I can’t imagine what it’s like to go to war.
I can’t imagine having the courage to leave my family. To say goodbye to those I love.
I can’t imagine being shipped off to some distant land to fight for people you don’t know.
I can’t imagine long periods in trenches. In jungles. On battlefields. Bored. Exhausted. Cold, wet and scared.
I can’t imagine entering the battle. To be ordered into such great danger that my life is no longer in my hands.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to start shooting. At humans. Real people. To take a life.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to see people killed. Not just people, but friends. Close friends. Killed right in front of my eyes.
I can’t imagine being shot. To feel the excruciating pain. To know I am in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of a battlefield. To fear for my life.
I can’t imagine returning home. Emotionally and physically scarred. To have the scenes, the sounds, and the bloody images locked permanently in my mind.
I can’t imagine.
∴
I also can’t imagine our country. Our life. Our freedom. Had you not imagined our freedom for us, and then given everything.
I can’t imagine we could ever thank you enough.
THANK YOU for giving more than we can imagine.
When I was a kid, before you could ‘google maps’ the entire earth, I day dreamed of exploring the vast pacific ocean and discovering some distant new island.
A few weeks ago three people, over the course of a week, reached out to ask why I wasn’t blogging? One example is from a young reader who private messaged me, “I was just wondering what happened with your blogs – I really enjoyed reading them”
“You don’t understand,” I said partly in jest, “It has nothing to do with their fear of change. It’s ALL my own insecurities.” As soon as I heard the words leave my mouth, even though I was meaning them to bring humour, I knew they were true.