Reflections from a Tomb Sentinel
As May comes to a close, I find myself reflecting on the profound meaning woven through this month. It holds both quiet and powerful reminders of the virtue of honor—from Mother’s Day to Memorial Day. Though different in form, both are about sacrifice. Both are about giving of oneself for the sake of others. And both call us to respond with a heart full of honor.
Honor is not the same as respect. Respect is earned. Honor is freely given.
It’s a posture of the heart. It says, “Because of who you are—or what you represent—I choose to give you reverence.”
A National Symbol of Reverence
Each year on Memorial Day, the President of the United States lays a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. It’s a sacred moment, full of symbolism and solemnity. If you’ve ever stood at that tomb—or witnessed the changing of the guard—you know; it’s more than a ceremony. It’s a living illustration of honor.
Etched in white marble are the words:
“Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God.”
That single sentence carries the weight of a nation. The tomb does not represent a single soldier but the sacrifice of every soldier who gave everything for freedom. Kings and queens, popes and presidents have come to honor this place. But so have mothers, fathers, widows, and children. Anyone who has stood on that sacred ground knows the feeling—it stirs something deep. Reverence. Awe. Honor.
For a Tomb Sentinel, that response becomes more than a moment. It becomes a way of life. Over time, we come to understand that guarding the Unknowns isn’t just a duty—it’s a posture of humble reverence. To take part in honoring this symbol of American idealism is to reflect the highest tribute we can give to those who gave everything: honor that is freely given, not for what they did, but for what they represent.
More Than a Duty
I remember one of my first quiet encounters with the Tomb. I was recently recruited from the 82nd Airborne Division and was assigned to the Presidential Casket Platoon of the Honor Guard Company within the Old Guard. One early morning, I jogged through the stillness of Arlington. As the sun broke over the skyline, I made my way to the Plaza of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It was empty, except for the Sentinel on duty. I sat there quietly, alone with the Unknowns, and just took it in — the silence, the symbolism, the sacrifice.
Something stirred deep inside me. It wasn’t just admiration. It was a calling. A sense that this place, this sacred duty, was something I was meant to be part of. That morning, the seed of desire was planted—to live a life that honors the very best of American ideals.
When I was given the honor of becoming a Tomb Guard Sentinel, I began to truly understand the weight and wonder of that desire. I thought I understood honor. I had read about it, seen it, admired it. But living it? That was different.
Honor, in that setting, wasn’t about appearance. It was about who you became. It shaped how we walked, how we thought, how we spoke, and it became the “why behind the what” in everything we did.
Sacred Ground and Silent Lessons
Those quiet night shifts—just me, the plaza, and the Unknowns—taught me more about honor than any manual ever could. I wasn’t just guarding a tomb. I was protecting a legacy. And that responsibility changed me.
It also made me wonder: What if we lived with that kind of honor in the everyday?
- What if we chose to honor people not because they earned it, but because of who they are?
- What if we honored the elderly, the overlooked, the everyday hero?
- What if we taught our children that true strength isn’t in being loud, but in standing tall with quiet resolve?
In a culture that moves fast and forgets quickly, we need the grounding force of honor.
It reminds us that some things are worth slowing down for. Worth remembering. Worth guarding.
Abraham Lincoln once said,
“Any nation that does not honor its heroes will not long endure.”
I believe the same is true of individuals. If we lose the virtue of honor—toward others, toward our principles, toward God—we begin to drift.
So, here’s the invitation:
Who in your life needs to be honored this week?
Maybe it’s someone you’ve taken for granted—a parent, a mentor, a friend. Maybe it’s a veteran or a neighbor who lives quietly but gives generously.
What values have you let fade that are worth reviving?
Is there something sacred you’ve walked away from—something worth reclaiming with fresh reverence?
Let’s be people who choose honor.
Not just on national holidays. Not just at sacred monuments.
But every day—in how we see others, how we speak, and how we live.
Because in the end, a life of honor is its own legacy.
Call to Action
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Let’s choose to live with honor—freely given, deeply rooted, and consistently shown.
Together, we can keep the virtues that matter alive—one story, one choice, one sacred moment at a time.