Fourth of July Celebration from Spiritual Care
While I seldom search for playlists filled with patriotic tunes, lying awake at night listening to unsanctioned fireworks does create the opportunity for me to reflect on the patriotic music that has, for one reason or another, left an impression.
Join me, if you will, as I break down the top three patriotic tunes that have guided me to this very moment:
3. “The Star-Spangled Banner”
As an irreverent teenager, I watched my Papaw, a decorated Navy veteran, stand with absolute reverence and salute the television every time the national anthem played before a sporting event.
2. “America Sings”
Using my best jazz hands while donning a sequined royal blue tuxedo vest and black derby hat, I belted out, “America sings! America cries! America hopes! America tries!” in four-part, tiered harmony.
1. “This Land Is Your Land”
Joy overtook my body every time Mrs. Leslie walked into my elementary school classroom, strumming “This Land Is Your Land” to signal that music class was next on the agenda.
As much as Rev. Hayes, Board Certified Chaplain, loves music, music was a lifeline for Little Kid Jen. It calmed me down. It pumped me up. It gave language to emotions I could not yet name.
More than anything, it reminded me that I was not alone. It connected me to something much bigger than myself…which probably explains why “This Land Is Your Land” sits at the top of my patriotic song countdown.
Like many patriotic songs, “This Land Is Your Land” means different things to different people. For some, it evokes cherished childhood memories. For others, it brings to mind more complicated parts of our national story.
Both are real, and both remind us that our stories shape how we hear the same words.
Here is part of my story:
Little Kid Jen sang this song with conviction.
“This land was made for you and me!”
Those 8 simple words meant something to me. They were not yet weighed down by history, politics, or complexity. Instead, they connected me to people and places I had never seen. They painted a picture where everyone was welcome simply because of a shared human dream of belonging.
Eight words of hope.
Years later, in a world that often feels uncertain, I find myself returning to those same 8 words. They remind me that people thrive through connection. They evoke a sense of belonging, of being seen, of being valued.
At Cook Children’s, belonging looks a lot like our Promise. It is meeting children and families with different stories, traditions, languages, beliefs, and life experiences and saying, “Welcome! Thank you for choosing us to care for you!”
Things that may matter outside the Blue Peaks fade into the background once we walk beneath them.
It no longer matters that I cheer for the Atlanta Braves while you root for the Rangers.
It no longer matters whether your family has lived in Texas for generations or just arrived yesterday.
It no longer matters whether you wear scrubs, a business suit, or a volunteer badge.
It no longer matters what differences we carry that might otherwise separate us because every child deserves our best.
And the kids entrusted into our care, y’all. Gosh. They have a remarkable way of revealing what truly matters.
In the wild, they treat people much like we strive to do at the bedside. They smile at strangers without caring about that stranger’s backstory. They delight in differences before they learn to fear them.
They remind us that hope is not naïve.
It.
Is.
Necessary.
At Cook Children’s, we witness the very best people have to offer:
Extraordinary medicine.
Generous communities.
Strangers who donate blood, organs, time, and resources for children they may never meet.
We also see where kindness, imagination, and safety are still needed.
We care for children whose lives are shaped by
poverty,
violence,
chronic illness,
limited resources,
and circumstances beyond their control.
Perhaps Cook Children’s is more of a microcosm than I realized. We rightly celebrate remarkable achievements. But maybe our measure is found in more than outcomes. Maybe our measure is also found in how faithfully we care for the most vulnerable among us.
Because we believe every child’s life is sacred, those sacred children continue to invite us to build a community where every child is seen, every family is treated with dignity, and every person knows they belong.
Maybe that is why those patriotic songs still come to mind. Not because they tell the story of work that is finished, but because they remind us of the kind of people we continue striving to become.
As I reflect on 250 years of our nation’s story, I choose to hold onto that childlike hope.
The hope that there is room for everyone.
The hope that we can learn from our past while continuing to care well for one another.
The hope that every child, regardless of where they come from or what they face, can grow up believing these words are meant for them too:
This land is your land.
This land is my land.
Yes, this land was made for you and me.
May we continue the work of making those words ring a little more true for every child in our care and our communities.