17,000 crosses

Last weekend I was able to go to Manila with the Faith Academy staff for the East Asia Regional Conference of Overseas Schools. The conference was great and I learned a lot! But, I think the most impactful thing I experienced in Manila was a trip to the American Cemetary.
World War II is a story in my history books. Its battles were fought far from home. I do the best I can to grasp the reality of the trajedy, and sometimes I think I get close. Both my grandfathers served during those crucial years, and the Philippines became all too real for them. My Pappaw was extra nervous about this trip of mine, because he was here, 60 years ago. The Philippines equate turmoil for him. He didn't choose to come like I did, none of them did. There are 17,000 crosses marking the graves of brave men who came to the Philippines and gave their lives for what they believed in. They fought and died so that I could be here today. Without their sacrifice missionaries might not have ever been able to come and the country would not be the friendly, welcoming country I know. So many lost their lives here in the Philippines, thousands lie in unmarked graves. Both my grandfathers made it home safely from their service for our country, returning to their special someones. Their letters from the Philippines to Tennessee serve as a small sort of proof of lasting allegiance and love. Allegiance and love to family, justice, freedom, country, God. As I read the names inscribed in stone, gazed down straight lines of white marble crosses, and outlined the movement of troops on mosaic walls, I thanked God for my grandfathers. I thanked God for the men and women who fought for me. I thanked God for my country.

"Let us here highly resolve that the cause for which they died shall live."