There's a particular kind of nostalgia that comes with celebrating the semiquincentennial of the United States when you're among those who remember the bicentennial like it was yesterday. Who possess a bicentennial quarter and realize it's fifty years old, and it still feels freshly minted.
I'm struggling to give it a better name than "How Did I Get So Old?" Or "Why did bicentennial roll off your tongue so easily and the word for 250 seems so complicated?" Or "How has my one little lifetime spanned over twenty percent of the life of my country?"
Since I'm in the camp of those who remember where I was fifty years ago, I'm offering my memory, aided by the sweetest keepsake my sister ever gave me, because she was my counselor at camp that 4th of July--Young Life's Castaway to be exact. It was monumental because I got up the courage to fly, literally and figuratively--it's when I consciously placed my life in God's hands. I am eternally grateful.
I love the prayer poem she included by Rev. Herb Brokering. It's how I'm celebrating today. By appreciating the incredible experience of life I've enjoyed in this country, and thanking God for all who have made it possible. By trusting Him with where we are, and where we're going. By praying that he might make one out of the beautiful many. By offering myself toward that end.
Happy 250th Birthday, America!!!
