The Promise of America the Beautiful

People in my neighborhood have been shooting fireworks since last Friday night! It wasn’t even July yet, but people were out setting them off; some as late as 10 and 11 o’clock at night, which didn’t sit well with me. I have nothing against fireworks. I just prefer not to have to hear them booming late at night, whether I’m trying to sleep or not. But otherwise, I love watching a good fireworks show. I love seeing them go up into the night, then explode; and waiting for all of the pretty colors to paint the sky as the sparks dribble back down to earth.

I grew up in a military family, and celebrating the 4th of July was a huge deal on the Army base. There was always a cookout; usually at the lake whenever we were stationed at a place that had one. And the evening always ended in an open field where they would put on a musical program and the telling of the story of America’s independence from Great Britain.

I always looked forward to spending time there. Knowing what my dad and uncles went through to continue to protect the freedoms we enjoy in this country, made me all the more proud. And through the years watching as several siblings and later nephews entered the military, continued that proud family moment for me.

But as I got older, and information became more accessible via the internet, social media, and 24-hour news channels, I learned more. I saw more. I experienced more things that was happening in this country; questionable things. My awareness of what was happening to people around me grew to sadness; sadness became anger; anger to disappointment; and then back to sadness, frustration, and a fight to ward off disillusionment and cynicism.

Eventually, I realized that I was going through a grief process. I was grieving the loss of the country I thought I knew. I was grieving the reality that our country was not holding true to the words written by the forefathers in the Declaration of Independence:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

The source of that grief has not been easy to explain to other people. But when I read a recent social media post by the adult daughter of a high school friend; a friend who had also grown up in the military, and whose husband served almost 30 years; her words resonated with me. Laura had expressed in writing some of what I’d been feeling, not just leading up to this 4th of July, but an ongoing conflict of celebrating America’s freedoms in light of much of what has happened and continues to be happening in this country. Her words say it best!

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This 4th of July feels different.

It feels false and hollow to celebrate a country that is so fractured, so unjust, so backwards-heading, so accommodating to those with money and power and health and “beauty” and those born in the “right” color skin. So flawed.

I have friends who also feel this tension, and decided to make Juneteenth their big patriotic summer celebration. That feels more right to me, but I’d struggle with feeling like a presumptuous imposter. Maybe in a few years.

But I love this country, and I always have. And in my pastor’s July 4th message (on Romans 13), he used the word “potential” to describe my country over and over again. And it reminded me that, if you have an uncomplicated opinion of America – either positive or negative – perhaps you should pay closer attention.

This July 4th I won’t be celebrating my country as it is today – I will celebrate the hope, promise, and potential that it embodies. I’ll take a break from mourning the country it is not, but should be: where your zip code doesn’t determine your health outcomes, your skin color doesn’t determine whether strangers give you the benefit of the doubt, and your genitalia don’t determine your earning potential or your agency of your own body. 

Instead I will celebrate my fellow citizens who love this country enough to speak up and act out when it doesn’t live up to its full potential. I will celebrate the small acts of kindness and compassion I see from those citizens every day, which seem revolutionary compared to the daily, relentless acts of incompetence and deceit from their political leaders.

I will pause to celebrate the promise of my country, and then I’ll go back to working for it.

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Guest blogger Laura Khurana lives in Georgia. She is a businesswoman, a wife, a mom to two young daughters, and is the proud daughter and granddaughter of military parents and grandparents.