America, the beautiful and the good

Driving down a state highway on our way to work, we’re surrounded by semi-trucks. American commerce is in full gear, and those gears are being shifted by men and women of the road. Corn fields and bean fields slumber beneath a blanket of white, and mist hovers over the snow, blurring edges on the country landscape. Frost has fallen in the night, and every branch, as we pass by, is hoary white.

This idyllic scenery brings solace to the weary mind. In an environment of chaos and national division, it is tempting to throw one’s hands in the air and to “head for the hills.” A small cabin with no internet or news access, but with a fully stocked refrigerator and library sounds like nirvana. However, trivial things like a mortgage and a job prevent such a mass exodus. So here we are.

For this patriotic country girl, the hatred for this nation as expressed vociferously by so many has become intolerable. Day after day, these privileged people shout their grievances from their automobiles or in their heated and cooled apartments and homes on their cell phones (first-world perks, by the way), broadcasting their angst to the world. As Rush used to say, “Words mean things,” and the words they are using are awful.

There is so much that I love about America. First, there is her beauty. From the redwoods of California to the breathtaking views of the Grand Canyon. From the waterfalls of Oregon to the mountains of Colorado. From the golden wheat fields of Kansas to the white sands of Florida. From the Great Lakes of Michigan to the shores of the Atlantic, this land is beautiful. Her glorious network of national parks invites people to play, explore, and relax in nature.

I love the foundation upon which America was built. A building is only as good as its foundation, and the underpinnings established by the founding fathers are solid. There’s been erosion, yes, but the fundamentals remain. Faith in God; freedom to speak, worship, and defend oneself; and the liberty to pursue one’s dreams are still etched upon our beloved constitution. There’s no other country in the world like it, and it’s a grand gift to live here.

I love America for the opportunities she affords. Here, if you want to work hard, very hard, you can achieve your goals. My father and his brother were eighth-grade graduates from a one-room country school. Together, they built a thriving automotive repair business by the sweat of their brows and the skills they had honed. Today, their sons are carrying it forward. No college degrees or government handouts, just hard work, talent, and ambition.

My husband, on the other hand, did choose to go to college. He earned his degree, paying for it himself, and then he went to work. Now, years later, he’s built a successful business one sale at a time. Again, no handouts, just hard work, talent, and ambition. This is what can happen in this country for those who are willing to risk and to do without for years, if necessary, to achieve success. Again, it is a privilege beyond all telling to live here and to experience this.

I love America for her people. Ignore the delirious, ungrateful voices. In the real world where folks like us live, there are so many common, faithful, solid citizens just living their ordinary lives. They’re not rioting. They aren’t protesting. They’re not burning the flag or threatening death on those who disagree.

They are kind. They raise their kids. They go to church. They go to work. They pay their bills. They help their neighbors. Even now, a slide show scrolls in my mind.

There’s our mailman, Moun, whose story I have told on the show. In wind and rain, sleet, hail, and heat, he cheerfully delivers the office mail, always with a blinding smile and a cheerful wave. He inspires us.

Next, a whole succession of teachers from our sons’ elementary, middle, and high-school careers comes parading through my mind. So many good ones who invested in a quartet of blue-eyed boys now out in the world, making a difference in their respective industries. The investment their teachers made cannot be quantified.

There’s the retired gentleman, Mr. Schrock’s friend and mentor, who came out of retirement to work for next to nothing as my husband was building the business. Because of his years of selfless labor, the company grew. Much of today’s success can be attributed to his sacrificial support and his prayers.

In our small town, there are many shopkeepers serving the community on the daily, small mom-and-pop ventures that delight us. The local police department keeps us safe. We know the chief by name, for our sons were friends for years, sharing the cross-country course and countless birthday parties together. All are part of the American tapestry that we dearly love.

America is an idea that is greater than any human being who’s ever occupied the Oval Office or ever shall. No matter her ills or (dis)eases, I still love her, value her, and pray for her. She’s the greatest country in the world, and it’s a privilege to live here.

In his final farewell to the nation, Ronald Reagan said, “I’ve spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don’t know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind, it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, windswept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That’s how I saw it and see it still.”

May God bless America now and always.

To hear America’s small, caffeinated mom discuss today’s essay on the air, tune into the James Golden Radio Show on a station near you.