I always liked the 4th of July as a kid. Who doesn't like the 4th of July? Days filled grilling or picnicing, running through the sprinkler, and playing with family and friends. Eating watermelon and being scared a watermelon was going to grow out of your stomach because you accidentally swallowed a seed. Getting to stay up late and watch fireworks....
There was one 4th of July that I remember more than the others though...the year that I really felt what the 4th of July was about. My mom worked at the University Hospital and she often worked holidays when I was younger. This certain 4th was one of her holidays to work so we went to the hospital, parked at the very top of the parking garage and watched the fireworks display from the stadium with her.
To be honest, I don't remember what year it was or how old I was. I just remember leaning on the edge of the cement wall and staring into the sky and fire rained down from the sky in sparkles of reds and whites and blues. I remember the breeze blowing my hair into my face and not wanting to move to brush it away for fear of ruining the surrealism of the moment. I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of awe as I listened to the swell of the music playing in sync with the fireworks..."I'm proud to be an American". I thought about everyone else on that parking garage watching the same display...and everyone else across the country celebrating at that same moment. And I felt a part of something vastly bigger than I was. A history and a legacy that I had always taken for granted. And I was, in that moment truly proud to be an American.
I think of that night every year when the 4th of July rolls around. And I take a moment to look around me, at all that God has blessed me with....a wonderful family (both old and new), beautiful friends, and freedom that I too often take for granted; freedom both in this country and freedom in Him. I am both proud and humbled and infinitely grateful.
No comments:
Post a Comment