What do you do with that freedom?" My first thought was gratitude. I want to be better at being grateful for what I have. I also want to honor my freedom by being a good steward of it, not taking it lightly. There is so much I have I don't even realize. Sometimes I wonder if soldiers coming back from Afghanistan or Iraq are sad when they look at America and see what they've fought so dearly for, sometimes coming back without their best friends. Since they're the one making the sacrifice, are they proud of how we honor it? Or do we not realize how much it cost?

I'm just beginning on this journey to realize what my freedom means. I have a feeling it will be a long one, and I'll never truly figure it out, but I'm looking forward to trying. 

Happy Memorial Day, y'all.