Remembering and being Grateful

I don't go to Church. Somehow I don't feel comfortable there. But that isn't a true reflection of my beliefs, I just don't do the communal thing too well.

But this morning I accompanied Chiara for the Rembrance Sunday service (she had been asked to go as part of the Brownie congtingent, though it was a very poor showing from the pack).

I always cry during Church services, weddings, christenings and funerals alike. And I always cry at Rembrance services on the television, so you can guess what I was like in Church for the service (and I forgot tissues).

I found it a very emotional and moving experience. The service and sermons were beautiful, the hymns too (though I had only previously heard of a couple). Then a gentleman played The Last Post and another old soldier read out the Roll Call of Honour. It was heartbreaking how long the list was for such a small village, especially when so many names from the same family were called one after each other. There were younger names in there too, a reminder that wars continue down the generations. A reminder of the ultimate sacrifice paid by so many people over the years. A sacrifice I am grateful for every day.

I know it's simplistic to wonder why we can't have peace in the world. But I am a simple girl.