My family has always been patriotic. You will always find a rather large American flag on the porch of my parent’s home this time of year. We hold our hands over our hearts when we hear The Star Spangled Banner. My grandpa was a Master Sergeant in the Air Force and I couldn’t be more proud to be born in this amazing country.
As I held my daughter in my lap tonight, watching fireworks over her tender little shoulders, I couldn’t help but wonder if she will feel the same way when she is grown. Rob is English so this day doesn’t quite hold the same meaning for him, although he loves the traditions and can light a firecracker like the rest of them. But I will do my best to help all my children understand what it is and has been that makes this country so great…the great thinkers and fighters and activists, leaders and heroes who have poured the blood, sweat, guts and tears into the dreams that have shaped our nation.
For some reason, now more than ever, I long to plant the seed of American Patriotism deep into their hearts. I feel almost like something is slipping away. I don’t know why really. There is a stronger sentimental bitter-sweet feeling that accompanied the bbq and the parade and the fireworks.
Happy Birthday America. Let’s pray for many more free years to come.
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