It's been 2 days since we were at the former concentration camp outside the town of Dachau. I haven't written about it yet, because--even though it is not my first time there--is such a whole experience that it is hard to pick out one thought, one fact, one reality to recount.
Dachau Camp now is a peaceful place, even when there are many visitors. I felt almost as if I were alone with the memories and grief of the place. Here is the overwhelming thing that remains: Through the creation of the memorial, those who survived plead, "Remember those who died. Do not forget that such a thing happened. Do not let it happen again."
To hear one survivor's story reminds me of millions of others whose stories were the same and yet not the same. Each one who died was a person, whose story was written by God. That is what sits heavy on my heart as I remember--so many people, so many created by God in his image.
Each had a mother, a father, friends, neighbors, coworkers, maybe a wife or husband, maybe children. Each has lost the ones he loved. The loved ones have lost him.
Each had a certain laugh, particular gifts, favorite songs. All of us have lost those.
I will remember what I can remember. I am thankful that God forgets nothing. He knows every single one of those who died.
Perhaps some photos of our visit to Dachau will help you remember.
To the dead, honor.
To the living, admonition.