Tag: Fiction

Memorial Day in Aucoin

On a breezy Memorial Day morning, the small town of Aucoin prepared for its annual commemoration. Colorful flags waved gently in the wind, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the air. Children laughed and played, their innocence a reminder of the freedom fought for by so many.

At the center of town stood a weathered veterans’ memorial, its stone engraved with the names of soldiers from wars and conflicts who had given their all for their country. Among them was Sergeant James Frazier, an Aucoin native come local hero who left for war with a heart full of dreams yet returned only in the memories of those who loved him.

As the courthouse clock struck ten, townsfolk gathered for a solemn ceremony. Among them was Chelsea, James’ younger sister, now a mother herself. Her memories of her brother were vivid: the laughter they shared, the stories he told, the secrets they kept, each moment glowing like sunlight on a summer’s day. She recalled the day he enlisted, how proud and terrified she felt watching him march away.

After a stirring rendition of patriotic favorites, the crowd grew silent. Slowly, Mayor Frederick Johnson stepped forward, honoring not just James, but all who had served. “Today,” he said reverently, “We remember their sacrifices, the families left behind, and the dreams unfulfilled. We stand united in gratitude.”

As he spoke, Chelsea held her young daughter, Emma, close.

“What’s he talking about, Mama?” asked Emma, who was starting to get restless.

Chelsea leaned down and whispered, “He’s talking about your Uncle James, sweet girl.”

“He was your brother, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” said Chelsea, her eyes tearing up slightly. “He fought for our freedom, baby girl. His name is on the monument.”

Emma looked at her mother with innocence. “We should say thank you?”

Tears glistened in Chelsea’s eyes as she nodded. After the ceremony, they walked to the memorial, flowers in hand. Emma knelt, placing her petals gently at the base. “Thank you for keeping us safe,” she said softly, her small voice carrying the weight of gratitude.

In that moment, a gentle breeze scattered the flowers, forming a colorful carpet at the foot of the memorial—a reminder that love and sacrifice unite generations. Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the town of Aucoin lit candles, illuminating the names engraved on the stone, shining brightly like stars in the night.

Through their tears and laughter, the town of Aucoin honored those who gave their everything. They remembered that freedom isn’t free but comes at a price while simultaneously bringing hope and unity for a brighter tomorrow. Every heart beat in gratitude, and every story told echoed the eternal spirit of freedom.

*Image courtesy of Aaron Burden

by Categories: Church and Christian Life, Devotion, Response, UncategorizedTags: , , , , , , Leave a comment

Stranger Than Fiction

jesus-kiteque-224069

I’ve heard it said that truth is stranger than fiction, but I was never certain as to whether or not I could really believe it. Truth and Fiction are so similar that it’s hard to distinguish between them. Many times, in either classification, people are simply telling stories.

Don’t misunderstand me. I love stories. I always have. There’s something about the ebb and flow of the introduction of characters, the unfolding of the setting, the emergence of conflict, the buildup of relational tension, and the joy of resolution that grips me down deep.

Stories teach. Stories heal. Stories whisk us away to other lands and somehow through the mental break and moral lessons they provide, we emerge as better people, much of the time at least. Stories impact our lives and change us.

When I was eight years old, a preacher came to my house and shared with me, what I heard, was the greatest story ever told. If that was so, he should have put more effort into telling it. Knowing it was only a story, I repeated his prayer and two weeks later I was baptized.

Suddenly, my story changed, at least in theory. For you see, to the world I was a Christian, living a life dedicated to my Lord Jesus and striving to be free and separated from sin.  The truth however, is that even though I was a member of a church, I was living a lie. I was telling a story. I thought that the Bible stories that I heard at church and at home were simply stories, no different than the stories of Curious George, Spiderman, Santa Claus, and the Engine That Could. I loved all of these stories, but understood that honestly, they were simply moral lessons designed to teach me to be a good boy.

But then, as a teenager, a conflict arose within me. Suddenly, I became both protagonist and antagonist making major plot decisions in how my life’s story was going to play out.  I realized I was standing at a major crossroads. The decisions I was about to make would not only determine the next chapter of my life, but it would be instrumental in defining my journey’s end.

Honestly, I thought about abandoning stories altogether. It didn’t matter if it was Truth or Fiction. Both seemed to be getting stranger by the day. A whirlwind of stress and confusion caused the tension within me to swell to the point of explosion, when I realized I was wrestling with an unseen character.

This new character was dynamic and powerful yet peaceful and controlled. This character had the power to transform my story forever. This character was the Author Himself. He stepped into my story and helped me realize that it was His story all along.

That’s when I realized that the stories I had learned as a child about the Lord weren’t stories at all. They were real.

It was then that I joined His story as a willing participant, honored to be included as a character in His book forever.

I’ve heard it said that Truth is stranger than Fiction. That may be true, but at least it’s real.

by Categories: Church and Christian Life, UncategorizedTags: , , , , , , , 1 Comment

My Personal Battle with Truth and Fiction

jesus-kiteque-224069

I’ve heard it said that truth is stranger than fiction, but I was never certain as to whether or not I could really believe it. Truth and Fiction are so similar that it’s sometimes hard to distinguish between them. Many times, in either classification, people are simply telling stories.

Don’t misunderstand me. I love stories. I always have. There’s something about the ebb and flow of the introduction of characters, the unfolding of the setting, the emergence of conflict, the buildup of relational tension, and the joy of resolution that grips me down deep.

Stories teach. Stories heal. Stories whisk us away to other lands and somehow through the mental break and moral lessons they provide, we emerge from them as better people, much of the time at least. Stories impact our lives and change us.

When I was eight years old, a preacher came to my house and shared with me, what I was told, was the greatest story ever told. Knowing it was only a story, I repeated his prayer and two weeks later I was baptized on a Sunday night.

Suddenly, my story changed, at least in theory. For you see, to the world I was a Christian, living a life dedicated to my Lord Jesus and striving to be free and separated from sin.  The truth however, is that even though I was a card-carrying member of a church, that I was living a lie. I was telling a story. I thought that the Bible stories that I heard at church and at home were simply stories, no different than the stories of Curious George, Spiderman, Santa Claus, and the Engine That Could. I loved all of these stories, but understood that honestly, they were simply moral lessons designed to teach me to be a good boy.

But then, as a teenager, a conflict arose within me. Suddenly, I became both protagonist and antagonist making major plot decisions in how my life’s story was going to play out.  I realized I was standing at a major crossroads. The decisions I was about to make would not only determine the next chapter of my life, but it would be instrumental in defining my journey’s end.

Honestly, I thought about abandoning stories altogether. It didn’t matter if it was Truth or Fiction. Both seemed to be getting stranger by the day. A whirlwind of stress and confusion caused the tension within me to swell to the point of explosion, when I realized I was wrestling with an unseen character.

This new character was dynamic and powerful yet peaceful and controlled. This character had the power to transform my story forever. This character was the Author Himself. He stepped into my story and helped me realize that it was His story all along.

That’s when I realized that the stories I had learned as a child about the Lord weren’t stories at all. They were real.

It was then that I joined His story as a willing participant, honored to be included as a character in His book forever.

I’ve heard it said that Truth is stranger than Fiction. That may be true, but at least it’s real.

by Categories: Church and Christian Life, UncategorizedTags: , , , , , , , 2 Comments