My slow-turning ceiling fan moves through the fragrant morning air here on my back porch in DeBary, Florida; the full, rich smells of the flowers and plants are filling my senses and lifting my mood to an absolute euphoric, natural high. My mind and thoughts are as light as the breeze playing soft melodic tunes on the wind chimes at the eves and only later will I remember I’m sitting on a chair and not a magic carpet.

Periodically, my swoon is interrupted by people jogging, walking their dogs or riding their bikes on the newly paved, old bike path that runs down from the majestic, old DeBary Mansion, the center from which our little city has grown. The path runs down to the river and winds through lush parks and an ancient spring on its way south, it seems to bring much pleasure and even joy to most.

I’m sure that in their way these neighbors of mine are as grateful as I am for our land and nation that provides unmatched safety and freedom for our walk with God; thankful that we are Americans and that we have no desire to go out into the world and take over someone else’s country nor allow others to overrun our own nation. O sweet Florida, I’m so happy to be here at home.