From the Mountains to the Prairies

I love my country.

You will regularly hear me raving about England (and how I 'll go kicking and screaming when the Air Force tells me I have to leave--I can't possibly see and do it all in the little time I have over here) but you need to know that I love the United States of America.

My dad was a veteran of the Korean War and afterwards, a member of the VFW.
He wore his Army uniform proudly in parades down our tiny little Main Street.
I was taught (from when I was about 3)
to hold my hand over my heart and to stand
when a flag went by.

I teach that to my kids now.

When I got older
and elderly veterans would walk in various parades
past eyes eagerly awaiting Santa or the Uncle Sam on stilts,
I always stood and clapped.

I hope those veterans know that at least one woman in the crowd appreciated the life they assured her in a free country.

I teach that to my kids as well.

This week, I taught my kids about the American Flag
and (can I tell you?)
apparently it's not only Lee Greenwood or the Star Spangled Banner that makes me tear up.

I reminded them of the respect we show our Flag and why (and if you're uncertain, maybe it's time you looked up what our flag actually represents-- you might find yourself angry the next time you watch a madman burn it).
I explained that they're growing up in a world where patriotism is quickly becoming unpopular. How one day when we're not around, they may be tempted to go with the crowd and refuse to say the Pledge of Allegiance or stand for a flag passing or by keeping their hand in a pocket when it could be over their heart--and that's ok, because it's their choice and they live in a country that allows them to make those choices (because of brave men and women who guaranteed them that freedom).

Maybe I might have mentioned to them
that when I place my hand on my heart,

I am honoring their grandfather (and many great grandfathers),
their aunt,
their uncle (and many great uncles),
and most importantly
their Dad.

I love my country and I love the man that has so willingly sacrificed to serve it (the guy who probably just stepped out of the room to get a tissue because he's a big marshmallow).

On this July 4th,
when you're waving your little flag at the parade or
oohing and aahing over the fireworks,
do me a favor and place your hand on your heart for a few minutes.

You see, I'll have mine on my heart because I know my Hubby (marshmallow guy), who is in a foreign country (Iraq), will have his right hand held high as he re-enlists--promising to continue to keep you and I and our children safe. Since there won't be any parades, fireworks or confetti, it's my way of showing him the respect he has earned serving the country I love.

God bless and keep you Hubby.
Happy Independence Day (hopefully the last one we'll spend apart)
I love you, I'm proud of you
and I'm there with you.
Here's to 6 more years of insanity!

Happy 4th of July everyone!!