Proud American

One of my grandsons asked me the other night what it means to be an American. This, among other things, has caused me to look deep within myself.

It means I have ancestors who fought and died that I might live in a free country and enjoy freedoms too numerous to name. It means that of my immediate family, all three of my brothers, one sister, five brothers-in-law, and certainly not the least, my husband and son-in-law have worn a uniform at some point in time and have defended what is called “my rights” in every conflict this country has been involved in since and including World War II.

This all reminds me in shame that I have done nothing but enjoy the freedoms while others have paid the price. It also reminds me of another price that was paid more than 2000 years ago on a cross on a hill called Calvary. Jesus Christ paid the price for my sins, and I have done nothing to deserve His grace and love. But then that is what love is all about. You go when you are called to serve where you are called. Love is freely given and should be gratefully received.

I am proud to be an American, and I am proud of those who have made that possible. But I have to ask myself, “Why I am so blessed to have been born and raised in this great land of the free.” I pray that I never take for granted what it means to live in this “one nation under God.”

Anne Smith
Anniston, Ala.