A Celebration That Joins Us All

During a recent encounter with a man fishing at a nearby lake, I noticed his hat. It had bold gold letters embroidered with the word “veteran.” He was kind and helpful as he offered to assist us with our boat that had just run out of gas. (That’s a whole other story.)

I’m always curious to learn from others, so as we waited for refuel reinforcements, I asked him about his service to our country. He went on to tell me he served in the United States military as a Green Beret, a most elite division of the Army. He was a paratrooper in Operation Desert Storm, the combat phase of the Persian Gulf War in 1991. He seemed reluctant to share details of this time. I allowed the pauses between his words to rest. I’ve come to respect veterans’ reluctance to speak of their combat experiences. This is sacred space not easily accessed.

I’ve since learned that becoming a Green Beret is defined by grueling physical and mental endurance which takes over a year of intense training. I found myself overwhelmed by his humility as he placed his tackle box aside to help. He went on to talk about how much he loves this country, and what an honor it was to serve. His narrative literally brought me to tears.

This weekend there are many American flags waving prominently all over our vast country. We celebrate the fact that 250 years ago, there were 13 colonies with their own identities that had a dream to set a course for the future grounded in expanded vision and self-governance. Flawed but brilliant men (and women) were able to find common ground to embrace a dream of a new nation; one with hope and promise. I think about the ins and outs of such an intersection where vision meets declaration and resolve meets courage. Not so suddenly, after years of negotiations, egos and weather, travel and spotty communication methods, a new nation was born. Such is the grit that could only be described as larger than life. The story of our country has been remarkable.

We’ve grappled with navigating forward despite our many challenges. Courageous leaders have led us forward despite stubborn tides. Courageous everyday citizens have marched together, making the sum of their voices resonate change. We’ve fought one another, turned a blind eye away from injustice, and grappled with reconciling the meaning of “united.” Our shared history as Americans is as varied as our skin hues, ancestral journeys and, yes, crossfires of injustice. Yet, the flag remains a constant. It belongs to all of us. All you have to do is attend a sporting event. Every time the flag enters the arena, usually flanked by a parade of booted soldiers, the crowd stills. Reverence reigns. Our stars and stripes remind us we are part of something greater.

In the complicated tangle of political, social and economic webs, often we become disgruntled and jaded by our own belief system. Yet, when our national anthem is heard and our flag is raised to its soaring place, solidarity is possible and often palpable. The stillness pierces through our individual differences and allows a greater perspective.

I can’t help but think about my encounter with the Green Beret veteran. Although I wouldn’t dare to say my experience as an American is like the fisherman’s career of selfless military service, the truth is we both stand beneath the same flag. As our conversation lingered, we realized our common ground. There were no platitudes voiced. Our space together was gentle and respectful. We both agreed that we are fortunate to call ourselves Americans; 250 years is worth a pause, and renewed commitment to make one another proud.

Photo by Stephanie McCabe on Unsplash