That flag upon which you stand and dance is simple fabric dyed with red, white and blue, yet it is a precious thing. It is a holy thing, to a multitude of people. All who have served, all who have fought and bled, all who have loved someone who fought and bled, to the countless veterans and families who have endured the horror of war for over a decade, it is a precious thing. We understand now, why our fathers, who served in WWII, Korea and Vietnam, weep at the sight of the colors flying proudly in the wind. We understand and we too now weep when we see her flying.
For me personally that flag upon which you stand represents many things, I remember my father and the stories he told me of the war. He fought in many of the famous battles of the South Pacific, upon a ship called the USS Lavallette. He covered fallen brothers in flags and sewed them into bags, and stood at attention as their bodies were consigned to the sea. He stood upon the deck and watched as bulldozers opened up great holes upon the beaches of the many islands there, and hundreds upon hundreds of flag draped bodies were buried there. That flag upon which you stand, bore silent witness to all the horror my father endured in the long years of WWII.
My first born son fought under that flag upon which you stand, in Iraq and Afghanistan. During those dark days my heart was filled with fear and my nights with dreams of danger as he fought. I wept many tears, tears for him, tears for his wounded brothers, tears for the fallen. Those tears, my tears, stain that flag upon which you stand. I joined in prayer with mothers, crying out for the safety of our sons, only to receive word that their son had fallen, he was coming home, in a flag draped coffin.
That flag upon which you stand, was upon the arm of each one of those young men, as it has been on countless young men across the ages. That flag bore witness as my son, the little boy whom I loved, took the lives of our enemies, it bore witness as he administered first aid to his wounded brothers, and it is stained with the countless tears and heartache he endured while fighting and has endured since and will endure in days to come.
One Easter Sunday, two young men were severely wounded in Iraq, and that flag upon which you stand, bore witness as a young medic struggled to save them both. One young man died, the other became our nation’s first surviving quadruple amputee. And that flag upon which you stand, is stained with the tears of the family grieving the loss of their beautiful son, it is stained with the tears and the struggle of the young amputee as he begins the hard and often cruel road of learning to live with his new normal. It is also stained with the tears, the sorrow, the nightmares and struggle of the young medic, who did all within his power to save both.
That flag, upon which you stand, covered the coffin of my nephew Allen, and I sat at his funeral and watched as it was reverently folded, and presented, to his beautiful young widow and her two precious boys. I watched as a little boy, not old enough to truly understand what was happening, suddenly became very serious, as his little heart realized that something solemn, something holy was taking place, and his little hands reached out to take the flag, and my heart near broke in two at the sight.
You see Erica, that flag upon which you stand, although it might appear to the eyes to be crisp and new, is stained, deeply stained. It is stained with the blood of the countless souls who fell in combat. It is stained with the sweat, and the struggle of a legion of souls who waded through mud, and blood, who endured the most terrible conditions, and who fought with valor throughout our history. It is stained with the tears of the mothers, the fathers, the sisters and brothers and spouses and children who cried out to God and who wept over the flagged draped coffins of their loved ones. It is stained with the tears and the struggles of every single veteran who came home from war, stained with the tears they cry in the night, stained with the struggles of their often overwhelming fight to come all the way home.
That flag, upon which you stand, although it is but fabric, dyed with red and blue, is a sacred thing to me, and to so very many people, it stands for things that I fear many people cannot understand or comprehend unless they somehow lived some portion of it.
Although that flag, upon which you stand, is naught but fabric dyed with color, it is so very much more. When you desecrate it, when you stand upon it, when you dance upon it, your desecrate the honor of each and every soul who fought under its colors, you tread upon our sacred dead, you dance upon the graves of all who bled and died and went to their rest wrapped in its colors.
You and all who participate in this “challenge” have no understanding of the countless tears that soak that piece of red white and blue upon which you stand. The blood that has stained her, the tears and sorrow that have soaked her, is beyond comprehension. Some of those tears that stain that flag, upon which you stand, are mine.
I pray, with all my heart, that you will consider these things. The words I have placed here are but a tiny portion of the magnitude of the meaning of that piece of colored fabric upon which you stand. Whatever you are attempting to communicate through these actions is not being heard. Hate is always an ugly thing, and seldom makes the point intended.
I pray you will ponder these things, and perhaps even offer an apology to the countless veterans and families that have been hurt by your actions.
This letter is written in response to the below video, of one Miss Erica Walker stepping upon the flag, and in response to any and all who have decided to participate in the "Eric Sheppard Challenge."
More information on the Eric Sheppard Challenge: http://www.inquisitr.com/2066139/eric-sheppard-challenge-stomping-on-american-flag-movement-goes-viral-veterans-outraged/
