Born on the Fourth of July

 

My mother was born on the Fourth of July in 1945.  If ever there was a real-life Yankee Doodle, it has to be her.  When we lived in Papua New Guinea as missionaries, she'd hoot and holler off the porch that was facing the house of our Australian co-workers.  She'd wave an American flag and sing the "Star Spangled Banner" as loudly as she could. Our co-workers would come to their windows, wondering why mom was so "disturbed" that day.  The natives would watch from the dirt road, also wondering about this strange woman who lived among them.  Mom would yell, "It's the Fourth of July!"  Ah, yes, America's Independence.  The Australians would then understand. 

 

My parents are in Brazil this summer, building homes and churches for missionaries there.  When they are not overseas on short term mission trips, they live near us in Pensacola, Florida, in their red, white and blue-decorated house.

 

Today, Mom turns 60 years old. 

 

I can't give her a hug since she is in Brazil, so I am instead sending her this blog.  Instead of singing "Happy Birthday" to her today, we will sing "The Star Spangled Banner" and shoot off some fireworks along with the rest of America. 

 

Happy Birthday, Mom!

 

...and Happy Birthday, America!

 

by Lori Seaborg