Here it is again —- the fourth of July. And I wonder just what it means to me. Great memories of family times as a little girl, for sure. And some wonderful times here with my children when they were younger (although I admit to a certain relief that we no longer have to either buy those fireworks made in China nor do I have to watch nervously as they are set off in the yard!!)

But, what does it really mean to me? I thought about it this morning, as social media was abuzz with patriotic images and ramblings. And I realized that for all its foibles, and surely I am all-too-aware of a plethora of them which I bemoan often, I am hugely grateful to live in the United States.

In a world where freedom has been grossly eroded and wild numbers of people desire nothing more than personal peace for themselves and their loved ones, we are indeed fortunate. According to the United Nations Refugee Agency the number of refugees is a staggering 21 million.  Imagine a future like that. It is virtually unfathomable.

And for me, it goes even deeper — as in our own imperfect country, and estimated 45 million people live in poverty. I have a solid and happy home, an income, a steady supply of fine food, and a clean consistent water supply.

So, yes, our country provides far more freedom than a huge portion of this world. But, within that, my world is even more blessed. So, today I will give a gracious nod to our country and bow my head to my own blessings within it.