It's 7:00 PM in Nashville, Tennessee.

Water bottles swiftly change hands in small groups before returning to backpacks slung over stooped shoulders. Nearly 400,000 people stand in stagnant air, breathing heavily, clinging fervently to passing breezes as the temperature climbs lazily up to 100 degrees and the sun lobs blinding brilliance into the eyes of those not fortunate enough to find shade. Music accosts the ears from all sides, blaring with competing volumes from various bars and restaurants, but not a single group of live entertainment holds a candle to the massive, hulking stage that fills the entirety of Broadway Street.

Country music singer Chris Janson saunters out into the blazing light and peers out over the crowds, a smile bursting into view on his face despite his red-as-a-tomato complexion and the sweat that looks like the remnants of a full bucket of water thrown over his head. He addresses the crowd with an unparalleled joy in his eyes and asks every member of it who feels blessed that they woke up in the morning to raise both hands and scream loud enough for Alabama to hear.

A sea of arms are lifted and a chorus of voices nearly brings down the city.

Nashville on the Fourth of July…what can I say? I am honestly unsure of how to describe it in all its magnificence. While the city does hold the record for the largest fireworks show in the country, that is only a single part of the joy of standing in those crowds, forgetting the heat, worry, and fatigue, and losing yourself in the joy of simply being alive. Of waking up that morning breathing the same air you were able to the day before, of having people in your life to cherish beyond measure. Of standing next to strangers on the crowded streets of downtown and treating them like family.

Sometimes all it takes is a single moment in a grand adventure to make a person realize how precious it is. I…heh, I do know how cheesy that sounds, but hear me out. Sometimes all it takes is a single sentence said, a single encounter with another human being, a single quiet moment to stop and think that makes all the difference.

That moment hopped into my lap as I watched Chris Janson strip away the concert pretense and talk to his adoring audience man to many. I knew I was standing in a crowd of several hundred thousand people, but up until then, I hadn't let everything sink in. I just felt the jostling forms around me and huddled tightly towards my two fellow adventurers. But at that moment, I didn't feel dwarfed by the numbers. No, in those precious few seconds, I felt proud to have the liberty to stand beside those people, to think my own thoughts, speak my own words, hold my own opinions. I felt energized just to know that I was a part of this community, this grander group of individuals proud of who they are and where they are from. I felt ready to take on the world by storm and believed in the people around me to do the same.

I highly recommend Nashville's Fourth of July for an endless number of reasons. It's not just the amazing music and musicians, the awe-inspiring fireworks display, or the novelty of the whole thing that draws you in. Nashville opens up an opportunity for you to find that moment that makes the holiday a holiday. It offers the chance to remind you of the community that is all around you, of the joy you have in what you believe in, of the people in whom you can place your faith. It is a demonstration of how the little it may seem like we have can still bring all kinds of worlds together, standing proudly with our thoughts and opinions free to ring.

Happy Fourth of July, folks. I'm thankful for all that you find yourself able to do and all that you so proudly are.