Record Breaking Allegiance

The warnings are all over the news - record breaking temperatures will feel like 110 degrees as a “dangerous and oppressive” heatwave is upon us, unusual for late June. Heat-related illnesses are expected to rise and people are advised to drink plenty of water, stay in an air-conditioned room away from the sun, and check on family and friends. The usually blank roadside electronic signs are filled with flashing, glowing orange letters adding to the present heat, scrolling messages of dire consequences. Multiple asterisks and exclamation marks are a part of the text. This is serious. Stay out of the heat.

This adds to my surprise as I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I am at a four-way stop, the windows of my car all shut tight with the sound of the steady flow of cold air from the vents to keep me company.  It is my turn to move forward so it is a quick look, but the image I see is burned into my retina.

An unassuming house stands as the backdrop for the scene that unfolds. The house is compact, orderly and well-kept. At the end of a short walk, four stairs lead up to the front porch. This is shaded by a peaked roof and there is room on either side of the front door for one chair. It is there that I see an old man shuffle along with arthritic movement, and I imagine both the floorboards and his knees creaking.

Alarms go off in my head and bright orange letters fill my mind with immediate concern. Doesn’t he hear the warnings? What is he doing outside? He is supposed to be drinking lots of water in an air-conditioned room away from the sun, answering the phone as his family and friends check up on him. Maybe he doesn’t drive, and therefore doesn’t see all the electronic signs sending out a steady pulse of alerts.

His hair, a halo of white, matches his oversized v-neck shirt, which makes him appear thin and frail. The man’s pale face is long and drawn out, a wax figure melting in the heat. In his right hand he carries a large American flag and the way he holds it shows his atrophied muscles are straining under it’s weight. Yet, there he is, trudging along as he seeks to obtain his objective; to place the flag in the bracket on the roof’s support column. He is on the march towards his target, determined to attain his goal.

Heeled at his right leg is a small dog keeping in step with the silent national anthem that must be playing in the man’s head. The dog seems to be smiling, his white face framed by long brown ears, eyes straight ahead, already taking the attention stance. He seems resigned to what is happening, as if to say, Here we go again.

I want to stop and help the man and I almost do. I am sorry that I don’t, but traffic is heavy and it is my turn to move ahead. As I drive on and reflect on what I witnessed, I see the house in a new light. It’s neat, trim appearance is like a freshly pressed uniform. The shutters are in-line, like lapels on the jacket. The house is adorned with flowers of all colors, ribbons symbolizing achievements. The house appears to be standing at attention. Pride lives here.

What is the man’s story? What is in his past that prompts him to break protocol and go out under dangerous conditions to hang the flag? Was he past military, a veteran who sleeps with nightmares for a companion? At one time, as I played with my siblings in our backyard, was he protecting me on foreign soil? Guesstimating his age, he could have been a young soldier in Korea or one of the vibrant young men plucked from their lives and planted, roots torn and bruised, in Vietnam.

I stop seeing the flag merely as a piece of fabric blowing at the will of the wind, but for what it symbolizes. Freedom, bravery, sacrifice, courage, unity, and pride are words associated with the American flag. This man sees them written on every star and stripe, and they reside in his heart.

And I wonder, is there anything in my life that I feel that passionate about? What would make me ignore warnings and expose myself to danger? Am I holding something so heavy that my muscles are aware of it’s weight, yet I continue on? What about you - what would you risk safety for?

My answer comes quickly - faith. That is what I feel passionate about. It is what propels me towards my objective; life with God infused into every breath. The cross I wear, a gift from my children, weighs only a few ounces but the weight it carries I cannot hold on my own. This is what faith does. It helps carry the weight of love, sacrifice, trust, grace, mercy, and forgiveness.

Today, faith is seen more a weakness than a strength. It is not popular. It is not talked about. It is not PC. Moving forward against opposition, I display my colors and celebrate faith daily. This is where my allegiance lies. I show up - do the next thing. 

People are resigned to my faith. Their lips curl up in smile, as if to say, Here we go again.