To my brothers and sisters

To my brothers and sisters in arms

Where would I be without you, my brothers-in-arms. I thank you my brothers and sisters. I walked through fields of fire and you did not desert me. As the battles raged around me, and my suffering increased, you stood next to me, unafraid and unashamed to call me brother.

I have fallen, and yet you have picked me up. You carried me when I was too weak. You prayed for me when I needed hope. When others turned away from me, you turned to me. When I sinned and was broken, you showed the way and spoke words that lifted me up. When I was alone, you gave me fellowship.

When I was slow to learn, you showed patience and tolerance. When others showed shallowness, you showed me the richness of life led with Jesus. You have no ego and no pride, but you have showed me the meaning of honour and respect.

When I was convicted you stood up for me. You love me as He does. You shouldered my burden when no one else cared. You cried with me when I failed and felt so small. You made me feel belonged, when others pushed me away. You spoke about the future when others just wanted to remind me of my past. You invited me into your home when others locked their doors to me.

You shed blood for me in battle, and showed me what happiness is all about. You always have time for me even if I have no time for anyone. You believed in me when no one trusted me. You always speak kindly to me, when others speak of my failings.

On this day, on all days, for these reasons I am proud to call you brother and sister. I give thanks to Jesus for you.

Thank you for reading and God Bless.


This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Shakespeare, Henry V, Act 4, Scene 3.