I’ve been in kind of a funk lately. Maybe it’s spring fever but I know that I can’t blame it all on the change of the seasons. I think more than anything, it’s the changes I see in my nation. Most of my regular readers know that I live in the country. I am very blessed to have a home that dates before 1848 and land that lies in a valley at the foot of beautiful rolling hills. There is a creek, complete with waterfalls that runs the back length of my property which is at the foot of the hills, and my home sits about 30 feet from that creek.
Today was such a beautiful day that I decided to stay outdoors. The temperature was near 70 degrees, the sun was warm, the sky was blue, and there was a soft breeze. There is a huge rock ledge on the bank of my creek that is held in place by, and has grown into, a beautiful old sycamore tree which grows out and up from the side of the bank. It is a wonderful place to sit over the waterfalls and just enjoy life. It’s a little tricky getting to it, but if you don’t mind a little bit of climbing, it is well worth the effort. It is nestled into the bank like a hidden terrace and it’s kind of my grown-up clubhouse where I can pray, meditate, think, reflect, escape, you name it. The view is fantastic.
The ledge is also a great place to get a glimpse of nature because if I’m very quiet, she begins to come out from her hiding places as if I weren’t there at all. The creek is a hub of activity because it is spring fed and the water is crystal clear, so it is a gathering place for wildlife of all kinds who come to drink and live nearby. I’ve seen deer, rabbits, turkeys, squirrels, woodchucks, hawks, and of course an occasional skunk, possum, raccoon, and snake. In the spring there will be river crane, geese, and a pair of mallard ducks that lay their eggs in the exposed roots of my sycamore every year, expelling me from my ledge until their eggs have hatched.
Today, I sat on my ledge and listened to the soft bubbling of the waterfalls as I watched a squirrel rustling through the leaves and I wondered, as I looked up at the hills across the creek, what the original owners of my home thought about this nation. There’s no doubt they didn’t have the luxuries we have as the hand hewn logs that shape my home confirm, but I wondered if they ever sat on my ledge and I wondered what their thoughts might have been as they were surrounded by the sheer beauty and inescapable evidence of the hand of God here in this little corner of America.
You see, I went to my ledge today because I’m tired. I’m tired of hearing the country that I love being trashed. I’m tired of those that would call themselves patriots, demeaning this nation at every chance and in every nation on earth. It has become vogue, it seems, to bash this country both here and abroad, for both citizens and foreigners. I’m tired of listening to those that want to make Americans feel guilty simply for being Americans. As if we’ve contracted a disease. I guess I’m just tired of all of the people who want to tear this country down and turn her into something she was never meant to be.
But sitting on my ledge, melancholy doesn’t have a chance. Surrounded by the beauty of my nation and my God, my spirit can’t be defeated. I thought about our ancestors that may have inhabited my little corner of the world and I thought about the work they endured. They built this home with their bare hands, simple tools, and the sweat of their brow. They raised their own vegetables, fruit, perhaps had a cow or two for milk and beef, and even some chickens. Maybe the deer, the geese, and the squirrels I watch graced not only this creek, but their dinner table as well. They survived the coldest of winters and the hottest summers with not one watt of electricity. They chopped and split wood for the huge stone fireplace they built from native stones they gathered by hand from the creek and the hills. They probably washed their clothes on the rock ledges of this creek and then ironed them with one of the two antique irons I found in the barn.
They worked hard but they never felt their work was in vain. Because, in their view, they had come to America for something they couldn’t find in their homeland. They knew that this country was different. They knew that they were a part of something much bigger. They didn’t take this nation for granted because it wasn’t handed to them on a silver platter. No. They had to work for it. Yet, even in the midst of back breaking labor, they loved her. And they were willing to work, and even fight for her, because they knew they were a part of what was to become the greatest nation in the world.
And you know what? As I sat on my ledge, I knew that they were right. And I knew something else. When I had come out to my ledge today, I felt that those who were trying to take away our pride from this nation were succeeding. But I realized that they can’t take something away from me that I am unwilling to give. And I am unwilling.
There’s nothing like going out on a ledge to give you a little perspective.
© 2006 Christi S. King
