At 11am today on the 11th of the 11th month, we paused to remember … I was out and about having just been very thankful to find a large set of Ninjago Lego in the local charity shop! Folk stopped where they were, hushed and thoughtful. Many more services and moments of remembrance will occur, with the abundance of poppies providing a great symbolic reminder to us of those who gave up so much to secure our freedom.

I won’t share the video clip on here but my children all held up poppies for a photo and my oldest son said “thank you to all the soldiers who died in the war”, then asked me if any of the soldiers were still alive and if I could send the video clip to them. It’s wonderful to remember and be thankful, to instill in the next generation a heart of gratitude for liberty with an understanding acknowledgment of great sacrifice and service. 

We will all often take it for granted and the world wars will become further and further back into history with very few veterans left. We can’t stop time but we can honour those who gave so much, who upheld the fight for freedom against oppression. It’s only right that we crack on with the present and future … I imagine all those who gave their lives for our country in any war, would want it that way, that’s the whole point, … however we must at times solemnly recall the reality of the price it cost to retain our independence and freedom. 

Similarly in relation to our spiritual lives let us put aside regular time to pause and reflect on what it cost Christ to secure our freedom, His sacrifice for our liberty. 

With humility and thankful hearts, we remember.

Ingrid x

In Flanders Fields by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

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.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

      For the Fallen by Robert Binyon

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

England mourns for her dead across the sea.

Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,

Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal

Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.

There is music in the midst of desolation

And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;

They sit no more at familiar tables of home;

They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;

They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,

Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,

To the innermost heart of their own land they are known

As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,

Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,

As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,

To the end, to the end, they remain.