Let Freedom Sing

The Fourth of July. I love it. Not like the cute little love that we have for Labor Day barbeques but that big, hearty love we have for Christmas.

There is something about the sun-drenched day that makes my heart soar. I’m sure it goes back to childhood memories and a deep-seated love of country rolled up into a package that makes me giddy thinking about the day. And we celebrate every year by throwing a big party for our family and friends.

I’m not the most pinteresty woman in the world so I don’t have all matching table cloths with wedding-reception worthy centerpieces. I don’t make food in the shape of stars and stripes, all blue, white, and red velvet.

I do prepare LOTS of food, set up LOTS of shade, and invite LOTS of people, but the people and the reason we are there to celebrate are the central figures of our gathering.

Usually we eat, we may play games, we chat, then we have a short patriotic program and watch a family film in the backyard. This year, due to some timing issues and the fact that my youngest was feeling ill, we skipped the movie.

But the program . . . that was the part that made it all worth the work and preparation.

I had invited each of the six families attending to share a song, quote, or story with the group. It wasn’t required, just an invitation.

And just as it was getting dark, we began. A couple of our teenagers who are very talented musicians, played and sang for us. Then our dear friend, a songwriter, sang a gorgeous original song called Freedom’s Our Responsibility. It was so fantastic!

As she was singing, the neighborhood mortars began.

Our family doesn’t do fireworks (we live in a desert, people. A desert that is often plagued by wildfires) but as all our neighbors started into their yearly binge of blowing stuff up, I couldn’t deny the amazing effect it had as the backdrop to our personal form of celebration.

My brother-in-law shared his feelings and pride for his dear sister, a captain in the Air Force, who passed away a few years ago. It was very touching.

Then my little Adventure Boy, my nine-year-old son, recited the famous last paragraph to Patrick Henry’s epic speech. As he quoted, “Give me liberty, or give me death!” with vigor, I found myself tearing up.

Lastly, all forty of us sang our favorite patriotic hymns in four part harmony. My Country Tis of Thee, America The Beautiful, The Battle Hymn of the Republic (with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing backup) and, of course, The Star-Spangled Banner.

The fireworks continued all around us, but in our backyard there was a feeling of deep peace and gratitude. In the midst of the chaos, we were in a sanctuary.

As I looked at our friends and family, these whole, virtuous families that work, worship, play, and serve as family units, and I took in our combined pool of impressive teenagers who were singing along with us, full voice, I had a great swell of hope for the future.

I knew at that moment, that in other backyards and other living rooms, and other family circles, there are those who are going about building up righteous families who will move the cause of liberty.

And I was so grateful to know that we were playing a tiny part in that movement.

Because freedom isn’t won in the supreme court of the voting booth alone, it’s won in the ways we teach our children to respect the flag and all it stands for, to know the history of their country and the sacrifices that brought us here, to believe in the Constitution’s divine origins, and to prepare to defend liberty through their personal choices and community service.

Freedom is won at home, in a backyard, singing patriotic hymns on a hot summer night.

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