Flags and Front Porches

Here's to the American flag. Blowing in the breeze over buildings, pinned to shirts and jackets, hung in windows and doorways, appearing all over, so often unnoticed. The flag has become so commonplace to us. We who take our freedoms both big and small for granted.

With determination and courage the flag was carried by Washington and his troops, much soiled and worn, but still recognizable, carrying with it the hopes and dreams of a new nation.

With awe and gratitude those seeking a new life in our country beheld it waving grandly over Ellis Island, a welcome symbol of hopes yet unrealized.

With relief and a throat lump of pride our men and women in uniform recognize it on foreign soil, reminding them of all they are sacrificing for.

With honor and a solemn hush it is draped over wooden boxes containing heroes and warriors who have faded from this life.

With gentleness and reverence it is folded triangularly and placed in the arms of the grieving widow.

With duty and purpose it waves above our buildings of government and commerce, our schools and places of worship, a banner of principles and morals, of traditions long held.

Today as I studied the flag waving from our front porch I couldn't help but ponder the significance of both flags and front porches.

How many front porches have welcomed a loved one home from a long journey? How many have witnessed the death of a dream or the birth of new vision?

How many have little feet padded back and forth on, old wrinkled hands been wrung on, tired eyes closed for the last time on?

How many porches have seen bright young faces shining amidst cap and gown, behind wedding veils, standing tall and proud in uniform?

How many porches have young wives wept upon, lovesick young boys ached upon, new puppies toddled upon?

How many porches have served as places of decision, where two decided to keep going as one, where a once bare finger took up a shiny new band, where the wonder of a tiny visitor was welcomed into hearts and minds?

How many porches have been places of waiting, for the mail to bring that long awaited letter of acceptance, for a familiar car to pull into the driveway, for the sound of chattering voices on their way home from school, for the return of a special someone who would never cross its lengths again.

Laughter after football games, reminiscing over holidays, a glimpse of the first snow of the season, harvest time and autumn leaves falling to the ground. Joy. Triumph. Longing. How much more there is to a front porch than beams and a floor. The stuff of life happens there.