That’s right, I have heard Obama say that Roosevelt was accused of being a Socialist when he wanted national Social Security.    You know our forefathers who fought against Social Security hated old people.  We are living 70 years into that future, and I think we can all agree that Social Security is indeed a blessing to our grandparents, parents, and God help me if I’m not excited about the possibility of getting it in the future.  I think of it like playing the lottery.  I put money in and should someday I get money out, it’ll be free money.  Except I don’t play the lottery.  Bad odds and all.

Also?  Social Security is broke.  We as a nation have resolved ourselves to the probability that it won’t be there when we need it.

Those who don’t learn from history are destined to repeat it.  Health Care may work for this generation.  Maybe.  But what does it look like in 70 years.  Social Security?  Worse?  I don’t know.

That wasn’t my concern tonight.

Tonight, I was needed elsewhere.

Shanda made cake.

And God wanted me there to eat it.

Now there were other things that needed to be done, like talk to people about adoption, and sign up to do event planning.  Oh and adopt my Canadian friend so we can go on The Amazing Race and wear our annieology tees.  Actual important things that will make my life better.  Plus my Canadian friend is a nurse and when I’m her mama I can make her fix me as part of her chores.  Whatever, it’s my blog, I can make my fake adopted non kid from Canada do anything I want.

I won’t need to worry about social security, I have six kids,  seven if you count Canada.  So they have to take care of me when I get old because I do not feel very secure with the “public option” on my retirement.   I’m writing that into the adoption plan.

Wednesday night was God’s way of telling me that I don’t need to concern myself with all that is happening in Washington.  He’s in charge everywhere.  Even there.  What is going to make a real difference in my life is spending time with real people.   With friends that I love.  Helping people who are actually hurting right now.

What do I care about health care anymore?  I’m adopting a nurse.

My grandfather’s parents left their country with money gifted them by family at their wedding.  A family who wanted to give the young couple something they didn’t have.   The young couple left friends and family, trading the familiar for an unknown future.  Their ship run aground off the coast of New York.  What little they brought had to be left behind.  They arrived in this country with the clothes on their backs and each other.  And hope.

Their son fought in World War One.  Putting his life on the line for his unborn children to have the future his parents had sacrificed for.

The father of my mother fought in World War Two.  Was wounded in action.  And yet years later, and this time leaving a family behind, he went to Korea.  Knowing the dangers he faced, he went to fight for freedom.  His son would go to Vietnam.  His son would be wounded. For the right to be free.

The blood of my family has been spilled for this country.  Sacrifice has been made for me. For freedom.  For a better life.   A freedom and life that we all benefit from.

When blood is shed a covenant is formed.  Between  man and  woman.  Between  mother and child.  Between men and country.  A covenant entrusted to me.  One I have not had to make, but one I will honor.  I honor my husband not by the covenant of blood, but because of our willingness to sacrifice.  A covenant not born of blood with half of my children, but a sacrifice I make of my todays for their tomorrows.   And to honor those who have died for my country, I will take to the polls so that we will not need to take to the streets.

And yet, we whine.

Because we have to pay for health care.  Why shouldn’t we?

We want a someone to pay us a decent wage.  Forgetting that we have every opportunity to earn one.

The men and women who have given their lives for this country did not do so for us settle.  We cannot work for the minimum and earn the maximum.   You want more?  Go out and get it.

Despite what you hear on the evening news, our country is favored in most parts of the world.  I encountered a man from Mexico, this week, who left his family at 18 to come here to fight along side our men and women.  To fight for freedom. Ours.  His.   To fight for the opportunity to give his family more than he had.   A sacrifice that is lost on many of our own youth.

Remember, this weekend is INDEPENDENCE Day.  It is not dependence day.  This country does not exist for your benefit.  You benefit because this country exists.

Smith Family Story from Matthew Singleton on Vimeo.

Either way prepare yourself.

Does he make a better sandwich than the other Quizno’s guys? Probably not, but I will never know, for as long as he works at that particular Quizno’s it is the only Quizno’s I will go to. Does he care for me personally, no probably not. Then what is it? I don’t know. I just know that I hope and pray that I can hire him someday. If not, I will just remember that whatever I do I have an affect on others, and it is much better to be remembered as awesome than not. If my whole goal for the day is to make others feel that my sole purpose that day was to positively impact their life, then it’s all good.

After their children were grown, her and her husband went to Africa, to be missionaries. I admire that she was still growing even after she was grown up. She taught me about love and grace. I always felt at peace with her, and when I think of her, it reminds me not to strive so much, or worry about what to say or do. Being there and being quiet is often quite valuable.

He has always been a good person, even before God got ahold of him. Knowing God didn’t change who he is as a person, but God gave him direction and he’s ran with it.

People who knew me 11 years ago would not know me today. Even my sisters wonder who I am when I make it home for a holiday, or other family gathering. I allow others to speak my truth for me too much of the time. The truth my family speaks of me is not really my truth. My husband speaks the truth I want to be, and because he believes it so can I.

He adores me, though I’m not always adorable. He thinks of me before he thinks of himself. While in many ways we are completely opposite, at the same time we are completely the same, whatever it is is working for us.

He is a good friend, a father to the fatherless, and while this may seem “duh?” to some people, he always does what he says, he always pays his bills, and is completely reliable. And simply by being by his side for nearly eleven years I have become a better person.

I had some very good teachers, and some downright “why on earth did you choose this as your profession” awful teachers. My third grade teacher was also my Kindergarten teacher. Back in the day when you didn’t have to speak three languages before K. Back then it was our kindergarten teacher that taught us the ABC’s and the 123’s and we even had inflatable people and it took us all year. So thanks for teaching me how to read Miss Bryant, turns out it came in handy.

The only thing I remember from third grade is playing the gossip game and writing letters. I wrote my aunt who coincidentally went to school with Miss B. Small world. She still rocked as a teacher in third grade, but apparently I didn’t learn anything that year. I guess she made more of an impression just for being nice.

So I guess the poster is true, everything I did need to know I learned in Kindergarten.