The flag of the United States of America has deeply profound meaning.

My elderly mother-in-law went to see her daughter for an extended stay, and just never went back home. For several years she had agreements with neighborhood friends to take care of the yard for her, etc.

Years passed with the house sitting fully furnished, with no one using it.  When it came time to sell the house, my husband and I made the 5 hour drive to go assess the situation.  When we arrived, it became obvious that someone in the area had sort of moved in without being invited.

The miraculous thing was, they didn't tear the place up.  Nothing was broken, though it was a bit messy.  As we went through the house and worked our way to the upstairs, my husband noted some things had been rearranged.  It all had an errie, insecure feeling for me.

The small bedroom nook in the upstairs seemed to be the bedroom of choice for the uninvited guests.  It had been decorated by the visitors and had a more personal feel to it.  There were current music CDs in the area, current posters had been added to the walls.  They had even tacked a large American flag up on the very low ceiling above the bed.  It was very neatly done, though odd.  It didn't fit.  The flag didn't match the "style" of the other items in the area.

The flag was beautiful - almost without wrinkles, and vibrant and rich in its red and blue colors - and the white was spotless and bright.  As we discussed the furniture and other items that should be salvaged, I said, "We're definitely taking the flag."

We called the police and they worked to lift fingerprints or find any indications of who had been there.  Nothing ever came of the exercise.

We began packing the belongings.  The flag was one of the first items. I carefully removed the few tacks that had held it draped from the ceiling.  The flag was soft and hefty; incredibly well made.  It couldn't have been made to fly outside in the weather.   I kept thinking, this doesn't make sense. Why would someone who stayed in a vacant home, spend money on such a beautiful flag only to leave it behind.  And it was such a big flag too.  It was a little longer than the bed that was under it.

I gently folded the flag and laid it on top of a box of items to put in the car. As I leaned to place the box in the car, I thought to myself, "This is probably the best this flag has ever been treated."  Almost immediately, I "heard" a man's voice distinctly say, "No - it's not."

Now when I say I heard a man's voice speak to me, it don't mean I audibly heard the sounds waves.  I heard it in my head. There was no one else around me outside at the time.  It's the only time that specific type of connection has happened for me.

I quickly walked back into the house and asked my husband, "Did your father have a military funeral?"  He became overcome with emotion.

My husband's dad had flown cargo planes in WWII. I had never met him, though I know it was his voice I heard. In 3 short words he told me the whole story, including that of the respect this very flag had rightfully received more than 20 years earlier.

When we returned home, I purchased a triangular flag frame. Quick Internet research provided step by step directions on how to properly fold the flag in military fashion. I laid the flag out on our bed and on the second try, the flag was once again triangular in shape. My fold job can't compare to that done by our men and women in uniform, but I tried very hard to get as close as I possibly could.

After placing the flag in its shadowbox frame, I presented it to my husband and he seemed grateful and pleased. It is now prominently placed in our home.

I'm thankful that the folks who hung the flag from the ceiling, did so without damaging the flag.  I'm thankful that they left the flag in the old abandoned house.  I'm thankful my deceased father-in-law spoke to me.

< Prev		Next >