Portrait of An American

This week I’ve been thinking about my parents. The photo featured above is one of my dad and his siblings in the early 1920’s. One of the things I remember about both my mom and my dad is that they loved their backyard. They especially loved their gardens. My dad had roses, and even though his body was riddled with rheumatoid arthritis, he would toil away, clipping, fertilizing, watering–even planting garlic alongside the rose bushes to keep the bugs away! My mom would nurture her peonies, iris, hollyhocks, tulips, and so much more. Not only did my parents love the enjoyment of having these plants and taking care of them, but there was also a purpose for all this pruning and watering. Memorial Day. As a child, I knew the ritual. Fill the trunk of our car with buckets of water, cut as many flowers as we could harvest, and then take them to several cemeteries where they would decorate the graves of loved ones who were laid to rest. Of course, we all knew there was no one in those graves. As Christians, we knew those we loved so dearly in life were now in a place of eternal happiness and health. As a child, I didn’t always appreciate all this fuss about putting flowers on graves. My parents tried to explain the importance of honoring our ancestors through this simple act of decorating their gravesites. But for me, it was simply something that must be endured before I could get to the good stuff: a yummy potluck meal, lots of fun times with cousins that I hadn’t seen since the year before, and a chance to just have a great time with family. As I grew into my teen years, I sometimes found reasons to complain about “the ritual,” and didn’t really understand why we were compelled to participate in something that seemed almost silly. And as the cousins grew up and fewer and fewer would show up at Grandma’s house, I questioned why I had to go. My dad just simply answered, “Someday you won’t have a Grandma to go visit; it’s important to spend time with those we love while we can.” I’m sure that you, like me, have realized that the older you get, the smarter your parents become. What memories I have! Not just of Memorial Day traditions, but of many holidays spent with family I loved.

This year, as I pondered Independence Day, I found myself thinking that as much as I love The Beatles and fish and chips, I am really happy that the United States of America fought for independence from Britain. I think about the men and women who were willing to fight to build a country that could be ruled by the people. I think about my ancestor who made the treacherous boat trip on the Mayflower to help found a nation where he could build a new life. It cost him the life of his wife, but his baby son lived on to carry the legacy of his family. What does anyone know about how to build a country? I liken it to becoming a parent for the first time. There is no instruction manual. You learn as you go and you do the best you can. History tells us just how hard it was to establish a life in a new world. Many, many died. But those who lived continued doing the best they knew how to do to make a better world for their families. By the time July 4, 1776, came around, The New World was ready to be a new nation, independent of their motherland. Does that mean they had it all figured out? Hmmm, I don’t think so. I know I made mistakes as a parent. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had been a perfect parent and that I had produced perfect children, but wishes don’t make it true. However, this was a land where people believed they could build a place where hard work was rewarded and dreams could become reality. This land has become a place that represents those dreams to people around the world. I have had the awesome privilege to visit nearly every continent on this earth, and many many countries, and nowhere have I found a place that offers what this country offers. I remember how shocked we all were on our first visit to China when we were told that Facebook was not allowed. We then learned that there was nothing on television that was not controlled by the government. Our guides had to be careful about how they answered our questions to protect their own safety. So many places I have visited have served as reminders of what I am thankful for about my country. So many wars have been fought, so many lives have been lost, so many cemeteries have been built. For what? So that Americans can have the right to disagree publicly. So that protesters have the right to march peacefully. So that songwriters and poets and actors and activists and authors and playwrights have the right to express themselves diversely without fear of reprisal because collectively, our nation is the people. When our nation ceases to be a nation of the people, for the people and by the people, no longer will there be freedom to do any of the things I mentioned above. When our nation becomes a nation ruled by a government, our churches will become museums, like they are all over Europe. When our nation becomes a place where a few control all the wealth, they will be the only ones with any wealth. In the short space of my lifetime, and it started way before I was born, our nation has turned its back on God. No longer do we seek His Wisdom for the education of our children. No longer do we seek His Guidance in our governing entities. No longer do we hold up His Word as a measure of what it means to be successful as individuals or as a nation. We even have churches that no longer exist to glorify Him, but to soothe our own consciences. No longer do we sing “God Bless America,” so why would He?

History has shown that God does not stay where He is not wanted. Countries around the world have diminished as God has become irrelevant. The United States of America is on the verge of losing what so many died, and are still dying, to build. Seemingly, we, the people have been giving away our power over this great country little by little for a long time. Only God can save us. It is up to us to fall on our faces before Him and repent. And then to rise up and give Him Glory and pray that He will be merciful to all Americans. Because that is what we are, regardless of what distinguishes us from each other as individuals. Collectively, the citizens of the United States of America are all Americans. We need no other label to define us or divide us.

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

2 Chronicles 7:14