An Accidental Memorial Day EOFO Outing

When you have a loved one who is deployed, or who is serving in our military, they are never far from your thoughts.  Not a day goes by that I don’t think of my son and say a prayer for him, and for the others I know who are serving.  On days like Memorial Day, my thoughts are a bit different.  I am humbled and frequently brought to tears by the remembrances of those who have paid the Ultimate Sacrifice, and my mother’s heart breaks for those Gold Star mothers who bear a burden and a grief that I fervently pray I never, ever will know.

My husband, who knows me better than anyone ought to know any other person, does his darndest to keep me from wallowing in self-pity and to stop me from fixating on things I can’t change.  (Philippians 4:8 comes to mind:  Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.)  Since this weekend was an EOFO weekend, we took an EOFO trip, but on Saturday.  Hey, it counts.  We ended up in Schulenburg, Texas where we toured several Painted Churches.  The area was settled in the 1850’s by Czech farmers, and there is still a strong Czech / German influence today.  It was a wonderful trip and the churches were breathtaking.  One of the churches was in the town of Praha, Texas.  Praha has a current population of less than 25, but at its peak in the 1880s, Praha boasted 700 residents.  The population dropped dramatically during the 20^th century, and never got above 100.  During the Second World War Praha had the unfortunate distinction of being the U.S. town with largest ratio of war deaths to residents. The largest number of deaths occurred in 1944, when 9 soldiers from Praha were killed. Three small identical chapels were built in memory of the dead. 

Nine Soldiers.  Nine families.  Nine mother’s hearts broken.  All out of a town of less than 100.    

Mind you, we didn’t know of this aspect of Praha when we headed out – we were just going on an EOFO outing. 

This being Memorial Day weekend, I have been thinking of those families.  Not just the Praha Nine, although they are in my thoughts, but all the families today who are remembering a loved one who gave the Ultimate Sacrifice.

Being an amateur genealogist, I know quite a bit of our family history.  My mother traced my side of the family several decades ago so I have been focusing mainly on my husband’s side of the family.  Between both lines, we have ancestors who I can document have fought in every battle from the Revolutionary War forward.  My children come from a long, long line of Americans who have answered the call of their country when asked.  My grandfather fought in World War I, my husband’s grandfather fought in World War II, we both have numerous ancestors who fought in the Civil War, we have at least one on each side who fought in the War of 1812, and we both have several ties to the Revolutionary War.  When doing research on either side, it is a safe bet that any male ancestor who was between the ages of 15 and 40 during the early 1860’s will have a Civil War record.  It humbles me to realize I am but one woman in a long line of women who have watched a loved one go off to war.  So many brave young men, so many brave families left behind, so many hopes and dreams and prayers and tears and kisses … it really puts things in perspective.

As I stood at the memorial in Praha and wept for those nine Soldiers and their families, I thought “This was a stupid EOFO outing; the last thing I need is to be reminded of the fact that, sometimes, Soldiers don’t come home” but in hindsight, I think God’s hand was in that trip and He wanted me to go there, that day, this weekend, at this time.  He wanted to remind me that I am but one of a long line of civilians who love and miss and pray for and remember and long for their Soldier.  He wanted to remind me that what my son is doing is honorable and right and respected.  He wanted me to feel a part of something bigger than myself, bigger than my own understanding, my own reality.

I am one of those women who cry easily … so the fact that I stood in Praha and wept isn’t surprising.  Another church we visited was founded in 1877.  There is a large cast iron bell that predates the church; it was purchased in 1876.  When I was reading the informational card to my husband (who was trying to navigate unmarked country roads in the pouring rain), I read the part where the bell has rung at weddings and funerals and Sunday mornings for over 13 decades.  Then I got to the part that said, “More recently, while the cities still smoked, the mournful clang of the bell marked the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington DC.”  I actually had to stop reading because I choked up.  Yes, I cry easily.  I cry often.  I cry over things that most other people wouldn’t.  It used to bother me, and it used to embarrass me, but I have come to accept it as a part of who I am.

I will continue to cry when standing at a memorial to nine young men who gave the Ultimate Sacrifice.  I will pray for them and for their families.  I won’t be ashamed or embarrassed when the National Anthem makes me teary.  I can’t help it, it’s how God made me and how I am. 

Today, as every day, I will pray for my son and for the other sons and daughters who are standing for freedom and for America.  I will remember the Praha Nine, and had it not been for my husband and his insistence on EOFO outings, I’d have never even known of those nine Sons of Praha.  I do believe God led us to that place, at that time, for His purpose.  For that, I am grateful.  For my husband, who won’t let me become someone I don’t need to become, I am appreciative (if not at the exact moment he’s forcing me to get in the car, then later) … and for our nation’s sons and daughters, our husbands and wives, our brothers and sisters who are carrying forth a tradition of service and honor that has been laid out by generations before, I am humbled and proud.

Thank you.

You are not forgotten.