American Flag

36'' W x 36'' L

In August 1814, British troops invaded Washington, D.C., and burned the White House, Capitol Building and Library of Congress. Their next target was Baltimore.

A lawyer named Francis Scott Key went to Baltimore to negotiate the release of a dear friend who had been taken prisoner by the British. Key watched the British bombardment of Fort McHenry unfold from aboard a ship located about eight miles away. After a day, the British were unable to destroy the fort and gave up. Key awoke at dawn to witness our giant American flag still waving in the distance—torn, battered, beaten, and unbroken. He was so moved by the sight that he scribbled a poem on the back of a letter—poignant words which would later became our national anthem and the song of patriotism. “And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.”

I’ve thought a lot about America lately. About our anthem. About our freedom. And about the symbolism in our flag. We have experienced death and tragedy and heartbreak and war on our own soil recently. And It’s broken our hearts.

But yesterday morning, from my kitchen sink, I witnessed the sun rising behind the jagged jaws of purple mountains in my backyard. A faint flag waved in the distance. Broad stripes and bright stars. Gallantly streaming. It caught my eye. And then my heart. I’ve often wondered what Francis Key Scott must have felt on that early morning when he was inspired to pen such pivotal, immortal words. Maybe I felt a little hint of that myself today.

After all these years, our flag still whispers what history has taught us: no power on earth can bury our Freedom. It waves in every stripe, shines in every star, and soars in hope all around us.

O say can you see?
We are still the land of the free and the home of the brave.