On getting in the mood

Or standing by grace on the Fourth of July

If you’re not feeling celebratory, I understand. Quite a few Substackers have already written about how their joy is tempered by grief on this, the 250^th anniversary of our nation’s birth. How some of us may feel we have little to celebrate. How some of us are choosing to dial it down this year. How so many of us simply want to weep over what our nation has become and is becoming.

I felt that way, too, this week. And then I started reflecting on July 4^th, and what it’s all about, Alfie.

This day belongs to every American. To the politician who dedicated her life to public service and is now fighting discouragement or outright burnout. To the soldier who gave his dedication—and possibly his health—to the military and now wonders if any of it mattered. To the 65-year-old immigrant who just received their citizenship and goes to bed every night with the fear it will be taken away. This day belongs to you, too. Because you are an American. No matter what your race, ethnicity, religion, or orientation, no matter if you were born here or came here seeking asylum, no matter if you’re here, well, kind of without official permission, but you’re working hard to make a living because you have nowhere else to go that’s safe—you belong here.

If you’re a Democrat—you belong. Republican, you, too. Democratic socialist? Absolutely. Even you, MAGA—and I know a lot of you, even though most of you aren’t speaking to me anymore. Because we are all Americans, no matter our political stances, our biases, our beliefs. Whether you were raised on a farm in Iowa or a tiny apartment in downtown Chicago or a hut in Senegal or under the footlights on Broadway—you belong.

More than that, I celebrate you. Yes, you! Why? Because you are surviving. In spite of everything this world—and sometimes this country—throws at you, you’re surviving, you’re making it! You are doing exactly what Americans have done for the last 250 years. You are taking the raw clay of hope, opportunity, desperation, love, heartbreak, and hard labor, and turning it into something beautiful: A life of your own. It may not be perfect yet. You may not be a millionaire or even a thousandaire. But you are doing it, and you’re doing it despite the billionaires who would see you do otherwise.

Because let’s be real: Some people in this country want us to fail. Those in power are taking away what little stepladder the poor, the disabled, and the infirm have so the billionaires can have a taxpayer-funded elevator to the sky. There are those who are tearing down our beloved institutions to put up monuments to themselves.

But they’ve forgotten one very important thing.

Monuments stand only by the grace of those who surround them. Especially in this country.

Photo by Robin Jonathan Deutsch on Unsplash

We are still becoming. Lore Ferguson Wilbert writes, “People of faith believe that we are always being made and remade into the likeness of Christ. In a sense, we believe in reincarnation, not in the sense that we all become divine or God, but in the sense that we are all and always becoming like God. … Returned, renewed, reanimated, remade. What we see now is not what we will be someday.”

I think this is true for Americans, too. The United States of America is still very young, and right now it shows. We are spoiled children, always taking what we want and whining like a grounded teenager if we somehow can’t get it. The nation is great, but she is also aspirationally great. We have not yet grown into our pants. The soul of the nation must ripen. If she is to survive, she must become the nation all our fine words paint her to be. The question is, will she be allowed to?

This is why we keep at it. Why we keep fighting the good fight in spite of those who want us to give up. Remember those who came before, and their hard work and sacrifice. Let us celebrate everything Americans have accomplished over 250 years, and let us resolve to help the United States of America flourish as a democratic republic for another 250 and beyond.

As Megan Dawn Owen wrote yesterday, “Sometimes the most patriotic thing we can do is refuse to stop believing that we can become more just, more compassionate, and more faithful to the values we claim to cherish.”

The best, my friends, is yet to be. I have to believe that. I hope you can, too.

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A little PS: As you celebrate, please consider skipping the fireworks. It kills birds, maims the foolish, starts fires, and scares pets, who run away in droves every July 4. It’s also unspeakably cruel to our neighbors and veterans with PTSD.

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This newsletter has always been and will always be written by me, L Maristatter, with zero help from AI. I don’t even use it to edit. I use no AI images, but only what real human artists (as far as I can tell) make available on Unsplash.