|
|
|
The Red Angel, my wife, has been in America for just over a week now. Today we attended a Kansas City Royals baseball game. This was her first baseball game and my babies also. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out and the hot dogs where delicious. How much more American can a day be. But today my wife made me cry. As the soldiers marched out to home plate with the American flag we all stood. My wife held my babies hand over his heart as we began to sing the National Anthem. As a good Marine, I stood at attention with my hand over my heart. It had been over 4 years since I stood to sing my nations national song. Every time the National Anthem is played I sing along. Every time until today. About half way through the song I glanced over at my wife and baby. She was tightly holding my babies hand over his heart and tears where streaming down her cheeks. This is more then I could take. As I saw my wife and baby singing their first National Anthem I began to cry myself. I looked into their eyes and remembered what it meant to be an American. How proud I was of my wife to wait and come to the U.S. legally and how happy I am that one day she will be an American. She told me today that she is no longer Chinese . She may not be legally an American yet but in her heart and in my heart she is. Please welcome my wife to America. Welcome her into the embrace of "Liberty and Justice for all" I am crying again as I write this. I am sure in the next few years as she becomes a true American I shall shed more and more tears. God Bless America and God Bless my wife and child. I wonder if those who steal across our borders stand and put their hands over their hearts and cry when our National Anthem is played. Something to think about. Posted by: White Devil at 04:49 PM |
April 27, 2008 04:49 PM Missouri Time12kb generated in CPU 0.0056, elapsed 0.0166 seconds.
39 queries taking 0.0133 seconds, 56 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.
39 queries taking 0.0133 seconds, 56 records returned.
Powered by Minx 1.1.6c-pink.
