WE CAN DO THIS, SON! © Vickey Stamps 7-2-10 A hand reached down to help the old man up. A voice, soft, spoke to the man. "We can do this Son, together we can do this!" The old soldier’s hat was sometimes tri-cornered. Other times it became a helmet. The landscape continually changed around the two of them. He had started out on the trip much younger, vigorous and with hope in his heart. Family and farm had been left far behind, numerous long years ago… What had been months of battle had become so much more than that. Now the dusty robes belonging to the hand, became that of The Christ, who slipped down to sit and rest beside him for awhile. The patriot had started out, musket in hand. At a different point in history, he’d retrieved the ragged old red, white and blue flag, from a fallen comrade. He carried it in a special place on his side, opposite that of the one holding the musket. The flag was precious. It could not hit the ground. Sometimes the old flag had only thirteen stars upon it, and the white looked almost grey from the trauma of all that had gone before, in all the great efforts to sustain its cause. Sometimes the red appeared more a darkened pink and the flags edges became frayed and were unraveling. On it waved. In the blink of an eye, the flag held fifty stars and proudly waved its stripes in vivid displays to encourage those who saw it. The soldier’s feet hurt, for the soles of the shoes had worn down to nothing more then a thin lining, binding the shoe together. There had been so many rugged roads of time on which he had walked. Newspapers were layered inside to keep the coolness of the earth from his feet. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on without better clothing, for his own, were dirty, tattered and torn. He became so weak from his travels that he would stagger and fall, but always, he kept a firm grip on both flag and musket, always he watched closely for the enemy that sought to take the freedom which he treasured. Sometimes his friend, The Christ, with such love in his eyes, helped him up, and they would walk through another period of time. Other times like today, he became too tired and the Lord would sit down with him and they would visit for awhile. They’d always traveled together, this aging, ageless pair. There causes were the same in many ways. Where he battled for a life without the evils of tyranny, so fought the Lord. Where he wanted mankind to always know of faith, hope and charity, so had his friend, The Great Creator. He wanted freedom from evil for all eternity. And, so did The Master. So they sat and talked with one another there on the dusty road of life. "I don’t know how I’d have managed without you, the old soldier spoke. "We have been together for such a long time. You’ve been my strength, and my hope. You’ve given me courage when I lost my own. You are everything. Just let me rest a few moments more, and we will travel on. Do you never tire of caring for me and your other children? I think not! I’m going to close my eyes now. I’ll hang onto my old musket, Lord, but could you take the flag for awhile. In you we trust. In God we trust. God Bless American. Let freedom ring!" Life was good!