On November 11

I confess with shame that I'd never been to the Remembrance Day service at the Cenotaph before today.  I always thought it a good thing to do, but allowed other things to put me off.  However, a pair of terrorist killings of Canadian Armed Forces members, on Canadian soil, in recent weeks, ramped up the priority of that service for me, and, apparently, for many others as well.  That, and clear skies, brought out a crowd of thousands.  (What a marvellous opportunity for intercessory prayer - people who wouldn't normally darken the doorway of a church showing up with soft hearts and joining in prayers and hymns.)  I did my best to sing the anthems and hymns, in spite of being half-strangled by a throat bug, and silently asked God for mercy on the souls of the dead, and salvation for the living.

The era of peace and safety is over.  We who cherish freedom and human rights can no longer relax and enjoy what others have paid for with their blood.  We are an island of light and truth in a rising ocean of chaos and darkness, and we have yet to acquire the habit of vigilance.  We have had it too easy for too long.

Oh, Canada!  The barbarians are at the gates.  The choice before us: stand and fight to the last man, or be overrun and enslaved.  And if the deaths of Nathan Cirillo and Patrice Vincent achieve the awaking of the Canadian people from complacency, they will not have died in vain.

We will remember them.