My dad named me after his favorite uncle, Stephen Hogg. I grew up wondering about him, but knowing very little about him. He was buried in the family cemetery on our farm and his headstone stood out from the others because it was the classic white marble stone with a slightly curved top that marks the final resting place of countless soldiers. The inscription told me had served in the army and family had told me he drowned in Michigan.

I recently did some research and located his obituary in our weekly home town newspaper. He died on Friday, June 17, 1949 while fishing in a lake outside Detroit with some friends. Their boat capsized and he was caught in an undercurrent. He was 32 years old.

I also learned he spent eight years in the army, serving in General Patton’s Division during the war. Suddenly those brief words on the front of his headstone took on new meaning. I can’t imagine the events he must have seen and experienced as Patton’s army fought in Africa, Sicily, and Europe.

The next time I’m home and visit that cemetery, I’ll touch that piece of white marble and have a greater appreciation for the man whose name I bear.

This coming Sunday, I’ll join with hundreds of people as we put our hands together in thunderous applause saying “thank you” to men and women who have served and are serving in our nation’s military. They’ll stand with a quiet pride, some wearing their uniforms, while we do our best make them feel appreciated. This annual Celebration of Freedom will be an exciting service and I’m looking forward to it. The room will be filled with patriotic music and more red, white and blue clothing than you can imagine.

All will be quiet in the small mountain cemetery where my dad’s favorite uncle is buried, much as it will be in countless cemeteries where countless soldiers are buried. They won’t hear our “thanks,” but I’d like to think that when we celebrate this Sunday we will also be celebrating them. I know I will be.

Pastor Steve Hogg