James' Flag

Last year during the week surrounding September 11th, our town had thousands of American flags flying in a huge field by the library (pictured here). Each flag represented either someone killed on September 11th, or one of the service persons later killed in Afghanistan or Iraq. This Healing Field gave the citizens of our town an opportunity to remember, reflect, and pay our respects to those killed as a result of the war that has been waged upon our country.

In addition, citizens were allowed to purchase one of the flags to fly at our home, and to help defray the costs of our own September 11th Memorial, dedicated just yesterday. Our family chose to receive a flag of an American serviceman killed in action, and we received the flag bearing the name of a young man from Iowa who was killed in Afghanistan. For a year now, we have flown it in our backyard flower garden on all national holidays, his birthday, the day he was killed, and on this day, September 11th.

I see his flag from our kitchen sink every time we fly it, and I think of his parents, Jim and Theresa. I caught myself several times today, forgetting to be thankful for my blessings. When will I ever learn? Our son was hanging around me while I did a little gardening at our lunch break from school. I wanted him to pull some weeds along with me, and I felt angry inside when he "didn't feel like it." Wouldn't Jim and Theresa have loved to have their son, James, in their yard today, balking at pulling dandelions? Our daughter interrupted us a couple of times when my husband and I were trying to talk at the end of the day, and I snapped at her. Wouldn't Jim and Theresa have loved to have James interrupt them several times at the end of their day?

Yes, our son should help with yard work, and yes, our daughter should refrain from interrupting. But, I should also be patient, thankful, and loving as I tenderly mold our children. This morning I got to watch my son pound the rebar into the ground by the mums in order to post James' flag. He's getting so big, and he does this chore quite willingly each holiday. I got to take our children to the new 9/11 Memorial by the lake near the library. It was cold and drizzling, but the kids said, "This is nothing compared to what those people went through." I got to see my daughter's amazed face when she saw the number of names engraved on the monument depicting the people killed at the Twin Towers. And then, I got to tuck my two precious children into their beds, pray for them, kiss them, and later look in on them as they peacefully slept.

Thank you, Lord.

Thank you, Jim and Theresa.