I was born amid the lush greenery of East Tennessee, where the soil produces sweetly scented flowers every summer, and icicles hang each winter on the rocks protruding from the earth.
I have traveled beyond the hills where I was born to view much of America. I have flown often from coast to coast, north to south, and gazed at my native Earth from above.
The land where majestic peaks dot the landscape, the deserts of the West, and the green of the East. America, where flat patches of farming land form a beautiful quilt over much of the country’s center. Where rivers, lakes, ponds, and oceans feed our portion of earth and glimmer in the sun as blue skies frame it all.
I have sailed in Maine, canoed in Georgia, and climbed the skyscrapers of New York and the trees of North Carolina. I have seen corn grow tall in Iowa and the falling snow in Wyoming. I have witnessed an eagle soar on Puget Sound in Washington, and seabirds fly in Florida.
I have reached the sky in Colorado and touched the sacred ground of fallen soldiers in Virginia. I climbed into the Grand Canyon, hiked in California, and walked through the bluegrass of Kentucky.
I am thankful for having traveled beyond my birthplace to states that form our union. I have crossed the country twice by car and witnessed our land’s and its people’s diversity.
America is relatively new. We don’t have the old castles or remnants of ancient civilizations that once roamed over its fields. We don’t have kings or queens, tsars or regimes. Instead, our power is in our independence.
The freedom that so many have given their lives for and still fight to maintain is where we find our unique beauty. We are not a land of old; instead, we are a land where opportunity allows us always to be new.
Americans have seen their share of division, hatred, wars, apathy, and heartache, but somewhere in the depth of each American is a need to achieve unity, love, peace, care, and joy.
We can renew because we have the freedom to do so. We have the right to protest, protect, pray, and proceed as this great nation we call United.
Near where I was born lies the grave of John Walker. He immigrated, as many did, from Scotland in the mid-1700s. He and his six brothers fought for our freedom in the Revolutionary War. Two brothers starved and died as prisoners of war.
Generations would follow the immigrant, John. They lived in the hills of the east and then moved westward. They searched for their place in the world because John and those like him won the freedom to do so.
Next to John’s grave is a tiny American Flag. He died not as a Scotsman but as an American.
This July 4th, we may choose not to listen to the news about our divisiveness but instead walk outside, touch the ground and pick up the soil. Let the grains of dirt fall through our fingers because this is our land. It is this land that will remind us to continue to pray and fight for her.
This July 4th, maybe we should turn off our phones and televisions. Perhaps instead, we should take our children and grandchildren to visit the silent graves of fallen soldiers who gave their lives so that they could play free in a noisy schoolyard.
This July 4th, we don’t need to hear political parties feuding. Instead, we should listen to the exploding fireworks celebrating the birth of our United States.
This July 4th, we should take an American Flag and plant it in every front yard. We can dot this beautiful landscape with red, white, and blue from sea to shining sea. After all, “God did give his grace to thee.”
I was born in the hills of Tennessee. Ultimately I will return to the soil where the sweet, fragrant flowers grow. I will eternally rest there beside my brother and my family, who fought and died for the freedom they gave me to travel far.
