BECAUSE THERE ARE HEROES

Memorial Day is one of those days when we are brought to a deeper realization of how lucky we are because there are others who  willingly paid the ultimate sacrifice for our sake.  Today, I am once again fully cognizant of how much I owe those brave men and women, dead or alive, who have chosen service in the military their life's mission.   We are a better nation, a better people, who enjoy the many blessings of freedom because there are those whose love for country transcends pain, suffering, torture and even death.  Today, we honor them; today, we celebrate those keepers of freedom; today, we remember a debt we can never repay.  As we pause to offer a prayer of gratitude for what they have sacrificed for our sake, may we also recognize that our best expression of thanks comes in preserving what they have so valiantly fought for - our God-given gift of freedom.

A soldier's story of valor never fails to bring down my tears.  My profound respect for what they do or did in the service of our country is a paramount testament to me of an unselfish act, something that, in some infinitisimal measure, reflects the Savior's love.  One of those is the story of Kyle, a young marine who was wounded in combat while serving in Iraq.  He was severely wounded and lost his right arm.  Now, he has a family and his small daughter was born with a chromosomal defect that renders her a special needs child.  Despite a missing right hand, Kyle participates in his daughter's care with the dedication borne of love and strong sense of responsibility.  Kyle's attempt to bring normalcy to  his young life brought him to the "Wounded Warriors" team, a group of veterans who play baseball despite an amputated leg/s or arm.  I watched them in a video presentation that recorded one of their games with a group of full-limbed celebrities and marveled at their spirit, their zest for life, their exuberant attitude and their passion to excel in that physical game in spite of their handicap.  True that, except Kyle,  they wear a prosthetic device but we can all surmise that they are not as good as the ones they are born with.  And yet, they did not surrender to the curve ball of life; rather, they hit it with all they've got and scored a thrilling home run.  True to form, they are winners...because they are heroes.

I remember another story of a soldier from another time, a WWII veteran.  He affected me in a different way because his story, from the little that I knew, did not involve a missing limb but entailed the ravages of disease and the toll of advanced age.  A few years back, I decided I would hang my nursing license and go into retirement.  It didn't last, however.  After a few months, the tedium of inactivity nudged me relentlessly so I decided to try a type of nursing I haven't tried before - home health.  On the first day of my orientation with another nurse, one of the patients we saw was a paraplegic man who was bed-ridden and lived alone.  He let us in by operating the garage door opener after we announced our arrival through his bedroom window.  Lying in a hospital bed next to a tiny refrigerator and a hot plate, he was able to feed himself with whatever food he could reach and make in his cooking device.  Upon inspection, we discovered he needed an extensive cleaning up so after checking his blood glucose and giving his insulin coverage, we proceeded with the task.  It was something the visiting CNA should have done, but we were not leaving the poor man in such a pathetic situation until the CNA's scheduled arrival that afternoon.   I was worried about his safety and was curious about how he landed in such a dismal situation.  Apparently, he was curious about me too.  He asked me if I was from the Philippines and told me he was stationed there during the 2nd World War.  He mentioned a few areas where he was stationed and some of the horrible treatments they received from the Japanese soldiers when the country fell into the hands of the enemies.  I was surprised that his memory of those years stayed so vivid in his octogenarian mind but realizing how traumatic those experiences must have been, I understood why they were not easily forgotten.  We left him clean and dry after arranging a few things that would help him manage alone.  I asked the nurse orienting me if his situation had been reported to the Social Worker and why he was allowed to live in such a wretched state. I was told he was refusing to leave his home despite attempts by health care workers to transfer him to a facility.  He was my last home health case.  I was so distraught  by what I saw that after filing another report about his need to be re-assessed by his case worker, I quit that job.  I was so filled with a sense of outrage that a veteran who served his country when he was young and able was left to suffer alone in his old age.   Granted that he did not want to leave his home, there should still be a way that the system would be able to work out to ensure that he received adequate care.   I thought of him, and countless others like him, and wept in shame.

Two lives, two stories, two  men, two heroes.  Yet, there are millions.  Lives lost, lives changed, lives that rest in lonely graves covered with the parched earth or buried in the depths of the sea.  Their scattered remains and their blood spilled to water the scorched arid lands that hunger to be free are lasting sentinels of hope for a better world.  The battle to constantly light that fire of hope may never end, and the human struggle to fight for the right to be free from human bondage may never cease till the end of the earth.   But that brilliant orb of hope will outlast the darkness brought by man's selfish desire to oppress and dominate, because there are heroes.  Today, we bow our heads to give thanks for this glorious land that is ours, because there are heroes.  May we rejoice in our immense blessing, celebrate what we have and safeguard this freedom, this priceless offering that is ours... because there are heroes!