For the first time, we didn’t travel down to the Boalsburg Memorial Day. We didn’t eat hot dogs from the Boy Scouts, listen to the band, or watch the dancers in square. We didn’t eat winning pies from the annual pie contest. We didn’t wander the streets and greet all our friends and neighbors.
But we were free. I was free to read my Bible. I was free to cultivate the land around the home we own. I was free to walk outside. I was free to listen and watch what I wanted to, if I wanted to. I don’t take this for granted.
My daughter made an apple pie from a recipe she learned how to make from her 6th grade teacher all those years ago. Sarah was free to learn and go to school. My husband grilled the hot dogs and worked in the garden as a nice break from the work of building our online summer mission for graduate students. He is free to talk about Jesus without persecution. I don’t take any of it for granted. I put the flag out. I cut watermelon. I cleaned the corn. Every year, it’s a simple life, and this one seems even more pared down. And it never felt more free.
I am so thankful that others lost their lives so I can live like this.