We walked in silence along the polished wall.  Small floodlights washed the monument in soft light.  In the hushed rustle of the wind, we reached out to touch the names etched in the wall.

It was a different generation than mine that fought in Vietnam War.  None of my friends or my family marched off never to return.  Before my visit to the monument, that war only lived in books, films, and grainy black and white pictures.

Still, the memorial and its seemingly endless list of names was a powerful monument to the gallantry and bravery of those who died in the far-off jungles of southeast Asia.

There were a few in our small group who had friends listed on that dark stone wall.  In the darkness, they reverently traced each letter with their fingers.  A man I didn’t know walked slowly out of the darkness.  He carefully sought out a name on the wall and touched the letters one by one.  The he stood there quietly.  I think he cried.

As he walked away, he paused at the monument’s statue of three soldiers.  He reached out and touched the carved hand of the soldier nearest to him and then he was gone.

Later, we climbed the broad steps to the Lincoln Memorial.  Inside, I was awed by the age and sadness and also the thoughtfulness that the sculptor was able to capture on Lincoln’s face

Slowly I read Lincoln’s eloquent Gettysburg Address chiseled into the stone of the memorials south wall.  On the north wall is his second inaugural address.  The powerful words spoke of trying times for the nation and its people.

From the steps of the monument, I could see the Washington monument gleaming in the darkness.  Its mirror image shimmered in the reflecting pool.  The dome of the U.S. Capitol glowed in the distance beyond the monument.  The design of the Washington Monument is simple, elegant and powerful.  The city is filled with fantastic architecture and beautiful sculptures, but none can compare to the emotional power of this monument to our first president.

I will carry and treasure the image of these monuments forever.

If Washington D.C. is a city of monuments, then the homeless that wander its parks, the crime rate that stalks its streets and the crack houses and slums that scar its neighborhoods are a monument to our nation’s problems and failures.  As I visited the city last week, I was struck by these examples pf what is right and what is wrong with our country.

If the news of crime, murder and poverty become too much for us to bear, we need only look to our monuments for hope.  We need to imagine what terrible uncertainty Washington must have felt as he helped forge a collection of colonies into a new nation.  We need to imagine the horrible sadness that Lincoln must have felt as our country tried to tear itself apart.  We need to remember the great sacrifices that our men and women have made to defend our country.

In each case, our country’s citizens have found the leadership, the perseverance and the spirit to succeed.  Our capitol city’s monuments and memorials remind us of that.  They should inspire us as a nation to seek the greater good for all and they should remind us that there is always hope for tomorrow.