I was raised to love my country, to serve her, to pray for her, to guide her and her citizens in any way I could. My parents, grandparents, and great grandparents always told us how blessed we were to be Americans, how proud we should be that we are citizens of a great, shining beacon of hope. I have vivid memories of my mom dressed in red, white, and blue saluting the flag with tears in her eyes at festivals and events. She learned God Bless America in sign language and taught us all to sign the song, even though she knew nothing of sign language. There were endless rehearsals in our kitchen with the music blaring. Every student that she taught, also learned to sign the song with pride, emotion, and reverence. My one regret in planning her funeral was that I wasn’t able to get up and sign that song one last time for my mother.
I didn’t always appreciate this great land. I remember going to Elks Club dinner dances with my grandparents and how my grandfather had tears streaming down his cheeks every time they did the 11th hour remembrance of fallen brothers. How he stood with beaming pride and love, his hand placed firmly over his heart as the National Anthem was sung. I loved my grandfather but didn’t understand his devotion, after all aren’t there better places all around the world?
I dreamed of sailing abroad, walking the streets of Paris, visiting buildings twice the age of our nation, seeing history and beauty all around me. I yearned for the taste of fine cuisine and the mix of languages I could encounter in just a short trip. I saw the jewels of Europe and couldn’t wait for my chance to dive into them.
That chance finally came when I was 20 years old and required to study abroad. Three semesters away and in exploration. It sounded like Heaven on Earth. I did indulge in the delectable pastries and chocolates of France, Belgium, Ireland, England, Germany, and Austria. I marveled at the magnificent castles and cathedrals, the likes of which I had never seen. However, once the initial allure wore off, I realized that I was a stranger in a strange land. I would always be an outsider no matter how well I spoke French, or how I dressed like a “native,” this wasn’t my home, and I wanted home. It was an amazing and unforgettable experience. I will forever be grateful for the opportunity that my parents afforded me. (And my grandmother, who paid for my plane ticket.) It is overseas that I found my true home, in America. It was in the lights of Paris, that I fell in love with my own country.
Now my country needs prayers. I don’t know what God’s Will is for this election. I don’t know who He would vote into office. However, I am pretty sure it would be for a candidate who loved this land, liberty, and life. I am asking everyone who reads this to say a special Flying Novena tomorrow, November 7th for a Godly result to our election. Pray for mercy to be bestowed upon this great land, that the hearts and mind of every voter and candidate would be opened and converted to the Truth that sets us all free. Please, Share this with family and friends–let us pray our way to the polls. Thank you.