Star Spangled Thanks

I woke to the sound of hammers and men shouting this morning. I threw on my clothes and walked the dog to see workers on top of the old mansion across the street, the "Marchman" home that has been embroiled in much controversy over the years we have lived in Villa Rica. Opinions seem to fall in two camps: Save It - or - Tear It Down For More Parking Spaces. As a lover of all things antique, I want to save all the old houses that need saving. But just because I want that to happen doesn't mean that it's going to happen. Unless I put my money where my mouth is (or my labor), I can't expect the world to just manifest my wishes. I see a lot of people protesting, but until they are willing to put boots to the ground (or dollars), the point is pretty moot. Meanwhile, somehow, I pray this beautiful old place gets restored to its former glory. Ken and I have offered our mad construction skills but no takers yet...they might think ours have expired and they might just be right.  

It takes a lot to keep up these ancient homes. Ours is now 122 years old and there's always something trying to give way or sag or rot. We've owned many domiciles over the years, though, and the truth is that the 2nd law of thermodynamics applies to every house, old or new. If you don't keep applying energy to said structures, they will eventually rot and fall down. Add to that the constant American urge to update everything every few years, and it just costs you, whether you do it yourself or not. 

As we sat on our insanely wonderful front porch last night, with sweaty, grungy grandkids running circles around the yard, classic childhoods complete with lightning bugs and cousins...I gave thanks to God for so many things. Grateful for the many veterans who have given their lives to buy and keep our freedom, grateful that somehow we've been able to own our homes these many years, grateful for the gift of grown children and their wonderful spouses, and grateful for the hope that grandchildren bring. They are growing up in such volatile days -- I worry that they might see more trouble than I've seen, that their lives might face trials and tribulations that are unbearable. Then I remember that they were born for such a time as this and their purposes are in God's hands, no matter what wild imaginations I might conjure up. 

We enjoyed our zany Memorial Day, full of food, dessert, laughter, love, deep discussions and not a little dirt on the floors. Speaking of Veterans, we parsed out some of Ken's Dad's things (he went to glory last month) to the kids. It was fun to look at the pictures and memorabilia and to think of him without pain and with a right mind. He was military (a Navy SeaBee) to the end, everything seen in black-and-white, all rules, no gray. That can be quite aggravating, when you're butterfly-ish or taking a road less traveled. But we need those people. We need the ones who will stand on the wall for us, do the hard things, be willing to lay down their lives for the greater good. It's not Happy Memorial Day, just Memorial Day. Hand over heart.