Today, 118 people put on the word AMERICAN for the first time, on purpose, in a room with vaulted wood beams and white fabric draped across the ceiling like something built for a wedding, not a government ceremony. Light came in sideways through all those big windows. Little American flags in every hand. When it was finally official, the whole room stood up and waved them at once — flags going up in every direction, people crying, people laughing, phones out trying to catch it. I don’t think a single person in that room will forget what that looked like. I know that I certainly will not. It was such a gift.

From 38 countries:

Argentina. Bangladesh. Bolivia. Brazil. Canada. Chile. China. Colombia. Dominican Republic. Ecuador. Egypt. El Salvador. France. Guatemala. Honduras. India. Indonesia. Ireland. Italy. South Korea. Marshall Islands. Mexico. Nepal. Netherlands. New Zealand. Nicaragua. Panama. Peru. Philippines. Portugal. Samoa. South Africa. Taiwan. Thailand. Trinidad. Ukraine. Uruguay. Vietnam.

Thirty-eight countries. One room. One oath.

In the afterglow, many of them stood up and just talked — about coming as a child and seeing the Wasatch and how important those mountains still feel, about being a Nanny first and then a mother and wanting, knowing, there was a better life here, the international students who praised the higher education they received and then knowing that opportunity resides in America, the years it took to get to this exact folding chair. Then they promised, out loud, to show up now. Vote. Volunteer. Pay attention. Some of them registered to vote before they even left the building.

I used to teach citizenship classes in a tiny room in Santa Cruz, mostly to farmworkers who picked strawberries and artichokes and brussel sprouts all day and still showed up at night to memorize the preamble. I have never seen determination like that. Today I saw it again, times 118.

As I walked Clyde this morning, before the ceremony, the New York Times reported that ICE is quietly deporting people right here in Utah, and that immigrants and refugees in this state are too scared to go grocery shopping. Both of these things are real, in the same country, on the same Tuesday. Nobody should be afraid of the cereal aisle.

America was never one face, one accent, one flag on one lawn. Almost none of us can point at a map and say right here, forever. We’re all from somewhere. Today 118 people made it official, in public, on purpose, and I got to stand in the room and love every single one of them.

Thank you, Deborah Fiona Eyer, for the invite. As always, you know how to make the shape of my heart change.

Out in the parking lot after, I passed a woman still holding her certificate. She looked overwhelmed, in the good way. I stopped and said, “I’m so proud of you. Thank you for choosing America.” And she came apart, right there. So I hugged her. Hard. The kind that doesn’t let go first.

Love is a verb. Today it looked like a parking lot hug and a hundred and eighteen little flags going up at once. I’m so glad I could participate. 💜