Last night, after watching a movie on my laptop with Poor Kyle, I glanced up at the toolbar in the right hand corner and noticed the battery read 11% charged. I plugged in the laptop to let it build up juice, and went to lay my tired little head on the memory foam pillow awaiting it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the red numbers of the alarm clock glaring out at me: 11:11 p.m. On the eve of November 11. 11/11. 11%. 11:11 p.m.

It’s a Remembrance Day miracle.

Image from here.

Where I grew up, this holiday was called Veteran’s day, and it meant absolutely nothing to me. That sounds cold and heartless, but it’s true. To me, it was a day off school. The end. While I’m sure my teachers put forth a noble effort to help me appreciate the significance of the day, I’m also sure I blocked those attempts out of my memory–I didn’t care why we had a holiday, but I was glad.

Well, I’ve changed. Maybe it’s the fact I’ve moved to Canada where I’m inundated with poppies and flags and war stories and memorials, or maybe I’ve just grown up [the former, most likely]. But whatever the reason, I find my thoughts drawn ever-increasingly to the veterans of old these days.

Cemetery-Brussels, Belgium, 2007. I passed this site every day while I was living in Belgium, on my way to drop off my charge at school.

If you are American, you may or may not have ever heard of the significance behind poppies at this time of year. You may not even know what a poppy is–I know I didn’t, until a few years ago. {Poppy seed muffins…now that’s another story.}

Well you’re in luck–it looks like this. Image from here.

In Canada and England, the poppy is hailed as a symbol of the sacrifice veterans made for peace back in World War One (and all wars thereafter). Based on a poem written by Major John McCrae published in 1915, the poppy has come to signify all the lives given during time of war. The poem is very moving; Canadians have rather adopted it as their own, and even have it printed in itty bitty print (both English and French, of course) on their ten-dollar bill:

That’s some hard-core appreciation right there. Image from here.

Don’t worry–you needn’t strain your eyes to read the teeny words. I’ve reprinted them here. Normally I’m not much of a poet, but it’s an important day. I have a huge amount of love, respect, and appreciation for our veterans. One of my grandpas made the military his career, and sacrificed much to do so; my other grandpa was drafted into the Korean war, but went willingly. Both are heroes to me, along with everyone else who fought–or is fighting–in some way for these countries.

In Flanders Fields
By John McCrae (1915)

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Image from here.

I wouldn’t have gotten all sappy on you, except for the Remembrance Day Miracle I was given last night–it was a sign, for sure. Happy Veteran’s day, and please take a moment or two to remember and give appreciation to those who deserve it.

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