Over Memorial Day weekend, my husband and I went to visit Jefferson Barracks in St. Louis. What a humbling experience to pull into a cemetery, holding white grave stones, that seems to go as far as the eye can see. We would drive through slowly reading over the names on the tombstones. Then we would stop every so often and get out and walk a bit. There are tombstones from the Civil War where you find "Unknown Soldier" engraved.
As I looked out across the cemetery my mind came to two thoughts. Each person placed here holds a story. A story worth being told. A story of life and giving. Some of the men and women here died in battle at a young age. Others lived on after battle to live long lives. For me, each gravestone was just as important as the next. Each life held purpose and beauty. I found myself reading their information and wondering what life was for them. When they came home were they welcomed?