My Form of Patriotism

*I took this photo. Please do not steal it. 

I was born in America. For that, I am eternally grateful. See, many things did not go right in my life. I was born addicted to cocaine, to a drug addicted prostitute. I was abused brutally by my parents and put into the foster care system. I bounced around like a basket ball, one home to another. Abused more in the homes, unwanted, unloved. But alive.

I love my country.

Had I been born in China or Russia, or many other countries, the outcome would have been very different. I would have been cast aside, or never removed from the home. A female child, with little rights. I could have remained with my father and instead of stabbed, raped and set on fire, I could have been killed, and no one would have cared. I could have been thrown into an orphanage, discarded by society, and starved to death. I could have been traded into the sex slave industry. I could have been. But I wasn’t.

I love my country.

I wasn’t because I was born an American. I was born free. Regardless of my childhood, regardless of the parents I was born to, I was born American. That, was, my saving grace. As an American I was given the opportunity to seize the bull by the horn and make something of myself. I was given the resources to succeed, 

I was given a choice.

I love my country.

In America, no matter where you have come from in your life, the choice of where to go from there is yours. 

You can, with the right mental attitude and courage, become anything you want. You can as an American citizen, use the resources our Great Nation offers, to pull yourself up from your bootstraps and raise above your birth circumstances. Because, as an American, you matter. Human life is valued, regardless of race or gender.

I love my country.

Some people say I have an abundance of patriotism. Sure, my husband is a soldier in the United States Army, fighting overseas. I support him, and our troops. But, it is so much more than that. My patriotism is because I owe my life to the country I was born in. A country, that gave me food, education, and rights. A country that, did not devalue me because of my gender, did not give up on me because of who my parents were or what they did, a country that supported my dreams and hopes, because I belonged to them.

I love my country.

God gave me a great blessing having been born in America, on American soil. A blessing that cannot be overlooked. Patriotism to me, is not blindly supporting the government. Government is made of men, and men fail. Patriotism is questioning the government, challenging the elected officials to better our country, fighting to keep the ideals and freedoms of America strong. Patriotism is not waving a flag, or pasting a yellow magnet on a car. It is about being grateful to a Nation that has done so much for me, and who has given me the opportunities I wouldn’t have without my birthright.

Patriotism is about the brotherhood that is formed when service members sign the dotted line, it is about the bonds formed by families who say goodbye to their loved ones not knowing if they will be returning, it is about buying American made products, American grown produce, it is about putting my money, time, and effort back into the community that has given me life. Patriotism is about knowing how lucky you are to be from the land of the Red, White and Blue.

I love my country.

When the National Anthem plays, tears are brought to my eyes. I remember where I came from and where I am. I remember our dear friends who have died serving our great Nation. I remember the opportunity afforded to me, by my birth. When the National Anthem plays, my heart and spirit swells in pride.

Because, I am free. I am an American.