Merci

I haven't been writing much lately because I have been out of town. Rest assured that my passion is not waning with discouragement. I had an experience today, however, that I want to take the time to share before the feelings wear off.

I am visiting my husband in Phoenix. He is doing a rotation at a hospital here and my mother-in-law was kind enough to take our children so I could spend a couple days with him. Unfortunately, he only gets one day in seven off, so I had the opportunity to explore a little bit today while he was working.

At the back of the State Capital building, the State of Arizona maintains a historical museum. I was privileged to spend a few hours learning about the history of this state. I enjoyed the exhibit on the USS Arizona very much. They have the silver service on display. Apparently it was used during peace time when the battleship was a floating embassy. It was removed in preparation for the war, however, so it didn't suffer the fate of the ship, itself. There was a plaque on the wall explaining that the governor didn't think it was appropriate to spend taxpayer money on providing the $9000 silver service, so it was privately funded. How the world has changed.

But the thing that really moved me was the exhibit on the "Merci Train." It was a story I handn't heard before and one that I want to share...

I entered a room full of antiques that seemed to have nothing in common. There was a statue that depicted the virgin Mary and the Christ child. There was an old bicycle on the wall and a wedding dress in a case. There were smaller things: a doll and a toy car. Anxious to discover the room's meaning, I turned to the wall plaques and began to read. In 1948 American journalists began writing about the plight of the people of Europe. Millions were starving in the aftermath of World War II. It was suggested and echoed that American's ought to began collecting food to send across the Atlantic. The goal was to fill 80 boxcars of food. Before the effort was over, people had collected over 700 boxcars of food, fuel and clothing. These were not organizations and certainly not the government. These were individuals who wanted to help. The "friendship train" certainly fed a few tummies, but it also extended love in a world that desperately needed to recover from the most disgusting hate that man can imagine.

In response, the French people gathered 49 boxcars to send back. Called the "Merci Train," the boxcars were loaded with heirlooms, handmade crafts, and reminders of past friendships between France and America. French children donated their toys. French craftsmen sent the best they had to offer. Each state received a boxcar in thanks for the food that had been collected and sent.

I must have looked silly standing there in that museum with tears streaking the sides of my face. I felt completely overwhelmed. Some of you may remember the article I wrote on the study that concluded that Christian nations were the least generous. If not, read it here. My mind tried to wrap itself again around the accusation that Americans are not willing to give. I stood in that museum seeing what freedom does for people. It truly brings out the best in us. I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the objects so selflessly given by the French and wanted to cry over the disgusting sense of entitlement that is gripping our country.

My friends, we do not need someone forcing us to be charitable. We do not need someone telling us what to do. I believe that people are good. And I believe that freedom is what brings that good out. Have a little faith, rather than a lot of force. People will amaze you.