The greatest privilege for me was being able to grow up in an era where loving the United States of America was simply common sense, not a debate. We didn’t need to be told to be grateful for this country, we felt it in our bones…it was life itself. It was in the air we breathed, in the stories our parents told, in the way the whole neighborhood stopped when the flag went by. America wasn’t a political position you took. It was the ground beneath your feet, the roof over your head, the reason you could dream as big as you wanted.
In school, you stood up, you put your hand over your heart, and you said the Pledge because you meant it. We learned the names of Washington and Jefferson and Lincoln not as distant historical figures to be picked apart, but as giants who built something the world had never seen before. We were taught that this country was imperfect, as all human things are, but that its founding idea, that all men are created equal and endowed by their Creator with life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, was perfect and worth defending with everything we had. That love wasn’t blind. It was clear-eyed and proud.
That common sense bound us together. You could disagree about taxes or roads or who should be mayor, but you didn’t disagree about America itself. When the national anthem played before a ballgame, hats came off and everyone sang. When a young man put on the uniform, the whole town prayed for him. We understood that behind us were factories and farms and churches and families all working, building, believing, and in front of us was a future that was ours to make. Loving America was just shorthand for loving your neighbor, your freedom, and your chance to make a better life.
I worry for those who never knew that quiet, shared certainty. To have grown up when patriotism was not a statement but a reflex is a gift I will never stop thanking God for. It taught me that gratitude is not naive, that loyalty is not shameful, and that this nation, for all its trials, remains the last best hope of Earth. I still believe that, not because I have to, but because I lived it.
“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” – Psalm 16:11
Being About The Journey 