to be an American? Are you really? I'm not talking about cliches here. I'm not talking about guns God and glory or how we're going to make things great again or stand with whomever. I'm not campaign slogans or party lines. I'm talking about the down deep on a gut and heart and head level. Well, are you?
The very first time I voted was in the same county I live in right now. I moved back to live with my now husband. I was raised here. When I'm driving through the county I have so many memories and so much love for it. I voted in the church fellowship hall that first time. Rose Hill Church. Methodist, I believe. Across the street from my elementary school, next to old friends of my grandma's. I have been in that church for death buffets and weddings. I even taught Bible School there. It's never been my "home church", but it plays a profound part in many memories, including my very first act of true patriotism... voting.
I remember the first time I saw the ocean on the west coast of this amazing land. I was with my friend Julie near Los Angeles. We walked up a hill and then as we crested it, I could see it. Vast and sparkling in the sun. I had never seen something that could make me feel so incredibly small without making me feel insignificant.
I've driven through the Smokey Mountains on the beautiful Blue Ridge Parkway in the fall. Where water runs down the rock faces at a gentle pace. I've come out of a tunnel and lost my breath at the overwhelming beauty.
I've seen the Statue of Liberty. I've stood silently at the 9/11 Memorial and felt the power of loss the magnitude of which I can't begin to internalize. I lost some idealism that day; I lost my sense of safety. Others lost everything. I've been to the top of the Empire State Building. I've walked down the oldest street in American to maintain constant residences in Philadelphia.
I have so much more of this beautiful country I want to experience. From Washington D.C. to the mountains of the Rockies. Pikes Peak. Oklahoma City. The fall in Maine.
I love this country. I have been disappointed by it. I've been ashamed and saddened by our history and our present. I've feared for its future. We've put a man on the moon and elected a black man as president and now have a woman nominee for that office. Don't get hung up on who those two people are, just take a moment and be grateful that we live in a country where this is possible. It doesn't matter if it's the wrong black man to you or the wrong woman, but it should matter that YOUR daughter can be president... that anyone can accomplish what they want because we don't forbid it as a country. Read it for what I'm saying not what you're thinking. It's a big deal that we have that kind of gorgeous freedom here.
This isn't a political post. I'm ever so tired of that right now. This is a post about our love for this country. About how we don't lose hope. About no matter how frustrated we are at the system and the process and the candidates and the foolishness, we are still part of this magnificent landscape. I'm not just talking about all those places I mentioned. I'm talking about my heart and yours. I'm talking about the profound love we all share for a common ideal. That a government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the Earth.
I'm talking about community and commitment. I'm talking about that feeling when you sit on your porch and watch a sunrise. I'm talking about your neighbor bringing you vegetables from their garden. I'm talking about a smile on the street or holding open a door. I'm talking about someone waving you through a four-way stop.
I'm talking about you and me and our freedom to disagree yet still respect and love each other. About how despite all the hell we've been through, we are still so perfectly, intensely, devotedly proud citizens of this country.
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