The eleventh month . . .
The eleventh day . . .
The eleventh hour . . .
I will stop and reflect on those that paid the highest price.
On this day in 1918 the first world war ended.
It was the year my Dad was born . . .
I wonder how his mother felt, giving birth to her youngest child in a time of such unrest.
Ninety years have passed since that day when for a short while, the world had enough of war.
Today, mothers are giving birth in places where gunfire is heard . . .
They are not much different from my grandmother. . .
I am so thankful to live in a country where I can worship freely.
I am free to speak honestly without fear of being silenced.
For all those that fought so that I could have this freedom. . .
I thank you. . .and remember you today.
And I will pray for peace in this hurting world.