Last night I was sitting in the muggy Florida heat at a table with two young men that have taught me what freedom is because of their lack of it. Ukraine and Egypt are their motherlands, nations with recent histories fraught with revolution, political unrest and even war. They have national anthems and celebrate their very own independence days, yet “let freedom ring” just doesn’t have the same ring to it for them as it does for me.

Mario – Egyptian, despite his unique name – was trying to explain to me what he meant when he referred to Egypt as a “loser country.”

“It’s not that I don’t love my country … even right now I miss it with all my heart,” he says, his earnest, dark eyes expressing his affinity for his homeland. “But in our lives, we are always facing challenges. Inflation that causes starvation could happen any day. We are pressed upon by our government and at any time could be put in jail for various reasons. Since 2011 we have revoluted on and off, always hoping for a better political situation.”

He pauses to collect his thoughts and I know that his brain is working overtime as he translates his words from Arabic into English. “We just … we want freedom to have a good life. Do you understand?”

I do understand, yet I don’t. “I’ll never truly know what that is like,” I say. Mario leans back, relaxing his stance. His passionate oration is over; he realizes no words can communicate his internal struggle to someone like me.

The only person at the table who understands sits to my left – Aleksandr, who faces his own challenges as a young Ukrainian man. Like Mario, he has lived through a revolution led largely by his peers. Being lied to by the president, attacked by the police force, and watching countrymen die make up the fresh memories of the months-long revolution in Kyiv during the dead of winter.

Economic constraints continue to make life difficult for young professionals like Aleksandr, who works seven days a week as a photojournalist for various news stations. As he looks ahead to his future, the job that puts food on his table also constricts him. Marrying his girlfriend is in his near future, but he struggles to balance providing for her and having time to spend with her. Heavily involved in his church, he desires to invest more time in ministry but can’t take the time away from his paying job to do so.

A day’s drive away from Kyiv, a war between Ukraine and Russia continues to silently rage. Not so long ago Russia ruled Ukraine with a tight fist, and for many Ukrainians the war is a reminder of anything but their country’s freedom. It’s no longer covered on the news, but a troubling humanitarian crisis is occurring as many still die in battle. Aleksandr is one among many like him who knows that his generation must make their country better not only for themselves, but for those who are affected closely by war.

Mario turns to Aleksandr. “During your revolution, did they use nerve gas?” Aleksandr nods. Mario turns back to me. Again, I can see his brain working as he finds the words. “I remember looking at people as we all breathed the nerve gas … their faces looked so distorted!” He laughs a little. I wonder if he really is able to find any humor in his memories.

Both Mario and Aleksandr will celebrate America’s Independence Day with us as we grill our burgers and watch fireworks. We say that we “remember” those who died for our freedom. The truth is, these young men actually remember those who died for theirs.