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Let your babies cry this Remembrance Day

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Today I went to a kid’s Remembrance Day service the day before the stat holiday tomorrow here in Alberta.

Dh came, in uniform.  This is something he does the odd year he’s in town because it makes my kids unbelievably happy and he’s a good dad.  Even though he looks about as comfortable as a very polite bull in a very loud china shop.

And they did all the things we do at Remembrance Services.  They read “In Flanders Fields.”  They sang a song.  We sang O Canada listened to the Last Post and we had a moment of silence. Then the kids laid wreaths.

And during it all, it was loud.  The school goes from preschool age all the way to grade 8.  The young kids are just that; young.  They whispered until the whispers grew louder.  They fidgeted. They fussed.  And teachers, they tried diligently to teach them to stop.  To make them be quiet and respectful.

It only sometimes worked.

I remembered then those days when I had very small ones.  And I would stand, on my own usually, in the back of a crowded gym on Remembrance Day at 11am.  And I’d bounce and I’d feed and I’d beg and I’d do literally everything physically possible to keep my babies quiet.  I usually failed.

One time I got up with a fussing baby, and I went to leave, not wanting his muted wailing to interrupt the ceremony.  Just outside the door an older Veteran grabbed my arm and he said ‘let him cry. We’re still glad you’re here.’

And then, with Dh a world away,I cried too.

Today my youngest son and his class read ‘In Flanders Fields’

“We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.”

When it was over, Dh leaned in and said ‘that was…..eerie, coming from kids, if you listen to the words.’

He’s right.  They are kids.  And it’s heart wrenching to hear them say those words in unison, and I wonder if any of us truly listen to what that poem is saying anymore after hearing it our whole lives.  It’s not some meaningless group of song lyrics that we can repeat and hear without listening.  It’s tragic and terrible and important in it’s profound message. Though the writer had no way of knowing the future, it was as though John McCrae wrote knowing that one day, as we lived in peace, we would need to be reminded of the cost of our lives.

I know there are some of you today that think you can’t attend a service tomorrow because you’re worried your child will be disruptive.  And yet, your child is the exact reason you need to be there.  If there was ever a service, anywhere, that a child could cry through and it would be a joy to hear, it is this one.

Let your babies cry, friends, and as you quietly hush them, let your toddlers fidget and stage whisper in your ear for more cheerios.

What a beautiful sound freedom is.  

And what an important day it is to mark the reason we enjoy it.

It is to them the torch has been thrown.

“To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.”

 

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  1. Krysta | 11th Nov 15

    A poem I wrote for my two year old to hand out (along with a home made poppy) tomorrow at our local service.

    I am just a small toddler
    To you, a simple child
    I have a mum and father
    And dreams that seem so wild

    I’m only two years old
    And this can be a flaw
    Especially today
    As they show me what you saw

    I am far too young to know
    All that you’ve been through
    I don’t understand what happened
    Because I’m only two

    I’m not quiet in this silence
    It’s far too long you see.
    I’m a riot of defiance!
    My will is strong and free!

    … … …
    But, you see, that’s just the point
    … … …

    I am quite free, to be just two
    So very free because of you

    And at this point I do not know
    What you have done so I can grow

    So I can grow to be a man
    With my own values for which I stand

    But rest assured I will be taught
    That is why this poem I’ve brought

    I have two parents that look at you
    And shed their tears for all you do

    They know your sacrifice was great
    And that your friends had worser fate

    My parents too, were never there
    Never saw or breathed the air

    They’re in their twenties, and haven’t seen
    The times and places you have been

    … … …
    But they will remember
    … … …

    They have been taught
    The torch they’ve caught

    They’ll hold it high
    To not break faith with those who die

    They’ll help your comrades sleep
    Where poppies grow and widows weep

    They’ll thank you dearly
    And teach me clearly

    … … …

    So I am two, and free and true
    I know I’m safe because of you

    You keep me safe from “owies”
    You get “owies” sometimes too
    That’s how they try to teach me
    You fought for freedom true

    Although I’m only two just now
    Have faith I will remember how
    How and what you have done for me
    And then I’ll weep for you and he

    But for now, I’m almost three
    One year older, proud and free

    Thank you.

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