I went to a National Cemetery for Wreaths across America. Here, 18,000 Wreaths were laid on God’s field of stone markers and healing blessings were laid upon thousands of souls walking, taking photos, reminiscing. The Cemetery was filled with children, boy scouts. ROTC guard, soldiers, congressmen, people. There were soft pretzels and people laughing. There were immense tears and comfort-filled hugging. And the smell of the wreaths was as good as any Christmas tree farm. All were honored. 

Much was there to touch my heart, and lots of land to get a good walk in. Old sneakers for mud in the rain, I imagined that the soldiers faced many non-ideal weather days like this…

Walking back to the maintenance entrance where I left my car, I was taken by the sight of new stones ready for placing in section 29, the wreaths on the bare ground. These stones in the shop were mostly October death dates. Truly I saw the beauty and solemnity of a driveway stone laid upon a new headstone not yet in the ground, this rock was surely placed by a loved one.  See it’s not where we are laid that the Spirit rests, but the memory that lives on – as well as the Rock of ages who takes up our walk home. The marker can be placed, but the race already won. Our pause remembers sacrifice… when better than at Christmas to remember sacrifice and a walk thru this world to a better one…

This was my poem:

18,000 Wreaths is a sight to see.

Freedom is a gift for you and me.

Sacrifice is a commitment paid militarily. 

Hopeful understanding is America’s plea.One country under God, my country ‘Tis of Thee.