Recently I got to see my sweet little Asian daughter in her end of the year preschool program. She sang and danced and jumped up and down. I was a proud mom, and just as every mother there felt about her own child, I secretly thought mine was the cutest.
The program had a patriotic theme and at one point I got a little misty-eyed when they sang This Land Is My Land.
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California, to the New York Island
From the redwood forest, to the gulf stream waters
This land was made for you and me.As I was walking a ribbon of highway
I saw above me an endless skyway
I saw below me a golden valley
This land was made for you and me.
I looked at the huge group of adorable children and saw not only precious American-born babies, but also saw some of Sally’s best friends including Sophie, also from China and Lucy, from Ethiopia. And yet, this land is their land.
Of course they don’t know what that means. They don’t realize how different their birth land is from the land which is now theirs. And maybe I don’t even know what that means for me, or at least I don’t take the time to think about it.
This land is my land, this land is your land. America is ours. We can say that because we have the freedom to say that.
Do we have any idea what it means that we can freely think, live, decide, determine, be what we want to be?
Do we have any idea what it means that we can love, and worship, and share, and speak truth?
Do we have any idea what it means that there are those who have fought and even died for us to be able to say and sing: This land is your land, this land Is my land?
As Memorial Day approaches, let’s really remember this time. Let’s don’t just cook burgers and hot dogs. Let’s don’t just shoot fireworks or enjoy our time with family. Let’s really remember.
And let’s thank God for the gift of this land.
