Independence Day

"For those who have fought for it, Freedom has a taste the protected will never know." (Gen. Patton)

Today is the 4th of July, the day we mark the independence of our nation, or at least eat a lot of BBQ with family and friends. As the evening wanes, we might watch a local fireworks display accompanied by some patriotic music. Perhaps we place a few small flags in our potted plants and dress in red, white, and blue. We enjoy the extra days off from work and the time to catch up with friends and family. The 4th of July is the midway point in summer, the weekend that reminds us that school supplies will soon be on sale and we need to take advantage of the weather while we can.

It wasn't always this way. Over 200 years ago, this was a day heralded by the world, the day that brave men had sacrificed their lives for. It was a day that people had prayed for, had given sons and husbands and brothers for. On that 4th of July, people knew what they were celebrating: Freedom. The intangible goal for which they had risked all they had and given more than they had thought possible. I can't say that I know how they felt because I have never had to risk so much or sacrifice so much for the freedom I enjoy each day.

As Americans, we are lucky to live in relative ignorance of the cost of freedom. In fact, we have lived in such ignorance for so long that we have begun to think that Freedom is something that is owed to us, something we can expect. We are lucky enough to believe that it is our right to raise our children in a safe place where they will be educated and encouraged to achieve their goals. We are lucky enough to believe that we have the unquestionable right to speak what we feel strongly about, to share our opinions, and to stand for the things we believe in without persecution. The reality is that we do not have the right to expect any of these things. These expectations that we have are the fruit of Freedom and Freedom has a cost that we do not like to think about.

I don't like to think about the cost of Freedom any more than the next person. Some days I think I would be content to live in the peaceful bliss of ignorance. But that choice is not mine to make. I married a soldier. Each day I am reminded of the cost of Freedom. The combat boots that sit in stacks on the front porch, the uniforms that pile on the washer, the holidays, anniversaries, and birthdays missed, and the small voices that ask "When will Daddy come home?"all remind me of the cost of freedom. In our house, it is unavoidable. We are lucky to have my husband home right now, assigned to a training position, but I know that each moment here is precious because our next set of orders could arrive at any time and we will be back in deployment mode.
The reminders don't end when I leave our house. We live in a neighborhood of soldiers and their families. Many of my dearest friends are soldier's wives, women who understand what it is like to live a life dominated by the needs of the Army and our country. Everywhere I look, I am reminded of the cost of freedom. When I listen to speeches on the 4th of July, Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Veteran's Day about the cost of Freedom, I picture faces. Freedom is not an intangible concept for my family. I know the cost of my freedom. I know when I watch my husband play with our children because he savors each moment, knowing how many he has missed and how many he will miss in the future. I know the cost when I watch a friend embrace her husband, knowing that she is counting all the times she couldn't and all the times in the future that she will wish she could but he will be deployed or TDY, leaving her to "hold down the fort" again. I know the cost when I bid another friend goodbye as she and her husband follow their orders to another post. I know the cost when I listen to my husband talk of an old friend, a friend who is no longer here because he paid the ultimate price for my freedom. I know how much my freedom cost when I speak with that same friend's wife, and am humbled by her courage, her determination, her warrior spirit. But mostly, I know the cost of my freedom when I hold my husband's hand and remember all the times I wanted to but couldn't and all the times ahead that I will feel the same.

I often think that if I had the choice I would live in ignorant bliss of the cost of Freedom. But then I stop myself because I know that deep down, I am proud to know the cost of my freedom. I am proud to be married to a man that keeps that freedom alive for me and all those who live in ignorant bliss of the cost. I am proud that my children, as young as they are, know enough to shush those around them when the National Anthem is played and stand with their dimpled little hands over their hearts, chests out and heads up. Knowing the cost of my freedom and knowing well the names and faces of the men and women who keep it for me makes me savor it a little more. So this 4th of July, if you aren't sure what you are celebrating or how to celebrate it, let me make a suggestion: celebrate the simple joys of freedom - having friends and family, a place to raise your children, a future to encourage them towards, and the privilege of believing in something and standing for it. And men and women who, like those first revolutionists, are willing to risk all so that you can enjoy these simple pleasures that so many others do not have.

The spirit that first bought us our Freedom in America is not dead, it lives in the men and women who risk without thought for themselves in the hopes that our freedom will continue and that others who have never had freedom will have the joy of savoring it for the first time.