A Tapestry of Gratitude

Today, the flags flutter gently in the breeze outside my doors, and the air carries a solemn hush that speaks of memory and meaning. It is Memorial Day—a time set aside not for celebration, but for reflection, for remembrance, and for reverence. And here, within my walls, the spirit of this day lives quietly in the hearts of those who gather, light candles, bow heads, and whisper names that still echo through the generations.

I have borne witness to so many stories. Veterans who sat in these pews, weathered and wise. Families who brought photographs and tears. Hymns sung not in triumph, but in tribute. I have felt the deep ache of loss and the steady pride of service move through the hearts of this community, year after year.

Memorial Day reminds us that freedom is not a given, but a gift—one paid for with courage, sacrifice, and unspoken farewells. But more than that, it asks us to carry forward the legacies of those we remember. To honor them not just with words, but with lives that seek peace, justice, and compassion. To live in such a way that their sacrifices were not in vain.

As the unofficial start of summer, this weekend is often filled with cookouts, parades, and gatherings. And these, too, are sacred in their own way. Because every joyful gathering, every shared meal, every moment of connection is a reminder of what was protected—of what continues to be worth preserving: community, family, love, freedom.

So, today, I ask you to take a moment—to pause and truly remember. To say the name of someone who gave their all. To write a note of thanks to someone currently serving. To teach a child about the values of courage and honor. To reflect on the ways you can bring peace into a world still in need of healing.

I have held both grief and gratitude within me, sometimes side by side. That is the nature of Memorial Day: it is not one emotion, but many. It is the fullness of human experience wrapped in flags and flowers, silence and song. It is a day of reverent pause.

And as you move through this day—whether quietly at home or in the company of others—know that I am here, holding space for your reflection, your prayers, your gratitude, and your grief.

With every creak and whisper, I stand ready to hold your stories.

Yours in spirit,

The Spirit of UUNWI