Thanking the Greatest Generation

 

Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about

with so great a cloud of witnesses,

let us lay aside every weight,

and the sin which doth so easily beset us,

and let us run with patience the race

that is set before us. . . .

                                    -- Hebrews 12:1

           

She has done a lot of volunteer work all of her life for a lot of good causes. But she has never felt so teary-eyed with emotion, so blessed and honored to serve.

 

Last week, this Omaha woman helped send a bunch of 80- and 90-year-old heroes from Nebraska on a free trip to Washington, D.C., called the "Heartland Honor Flight." It's part of an inspiring, uplifting, national grassroots effort to make sure World War II veterans get to see the memorial in their honor before their generation slips away.

 

They're flown there, board buses, and visit the World War II Memorial, the Changing of the Guard at Arlington National Cemetery, and many other icons of the American way of life that they helped preserve, protect and defend through military service to our country. Then they come back, beaming, to cheering crowds waving flags and holding up signs that say, in the understatement of the century, "THANK YOU!"

 

 

Photo from the national website, www.honorflight.org

 

 

This volunteer packed fanny packs full of donated items for the trip, registered the veterans, laughed and cried with them at a send-off dinner, and entertained their wives while they were on the trip. Her uncle died in Korea, so her family had first-hand experience with what war means. But it wasn't until she saw the wheelchairs lined up last week, and the old soldiers hugging and crying, and the elderly hands exchanging old photographs, that she realized that the opportunity for the rest of us to learn from them and express our gratitude is rapidly vanishing.

 

"I can't say enough about them," the volunteer said. "Their loyalty . . . their patriotism . . . these guys know what it means to sacrifice, and we don't have a clue.

 

"Americans today take 'way too much for granted. We don't know how hard these people have fought for us, what they went through for us, to give us these freedoms that we don't even realize we have. We're so crass and cold, compared to these people."

 

Many of these old soldiers acknowledged to her, humbly and quietly, that no one has ever thanked them before. Most had rarely, if ever, talked about their war experiences. Many hadn't been on a plane since the war. Most had never been to the nation's capital.

 

Many have physical and financial barriers. If not for this program, they would never have had a prayer of seeing the memorial, the nation's long-overdue, tangible symbol of gratitude for the freedom fighters who saved the world over a half-century ago.

 

One of the guys had been one of the first to reach Omaha Beach, and somehow survived. One had been a prisoner of war for 8½ months, marched by the Nazis from France to Munich, where he had to pick up rubble left by American bombers; he never changed his clothes or shoes the whole time because it was the only way to keep from getting lice.

 

One had invited a buddy to come over to his foxhole for a haircut, but watched him get shot by a sniper on the way. Another described how, sometimes, it took all day just to crawl from one hedgerow to the next, the gunfire was so intense.

 

There were two wives who had worked as Rosie the Riveters; one of them had worked on the Enola Gay in Kansas, the plane that dropped the atom bomb on Japan that ended the war in 1945.

 

The stories were stunning. The tears flowed freely. The volunteer said she will never be the same. She's going to look in to arranging a speaker's bureau to get some of these veterans into schools, to make sure their legacy gets passed along.

 

Her passion for this cause is catching. I now realize what a good and Godly example these veterans gave us. I'll never be the same, either.

 

This Thanksgiving, I hope and pray that at festive tables across this country, the ones privileged to lead prayer will be sure to give thanks for our veterans, each and every one of them. I hope they will give special emphasis to the American lions in winter - our World War II heroes, who will not be with us much longer.

 

I commit to pray, harder than I ever have, that I can be even a little worthy of their sacrifice and struggle. I pray to deliberately ponder, and relish, every day, the incredible blessings of freedom bought for me with American blood and bravery.

 

The scripture that describes us each going through life with "a cloud of witnesses" is one that inspires and comforts me. When I think about that cloud now, I see all kinds of faces from World War II: a Marine . . . a midshipman . . . a parachute packer . . . an infantryman . . . a pilot . . . a Jeep mechanic . . . a mess hall cook . . . a drill sergeant . . .

 

. . . and of course, my favorite WWII veteran, a dewy-cheeked, teenaged Merchant Marines ensign in the Philippines, posing jauntily in a hat a size too big - my late father. He's in that cloud of witnesses, too. These guys who went on that trip last week are going to join him, soon enough, on the biggest honor flight of them all.

 

Thanks, all of you.

 

We won't forget what you did.

 

We give thanks, on our knees, with tears, that you were brave and loyal and faithful.

 

We sense your encouragement and exhortation, to keep America going strong, on through the generations.

 

As yours -- "The Greatest Generation" -- hands us the baton, we pray that we will follow your lead and run with it. We pray we'll have your courage and resolve, living up to your legacy of defending the American dream . . . and honoring our heavenly Commander in Chief. †