Priceless

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ONE SUNDAY MORNING, THE PRIEST NOTICED LITTLE ALEX STANDING IN THE FOYER OF THE CHURCH STARING UP AT A LARGE PLAQUE. IT WAS COVERED WITH NAMES WITH SMALL U.S.A. FLAGS MOUNTED ON EITHER SIDE OF IT. 

THE SEVEN YEAR OLD HAD BEEN STARING AT THE PLAQUE FOR SOME TIME, SO THE PRIEST WALKED UP,  STOOD BESIDE THE LITTLE BOY,  AND SAID QUIETLY,  “GOOD MORNING ALEX.” 

“GOOD MORNING FATHER,” HE REPLIED,  STILL FOCUSED ON THE PLAQUE. “FATHER, WHAT IS THIS?” HE ASKED THE PRIEST. 

THE PRIEST SAID, “WELL, SON, IT’S A MEMORIAL TO ALL THE YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN WHO DIED IN THE SERVICE.” 

SOBERLY, THEY JUST STOOD TOGETHER, STARING AT THE LARGE PLAQUE. 

FINALLY, LITTLE ALEX’S VOICE, BARELY AUDIBLE AND TREMBLING WITH FEAR, ASKED, “WHICH SERVICE, THE 9:00 OR THE 11:00?”

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