We observed the Remembrance Day Ceremonies at home today. We watched the proceedings from Victoria on CBC, sang "Oh, Canada" at 10:58, and were silent for two minutes at 11:00. I found myself getting really emotional while we sat in silence. This is a feeling that has been growing more each Remeberance Day as I have gotten older. When I was younger I was invincible (as far as I knew, anyway) and I couldn't conceive of a scenario in which I could be permanently harmed, especially not in an any sort of armed conflict. Since the birth of my children, however, I've found myself identifying with those who are left behind after watching their son or daughter set sail for some war-torn region. I can't help but think about my kids and what might possibly be in store for them in a world as uncertain as ours is today. It is my fervent hope that neither of them finds themselves in a place of war, and I have faith that they never will. But I can't be sure of this, so I cry a little.

I wrote a post a few years ago that summed up my gratitude to the men and women in the armed forces. I'll post it here again as reminder to myself to never take the gift they provide us for granted:

We attended our first Remembrance Day ceremony here in Maple Ridge this morning. It was Chloe's first official function in her capacity as a member of the 4^th Alouette Sparks troop that didn't involve selling cookies. We gathered at the Legion on 124^th street at 10:15 am and proceeded to march to the cenotaph at Memorial Peace Park. Chloe did great and even managed to stay silent for the full two minutes when required, which was a feat in itself. There were several fly overs: the first by five vintage aircraft and another by the Slow Birds, a group of local single-engine aircraft pilots who performed the missing man formation.

The service was very nice and quite moving. It makes you stop and think when you see the rows of aging veterans standing at attention, many with the help of canes and walkers. It makes you think about how very lucky we are to live where we do, in the time we do. I have to admit that I shed a tear or two during the two minutes of silence, forehead to forehead with Sam, thinking about how lucky I am to be able stand in the sun on a beautiful November day in a place where I am free from persecution and fear; how lucky I am to know that my children are safe, free to grow and to pursue their dreams; how lucky we are to have people who were willing to fight, and to die, for our freedom, securing a peaceful future for us and our families. I know not many will read this, but I would just like to say thank you to all those who have helped in the past, and who will help in the future, to give us the gift we so often take for granted: the gift of freedom.