Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

I'm a Christian. In these strange times, I thank God for an elderly man, willing to give up his retirement years to serve others, rather than to being served by them. I thank God for a man who puts: people before profit love before law integrity before indemnity mercy before majesty I pray that man may win. But whether he does or he doesn't, I pray God will remind me that my only true hope is in Him, because: I'm a Christian.

  I believe black lives matter. No, that doesn't make me a baby-killer or anti-family (really?) as somebody claimed on Facebook. I believe LGBTQ lives matter. And I'm not an atheist as someone else insisted. I believe the Bible matters . That means I read it and pray it; I don't use it to beat up my neighbors or prop up my photograph. I believe immigrants matter . That doesn’t make me un-American. The judge who welcomed me to citizenship told me immigrants matter. I believe refugees matter. And I'm not a lawbreaker. I believe the homeless matter, and the hungry, and those evicted because they’re sick or they’ve lost their jobs and can’t pay the rent. I believe the physical health of the community and all its members matters, regardless of wealth and good fortune. I believe wearing masks can save lives.  I'm not drinking the kool-aid; I'm respecting the scientists who've spent their lives learning about epidemics. I believe the earth matter...

 I believe black lives matter. No, that doesn't make me a babykiller (???) as somebody claimed on FB. I believer LGBTQ lives matter. No, I'm not an atheist as somebody claimed. I believe the earth matters, and it's warming. This doesn't mean I'm not capable of reading or understanding the literature (as an FB commenter said)--it means I take care, when I read, to look at the writers' qualifications. I believe the Bible matters. That means I read it and pray it; I don't use it to beat up my neighbors or prop up my photograph. I believe immigrants matter. No, I'm not un-American. The judge who welcomed me to citizenship told me immigrants matter. I believe refugees matter. No, I'm not a lawbreaker. I believe wearing masks can save lives. No, I'm not drinking the koolaid; I'm respecting the scientists who've studied epidemiology so much longer and more deeply than I have. I believe the Portland demonstrations would have been less riotous if ...

We should blame the people taking down the statues, make them pay to put things right--so said a "friend." But perhaps we should blame those who left the statues standing for so long; blame ourselves, who let our silence tell others what they ought to feel when they knew they were hurting. (Ah yes, and who told me "You like that; it's good" when I was too helpless, too young, too insecure to say no? Should I put a statue  up of  him?) We should let the statues tell our history, warts and all, because those who don't remember are condemned to repeat it--so says the friend. But I'd rather museums and text books tell all, while public monuments celebrate the good instead of glorifying evil. We should silence those whose oral histories have accentuated the bad. Alas, my friend can't hear how sad... Perhaps we should open the ears of those who have aurally ignored the bad. And perhaps we shouldn't blame, but should listen and CHANGE.

A long time ago In a galaxy far far away In a time just after one war Before another He grew up, just in time To fight And lived. In my galaxy far far away I remember and wish I understood the way from there To here; His war so far away from this His fear, and yet he knew the way And paid His price so dear. For that galaxy far far away As space and continents And prison walls to isolate His time to now His war to this His home, his dreams, Dad this Seems a very strange time to remember A hundred years A long time ago.

It’s a new world here On the empty street Where squirrels meet No fear of cars to greet A new world here On an empty screen With a virtual meet Where friends are far away As strangers here And the virus feared Might be all too near And zap the computer first.

We braid our street With footsteps, intersecting paths, and meet Always six feet apart Too far to share The beating of our hearts But wave and we Make this our art.