We’re All in This Together

Last year, we put our American flag out for Memorial Day.

The holiday came and went, and the flag stayed up. It looked nice there on our porch, next to the front door and the strawberry planter filled with impatiens.

Plus, with everything going on in the country and world, it just felt right to let it fly.

I figured we’d take it down after the next flag-related holiday. But the Fourth of July came and went, and the flag stayed up. Labor Day, too. And so on.

Somewhere along the way, I noticed quite a few of our neighbors also flying their flags. I’m not sure who started this. We all just kept it up.

Some neighbors I know better than others. I could guess at some of their politics, but such topics rarely come up when we’re out and about in our yards. Instead, we talk about gardening, the neighborhood cat, the house for sale down the street, how the kids are doing.

As I see it, our flags represent that we are all Americans. Retirees, almost empty-nesters, a former police officer, younger professionals—we’re all in this together.

For me, the flag isn’t attached to a certain party or set of political convictions. It stands for the country, as a whole.

Over the years, millions of people—including my own grandparents—left their homes in other countries to come here for a better life, to escape persecution and totalitarianism.

I still have the passage slip from when my dad’s father came from Germany in 1923. Like so many others before and after him, he wanted a better life for himself and his family.

We just returned from a family trip to Yellowstone National Park. I’ve never felt smaller in this great big land of ours. I feel blessed to live here. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

We stayed in a vacation rental in a remote part of Idaho, more than an hour west of Yellowstone. On our daily trips to the park, we drove by a field that was empty except for a solitary flag pole. Rain or shine, Old Glory continually whipped about in the brisk country breeze.

With the mountains in the background, it was an inspiring sight, every time we passed.

We don’t worship the flag—or the country, for that matter. The biblical truth that we are sojourners—strangers in a strange land, if you will—feels increasingly accurate and personal.

And yet, we’re still here. Doing our best to live our lives as citizens, neighbors, parents, friends and perhaps Christians in the good ole’ U.S. of A.

Today is June 14, also known as Flag Day. And the flag that’s still flying outside my front door—the one that keeps getting hung up on the porch light? It means something.

It reminds me of my parents’ wedding anniversary—June 14, 1958. It reminds me of the day we buried my dad—June 14, 2019.

And, as I look down the street at the flags flying at my neighbors’ homes, it reminds me how thankful I am to live right here, right now.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.