Because Freedom isn't Free

Today was one of those days that started out bad and just got worse. By 8:30 this morning, I was frustrated with the girls, irritated with Jason, and trying to figure out why our hot water heater was leaking and who could fix it. As the morning went on I just felt more and more out of sorts. Around noon, I headed out to run an errand with the girls. About a mile from our house, I came up to a funeral procession headed to the Veterans' Cemetery just down the road. I pulled to the side of the road to show my respect, as did all the other drivers ahead of and behind me. Lauren asked me why I'd pulled over and I immediately began to cry as I tried to explain why we pull over when we see a funeral procession. The first thought that came to mind was that I'm glad I live in a place where people still see the value of stopping, even though it might cost a few minutes of their time. I thought about the person the hearse was carrying and wondered where that person might have served? WWII? Vietnam? I thought about how that person who I didn't know was willing to serve our country and be in harm's way so that I could have freedom that I take for granted most of the time. All of a sudden the stuff I was mad about didn't seem nearly as important as it had a few minutes before.