After a long night at work, placing flags and crosses at the cemetery was the last thing I wanted to do, it was hot and I was tired, but we decided to go anyway.
My scouts led us off with handfuls of little wooden crosses painted white by the sweet old ladies who were part of the local veterans group.
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We walked row by row searching for the identifying markers of a V or a STAR, and there we would carefully place a flag and a cross.
While we wandered the cemetery I taught my children about grave etiquette, and flag etiquette, and we talked about the brave men and women who died fighting and still die today to keep this land free.
We talked about sacrifice and what we would give up for other people. We talked about daddies and brothers, sisters and mothers, sons and daughters. We talked about loss and pain and death.
It was a beautiful experience. And even though we didn't know a soul in that cemetery we felt a special tie to each grave we honored with a cross and a flag.
And by the time that the cemetary was strewn with flags I think my children felt a little more humble, a little more grateful, and a little more respectful of this nation and the men and women who gave their lives for it.
And in the end isn't that what it is all about. These little teaching moments that hopefully will imprint themselves on their hearts and minds. And the possibility is worth any amount of sleep deprivation.
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