You see them every year–veterans selling small paper poppies. Every year fewer of us seem to take note–we simply haven’t the time. We should take the time, however. For poppies, you see, are rather amazing flowers. Though they appear frail, they are quite valiant. Their seeds can remain underground, sleeping, for years. All it takes is a good churning of the soil to awaken them from their slumber. And that’s exactly what happened on the fields of Northern France and Flanders during WWI. Amid the death and destruction of the battlefield, red poppies began to bloom. One day Lt. Col. John McCrae, a physician from Canada, looked out over the crimson blossoms and penned the following:
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 field…
McCrae died a few years later–joining those of whom he wrote, with a cross marking his place, in a sea of poppies, far from home. But McCrae’s words continue to remind us of the countless men and women who have given their lives for freedom. They paid the highest price. The least we can do is be thankful for the sacrifice. So this Memorial Day let us take the time. Buy a poppy. Say a prayer. Remember.