One by one, the throng of parents and their children filled
the seats in the center of the gym and all those benches that surrounded them.
The seats reserved for well-deserving students who had worked so hard to
achieve their high grades and other accomplishments. My son, sitting among his
friends, turned his head toward the left side to find me and my husband,
sitting comfortably on the second tier as we heard the highschool’s band
playing a welcoming music to everyone who entered.
The program started with us singing the anthem as we stared
at the students holding the flags, our right hands placed in the mid-chests. I
opened the flyer handed out earlier as we walked in and continually checked the
progression of the special ceremony. As every well-deserving student received
the awards, parents were overwhelmed with the huge number of our children being
recognized this year.
I clapped hard when my son’s name was called numerous times.
My husband clicking the shutter of his camera, trying to take a picture of this
special moment.
Before the program ended, as our ears were accustomed to
loud cheers of joy and celebration, there was one cheering that stood out the
most…It was when one of the school’s official asked those who were actively
serving or retired from the military to stand up. Many stood up, including my
husband. As the rest of us who remained seated acknowledged their sacrifice and
service by cheering louder than what the honor students received. We all knew…Parents
and students…Teachers and school officials…they were the ones who deserved
being honored the best. For nothing could ever repay the sacrifice they paid.
As each one of us enjoyed the freedom we have, here in this place.
They made it through all the sufferings they had gone through.
But many also lost their lives. A choice they willingly opted for when they
entered the military. Knowing that the price of freedom was high.
“Thank You, Lord,” my husband uttered, choking with each
word, sniffling as the three of us prayed this morning. Without seeing him, I
knew, he was crying. Crying? A man who never easily cried. But it was so clear
that he was. His prayer sounding with so much gratitude. I felt the corner of
my eyes welled with beads of tears, too. As I felt my son let go of my left hand
and could sense him rubbing his eyes.
We knew Who gave the biggest sacrifice. We knew Who died for
us…In order for us to live.
And it’s worth remembering Him first, and then, the rest who
gave their lives for us to be FREE…
