Collective celebrations are tricky. I was asked many times this past week, “What are you doing for the Fourth?” Sometimes it felt like a simple conversation starter. Other times it felt like a test.
If I don’t celebrate, I’m unpatriotic.
If I do celebrate, I’m accused of overlooking everything that’s broken.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
But perhaps those ideas aren’t mutually exclusive.
If my grandfather were on life support because of the choices others had made or the relationships that had unraveled around him, I wouldn’t skip his birthday. I’d still show up, I’d bring balloons, and I’d celebrate the life he lived while grieving the pain of the present.
Love doesn’t disappear because something we cherish is wounded.
The same is true for my country.
Even when politicians make a mockery of it, it is still my country to love. Loving something doesn’t require pretending it’s perfect. In fact, love often asks us to tell the truth about what’s broken while refusing to abandon hope.
My Celebration
My celebration probably won’t look very patriotic to some people.
I’m not waving flags or setting off thousands of dollars’ worth of fireworks.
Instead, I’m spending the day on my family’s farm, remembering summers filled with family reunions, laughter, shared meals, and evenings when we watched fireworks together.
Tonight I’ll sit outside beneath the waning moon and the stars, enjoying the colorful displays of strontium, copper, barium, sodium, and other metal salts bursting above neighboring properties.
And I’ll pray.
I’ll pray that what has broken around us will heal. Some things may never return to the form we remember or long for, but healing doesn’t always mean going backward. Sometimes it means finding a new way forward.
I’ll pray for the healing of what has broken within us—for the recovery of affection, the return of kindness, and the patient reknitting of severed connections.
No, I’m not doing a big thing to celebrate today.
But perhaps these quiet acts—remembering, hoping, praying, and choosing love over despair—can cast as much light into the world as a truckload of fireworks.
Happy Fourth, however you choose to celebrate.
©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026
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