Today is Independence Day. It is the "birthday" of America the Beautiful. Millions are celebrating our country's beginning with bbqs, picnics, visits to the lake and fireworks.
Our family isn't getting together - we've already done that this summer - so we're scattered from here to there today. Which means my thoughts have not been focused on cleaning the house, making a list of MUST DO STUFF, planning meals, shopping for groceries or any of the other chores that precede houseguests.
I heard no random fireworks this morning (nor through out the day), which would have been a familiar "wake-up" call on the Fourth in the past. We haven't had a good rain since March, and we're going on our second week of triple digit temperatures, so our entire area is under a necessary Burn Ban. Private fireworks displays are off limits, but there will be the unsual magnificent fireworks display over the river for the public tonight, where the water makes such things safer.
I didn't go to any of a dozen flea markets. I watered flowers. I didn't shop the holiday sales at the mall. I read a book and edited another chapter for Court's WIP. I didn't attend special programs or parades or go to a ballgame.
It's been a quiet day.
What I have done is reflect on this country of ours and three people who fought to keep it free. I'm combining patriotic holidays here - a sort of Memorial for my special Veterans on the Fourth.
America is the beautiful. I'm not a huge traveller, but I have seen the Blue Ridge Mountains, the Cumberlands, the Smokies, the Rockies, the ocean, the plateaus of the midwest, the rolling hills of Middle Tennessee (where I was born) and the length and breadth of Kentucky (where I live now) with its lakes and rivers. I've seen the nation's capital and hiked the battlefields of our country's wars. Many times the beauty of blue skies over shining seas and amber waves of grain touched my heart. As well as producing the scarier emotions during winter ice storms and blizzards, of roaring floods on the Mississippi and the Ohio, in the fearful winds of tornadoes, and through the destruction of hurricane force gales. But regardless, America is a country I love, a country worth preserving. A country where millions of soldiers over the years have willingly given their lives to insure freedom.
Morris Eugene Crain, a Medal of Honor recipient from WWII, was one of them. There is a monument bearing his likeness in front of our local high school. The school boasts the word "memorial" in its name because of him. He was a twenty-one sergeant when he died in France protecting his squad. He left a wife, a daughter born after his death, his parents, and ten Crain brothers and sisters. My husband's mother was his sister. I heard about "Uncle Eugene" almost as soon as we married. His sacrifice has had a profound effect on his family - including the third generation - and provides a legacy of service and an appreciation for country and soldier.
My father-in-law did not win special medals in WWII, but he volunteered to fight for our country as a teen-ager. One of the youngest men in his unit, nick-named "the kid" by the men he served among, he was tough enough to help build the Burma Road and then to return to life after war unscared by its ugliness. My father-in-law was a strong, quiet man with a quick smile and a wealth of common-sense wisdom. He was always "there" for his son, his family, and his friends, and ever ready to lend a willing hand, to advise if asked, and to show a deep, abiding love of God, of community and country and for his family.
As so many other draftable young men, my dad did his required year of training in preparation for the expected war, was released and then returned to his hometown. Six days later during Sunday lunch with his parents, he listened to news of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He immediately returned to his unit, went to OCS and then to the Pacific Theatre; Manila and Guatemala and all the islands. There he remained, steadily moving up the ranks, without benefit of leave, for three long years. He commanded an ordnance division, which he said was located on the "island behind the (combat) island." During those three years, my dad wrote a weekly letter to his parents, which we were priviledged to read them after his death. They were dated and so provided a colorful and meaningful chronological record of his war service. They also gave me a visual picture of my dad as a young man, a unique and miraculous opportunity to "see" him the way he was and to juxtapose that with the man and father he became. I was blessed to understand the origins of his character and to see the development of the spiritual and patriotic values he passed on to his children. After the war, as a businessman, Dad continued in the Army Reserves and continued to rise in rank. Always a patriot, he left us with the legacy of a strong work ethic and rock solid moral and spiritual values.
Three men. Different ages, varied experiences. Each commands my respect, my appreciation and my love. And each one helped to preserve the country I love.
Many things have changed - are changing - in our country since these three men grew up and fought for a younger America. I love my country, though I have many concerns, many fears about the direction America seems headed today. Some are public, some private and personal, but too many to write about here. I end my July Fourth Thoughts with 2Chronicles 7:14.
"If my people who are called by My name humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, will forgive their sin, and heal their land."
Amen.
