After worship yesterday, one of the men said to another man, "Memorial Day is a day for ghosts."
I agree. We remember, recall and attempt to hold in our minds what war does to our families, our communities and the world. Death, destruction, crushed dreams, broken futures. Great loss.
Orphans, widows and misery.
I am barely holding on to my rage at the loss of life here in the Backwater of young men and women. This war counts on National Guard troops to fight. Backwater, being a poor place, has a long history of citizens joining the Guard to supplement income. I know other places do this but here in Poverty Central, how did it come to this that our people would vote and agree to serve against their best interests? We are so poor. We are so ignorant. We are dealing with heavy losses.
I'm not proud. I do not understand it. I am sitting on the razor's edge of being supportive of those who choose to go to Iraq and outrage that American lives are being lost in a battle built on lies, oil and greed.
We put out American flags down the church walk yesterday. I'm fine with that. I don't want American flags in the sanctuary but outside, on Memorial Day, seemed sympathetic and aware of God's ability to heal.
We've been praying for rain and a thunderstorm began during worship. I felt a sigh of relief roll through the pews because cows will be happier, gardens will grow and dusty back roads will be mud rather than choking dust. It's raining now.
The LH and I will go to lunch then do errands. Maybe we'll go look at "property" which is fun for us and torture for the Casserole Kids.
LD is off at church camp. Unlike the advice my mother gave me, I told her to "blow it out." She grinned and said "ok" but would avoid being "sent home."
The LS is sleeping with OMC on the bed with him. Young Cat is asleep on the sofa purring.
I'm not as proud to be an American as I once was. Today is problematic.
What's going on with you?