There’s a grave in Dozenhem military cemetery where the inscription on the headstone reads:
“G. Blacker. Somerset light Infantry. 9th August 1917. Age 39”.
This man existed, and he mattered.
This man was a member of our family. He died for his country in World War 1. And like the others who are buried there in France, he was a living, breathing person. He had hopes, great plans, and dreams.
He was not some nameless soldier.
He had laboured in his farm.
He had had a wife and family.
He was difficult at times.
All these details are important; they are not irrelevant. They describe a unique person. Things that made him who he was.
All our lives are filled with details. Small things. idiosyncrasies.
And like him, you also matter. And you have a history.
Different things that happened to you. Fulfilled hopes, and tender wounds.
You’re a carrier of memories. Good ones. Bad one. Neutral ones.
Some are heartaches. Some are traumas. Things you might want to forget.
Each a stone, or coloured pebble, or a shard in life’s mosaic.
And your impact’s seen and captured in the lives of those you’ve touched. Words, and smiles, and affirmations, thoughtful gestures, kindnesses.
Evidence that your life matters. There are imprints everywhere.
You are not some nameless person.
Your life is significant.
“You might think that you don’t matter in this world, but because of you someone has a favourite mug to drink their tea out of each morning that you bought them. Someone hears a song on the radio and it reminds them of you. Someone has read a book you recommended to them and gotten lost in its pages. Someone’s remembered a joke you told them and smiled to themselves on the bus.
Never think you don’t have an impact. Your fingerprints can’t be wiped away from the little marks of kindness that you’ve left behind.”
Even through blogging I find that some posts and comments can really make a difference. You never know what impression you made and how you maybe changed someone’s day.
I remember a compliment that was given to me about my hair when I was 13 I think. ‘Till this day I feel happy when I think about that friend (who sadly passed away) who noticed me in a group of people.
LikeLiked by 4 people
Great post! Everyone needs to hear this message. Reblogged to my site. 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks so much!!!
LikeLiked by 3 people
[…] You Matter — Don’t Lose Hope […]
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank-you for a very moving post. Your family member made a great sacrifice.
When we moved to rural NL, we found the local cemetery neglected. We were able to apply for some government funding, hired some local workers, and within several months this site was the respectful, peaceful site that it is meant to be.
I often walked around there, thinking of those people that I never knew, but who were known to God. 🌷🤗
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Sally. And thank you for appreciating the men from NL who gave their life for our freedom. Yes, everyone was known and precious to God.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, so true. Actually , restoring that cemetery to a place of respect was one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. 🌷🤗
LikeLiked by 2 people
A beautiful and touching post. It reminds me of the saying, the important thing on a tombstone is not the dates. It is the dash in between them. It represents their life and everyone they touched. Everyone matters. Thank you for sharing this wonderful article. Stay safe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for reading, and for the comment. I’ve heard that too and I absolutely agree. Everyone matters. We have no idea of the good we do!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
[…] You Matter […]
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Tonya!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for sharing this. I am moved for this man and all who like him.
After surviving a cult in my youth, and years of dissociative disorder, etc… I entered into a Pastoral Counseling situation. He told me over and over again, “You are a woman, created in the Image of God and of Infinite worth and value”.
This took a long time to get through to me. I had been so abused and trashed. the cult lived as if women were a second class citizens. So, eventually, him saying this over and over to me, finally began to seep through and I began to receive that truth — I mattered, I was unique and God made me to be his friend in Christ. Thank you for your lovely sharing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
ooppss, typo: I typed “and all who like him”, I meant “all like him” 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really appreciate you sharing your experience here Patricia. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must have been like to experience what you have experienced. I’m so glad you are now beginning to grasp that you are made in God’s image, that you matter, and you have infinite worth. I know it isn’t easy for this to move from our head to our hearts … but so want you to know it’s true!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. God is very good and very faithful. It does indeed take time for things to go from ears, through process, time and finally nest in the heart. may the Lord be praised for His Faithfulness that never ever fails. amen.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Amen 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful. ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much Anna 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for a worthy blog. Thanks also for visiting me today.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you oneta 🙂
LikeLike
Nice article, was an interesting twist to compare a buried soldier to those living.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. I appreciate you reading and commenting 🙂
LikeLike
I really love the fact you shared this, this will help so many people, I know it helped me today!!! Thank you so much and I look forward to reading more!!
Feel free to read some of my blogs 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much. I will check them now ❤️
LikeLike
I periodically walk a road that ventures to our local cemetery. As I walk around the cemetery, I appreciate the meaning of life represented by each tombstone. There is a life story behind every name.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks for the comment Big Sky Buck Eye 🙂 I used to visit the local cemetery with my aunt, in Scotland, and we would look at all the old graves from the 1800s and 1900s. Often they had lost 4 or 5 children. Even as a child I wondered about the stories behind the names.
LikeLiked by 2 people