Of Freedom and Grace

He spent six months at war.  A war that was never really a war.  But hell just the same.  Maybe even worse.  He lived decades in those months.  Survival at its most raw.  He lived through anguish I never will.  So that I never would.  And when you ask, he will tell.  Humbly, he will tell.

Because heroes are like that.  Humbly strong.  Quietly brave.  Having given more courage and bravery than most.  Admitting utter God-dependence that took every ounce of everything he was, even though he didn’t realize it at the time.  The realizing would take years. 

The reason he is here:  the grace of God.  Period.  The very grace that cost Him everything.  For the freedom that costs no less than all.

And the older I get, the more I realize that neither are free.  Freedom and grace.  Indeed, perhaps the most costly of all.

Thanking Almighty God for His grace that cost Him everything.  And for the call He gave so many in our country to give everything.  And, after all of that, to give me my hero dad who would not be were it not for the grace of God.