Glad it didn’t work out with the British

Last week was July the 4th and our annual neighborhood parade.  We have participated almost every year since we moved here in 2003.  While she was still able, my sweet mommy would ride in the front seat of the convertible and wave a small American flag to our neighbors standing in front of their houses as we passed by.

Turner Carson parade 070409

The grands have rode in the parade many years with mixed levels of excitement.  I thought for sure my grandson who will be 16 next week would want to drive Grandpa’s convertible in the parade.  Instead, it was me driving, my embarrassed 12 year old granddaughter on the boot and my daughter holding her dog, Ace, in the front seat.  My grandson did not even get out of bed to watch us drive slowly by.

I think next year it may be me and Ace.Ace parade.png

All this got me thinking about how thankful I am to live free in a place where you can have a neighborhood parade.

 

I am glad the early colonists weren’t able to work it all out with the British.

My husband and I enjoy watching TURN: Washington’s Spies about the early days of the American Revolution.  Sometimes during the series, I will forget that I know the outcome and I will be worried for Washington and his Continental Army.  The methods of communication were painfully slow and unreliable.  It wasn’t like you could text someone and say, “The British are coming!”

Perhaps if there had been better communication, the founding fathers could have just picked up the phone and called someone on King George’s staff to voice their discontent with the taxation.  Better yet, John Adams could have Skyped King George himself and settled all the issues in one video chat.  I’m really glad they didn’t.

Broken communications can cause broken relationships.  Broken relationships can lead to broken hearts.  Like most brokenness, it sometimes takes years before you can find any purpose in all that misery.  Sometimes it takes 241 years.

A New Bride; A New Promise

Wanda Linda wedding

Yes, this is me as a new bride in 1971.  My sister is dropping a new, 1971 penny in my shoe for luck.  I still have those shoes in a box somewhere.  The penny is probably in the box,  too.  As best as I can remember, I only wore those shoes that one time.  My homemade wedding dress is hanging in my closet yellowed by the 46 years that have passed.

The promise those two, crazy teenagers made to each other that rainy day in June has not yellowed, though.  It was not put in a box and forgotten in a closet.  Our relationship has been stretched but never broken.  Our hearts still beat for one another.  Our promise has been made stronger by the passing of years and parents.

I guess I am nostalgic because there is a new bride in our family.  My sister’s GRANDDAUGHTER is getting married next week.  Mercy me, time passes quickly!  Can that little baby girl possibly be a college graduate and getting married?!?  And so a new promise begins.  This sacred promise that they will love each other above any other human being.  My prayer for this new bride and groom is that they will have an unbreakable bond sealed with a sacred promise.  A promise sealed with a wedding kiss.