05/23/2026
As we enter this Memorial Day weekend, I find myself drawn into the quiet.
Not the noise of a long weekend. Not the busyness of gatherings, plans, sales, and schedules. But the deeper quiet. The kind of quiet that settles over a cemetery when we walk slowly among the names.
Names carved in stone.
Some of those names belong to those who served and paid the ultimate price. Men and women who never came home. Sons and daughters. Husbands and wives. Fathers and mothers. Friends. Fellow Americans. People whose lives were laid down so that others might live in freedom.
And then there are others who did come home, but not completely. They returned to their families, their jobs, their communities, and their lives, but some part of them remained behind. Some came home carrying memories too heavy to explain. Some brought back burdens too deep to name. Some lived quietly with wounds that could not be seen.
This weekend asks us to remember them too.
Recently, I had the privilege of assisting at the funeral of Chuck, a Naval Aviator who lived a full and honorable life. He served, he raised a family, he loved well, and he carried himself with integrity. As I reflected on his life, I was reminded that service does not end when the uniform is put away. For many, the discipline, sacrifice, honor, and responsibility become woven into the rest of their lives. They become part of how they love, how they lead, how they protect, and how they give themselves away.
And then this past Wednesday, Margaret and I had the joy of hosting several young Naval Aviators before they shipped out. These are not abstract people to us. They are faces we know. Voices we hear. People who have sat at our table, laughed in our backyard, shared a meal, and become part of our family. People we love.
Soon they will take to the sky. We will not see them for many months. And like so many families before us, we entrust them to God, pray for their safety, and carry them in our hearts.
Memorial Day is not simply about remembering “the fallen” in some distant or formal way. It is about remembering that freedom has faces. It has names. It has families. It has empty chairs. It has folded flags. It has long deployments. It has sleepless nights. It has spouses waiting, parents praying, children growing, and friends hoping for the next message that says, “I’m okay.”
And it is not only our military we remember with gratitude. We also hold close our law enforcement officers, firefighters, and all first responders who step toward danger when most of us instinctively step away. They carry a burden for the common good. They stand in the gap. They protect, rescue, defend, and serve, often at great cost to themselves and their families.
This weekend, perhaps the most fitting thing we can do is become quiet enough to remember rightly.
Quiet enough to pray.
Quiet enough to give thanks.
Quiet enough to notice the names.
Quiet enough to honor the sacrifices that made our ordinary lives possible.
For those who died in service to our nation, may God receive them into His mercy and peace.
For those who came home carrying hidden wounds, may God bring healing, strength, and companionship.
For the families who grieve, wait, worry, and remember, may God surround them with consolation and love.
For those now serving, especially those we know and love, may God protect them, guide them, and bring them safely home.
And for all of us who live under the shelter of their sacrifice, may we never take freedom lightly.
May we remember with gratitude.
May we live with humility.
And may we honor them not only with our words, but with lives worthy of what they gave.
Faithfully,
+Deacon Brian
