Wednesday's child

Perhaps it's true that Wednesday's child is full of woe. He certainly filled that bill, and has seen more than his fair share of misery and war. He is a father who missed many Christmases and other "special" days.

Those of us at home tend to focus mainly on being left behind, but there is another side to the tale. He recalls standing watch on the bridge of a ship at sea on Christmas Day, flying a tired old transport airplane through the dark and starry night on Christmas Eve, eating mess hall/ward room turkey surrounded by a bunch of sad and gloomy male faces, and finally crashing on a lonely bunk in some far away place and wondering what it was like for the family back home.

But he never questioned why he was there, doing what he did. As he tells me, we are the land of the free only because first and foremost we are the home of the brave.

On this snowy morning I am aware that many of Point's finest who listened to the speech last night will soon deploy into harm's way. I am convinced that they are not "the enemy camp" but are those referenced by George Orwell when he said, "People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."

And so I am grateful for this rough and ready man, this Wednesday's child, and those like him, who go, in spite of fear, into the unknown of battle, who run toward the gunfire instead of away, who march with faith into the land of a people who not only do not love you but also seek your death in the most horrible of ways, and those who discover ultimately that hearts are the same all over the world, that all parents want the same future for their children, that it does not matter the day or holiday, that what is done with unconditional love is never done in vain.