Day 2: Independence Hall

Have you just ever had a really stressful day where you felt like nothing would turn out well?

Did you ever have a day like that which actually proceeded great happiness?

I thought about that today as I say Independence Hall in Philadelphia.

Our first tour was to good old Philadelphia, where it was nothing less than a miracle that took place over 230 years ago.

Grant, Anna, Jefferson (age 4) , Duncan(age 2) and I piled into their silver Ford Focus and drove the 2 1/2 hours to Phily.

The Liberty Bell was awesome, as well as the Phily Cheese stake we ate for lunch. I learned a lot at the U.S. mint and the Federal Reserve, and felt awe looking at Benjamin Franklin's grave and Betsy Ross's house. But my favorite part of the day was being inside independence hall.

As soon as I walked in that room, I felt something special. I could almost see the powdered wigs and feel the summer's heat and hear the flies. I could see the delegates debating and arguing, wise words and stunning sentences being thrown back and forth.

I could see John Adams pleading for the resolution to declare independence. I could see James Madison feverishly taking notes on the constitutional debate, and transcribing them late into the night. I could see George Washington in his white powdered whig, keeping order with his stern, but loving face, hoping that from this spinning potter's wheel of ideas, that a beautiful vase of liberty would be formed.

I saw the seat where Benjamin Franklin would have sat, with his leg raised and his glasses perched on his nose. Pondering his pearls of wisdom and wit.

I felt like I could see the convention adjourn after a normal day, and all the delegates shuffle out into the summer's heat, persperation rolling down their brows, wrinkled with concern for this infant nation which they held in their hands. Bent over with worry, they wondered, "Will this be of any good?" "Will anything ever come of this?" "Is it worth it?"

So many doubts could have, and probably at times did fill their minds. I wish I could have shouted to them from across the centuries and have pulled them to take a look at modern Philidelphia, and say: "It will work out! It will! Don't give up, not yet. Look at what you'll create! See this city? See these people bustling to and from work? See the thousands of visitors who came just to see what you did? Don't give up! Don't give in! It will work out, and you will change the world."

But I think there were angels who did that; unseen messengers, who stood by their elbows and whispered thoughts of hope into those great, but tired men. I've felt those angels in my life, telling me not to give up right when I was so close to throwing in the towel.

In this way, the founders weren't that different than us. They had to live with the eye of faith, just as we do. They didn't know that the constitution would build the most powerful nation on earth; they didn't know when they declared independence that they would win the war (in fact, at that point they were losing), but they hoped. They hoped and they believed in good things to come. In spite of how bleak the present may have been they pushed forward, just as we need to do daily.

A nation might not rest in our hands, but people do: our families, our friends, our class mates or coworkers. Do we dream big dreams and not give up, or do we look at the facts and say, "this is hopeless", throwing up our hands and walking out of our independence hall with only a half written declaration or constitution?

The world was only changed because they didn't give up, and they didn't give in. Wherever we are, and whatever our doubts are that make us not want to finish our good intentions, we may need to take a step back and see with our eye of faith what may happen, and then hope, believe, and hold on--come what may.