The Glory of Poppies
I have used this art before but for once I do not feel at all worried or concerned about using it again.
The last time I used it I spoke mainly of the painting. How it had been painted and where it was now. I will not repeat that and left it as said.
In my other blog today I told a simple story of the love of a son for his mother. (Told in the form of an elephant parable) Such love and respect has to earned. The poppy is used as a symbol of reminder of the sacrifice made by many on our behalves, in war and conflict.
Yesterday I spent the day with my family, in the warmth of the fold. We cooked and ate outside then we sat and remembered.
In the course of our talks we talked of Willie. He was a member of my church. He had lost a leg in the war and for the most part he went about on crutches. He had a false leg which he used on very special occasions only. On the day as an elder he served communion he would be seen wearing it.
He did a tremendous amount of work around the building. He could often be seen up a ladder on his one leg.
He and my son had a great relationship. They talked like two equals. One day my son was sitting on the wall beside Willie.
“Willie,” he said, “ I have been wondering a lot about something.” “What is that?” asked Willie. “I was wondering how you managed to get onto a horse,” said Ross. “Ah,” said Willie, “that is one of the joys the war has taken from me.”
Ross thought for a while and pondered. “That really is terrible that people do things like that,” he said.
“It is indeed,” said Willie, “but there you are, some people had to give their lives. I have had to give up riding a horse.”
“Well,” said Ross, “I will remember that every time I ride the horse at the farm.
It seems he remembered a lot longer than that.
This blog is linked to my other. To be Respected and Loved is a Joy