When we lived in Germany, we took a road trip to Paris. It was Memorial Day weekend. What surprised us was how disconnected we felt from the “holiday” because the Europeans do not celebrate the day. And why would they? It’s an American holiday. We were given the last Monday in May off because my husband worked for an American company in Germany. Since the company did work for the military, they observed the holiday as well.
While in Paris, on that Memorial Day Sunday, we visited the Arc de Triomphe. A three-to-four-lane road circles the Arc so to get to it, you have to go underground and walk through a lengthy tunnel. I’ve seen the Arc on television many times but what I didn’t realize is that there is not only an arc front to back but there are arcs on either side. I was blown away by that but was disappointed because the Arc had limited hours that day.
But this post isn’t about the Arc, it’s about what happened while we were there.
I wanted a photo of the side of the Arc, so I walked over to the edge of the circle and 
took some photos. I noticed a man with a VFW hat locking his car door to the left of me. I walked over to him and thanked him for his service (something I always do whenever I see a person in uniform.) Because I don’t speak French, I asked him if he knew why the Arc was closing. He said there was a Memorial Day procession at noon and that we should stay for it. My watch said it was barely 11:30.
I had no idea the French honor the U.S. Memorial Day! Why hasn’t the media ever talked about that? Since it was a Sunday and not Monday—the day the U.S. celebrates Memorial Day—I didn’t make the connection between Memorial Day and the gentleman with the VFW hat.
My husband, Ted, sat on a ledge and I told him why the Arc would be closed. He wanted to stay for the event. I joined him for a few minutes to cool off because the temperature soared that day.
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was in the front, and it was cordoned off, but we were second in line.
We had no idea how this event would play out. The VFW man told me a gentleman (from a long-term care facility) who had survived storming the beaches at Normandy would be there. This was history coming alive.
The French Police came and told us we had to move behind a set of metal barricades. My husband and I turned and moved quickly to get a ring-side spot that allowed the best view. The Star Spangled Banner faintly played and I wondered who played it. French soldiers marched to the front of the tomb and there was a French military band who came around the side and stood opposite the French soldiers. They had been playing our national anthem!
As we stood there, I turned to see a tall young man with a huge camera. I remarked it was one big lens. He turned and smiled and started a conversation. He and his girlfriend were German. As we talked, he wanted to know what was going on and we gave him an explanation.
I hesitated because I didn’t want to offend him, but I wanted his opinion on WWII. I think he understood what I meant. He said that it was sad that it happened. He said he didn’t know what he would have done if he had lived in that era and that he was glad he was living now and not then. His response disappointed me, but I wasn’t surprised by it. Five minutes before the event, he and his girlfriend left. That surprised me.
The Air Force honor guard marched to their spot. Then came the flags. First the U.S. and then the French, followed by various military personnel from each.
As the soldiers took their places, I was so overcome by emotion I began to cry. Never in my life had a Memorial Day event affected me in such a way. Was it because of the enormity of the war? Or was it because we were on foreign soil? I don’t know, but I remember the pride I felt that America helped liberate the French from the Nazis.
As the band played the Star-Spangled Banner, my husband saluted, and I began to sing loud and proud. I heard a woman’s voice behind me singing loudly as well, and then other voices joined in. There were more Americans in the crowd than I expected.
The French then played their anthem. The French soldiers and then the Americans placed wreaths on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
I’m so glad we chose to go to the Arc first. Otherwise, we would have missed out on the solemn occasion and the once-in-a-lifetime experience.
It was a glorious spring day despite the chill in the air. The sky was bright blue with no clouds in sight. We traveled to Rothenburg because we had heard of Germany’s “Romantic Road”. The Romantic Road runs north to south for approximately 220 miles and passes through a multitude of gorgeous old towns and cities. Rothenburg is one of the many towns which is more well known and is a very romantic city that dates back to 950 AD. From where we lived this city was about an hour and a half away but there was traffic so it took us longer than we expected to the point and we were stuck in a tunnel, no less!
There are very few cars in the city because the roads are so small and visitors have to park outside the city walls and walk through one of the many arched gateways. My husband has trouble walking so when we arrived at the Marketplatz (the main market plaza) we took a bicycle tour of the city. It was amazing.
We then bought some souvenirs: a dish towel for me and a few puzzles for my two-year-old grandson. Spotting a bakery, we purchased two Schneeballen which is a Rothenberg specialty desert. They are deep-fried balls covered with different toppings. What is amazing about this dish is that they have been producing it for over four hundred years!
In Genesis, God promises Abraham that He would make Abraham the father of nations. This verse shows that God kept His promise to Abraham and the children of Israel. Generations had passed from the time of Abraham to when the book of Hosea was written. God is the same, yesterday, today and forever. We can trust in His promises. Hold His promises in our hearts.
The most recent example of the genocide inflicted upon the children of Israel was the Holocaust in Germany during World War II. We visited the death camp, Dachau, when we lived in Germany. That camp was the model for all other concentration camps. The Germans were told these camps were to rehabilitate. They were not told the Jews would be used for various and inhumane medical experiments or that they would die horrible deaths in gas chambers. When Dachau was finally liberated in April in 1945, there were thirty thousand Jews in a camp designed for only six thousand. I stood in the massive compound where Jews stood for hours on end and cried. This cruelty has been inflicted upon the Jews throughout the centuries.
But God has always kept a remnant of His people. And He will continue to protect His people regardless of the political climate. His word tells us they are His people. He will bless those who bless Israel and He will curse those who curse Israel. We need only look at the influx of the children of Israel to the land of Israel over the last thirty years. God is bringing His people back to the land He gave Abraham. They have come full circle. His word is true.
My father served (pictured on the left) in the Navy in World War II and my husband served in the Air Force at the tail end of the Vietnam War. Friends and classmates have served. I have always been in awe of their service and for those who served in the United States Armed Forces throughout these past 200+ years. 
For a time, some years ago, my husband worked for a company that had contracts with the military and we lived in Germany. We had the distinct privilege to see first hand the military bases used by the Germans during the second world war. Military bases that are now American military bases.
The soldiers aren’t the only ones sacrificing for our freedoms, their families do too. Birthdays, holidays, special occasions all missed by the parent who is deployed. The children miss out. The spouse misses out. And the soldier misses out. All to keep our freedoms.
On the opposite wall, a bronze plaque in five languages reads, Never Again.