They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old

the older I get, the more moved I am by Remembrance Sunday Services.

So much has been given by so many. So much is still being given every day by our servicemen and women.

The last stanza of Laurence Binyon's most celebrated poem "For the Fallen" is this:

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

guiding lights

at out village church's Remembrance Sunday service we generally have the local Guides, Brownies, Rainbows, Scouts, Cubs and Beavers in attendance with their flags and  poppy wreaths.

They look so young and innocent, so bright eyed and optimistic. Today one of the guide leaders took the children's talk and told them about her own grandparents' experiences during WWII. Her grandfather was in the RAF and her granny was a landgirl. Then she told them about how the Guides had helped with the war effort- collecting jamjars so that rosehip syrup could be made (a vital source of vitamin C when food was rationed), knitting for the troops, whitewashing kerbs so that people could find their way along darkened streets during the blackout. Children like themselves helping wherever they could.

You could have heard a pin drop. 

Later, at our village war memorial as the children laid their wreaths and Reg and Hugh played their bagpipes there wasn't a dry eye in the congregation.

Nor should there have been.

Remembering, with gratitude

It was the war to end all wars,

sadly it didn't.

But we are free because of the enormous sacrifices made by our soldiers, sailors and aircrews, by the medics and the nurses who risk their lives to support the armed services.

I'm grateful for what was done, and for what continues to be done for us .

At the going down of the sun,

and in the morning,

We will remember them

Laurence Binyon

It was Rev. Torrance's first Remembrance service at our church, and he brought a leather flying helmet and knitted balaclava, from the Great War, to show the children.

I hadn't realised that one of the main dangers facing the early pilots was the cold. The early planes didn't have glass canopies and their heads could become so cold that they could lapse into unconsciousness while flying. What an appalling thought.

One of the ladies in the Monday night knitting group has a son serving in the Helmand province at the moment. She was happier when she didn't know where he was stationed, now she worries every day.

We still haven't found a way to live peacefully in this world, our soldiers, sailors and airmen face death every day. That is an appalling thought too.

They shall not grow old

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them"

For the Fallen , Laurence Binyon, (1869-1943)

As usual, after the Remembrance service this morning, we walked from the Church up the hill to the war memorial where the wreaths were laid and Hugh and Reg piped the laments.

Binyon's poem always gets to me. This is the 90th anniversary of the end of the Great War, the war to end all wars, and there has only been one year since then ( 1968) in which there hasn't been a member of the British Armed Services killed in action. Only one year. What an appalling thought. Will we never learn? Is peace so hard to maintain?

There are three remaining veterans still living in the UK : Henry Allingham, 112, Harry Patch, 110, and Bill Stone, 108, who will lead the Remembrance on Tuesday, at the 11th hour, on the 11th day of the 11th month. God bless them.