Let’s AMP it up for the red, white and blue
“The United States of America is a true miracle!” On the refrigerator door in my quiet, Midwestern home, these words. Above them on a small and simple card, the American flag, the red, white and blue, bears silent witness.
“A true miracle.”
I write these words today, not as a conservative, white Republican, but as an American. As a grain-fed girl from the Plains, I attended a country school where the Pledge of Allegiance was recited every day, hands upon hearts with faces turned towards the flag.
I love this country of mine. It was a dream birthed in hardship and oppression, planted in faith, watered with the blood of patriots and with prayer. Against staggering odds, our forefathers persevered, deeming no cost too great to pay. And so America began.
“A true miracle.”
Now, all these years later, a war rages. This time, the battle is not for physical boundary lines or in revolt against a king. It is not a fight against flesh, against blood. It’s a battle between good and evil, a battle for the heart and soul of our nation and its people.
In my spirit, I can feel it. A heaviness, the warning that all is not well, that all is not right, that more is needed. And yet, I am one, tiny person. I have no great riches or influence; no power. What can I do to help my fractured and bleeding country, this country that I love?
How can I help her to heal? To be healthy and whole? How can I help change the tide for the four sons that we’ve birthed and for their children? How? And what?
Today, I recognize my frailty and weakness. And yet…and yet…
Just as our forefathers trusted in Almighty God for the establishing of this nation, I, too, trust in God. And just as one, small shepherd boy took out a giant that threatened his nation with the weakest of weapons, why can’t I? Why can’t we?
I may be one, small, caffeinated American mom, but I can pray. I may be one, small, caffeinated American mom, but I can proclaim my God as the one, true God, and Him all powerful and all mighty. The God of hosts.
I may be small, but I can pray. I can trust. I can believe. And so can you.
I wish I could organize a time of prayer in our nation’s capitol. A day to kneel on those granite steps and lift my face to God. A day for this mother to pray.
I think I would call it AMP, A Mother Prays. ‘Amp,’ you see, is short for ampere, which is a unit of electric current. How fitting this would be, for if a single stone could kill a giant, perhaps one mother’s prayers could deal a blow to the giants that threaten her people. And then, like electricity, spread on. And on and on and on.
And that would be (wouldn’t it?) a “true miracle.”
Warmly, and in hope,
Rhonda, One Small, Caffeinated American Mom
P. S. – Right now, I am giving some thought on how and where to pitch this idea to people who could help make it happen. In the meantime, I will pray for us all from here.