Thank you forever.

When I asked my mom why her daddy hadn't been to war, she explained how it wasn't from lack of trying. Though afflicted with severe diabetes most of his life, all 5'5" of him had gone to enlist--and had passed all the tests. His wife, angered by the whole charade, had to march down to the office and tell them they failed to catch one important thing about her husband's health. Grandpa died before my mom was 15. He left a young widow who had only her faith and work ethic. I couldn't understand why a man would sign up to give his life when his days were already numbered. 

My dad's dad was the only grandpa I had as a small child. He was a wonder to me, and oh, how I loved that man! His white hair, giant smile, singing voice, and endless love for adventure won my whole young-girl heart.

I remember the first time I noticed a large bump in Grandpa's calf. I asked him about it. He explained he was in WWII, and it was shrapnel. Then he proceeded to show me other places where the shrapnel had lodged itself in his limbs. He showed me how the bumps were somewhat mobile, but that they didn't hurt him. I was fascinated. I wondered what kind of man could survive bombs exploding all around him. This confirmed my suspicions that he was a man among men.

My mom is the youngest of three children, she being the only girl. One day when I came home from elementary school, she was sitting in the living room with her brother. The feeling in the room made me feel immediately reverent, and I watched closely to see if I could figure out why I felt that way.

Uncle Mike was in uniform. I had seen him in that uniform in many pictures, but it was different this time. Today his uniform was covered in awards. My mom was crying, listening intently to my uncle's hushed words. 

It turns out, when Uncle Mike was testing scuba gear in Puerto Rico fifteen years earlier, he wasn't really testing scuba gear. He was a Navy Seal Assassin and had been in the very depths of war's dark abyss. But the giant "T" scar on his chest and abdomen wasn't from his secret missions. It was from the drunk driver who hit him shortly after he came home. I tried to comprehend that a man could survive secret missions and disemboweling crashes and live to speak of God's mighty power in preserving His life.

When my cousin left for war, he was a handsome, muscular young man. He returned from Iraq bent over, walking with a cane, and remains severely crippled for life. When I thanked him for his sacrifice, he quickly brushed the compliment aside and humbly replied about his job and his privilege. What kind of man can be so quick to sacrifice his life, and though crippled by war, not be poisoned by bitter resentment?

Today, my dear grandpa lives on a hill with his wife who is losing her mental capacities. He walks with her, brings her medications, fixes her meals, and can't imagine what he'd do without her. His surviving friends still talk with awe about his integrity. In all their years, they've never met anyone with such high moral standards. 

He fights the battle of life with virtue.

My beloved uncle lives on a small farm, growing vegetables and making his famous tomato soup for his adoring nieces and nephews. When he isn't working the night shift at the postal office, he cares for his wife, who has been suffering from Multiple Sclerosis for many years. I've had the sacred privilege of seeing him carry her everywhere on his back, taking slow, measured steps so as not to cause her any discomfort. He pushes her in her wheelchair around the block and reserves the best places for her to sit when the family gathers. He faithfully does her hair and makeup, and she always looks breathtaking. When I saw him last month, he showed me the beautiful winter cloak he was sewing for her Christmas present. The tears in my eyes kept me from seeing the details very well, but his delight was in full focus. The frail frame of his wife will not be feeling even the slightest chill this year. 

He fights the battle of life with love.

My cousin and his wife recently had their third child--a daughter. She was born prematurely and had a lengthly stay in the NICU. And though life has thrown him his share of surprises, he is a happy husband and father, working towards recovery while enjoying his family and friends. Life is good for him, and because of his faith, his future is full of promise.

He fights the battle of life with optimism.

And so, the veterans in my life have taught me the most important measure of a man: 

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" (John 15:13).

To the amazing men in my family who have taught me by example, and to all the men and women who have served--or are serving--our country, 

Your sacrifices have altered your lives, and they have altered mine.

Your unfailing love for your country and fellowmen is tangible, and I feel your love for me and mine.

Your service deserves your country's eternal gratitude. May you know that you always have mine.

Happy Veterans' Day!