Freedom isn’t free. I have lived this truth as a heartbeat of faith, stitched into my life through service, sacrifice, and God’s sustaining grace.
I am the daughter of a United States Air Force veteran who served 21 steadfast years. I am the wife of a 25-year Army veteran whose honorable devotion shaped our home for more than three decades. I am the mother of four military-connected children whose earliest memories were shaped by uniforms, duty stations, and prayers whispered for safe returns.
My outlook on freedom has been shaped by sacrifice, by faith, and by a love of country that has cost us time, comfort, and moments that can never be repeated. My children and I learned early in their father’s active-duty career that loving God and loving country often means surrendering holidays, birthdays, milestones, and ordinary days. Service rearranges life, but it also enhances the heart.
Saint John, a man of faith reminds us why: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” This is the quiet truth behind every deployment, every separation, and every folded United States flag. Service is love in action. Sacrifice is love made visible.
On the Fourth of July, my heart beats red, white and blue. It beams with pride when I hear of our nation’s triumphs both at home and abroad. Yet it trembles when a mother, a spouse, or a military-connected child receives the news no family deserves, that their loved one has freely given their life for our great nation. Freedom is beautiful, but its beauty is accompanied by costly tears.
I remember being a young girl in elementary school and seeing an old treasured photograph of John F. Kennedy Jr. saluting at his father’s funeral. At the time, I thought it was heroic and patriotic. I thought how brave John-John must have been. As an Air Force daughter, I later understood the ache behind that small hand raised in honor, the longing for a father who served our great nation faithfully, but was often away working to ensure that United States citizens could experience life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Some of my most tender childhood memories are helping my father remove his boots after long days of service, watching him wash his face and hands, and seeing him walk into the kitchen to kiss our mother on her cheek while trying to sneak-a-peek in her cooking pots. She had become accustomed to warming dinner again and again until Daddy finally walked through the door.
Years later, I watched our own children race to the door when they heard their father’s car in the garage, eager to help him take off his boots just as I once did. The roles reversed, but the love remained the same. Service shaped our home, quietly directing our lives and deepening our understanding of what it means to give.
Now my heart beats differently still, because two of our sons have purposed to join the Armed Services. I have been a daughter, a wife, and now a mother of future servicemen. Three roles, one devotion. The threads of mother's homemade apple pie, football, and active duty service run through our family like a banner of honor, binding generations together in purpose and pride.
So I offer this challenge to every reader. When you see a man or woman in uniform, Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, Coastguard, or Space Force, let us be mindful to honor them. Remember that freedom is not free. It comes at a price, paid willingly by those who serve and those who have served.
Freedom is enjoyed by all, but its cost is carried in tribute to life, in liberty, and in the pursuit of happiness. May we never forget the sacrifice behind the celebration, the courage behind the colors, and the families behind the freedoms we hold dear.
Sacrifice is love living unapologetically, giving itself freely so others may stand in the unmerited gift of freedom. Freedom isn’t free. The cost of freedom is paid without regret by the blood, sweat, and tears of every soldier, airman, marine, coastguardsman, sailor, and guardian.
Carricia Simpson is a Richmond County native now living at Fort Bragg.
