This nail, as my children call it, is twisted barbed wire plucked from the ruins of the Berlin Wall. In 1995, my husband traveled throughout Germany. The Iron Curtain was barely lifted, not quite five years prior. The memory, the fog of what the oppressive government was, still taunted the minds and hearts of East Germany.
And here this nail sits, several thousand miles away from the dust of hurt souls. It's displayed on the polished granite in a home sanctioned by freedom.
This nail reminds me of all that I have, and all that I should become. Because once there were people bound by the limits others set for them. I refuse to be cut off from my potential - no matter how insignificant my lot in life may be. I might just be one person, but this one twisted piece of metal continues to prick alive the memory of the Wall of Shame. My husband now shares it with the rest of my five member family. This single, isolated piece of history will continue to share its legacy for generations to come. It signifies the consequence of life when freedom is destroyed - I am ever so grateful for my life, even in its insignificance.