Sure, sometimes I have a bad day. It makes me feel cranky and out of sorts. I try not to inflict my mood on those around me. I have learned to ask myself;
Have I had enough water lately? Do I need a snack?
Am I spending too much time in front of a screen?
Do I need to go outside, go for a walk, work in the garden?
Do I need a nap?
These days, have I showered, brushed my teeth and gotten dressed?
Do I just need a hug?
Never once have I thought I’m so cranky and out of sorts that I will just have to go on a homicidal rampage.
Because that is not a bad day, that is a bad life. That is hatred for self turned inside out. That is wrong.
It’s enough to make the angels weep.
(On March 16, 2021, a young white man self-described as sex-obsessed entered three Asian staffed spas in the Atlanta, GA, area and shot nine people, killing eight of them. A police spokesperson said that Long “had a bad day.”)
I was so very heartened by yesterday’s ceremonies. I thought Lady Gaga nailed the “Star-Spangled Banner”. but Amanda Gorman was a highlight of the Biden/Harris inauguration for me.
JFK, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, and now Joe Biden are the four presidents who invited inaugural poets to share the majesty of words. It makes me happy to have a president who appreciates poetry in office once again.
I saw something on a Facebook post that resonated to me. The post was addressed to those who respond to Black Lives Matter with a defensive attitude and a demand to say ALL lives matter. The author cited a Biblical reference, Luke 15, parable of the lost sheep, in a loose retelling:
One hundred sheep are safely watched over in a meadow, but one manages to wonder off into the woods. The shepherd leaves to find that one sheep. Ninety-nine sheep cry out, “Hey! What about us? Don’t we matter here?”
“Of course you all matter, but 99 of you are safe here while the one is in danger and is the one that needs my attention and my help right now.”
SO, yes, each life matters. One life mattering does not take away from the worth of another. One life being marginalized or denied dignity diminishes the value of all our loves.
If people want to believe what they want to believe, I guess there really is little I can do about it.
However, if they are thinking they need to share what they believe God whispers in their ear with the notion that that is supposed to show me the way of my own journey . . . yeah, I’m going to be distrustful and out and out annoyed.
Sometimes I have to force myself to come up with a positive thought.
I am not sure that I entirely agree with this one though. It seems to me that telling myself that not getting exactly what I thought I wanted is a good reason to keep waiting for something better to come along might just blind me to seeing that what I actually need is already right there in front of me.
Is it possible to watch a white man nonchalantly kneel on the neck of a black man, to watch a man with his hand in his pocket ignoring the clear distress of the man he is so clearly oppressing, to watch his partners fail to intervene even while the weight remains full force for minutes after breathe and heart have stopped?
Is it possible to watch that and not feel the pain through your entire body?
Is it possible to watch that and not feel a shame and a sadness for the human condition that cries for acknowledgement and release from the depth of your gut?
Is it possible to watch that yet again and not feel your heart cracking?
Is it possible to watch the tears of loss in another and not feel tears well in your own eyes?
And then . . . is it possible to to watch one who feels none of that march to a church waving an unopened Bible in his hands and vowing to heap further injustice on lifetimes of injustice . . . and not feel angry? yet know that he is badly broken deep in his soul?
Surely, the angels are weeping for us all right now.