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Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.
Matthew 16:24 (NIV)

“On behalf of a grateful nation…”

Those dreadfully beautiful words came at the end of my husband’s funeral. A young Marine handed me a carefully folded flag. A prayer followed, then a three-round volley, and, finally, “Taps.”

Thus began my life as a widow.

Now, I claim no accolades. My husband was long-retired from the Corps when he passed away…an “old guy.” He was 49. There are many women who have suffered more, losing their loves on the battlefield, gone in an instant in a far-away place. I do not know the pain of the dress uniform coming to the door with the news.

But I stand proudly as a military widow…especially this time of year.

My husband is buried in a national cemetery. It was his wish, even written into his will. Each year on Memorial Day, we honor him and others who have served by attending the ceremony at the cemetery.

It is a special day, but not especially easy.

We always bring friends with us to the ceremony. They are a great support. Some are fellow military families. The service member retired or on active duty, snaps to attention as the flag comes by. The National Anthem is played and my heart breaks a little at the beauty of it and the memory of Keith doing the same.

We purposely bring others to the ceremony also, those who are not military, who may not understand the reason why families live that life, putting themselves in harm’s way for others. They are touched, and we are blessed to be sharing such a tender but important part of our lives.

I have met other widows at this ceremony as well, sisters on this journey. We are broken at that point, having just seen a reenactment of sorts of the end of our husbands’ funerals, hearing again the volley and the bugle. We meet, say “I’m sorry,” and watch each other with a thousand emotions in our eyes, knowing what it feels like. Connections are made, beautiful and poignant. Strangers hug, share a tear, and go on. It is a very powerful, but raw, day.

But absolutely worth it.

Last year, as I was standing beside my husband’s grave, watching my kids climb on the headstone (I figure their dad would have let them crawl all over him, and so I allow them to climb the headstone also), I saw to my left an older lady standing alone by a grave. I felt in my spirit that I was to go speak to her. I walked over and touched her arm, expressing my sorrow for her loss. She was somewhat bitter over the passing of her husband (an undetected medical condition she felt the doctors should not have missed) but was grateful for the company. She told me a bit about her family and met my kids. She had a small smile on her face by the time we parted.

God has given my family a mission.

We are the keepers of the testimony of the life of my husband–the man he was, and the God he served. We are bound by a duty to both that man and God to share this testimony for God’s greater purpose and glory. It is not an amazing testimony, but just an ordinary one. A Godly man got sick and died. No great hero; just a servant.

We try to further the cause of Christ in our little corner of the world by remembering those who have given their all.

But don’t we all have that responsibility?

God has given each of us a mission in life. We make choices to follow that path toward Him or away from Him. And in this widow walk, I am so thankful for this Commander who directs my path and my steps, who loves me more than I can measure.

For I stand proudly in the army of the Lord.

And if He tells me to go, to share, to walk this walk, I am willing to do so. His ways are best. Amen and amen!

Father, I stand amazed when I see what You have done in me and through me on this journey. It is the hardest thing I have ever done by far. But to be a part of the little moments when I can touch others by walking in Your ways, following Your orders, brings me a joy I have not known. It humbles me to know that You can use me, use this time, as something beautiful. Help me to always see what You would have me do, and to touch the people You would have me touch. In Jesus’ name, Amen.