A prayer of thanks
Last year, I sat back on my patio and opened my Kindle. I luxuriated in the indulgent spring breeze that swept over me. Suddenly, I was assaulted by the acrid smell of charcoal lighter followed by the aroma of burning meat, and then the relentless bomb-blasting of banging beanbags. Shall I give up? Shall I slink back into the house to escape this raucous invasion? Will there be no peace on this holiday?
I closed my eyes, a voice reverberated in my head, "It's Memorial Day, a time of remembrance and thankfulness. You enjoy your home, you think what you please, write what you please, vote as you please, and live free only because of those who fought for the freedom you enjoy. Because of them each of us have the right to celebrate their memory in our own way."
With this realization, I returned to my Kindle, inhaled the drifting barbecue smoke, and said a prayer for those who made the ultimate sacrifice for us.