The weeping tree

An older gentleman,

seated in a well-used wheelchair,

sits under the scattered shade of the

blossom-covered canopy

of an old and gnarled tree.

Above him, a young boy

with a colorful backpack,

sits where the tree's massive branches

head off in opposing directions.

Both are watching

all the people 

carrying signs of protest.

Perhaps the man, who has lived long

and has already seen so much,

is looking for hope in the next generation

as he takes in the words they

choose to carry on home-made

cardboard signs.

Thinking that perhaps they will

do a better job of taking care of

each other and the earth.

Hoping that is so.

Maybe the young boy's dreams

are different -

maybe his biggest concern is simply

how he will manage to get back down.

Not how today's decisions 

might impact tomorrow's choices.

Over there, the little 

curly-headed girl, or maybe boy,

(isn't it funny how it doesn't matter?)

standing between her mother 

and grandmother,

or maybe two moms,

(isn't it funny how it doesn't matter?)

clapping wildly every time the crowd 

erupts in applause.

You can't help but grin

while watching her.

She probably won't remember

this moment in her life,

or know the hope she gave to those

who watched her joy.

Seeing love.

Some carry signs that make

their hidden struggles 

so very visible.

The man dressed in black

holding a sign that reveals his

battle with cancer.

Angry words profess

how frightened he is of funding cuts

for cancer research 

and access to healthcare.

The older couple, 

supporting each other 

as they navigate the crowd,

holding a sign for the protection of 

Social Security and Medicare.

The veterans,

some in Vietnam era coats,

asking us to take care of those

who risked so much,

impacted in ways we cannot 

really understand, 

challenging cuts to the VA.

Then there's the many people who

don't fall into accepted 

gender categories,

carrying signs that use every

color of the rainbow.

Who thought they had 

found a place in our society,

but now are frightened of

their future. 

The pleas for protection 

of so many things -

things we have perhaps been 

taking for granted -

national parks and forests, 

immigrants, education, 

scientific research, 

civil rights, freedom of speech, 

democracy, public health, 

environmental protection,

books, libraries, museums,

how our history

is written and remembered ...

Circling back to the tree -

it is not a weeping willow,

but it is weeping.

And yet today it speaks of hope.

The Good Is Still There

May I ask you something?

Do you find, 

that in this time

it is so very difficult 

to keep the divisiveness 

of "we" and "they"

out of our sentences?

But do you also 

believe that we must try?

Deep within ourselves

we know that  love 

and compassion 

need to be given 

the space to rise up.

But how do we stand up 

for what we believe

while leaving anger and hate 

(seemingly) unresolved?

It sounds impossible, but really, 

it is the only answer, isn't it?

How can we allow anything

to erase all the good 

we once saw in each other?

To give divisiveness 

such power is a tragedy 

I don't think we can survive.

As individuals, families, 

communities, as a country.

The good is still there.

Tomorrow, or the next day, 

or maybe years from now,

perhaps I will read 

these words and wonder

how could I have been 

so naive.

(In fact you might be

wondering that about me

now as you read this.

That's fair.)

But today I choose to name it hope.

And I will hang on 

as tightly as I can,

looking for the good in each other 

that we know is still there.

Falling back on 

the gentle powerful strength 

of humility and integrity 

as guides forward.

Praying that others 

might also make the effort

to find some good in me

as I make the small choices 

each day that add up to

a life.

Whether or not

we totally agree with each other

on all things.

A Prayer for the New Year

Here it is, the new year.

I have seen so many of these.

But really, this is just the day after yesterday

and the day before tomorrow, 

like any other.

We've done this before.

The creation of a calendar which follows

the earth's revolution around the sun

made this day significant.

Pretty cool, actually.

The spinning through space part.

But still, it is an opportunity 

to pause and reflect

on the past year and to be intentional

about the year to come.

For me, in this season of my life,

what does it mean to use this

bookend on the passing of time

to be intentional?

Let me try.

This is a time to count our many blessings 

and figure out how we can share these 

with others.

A time to remember 

that God's hope for the world

has nothing at all to do with the 

social and political constructs

we have carefully and stubbornly built.

Take a glimpse at the universe

as a reminder of how small 

our perspective really is. 

How little we really

truly understand.

And so I pray.

I pray (seriously) for world peace.

I pray (intentionally) for love, 

the kind that doesn't judge.

I pray (hopefully) for compassion

and generosity.

I pray (humbly) for 

mercy and forgiveness.

I pray (earnestly) for 

enough for everyone.

These are not just words, 

defined and sometimes

tarnished by religion.

They are actions

founded in love.

And while I have breath,

I should be doing what I can.

And so I pray.

Feeling overwhelmed 

because the task is so big

and I am so little.

Ah, there. I feel your hand in mine.

Yes, yes we can do this together.

(Even when our beliefs don't 

line up exactly

or look the same.)

We can do this together.

We have work to do.