Sunday, November 11, 2012

In Remembrance

A portion of homage to the walking wounded: "A population both uncounted and unaccounted for. Those who fought for the convictions of their hearts and have no place to lay their heads. Those who found valour in their youth and disregard in their age. Those who sacrificed in combat boots and are sacrificed to second-hand shoes. Those who survived in the trenches and now brave the gutters. Those who
 lost friends on the front lines, limbs on the battlefield, and minds on the minefield. Those who believed in a just war and have been shown no justice. Let us be poised for even more than remembrance for the fallen, but imagining the dream of reconciliation for the living."

From Tim Huff... "Lest We Regret"... Tim works is an advocate for and a friend to street people, from his book, "Dancing with Dynamite".

For those of you who live in the USA (and indeed, in Canada as well) and maybe haven't had access to Tim Huff, I thought I'd repost part of his homage to veterans. It reminded me this week that some don't proudly wear medals or still have uniforms, or even a home to call their own. Some are bound to wheelchairs, poverty and life on the street. The reminder this week stirred me to attend a different type of service this morning. Instead of watching the Remembrance Day ceremonies from the comfort of my couch as I usually do...because let's face it, it's -19...I don't tend to want to venture far from the warmth of my home on days like this. This morning though, I attended a service at a local soup kitchen, where they served almost 300 people for lunch, after serving so many breakfast as well. At 11:00, we stopped and held a small ceremony for Remembrance Day. What moved me most, was the diversity of the men and women, not in military uniform, though they may have once worn them, that stood and saluted the veterans we were honouring. I thought of Tim's words as I looked into the eyes of the people around me, clear, cloudy, distant and distracted. I'm thankful for our veterans. I need to remember throughout the year that the uniform of a former soldier may well be layers of flannel and denim, dirtied by life on the street, gloveless hands reaching out for change, and well worn boots that don't just walk the streets but make their homes there.

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