Thoughts, Prayers & Art

On this Memorial Day, our nation pauses, not simply for a long weekend or the unofficial start of summer, but to remember. As a priest and as a military mother, this day holds deep and complicated meaning. It is draped in both reverence and ache.

We gather on grassy lawns and at seaside ceremonies, amid parades and flags fluttering in the breeze, but beneath the red, white, and blue are stories of young lives laid down, of dreams deferred, of families left holding folded flags where once there were embraces.

As people of faith, we are called to remember not only with our minds, but with our hearts and with our actions. In John 15:13, Jesus says, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” This love—the sacrificial love that gives everything for the sake of others is at the heart of what we honor today.

But let us not romanticize war. Let us not forget the toll it takes, the wounds that linger, the souls that ache long after the battles are over. Memorial Day is not a celebration of war, it is a lament for its cost, a gratitude for its burden-bearers, and a prayer for peace.

As a mother, I know what it feels like to send a son into uniform with a brave smile and a trembling heart. I know the prayers whispered into a pillow and the deep longing for a world where swords are beaten into plowshares, and peace is no longer a prayer but a promise fulfilled.

As a priest, I shepherd people who carry their grief quietly veterans who have seen too much, spouses who grieve year after year, and children who barely remember a parent except through stories and photos. To them, Memorial Day is not about picnics. It is about memory. It is about love. And it is about the sacred space where sacrifice meets hope.

So today, let us do more than remember. Let us live lives worthy of their sacrifice. Let us advocate for peace with the same courage they showed in war. Let us comfort the brokenhearted, serve the widow and the orphan, and never forget the price of our freedom.

May our remembering lead us to action.
May our prayers be filled with both lament and thanksgiving.
And may our hearts always hold space for the ones who gave all.
In the name of the Prince of Peace,
Amen.