It was a beautiful spring morning when we visited the Stones River National Cemetery near Murfreesboro, Tennessee. It was cool, and except for the birds, totally quiet. No yelling, no screaming in pain, no cannon fire, no guns blasting, no crying to God for help.
It is easy to drive on through, never allowing the reality of this place and others like it to disturb our comfortable world.
Every white stone represents a young life gone, his family's broken hearts, a wife or girlfriend who continued to read his letters until they were tear-stained and worn. It represents the hands that were taught to make a living, forever useless, forever empty.
Nothing can ever change what happened here, or the atrocities of war at D-Day, Pearl Harbor, and other places all over the world. When we see these tangible offerings of stone, we can remember, we can honor, and we can offer respect for the sacrifices that were made.
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