Of Presidents and Purpose

President's Day arrived and I couldn't help but wonder if someday we will be forced to celebrate King's Day (said only in jest as we have been promised that will not happen on this promised land). The sentiment seems cold and calloused and yet strangely pertinent. The accepted interpretations of the constitution in our day seem woefully inadequate for a nation which was founded and has been sustained by the hand of God.

I printed off a copy of the Bill of Rights, planning on playing the motivational role of William Wallace. I would antagonzie and excite my army (my children) into a frenzy. They would be willing to go to battle against all odds and in terrible circumstances. I attempted to wow them with a speech about the founding fathers, principles of freedom, and unalienable rights. This was going to be inspirational! This was going to be epic!

Reality, predictably, proved a bit less dramatic. I made little to no impression with my first attempt. I even had difficulty getting them to acknowledge my presence. When they finally did notice I was speaking of something that was important to me, they merely smiled and nodded their approval of the topic. It was hardly what I had envisioned.

The second attempt was much more successful. This time I was successfully able to weave death and destruction into the conversation. I related to them the carnage of the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, and the two World Wars. "Thousands, even millions, of people spilt there blood freely for "this" piece of paper," I said this while pointing emphatically at the print-off of the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. My sons were semi-impressed with the death toll . . . but they were really excited and curious as to how I was able to get my hands on a piece of paper that millions of people had died trying to obtain. Needless to say, a backtrack in the discussion was warranted, and I quickly set them straight on the difference between ideas and physical pieces of paper.

I then, rather anti-climatically, spewed from my moutht the grand Crescendo, "The ideas on this paper are worth fighting for! They are worth dying for! Many have died for the cause of freedom and many more will need to! Will you, my sons, if you are called upon?"

My oldest is 6 rose to the occasion admirably and was more then willing to grab his "life saver" and go get the bad guys. My 3 year old, however, said he wasn't to interested in dying right now. And although he didn't add the "thank you very much" to the end of his statement, he managed to maintain a frighteningly calm and polite demeanor. When pushed, he finally agreed that he would fight to save his sister's life. Which was more then enough for me at that point.

Now . . . there are days when I hope that my boys will never see the field of battle. However, my greater hope is that they will have what it takes to meet the challenge when that day comes, because I believe it will. And when it comes I pray I can be there to march off to battle with them. This is not because I see myself as a soldier. Nor is it because I do not fear death. It is because I can't imagine a more gratifying feeling then to walk, step by step, with my sons, to continue in a battle that started before this world was. If we fought it in the preexistance then we must be willing to fight for it here. It is a battle we will fight forever, together. Marching shoulder to shoulder with my own flesh and blood, I would know that I had the full blessing of my Father in Heaven. I would know that my sons and I would be counted worthy in His sight. A noble cause to share with noble men. A purpose worth any earthly sacrifice.