I watch a few of my childless friends and on some level I envy them. On another level, I pity them, and on yet another level I cast a judgment that not only annoys me but shames me as well.
I envy them because they are carefree, and pursuing happiness. I pity them because they are not paying attention and therefore, they have no clue. I hastily judge their self-indulgence when their energies are much needed elsewhere.
Were I childless, I might be on the beach somewhere with them right now, somewhere in the Caribbean, drinking pina coladas, listening to the gentle ocean waves and hearing the faint sound from rhythmic steel drums playing poolside up by the resort. The breeze would also be gentle and 72 degrees. The water temperature would perfectly match the air temp making it difficult to discern without the use of my eyes if my feet are in the water or still on land.
I would, perhaps, be ever so slightly mindful that somewhere back in America the news is disturbing the attentive of our populace.
Hey, STOP, not so fast. After all, I am not on that beautiful beach with my carefree childless friends nor am I slightly mindful. Rather, there are people and places and thoughts on my mind that are full-on mental and emotional bombardment, day after day.
A fifty-something mom is at the kitchen table writing college tuition checks yet knowing there is not likely to be a job for her hopeful students and that the bank account will be empty soon. A young father reads the web article about the devastating effects of a possible imminent EMP attack. The corner grocery store owner worries about the mosque across the street and is thinking he better stop selling pork and the magazines with scantily clad young women on the cover. The high school principal is contemplating calling the local police about young immigrant male students who are harassing some female students and frightening them to the extent they are unwilling to leave the bathroom and enter the school corridors unprotected.
Politicians are so overwhelmed with their tasks at hand even their staff has no idea their Facebook pages are inundated with posts from angry constituents. The constituents are so emboldened by their anger they have even posted links to unflattering television ads produced by their political opponents.
A young single mother wonders if the woman who was brutally murdered two blocks over was murdered with a machete or in some other way. The steak sandwich shop patron who asks to bum a cigarette is attacked by five thugs all claiming to be affiliated with Isis, and a fight ensues. The fight is so violent the police will not release the video.
The sheriff on the southern border has finally come to terms with knowing that his own federal government will not protect the border where he and his men risk their lives every day. The mother whose son just died from a heroin overdose sobs alone.
The truck driver drives for hours and hours worrying about where his next load is coming from. While listening intently to Breitbart radio, he prays for the Brits to vote out, and for Americans to vote Trump in.
Two parents are in disbelief that Congress is laying the groundwork for drafting their daughters who have heretofore lived happy, very comfortable lives, daughters who might be called to duty for the longest war in U.S. history with a military budget that might support six months.
A long-since retired diplomat voraciously reads the news on-line every day. He can’t get enough and he sits in shock, constantly looking for a glimmer of hope, a flicker of foresight, or at least a sense of peace despite it all.
The gay patron of the Pulse is trying to process the events of that awful night as well as the fact that liberals throughout the country are selling the gays out in a wave of vociferous support for those with ‘brown skin.’ Or worse, the family that recently buried their loved one from a massacre in Orlando, a family that is hoping beyond hope that their priest, their rabbi, their minister, or SOMEONE ANYONE can give them a thread of solace through their confused and unbearable grief.
Yeah, I could be sitting on a beach in Cozumel right now. But I am not.
I am every one of those individuals above if only because I think of them and with unusual intensity I feel deeply for them, for us, and I feel deeply for my own daughters, whose future seems so less bright than mine felt at their ages.
Sometimes love is overwhelming. Sometimes when you love someone and you value them for who they are, for how they influence you and how they influence your personal growth, for what they contribute not only to your life but also to others and to the world, it is difficult when they are departing.
When you feel your loved one slipping away, perhaps they are sick and on death’s door, perhaps they have moved or perhaps they have an obligation elsewhere and because they are gone or in danger of departing, you ache. Your heart hurts the way a strong kick in the gut hurts, but it’s different in one major sense. The God awful ache isn’t temporary. It doesn’t go away. It continues unsatisfied and unabated. You are mourning your loss before your special one is gone, because you know its days could easily be numbered forever. The final days, can they possibly be here?
There once was a time when our great country could welcome hopeful, valuable, and appreciative immigrants with open arms and with no thought of harm. There once was a great country where citizens joined ‘united’ in the good fights that were painful but necessary and the joining together made us strong and unconquerable. There once was a time when voters could respect both presidential nominees, perhaps not like them but respect them anyway. There once was a time when people who died long ago were actually all removed from the voting rolls. There once was a time when a major candidate for office would not take money from countries whose laws are the equivalent of a brutality to women, gays, Christians, and others that is condemned by any civilized society.
There once was a time we could rally behind a leader, because we trusted him, because he did not betray us, because he had our interest deep in his own heart, in his own communication, in his own actions and in his own vision. That time is no longer.
There once was a time leaders and the population largely all stood for similar values such as honesty, civility, law-abiding, hard-working, productive, the American Dream. Our nation could focus and conquer each problem with a vengeance and energy that made every goal possible. Now we stand for divergent values, diverse values if you will, and this has made us a weaker country, because these values are polluted.
When our leaders are liars and are ‘on the take,’ when the population is raped by taxes for the leaders to continue spending madly and unchecked, when the government seeks to control our food and our bathrooms, when the president repeatedly usurps the input and power of the legislative branch, and they let him, when free speech is threatened by social media corporate giants and social justice warriors, when news is censored by the government and by the mass media, when the government’s coffers are overburdened with entitlements for both citizens and non-citizens and to the extent national security is threatened, when the administration is working to disarm the citizens after having armed the drug cartels at our very own border, when liberals and the administration refuse to identify clearly and unequivocally the biggest threat that is looming, we are losing our country, our special one.
There once was a strong, powerful, noble, and virtuous people. There once was a strong, powerful, and good nation.
For me the sound of the ocean is silenced. The steel drums do not make a sound. The air is stifling. I am sunburned and thirsty. My gut has been hard kicked. I cannot breath. I am doubled over. I hurt. I cry. I mourn.
May GOD bless us and hold us close. May our mighty God give us the strength and the heart to withstand this time of suffering and rise again. May those among us with fortitude and virtue rise, lead, and return us to the strong, powerful, and principled land we once were. And dear Lord, please be quick for we haven’t much time.
We hurt. We cry. We mourn.
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