It wasn’t exactly a room. It was more like a concave hall at one end of a large room. The hall was flanked by a railway bench on one side, and a floor to ceiling display case on the other.
Lighting was scarce in the hall. Ragged pools of light crept from the edges of the large room into the display hall, dimming as they slid toward the middle of it. So dim was the light, that only the shoes of silent, but vigilant centenels could be seen. Pot lighting in the display case ceiling barely stretched to the edge of the treasure.
Some people hurried past the displayed treasure. Some barely slowed down enough to briefly glance at the contents of the case. A few stopped to skim the information placards before moving on.
Once in a while, a traveler hardly entered the hall before collapsing onto the bench opposite the display case, so powerful was the impact.
The edges of the treasure were tattered and weary. Colors were faded; threads were worn. Although measuring over thirty by forty feet, its size didn’t make one’s heart quicken. Its history was compelling, a story of perseverance and hard-won victories. That alone was not enough to stir awe and reverence in one visitor.
The American flag is freely flown in so many places today that we may tend to overlook or take it for granted. I was in the room with the flag that stubbornly continued to fly over Ft. McHenry after being attacked by the British, unashamedly overwhelmed by the significance of “The Star Spangled Banner.”
The war-torn flag became a beacon that inspired an anthem, and became the symbol of justice and freedom for all. It was the same spirit of loyalty that inspired an oath decades later, and still recited today, a pledge of devotion to, “one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”
Tears dripped down my face as I tried to indelibly etch the power and grace onto my spirit that the treasure represented. I thought of Daddy, my World War II hero, and his enduring pride in faithfully serving the nation he loved for over forty years.
I thought of the medals and commendation he’d earned, and how he had always mourned two field promotions when commanding officers fell beside him. And then I stopped as the even greater magnitude of the treasure sank in.
Thank you to the men and women who choose to offer everything in service to others because they still believe in that same ideal of freedom, liberty, and justice for all, and gratitude for the support and devotion of their families.
Click on images for more insights into our shared American History.
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