When I was in my early twenties my friend, Ramona--a girl I've known since I was 17 who lives in Germany--accused me of being unappreciative of my nationality. She told me I was "lucky I was an American" and I had "no clue what it really meant". And I remember feeling angry and offended. If nothing else, my dad raised patriotic daughters, he'd given twenty years of his life to the U.S. Air Force, and we were there every step of the way. America first, always.
I just couldn't figure out why she'd say that. I've wept for our brave men and women who've sacrificed their lives and limbs to protect our freedom. I know what it cost. Blood, pain, and heart ache. Freedom never comes easy and it must be vigilantly watched and defended at all times. But, even knowing all that, even feeling it in my heart and soul down to my toes, I've discovered I really didn't know anything at all.
It turns out there is lots I don't know.
I had never heard of Estonia or Latvia. Lithuania sounded familiar, but rung no bells. I didn't watch the news in the early nineties. I was young and er, self-involved. World issues didn't affect me, I was in high school busy getting an education, busy socializing, I don't know....busy painting my nails. Too busy. I didn't hear, notice, absorb the fact that three countries that had disappeared from the map fifty years prior were suddenly back, announcing their independence.
I had no clue that in the 1940s there had been hundreds of thousands of people deported from their homes and carted to Siberia to work in labor camps. With little food or water, and freezing winters with no way to keep warm, it was basically a death sentence. I knew of Hitler and his vile regime to annihilate jews and I knew of Stalin, that he was equally evil. But I didn't have the full story. Most of what had happened was kept secret, the victims too fearful to speak out. No one knew the truth of things.
Sad to say, I still would be pretty clueless if I hadn't picked out a novel at the store that turned the world on it's head for me. Now I weep for those lives lost in Europe, for the senseless cruelty. In God's eyes, no one life is worth more than another. No one is a 'pig' simply because someone calls them that. No one should be a slave to another. Each life is sacred and treasured. My friend, Ramona, was right in that I have never had to go to war. I was born an American and I am very blessed. But the freedom I enjoy has nothing to do with luck. Freedom doesn't just arrive on your doorstep, a pretty package tied up with a sparkly ribbon and bow. Freedom is fought for and died for.
If you haven't had the chance to read this yet, I highly recommend the novel
Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys.
