Our church holds three services each Sunday - two in the morning and one in the evening. Today they honoured our fallen soldiers and also those currently serving in Afghanistan and other places around the world.
Bagpipes while the flags were brought in and for the singing of Amazing Grace. Silvered trumpet tones playing the Last Post. Scenes of our soldiers honouring our recent dead, of coffins covered with our red and white flag.
Readings taken from history comprised part of the service. My part, for all three services, was to read a letter, the last letter written by a young man just about to go into battle. I have a son about that age. I can't imagine the grief that would flood my being if I received a telegram such as that mother in World War I received.
And I will be thankful for those who served. I will remember.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blogtober 28: Home Affairs
While stopped at a traffic light this afternoon, my eye was caught by a row of golden maple trees swaying in the wind. How graceful they l...
-
The deep rasping caw of a crow high in a treetop sounded like autumn this morning. When I walk into the garden I cringe at the invisible s... -
"I know fall is here, although the world is still green with summer. And I feel an urgency to gather in all the loveliness of the pas... -
There we were, walking with friends along a wooded path. As we approached a couple standing very still, they put their fingers to their li...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment. I read and value each one, cherishing the connections we can make although far apart. Usually, I visit your blog in return, although if you ask a question I try to contact you directly.