Americans share a wonderful heritage. Not a spotless heritage – far from that, and no nation has a spotless heritage – but we have a heritage that is characterized (not flawlessly) by a love of freedom and equality and valor, a heritage that is characterized (not flawlessly) by righting wrongs and administering justice, a history that is marred by the effects of sin but a history that was at least at times exalted by goodness and rightness and fighting for right causes and being an international symbol of liberty and justice for all. 
Our flag is a symbol of those things that America stands for at her core. Although the colors didn’t have significance at the time of our first flag, the colors became significant when the Great Seal was designed in 1782. White stands for purity and innocence. Red stands for hardiness and valor. Blue stands for vigilance, perseverance, and justice.
Reading the symbolism of our Red, White, and Blue makes my heart ache. What purity and innocence? We are a nation that has the blood of millions of unborn on our hands, where our children are no longer our sacred trust, where young people are not protected from the perversion of our culture. Our culture is waging an out-and-out war against purity and innocence. What hardiness and valor? Yes, we have our occasional heroes, but is our culture as a whole characterized by hardiness and valor? Would the average American today take up arms to protect their families, homes, and churches, to protect those who are weak and suffering, or give their lives for their children? Or have we given that job over to the military and our law enforcement? What vigilance? What perseverance? What justice? We are a nation that is divided by hatred, a nation that is split and fractured by competing interests, a litigious culture depending on a dysfunctional justice system, and a nation that is crushed under the burden of a dead conscience.
And yet, I know it isn’t hopeless. Firstly, because I know my eternal homeland isn’t in America. My security doesn’t depend on America’s rise or fall. My eternal security depends on the grace of a good and loving and just God, a God who could spark a spiritual revival in this nation if He so chose. I know that the church thrives in difficulty, and it is exciting to think that I may live to see a true revival of the church, the beginnings of which we are already seeing. God could work a miracle in this nation, or in the state of South Dakota, like He did with Charles Spurgeon in England in the 1800s. That is an exciting thought! Already we have rising patriots, men and women of the faith who are fighting the good fight.
America! America!
God shed His Grace on thee!
Till selfish gain no longer stain
The banner of the free!
I love the Fourth of July. I love the bustling activity and the fireworks, the family get-togethers, grilling burgers by the lake, spending time with friends. I love to celebrate those things that I know America was founded on. But I can’t help but feel torn. I want to mourn. But I also want to celebrate the greatness that America stood for in her not-so-distant past. I want to remember. It isn’t hopeless. America isn’t gone beyond help. And we still have heroes to celebrate. Hard times may be coming – But those are things that stories are made of.
In spite of my country’s flaws, I love her. In spite of the strife and anger, I love this nation. I love the heritage of greatness. I love the history that is still alive in the hearts of many. I still think the most beautiful flag in the world is our Banner of the Free.
What a delight it was, then, to spend the evening with my pastor’s family, fellowshipping over a meal and then heading over to Stockade Lake as the sun was setting. They had graciously agreed to let me practice family portraits on them, muddling through posing and lighting and everything else that comes with a photo shoot. And it was a joy!
This family is truly characterized by their love of their Savior, which manifests itself in their love for each other and their love for others. J.O. and Dana have a beautiful, Christ-centered marriage, and they love and honor one another so wholly. And their children are a testament to that, thriving and growing as children in their parents’ Gospel-driven home. 
After finishing up by Stockade Lake and enjoying the pleasure of God’s Creation, we went back to their place for hot chocolate and tea and more good conversation.
The clouds were low and heavy, hanging in the trees, and already the landscape looks richer, greener. The rain pitter-pattered on the tin roof for most of the morning. At times it would nearly quiet, but then the sound of larger drops would lead into another downpour, though never torrential. It was the slow kind of rain that soaks in deep and doesn’t turn to runoff. We got 1 inch total. The frogs are singing again now. It was a good day for reading, writing, and hot tea.
Trixie wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the rain. Unlike our other dog, Baby, who would retreat into her dog house for the whole day when it rained, Trixie was soaked and muddy from digging in the yard, undeterred by the wet. She didn’t seem to care at first, but at one point jumped up and peeked in the window over the kitchen sink. I think she was a little bored. She had dried off a little by noon, so she went with me to take Dad his lunch in Hermosa. She is such a puppy! She hasn’t experienced many car rides and tried to cuddle up initially, then went back to trying to chew on whatever was close enough to get her mouth on, whether it was me, or her leash, or the blanket she was sitting on. She was pretty happy to see Sarah, who got off early from work today.
We’re hoping for more rain tonight. It doesn’t look like there is much chance of precipitation over the next week, but we’ll take whatever we get and be glad of it!
But even being house-bound has had benefits – I was able to spend hours yesterday reading about C.H. Spurgeon, the great English preacher and theologian from the mid- to late-1800s. We are reading a Spurgeon biography for our church book reading club, and it is a delight. What a wonderful life of work he led for the Kingdom of God! He began pastoring a church at the age of 17, and his teaching sparked a revival in the surrounding town. By the age of 26, his work had revived a dying church in London and he was regularly preaching to thousands, regularly helping to plant church and send out new pastors and leading sinners to Christ! The reach of his work is truly astounding, from the circulation of his sermons to the books he published to the orphanage and school he ran and the Pastor’s College he founded, and my list could go on. I hadn’t even started the book before yesterday, and I am now about 120 pages into it. A productive day. I was even able to edit about thirty-five wedding photos from a wedding I shot a few weeks ago.
And of course, cuddling with the Kashka-cat is very important. Nothing quite as sweet as her little purring self curled up on my lap, or stretched to her full length, fast asleep and dreaming so hard she’s twitching. She loves her people, that’s for sure.
Perhaps that book of Flower Fairies is where some of my love of wildflowers comes from. About six years ago, I found a bargain priced set of Cicely’s books (the complete poetry and paintings, I believe), hard-bound and beautifully printed. It took about two minutes to decide to add them to my library.
The harebell has to be one of my favorite summer flowers. I found this little cluster up in a meadow on the eastern side of the property.
Song Dog Journal 