Christmas at Arlington

The holidays are a time of joy, peace, and reflection. Christmas is the world's reminder of the gift of baby Jesus and ultimately His grace and sacrifice on the cross. This time of year can be a time of painful memories or renewed hope. It stirs a mixture of emotion in me, none that I can completely place. This year especially so. For me, writing is a way to express these feelings, work through them, and often come to realizations upon finishing. These posts are typically inspired by experiences or photographs that I cannot otherwise explain. Last weekend I had an opportunity that I want to write about, but feel that it will be a thought with no conclusion. A wisp of a feeling with no clear beginning or end, arousing emotions deep inside, but not sure what they were or where they lead.

On Saturday, I had the privilege of laying wreaths at Arlington National Cemetery with Wreaths Across America. I had heard of it once or twice the past few years, but haven't made it before and assumed that it would be a small crowd, similar to that at the Honor Flight a couple months ago. It required an early rising on a Saturday morning and I picked up my friend and we headed to the Cemetery. I was taken by surprise when we hit traffic on the parkway, appearing to be exiting at the Cemetery. Baffled, I decided to park up in Rosslyn and walk through the Iwo Jima Memorial to get there. As we walked, we began passing people with wreaths.

The goal of the day was to lay wreaths on the graves of the fallen and their loved ones buried at Arlington. I later heard on the radio that only about half of the 14,000+ graves are covered, but we saw them as far as our eyes could see. Waiting until an official ceremony had taken place at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier we stood in line behind one of the many semis parked all over the cemetery. Eventually the truck opened, and service members began passing out 2 wreaths a piece to the long line that had formed.

We spent time at each grave. With a mixture of feelings I read their names, their ages, their wars, and awards. I silently thanked them, prayed for the families they left behind, and straightened the red bows on the neatly laid wreaths. I wondered what had happened to them and who was remembering them now. Not entirely knowing what to do, I just spent time thinking about them, honoring their memory and the work they'd done. I came across Clifford Lytle. He was a purple heart receiving Marine who died on the Marine Corps birthday during Vietnam. He was 25. I was drawn to his grave several times, prompting me to search him on Google this week. All I could find was that he was from L.A. I couldn't find a story to tell me who he was, where he went to school, or if he was an Angels fan.

I got teared up as I watched a girl walk up to another grave and say, "yep, this is it, this is him." Who knows who he was to her, but at least she was taking the time to remember.

Honestly, the mood around us was far from somber. I don't think it needed to be. But it moved me. I am grateful beyond measure for what these people and their families give up for this country. To the veterans, those currently serving, and the people supporting them - thank you and have a very Merry Christmas.