She was having a fun conversation with a little girl who appeared to be about four years old. As they strolled along the water’s edge, I couldn’t help but listen. Even with the waves crashing in the background, her accent was one I recognized; however, she spoke clear English. She demonstrated no hesitancy as she approached me. Clinging tightly to that little hand, she said, “Do you come here often?”
“This has been our only beach destination for over twelve years”, I replied. “Is this your first time?”
We proceeded to embark on a lengthy chat. Initially, it was only about the beach, the area, sharks, manatees, etc. But not much time passed before we were talking about family. “Marta” was from Ukraine.
Almost 30 years ago, her parents fled that country and came to the United States. Her father had previously been imprisoned, and her mother had been tortured during pregnancy and childbirth by the Ukrainian government. The reason for those actions: they were followers of Jesus.
Seeking refuge from that tyranny, the United States offered her family hope. She met her husband. They now have five children (with this sweet girl being the youngest). She marveled at the opportunities they have as a family. Spending the week with her family (including her parents), vacationing in such a wonderfully free country on a beautiful beach, was not lost on her. And now, it isn’t lost on me either.
This holiday has always been important to me. The sacrifices of those who paid the ultimate price for my freedom are not something I take lightly. But thanks to God bringing this unforgettable encounter to me, I find myself sitting here with a much heavier weight in my heart. I want to remember her and her family. I want to remember those who died so that she and I could both live here freely. I pray that as a country, we never forget.
John 15:13 ~ Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.