Armistice Day

There might be a parade in the cold November air where you live. Old soldiers in old uniforms that are too snug, fabric frayed and perhaps retain the vestige of battle: dried blood never washed out, a tear from shrapnel, a stain of gunpowder. These realities of old wars seem less important in the age of information, and a culture so invested in Paris Hilton's night life and whether Amy Winehouse is going back to treatment.

Thankfully, not all of you think so. Neither do I. Let me be clear: War is hell. I am no "let's throw down the gauntlet and go after any one of our enemies at all costs American" war hawk. But American I am by birth, and it is my privilege to have been born under the flag of the United States of America. Therefore, when the threat to this country's welfare is grave, and when it is critical to preserve her liberty, it is a must that soldiers bear arms, and defend this 200+ year old gal. I'm not essaying here on the virtue of this current war. But I will not sit silently as veterans of any war are ignored 364 days a year. My admonition in this post is that we remember the forgotten, cherish freedom before it is too late, and thank God for his common grace in sustaining our liberty.