The Dream They Carried

Not long ago, Secretary Rubio stood in Athens with the Parthenon behind him. That old place has been there long enough to know better than most of us. He said the old Greeks made the pursuit of excellence the main business of a man's life. Passion. Strength. Courage. Pride. That was the fuel, he said, and it pushed the West to build what others could not. He called it the heart of a great civilization. Then he pointed out that a good many of us have since forgotten the recipe. We tore down our monuments, scolded our own history, and in too many places taught the children to feel a little ashamed of the country they were supposed to inherit. Act now, he said, or you may lose the chance to act at all. The story of that civilization is the greatest one a man has ever heard, and it began right there.

The speech moved me. It got me thinking about my grandparents.

They left Italy with a dream of freedom: a new shore, room to work, and a chance to keep what they built. My grandfathers were a furniture maker and a shoemaker. My grandmothers were dedicated homemakers who held the family together when the language was strange and the days were long. They brought their Roman Catholic faith from the old country and leaned on it. Hard-working folks who never looked back. They settled in Cleveland, Ohio, and that is where my parents met. It was no promise life would be easy. It was only a chance, and they took it.

Neil Diamond wrote a song about folks like them called "America." It sings of people traveling far without a home, but never without a star to steer by. Free. Only want to be free. That was the light they came for. They hung on to it the way a man hangs on to the last good rope when the river is rising.

Years later, I got up and went to work every morning because that want to build and provide is put in a man by his Maker. We are made in the image of God, and part of that image is the plain love of work. It is why a fellow wants to make something of his days instead of just passing through them. The same God who made me also handed me rights no government invented, and that fact alone was reason enough to rise. He put a drive in me to work hard for my wife, for my kids, and for the people around me. Life feels worth the trouble when a man can give a little instead of only taking, and when he can help the ones who have less.

My family saw the hand of blessing, and we saw the other hand too. Money got tight. Strength got thin. Plans fell over like a chair with a loose leg. There were nights you lay awake and counted what you did not have.

No system lifted the trouble off us. And Jesus did not always lift it either. He stayed in it. So a man got up, did the next right thing, and did not quit the row. Fruit comes slow. Trouble does not. We trusted Him in those stretches, not because the hard part went away, but because He stayed. On the far side of the sowing there was fruit: a life that held together, work that meant something. The same dream my grandparents carried out of Italy was still alive in ordinary hands, and still under the hand of Christ.

A country can forget excellence. A man can forget it too. He does not have to. The pursuit that lasts is not pride for its own sake. It is plain work guided by the Savior. Settlers sow. Years pass. Trouble comes. Fruit still comes. You do not quit the row.

A quiet prayer

Lord Jesus, You put the dream in ordinary hands and the strength to keep it. Help us not forget the excellence You gave. When the row gets hard, keep us from quitting. We work under Your hand, and we trust You for the fruit. Amen.