Greater love hath no man than this

Yesterday, my Facebook newsfeed was full of Memorial Day memes featuring everyone from Mickey Mouse to G.K. Chesterton with pictures and sentiments ranging from amusing to heartbreaking. They were all to remind the Internet world that the “holiday” is about our soldiers who have died while in service to our country, not just a long weekend to kick off the summer.

Memorial Day was not the day to argue politics or the just war doctrine — it was a day to breathe quietly and take some time to think about ideals and causes larger than our single selves. It was a day to consider that what we have is real and that there were — and are — real lives lost to get it.

The history of Memorial Day is easily available via Google, and one fact gave me pause as I re-checked a few things before our family outing: After the Civil War, the North and the South held their own memorials of grave decoration, but after World War I, the day became unified into one commemoration as the country came together to weep over their losses. I could not help but gnash my teeth and wish that the unity had come without such horror.

Our family begins observation of Memorial Day with a visit to one of two local cemeteries. We stroll along the walks looking for soldiers and remind the younger ones what United States service stones look like. Since we have done this for years, we notice new graves and how familiar ones look that year — “Someone brought flowers for Sgt. Boyle,” we say, or “Let’s clean up this sailor’s stone — no one’s been here.”

Both cemeteries we visit have been carved out of the Alaskan forest, so there are plenty of dandelions, dogwoods and yarrow flowers in May to tie into bouquets for neglected markers. Our mood is somewhere between comfortable and serious as we visit all the servicemen and women, reading their names aloud and decorating the lonely ones. Of course we do not truly know if each one passed away directly in service to our beloved America, but it’s the best our family can do on Memorial Day.

And there are many other graves that we notice and wonder about: elaborately decorated boulders with someone’s story and photo etched into the stone, simple slabs with just a name and dates, spousal plots half printed and half empty — waiting — and the terribly tiny ones. I always cry, to be surrounded by reminders of searing pain, to be grateful that my family is all together in this great country, and to accede that this is part of life.

We complete our visit by tucking ourselves into a corner for prayer and a picnic among our fallen brothers and sisters. We remind the kids of what the day is a memorial for; we pray for their souls; we thank them for their service; we pray for their sad families; and we thank God to be living in America. Our day at home ends with some nighttime reading of a pertinent storybook — “They Were Strong and Good,” “The Blue and the Gray,” and “Pearl Harbor: Ready to Read” are some on our children’s bookshelf — and a war film of my husband’s choosing for the older family members.

It all reminds me of Jesus’ words in John 15:13 — “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

And in John 10, Jesus says that he is the good shepherd who gives his life for his sheep. This is why Catholics have crucifixes everywhere. Our Lord said that his love was shown by the laying down of his life for us — not even by the resurrection, with all its glory and power. When we see crucifixes in our homes, on our jewelry, and in our churches, our attention is brought back time and again to this greatest Love.

When I was in the third grade, I had a teacher who made us memorize poetry. One of those poems was Lt. Col. John McCrae’s “In Flanders Fields,” the most-recited lines for Memorial Day and whose red poppy remains the symbol of veterans. I tell it to the kids every year. Mrs. Phillips would be proud now, 40 years later. Here on our messy earth where man’s inhumanity to man is staggering, we can still take time during the long weekend to think about sacrifice, suffering, loss, and love; to appreciate and applaud our soldiers’ ultimate service; and to care for and pray for their loved ones in Jesus’ name. He knows.

“We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow

Loved and were loved. And now we lie

In Flanders fields.”

We remembered and honored you.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace.