So, I guess today (I started writing this on September 10th...) is World Suicide Prevention Day.... Taking that into consideration, I’m going to share something I wrote last week (and give a bit of an explanation afterwards- just in case you’re in a reading mood) while I had taken some time away to try to reset after an emotional rollercoaster of a Summer. Anyways, in hopes that this could encourage even one person (or encourage a more encouraging way for us to see and speak with and about one another) here is something I wrote ... titled:  “Fire Across the Wall”

“Fire Across the Wall”
We can’t see what’s on the other side
When there’s a wall standing before our mind’s eye
You’re on your side
And I’m on mine

How can we see the other
If we don’t take the time
I think my side is so different than yours
And you think yours is so different than mine

But I’ll never know for sure what you see
If I’m not willing to cross some lines
I’ll never know what you see
If I don’t consult your eyes

I may think I know your story
I’ve read or heard about you on the news
But you tell me that’s not what’s really happening
Why don’t I take your word as truth?

Maybe I should cross the line
Maybe I should take the time
Listen to your story, I’ll listen to your story
And maybe you’ll listen to mine

Can we turn off the news?
Put down our screens?
Pick up a phone, take a drive or a walk
And talk person to person about these things

Person to person
Not pundit to pundit
Not left side or right side
Or who’s lost or won it

There’s no winners or losers
I’m not looking for victory in a fight
At least not against you
I’m working against hurt and hate in this life

Cause I think we’re all hurting
No matter where the lines fall
So can we stop all of these attacks
As we shoot with eyes in blindfolds

Its not about who said what first
Or who hit the hardest
Or who behaved worst
How’d this even get started?

If I see you crying
Or see that you hurt
I should hold out my hand
That might have been throwing hate’s dirt

I should ask you to tell me
Whats making you sad
I should listen really close
Try to understand the day that you’ve had

I don’t have to get it
I don’t have to agree
But if I don’t care that you’re hurting
There’s something heart-wrong with me

Person to person
We all bleed red
And when anyone’s bleeding
Some tears should be shed

Tears on my side of the wall
And your side, too
Maybe if we cry enough
Some of this wall will melt through

We will see more of the human
On the other side
feel more connected,
Less divide

'Cause the division on the outside
Has made its way in
And my heart is all broken
Desperate to mend

So I will be the first
To cross the line
Tell me what you see on your side of the wall
And if you’d like, I’ll tell you about mine

'Cause if I don’t ask you
And you don’t ask me
We’re only guessing about
What the other sees

And the walls may get bigger
Built on fiction, not fact
We’ll become more separated
We’ll fear the other’s attack

And sometimes a heart
that feels under heart attack
finds itself flailing and wailing
Knocked down on its back

And that heart may feel dead
And the soul may feel numb
To all the other hearts
In this world we call home

The one numb to love
Now only awake to hurt
And if that love-numb soul gets a gun
We’ll soon be digging in the dirt

Digging graves...
from the heart attacks
And the boxes going in
won’t be coming back
And the boxes going in
won’t becoming back

So, can we hold our fire please
Aimed at the other side of the wall
Cause whether or not we’d ever hold the gun
The fire hurts us all (it keeps disconnecting us with these box walls)

And I’m so done with dirt boxes

Let’s
break
down
these
walls

Can we hold our fire please
Hold your fire please
Can we hold our fire please
We're all getting burned
—-
(End of poem)
Now a bit more of explanation ... I had headed to the mountains for a few days to try to reset. This Summer was difficult for so many reasons/ on so many levels (from national tragedies to very personal challenges) I thought I needed to take some time and process it all a bit- hash it out with God... step away from the noise to really deal with some of what I heard and saw. I have been depressed before, and I could tell I was heading down that path... so before I got too far, I thought I needed to interrupt the path—- so off to the mountains I went- And much thanks to my husband, Jim Folk, for making the time away possible. The events in the world, the events in my life and how we were talking about each other - each human other- were breaking my heart..I wanted to reset a bit to be healthier for my family and whatever I am here to do... I had some pieces to put back together, and also to seek God in helping my piece things back together...

If you are in a rough spot, feel like you are going down a dangerous or hopeless path, please reach out to someone f
#love #loveallpeople

or help. Please take a step to interrupt the path- if you don’t feel comfortable talking to someone you know about where you are at, you can call the suicide prevention hotline number which is 1-800-273-8255. Don’t try to figure it out on your own. You are loved. You are valuable.

So, just sharing some words from Lecrae, as they very much echo what’s on my heart- especially these days.... #Lecrae #loveallpeople #healingwords   https://www.facebook.com/13895090221/posts/10156406110755222?s=1017480063&substory_index=0&sfns=mo

It’s about the people....Below is a link to an article written by Emily Fortenot- I happened to have had the pleasure of meeting her at the EFCAOne conference I attended in the Chicago suburbs in June. Please take the time to read her article...Regardless of how you feel about the policy/politics of immigration (and not to say policies aren’t important... I have my opinions, you may have yours- I love you no matter your opinion)- I think it is incredibly valuable and reasonable  to first consider and hear from the people behind the often politically charged word of immigration (and I realize there are people beyond immigrants that are impacted by immigration- I am not ignorant to that).    Below is a review, written by Emily Fontenot ——
and side note—- this is SO COOL to me... SHE IS FABULOUS! I met her at the conference I went to in June in the Chicago suburbs... we exchanged contact info... so I could text her if I wanted (and I will... saying: Emily- awesome article!!!)
(End of side note)
So, below is Emily Fontenot’s review of the Netflix documentary, "Out of Many, One".  A good, valuable read💜 Thank you, Emily Fontenot 💜
https://www.efca.org/blog/reaching-all-people/love-thy-immigrant-neighbor

Good morning to all.  It is the 4th of July- this is the first 4th (I think ?) that I have been out of the country.  And at the least, the first 4th that being in a different country has been so sobering and significant.  I am in Mexico.  Most of you reading this are probably in the United States.  There is a border between us - a border (and in some places a wall) that has not only political and geographical significance - but - at least for me -and I know I’m not alone- emotional meaning. So that is the part of these matters of walls and borders where I would like to land on this 4th of July... on the emotional... the heart.

Here is mine, my heart (heart message is on shirts—💜)... Some of you have seen the below shirts.  They were made about 2 1/2 years ago for my first trip to Mexico, when a great friend Shannon Ferguson had invited me on a once in a lifetime trip... 3 nights of acoustic sets by Dave Mathews and Tim Reynolds, along with amazing openers Vusi Mahlesela, Carlos Varela and Aldo Lopez Gavilan- all concerts beachside along the Riviera Maya, while staying at an all inclusive resort (I had never done that before- nice!).  Wow.  In thinking more on Shannon’s invitation to the trip, I realized I could not go to Mexico without saying something.  In short, my intent for the shirt (and thank you to those who helped crystallize my message, and to Xochitl Jacques-Smith for translating)  was not to make a political statement... it was to make a RELATIONAL statement.  Dear Mexico, and world, —- and today I also say from South of the border Dear America, I love you.  May there be no relational separation between you and me - no matter the policies (and not that I don’t care about policies), I desire to have unity with you- because we are all people created in the image of God... we can have unity in our humanity.  I love you because you are a person....   On the back of the shirt are friends and family (bio and church) that were supportive of this short love letter to Mexico and the world. Now, this time around I did not get a chance to make new shirts.  BUT, you can still participate if you’d like.  If you are supportive of this message, you can either reply below or send me a message through messenger- and feel free to add a note with any other words you’d like to share.  I will collect the names and messages and periodically share them with my friends in Mexico and the rest of the world through various means such as Facebook, this blog, emails etc.  I know I’m not the only one with this message, so please feel free to join me💜!  #loveallpeople #say-something

 From June 29th...Just wanted to share with you some AMAZING live music I was able to catch while in downtown Raleigh... from an even MORE AMAZING young man, Tyler Butler-Figueroa. Feeling so blessed tonight by hearing this young man share his art on the violin! He will be on America’s Got Talent again (he already got the Golden Buzzer from Simon so he’s been fast forwarded through some of the earlier stages of competition) on August 20th. Tune in and support him! A talented and kind young man💜 And a little back story on Tyler... he started playing the violin because he was being bullied at school. He had cancer (and now is 4 years in remission!) and was being teased, etc as other students thought they could "catch" the cancer from him. He wanted to be known as the boy that played the violin, not the boy with cancer. I'd say not only is he the boy that plays the violin, he is a boy that inspires others young and old with his great, yet humble attitude!

Good morning from Chicago,

Our family arrived here 2 days ago.  Its so good to be back. Its been almost 20 years.  I love this city. The people - the diversity- just being in a big city. The memories.  I went to college here and intentionally built an hour break into my schedule at Loyola's Water Tower campus so that I could just walk around and explore the city. This was also the city I was in on 9-11...  I was sitting in one of my Social Work classes at UIC (some more formal learning after Loyola- college can be great- but there are plenty of opportunities for learning beyond a traditional classroom) when the Professor gave us the news about the World Trade Center's twin towers.... Where were you when you heard?... Yeah. That day.  No matter where you were I imagine you remember- I imagine it impacted you...  And I was in Chicago- about a mile from the Sears Tower, and several other skyscrapers.  If I remember correctly, they evacuated the Sears Tower that day due to some threat called in...  After classes were done for the day, I walked to the main Metra station downtown.  And in that walk, my eyes were taking in a skyline that could have been altered just as the one in New York was on that day.  It was a very strange walk, surreal.  This could have been Chicago.  The smoke, sirens, screams... that could have been here -where i am.  But even though its not here--- its somewhere.... what's it like in New York right now? What are they feeling right now?  Because I'm not even in New York, and I got a whole lot going on in my gut right now...  Unimaginable.  When we lose something, whether its 3000 plus lives or one, I think it an unimaginable pain and experience.  One you wish on no one.  One that you can hardly imagine how you or he or she or they could possibly go on... how do you live after
9-11 or the shooting in Charleston or the flames in Charlottesville or the day your friend was shot or when the doctor tells you she's got 3 months... or after the divorce, after ... you fill in the blank, the dates.  Somehow people do though, right?  Get through.  Some better than others.  And, well, yeah, sometimes people don't.  How do you get through that?  The person that either gave up and followed through with the plan to end his or her life on this earth/under circumstances he or she could not bear... And so now that person is physically gone.   OR the person who gave up - and one day (or little by little), while they are still physically here, their heart and soul has checked out.  They've disengaged from life because life for them got to be too much (I certainly have felt life to be "too much" at times) - and so while they are physically here, that is all of them here that is left.  The walking dead I guess you could call them.  God help them.  God help us.  Can I help them- God, please let me help them.  Let us help them.  Let us enter into the unimaginable with them.  Because... I'm near certain that the people that survived - and survived well (not necessarily pretty, but well- they moved forward- perhaps now with a limp, but still forward).... they did not do it alone.  In my unimaginable, I was the walking dead when I was walking alone.  And I remained that way until I was willing to let others into my world and be honest about what I was feeling.  I would not have made it out alone.  When you see someone appear as the walking dead, please reach out to them.  They may not take reach back- but at least they know that there is life out there willing to reach into their death.  We cannot do death alone.  I know I can't.
---
Well, I digressed very early on there... now, perhaps back to where I started...

I've been excited about this trip for so many reasons:
1) I'm back!  Chicago IS my kind of town!
2) I get to share it now with my daughters- take them on the streets where I walked; point out my favorite places to get coffee and chocolate and, well of course... Pizza!  We'll go to Uno's or Due's today -with a plan to do lots of walking afterwards- I don't know that one can survive eating Chicago pizza without doing some kind of exercise immediately afterwards- it tastes fabulous, but - well, I  don't know about you-- but my body screams: "Move me!" after eating that dense morsel of gastronomic goodness (there may be a pound of cheese in one slice alone- and maybe 1/2 a pound of butter).  And I'll show them where I went to school (and as we end up in the suburbs later this week, my husband will do the same for his Alma Mater)
3) I just love big cities - the variety of people, the countless coffee shops and eateries, all of the options of things to do
4) The conference -that is what brought us here (and then once you know you have to pay for a flight- make the most of the opportunity while there, that's my MO)- EFCAOne- we will see many friends and I will get to learn more about things I both love to learn about and need to learn about--- and connect with people who share my heart on what is so important to me- that we love all people- #Allpeople
5) Family- we will see family!!! After our whirlwind tour of the Windy City, we will head to the suburbs for the conference and while there stay with my niece and nephew-in-law.  So fun!

6) Friends- I definitely will not be able to see all the friends I would like to while here, but I will see some.  And I will also be reminded of the special times with friends had in years past in this city that is so close to my heart
and last but not least... (and maybe i'll add to the list later- I probably forgot something)...
7) Hamilton!!! I saw Hamilton with my older daughter yesterday... It was our birthday gift to her - and thanks to Jim Folk for letting me be the one to go with her.  He believed that I would probably enjoy the experience more than him- so therefore I should go (Did I tell you how wise you can be, Jim?!?!), I am near certain he was right on that.  My daughter and I both loved the show- but as much as she loved it, she also concluded that she believed I must have enjoyed it even more.  I cried; I clapped; I did some buyah! arm punches to the air (like"Yeah! What he said!) during many lines.  That masterpiece of a story; crafting of words; demonstration of so many of life's realities, tragedies and comedies of both the past but also how it had my mind in our present--- beautiful... genius... and for me... heart penetrating... to my core.

So, the above all represents the what I was looking forward to about Chicago; the expected; and the pleasantly unexpected.  But what comes next, is the flipside... the unpleasant unexpected...

I'll start with this... of course, Chicago is not the same as it was when I left about 20 years ago.  It has changed.  That, is, to be expected.  But what I didn't expect -and what breaks my heart - is not all (and I bet some and many changes are for the good- trust me, I'm not trying to be negative) of the changes over the past 17 years have been for the better.  And, you may think it arrogant for me to jump back into a city and make such an harsh assertion.  But its not my own... I've been talking to people ... from this city... who have called Chicago their home for most if not all of their lives.  And they've seen some changes that are heavy on their hearts, and as I hear them... these changes weigh heavy on my heart as well.  I love this city.  They love this city.  I'll stop writing for now. My family is awake, and its time for breakfast.  But, I can't just come here and hear and see... and pretend its all the same... and the people that live here can tell you better than i can.  So, as time permits, hopefully sooner rather than later, i will share with you what they have shared with me.  For the love of Chicago and her people.  For this city I love...

Memorial Day, Part II
A little(okay, maybe not just a little...) more on Memorial Day...
Here are some other people that came to mind when I was thinking about Memorial Day:
- Muriel's classmate (not sure if the family would want me to post her name -so I won't) who died unexpectedly after complications with the flu. The same week she is in the hospital with rare complications from the flu. My girls are home sick, with the flu, everyday that week. Her classmate (8th grade) died on Friday that week. I was out of town on Friday (had been home with the girls Mon-Thurs) when they got this devastating news. An awful time to be away from your girls. I wanted like mad to be with them and hug them and just be... I arrive back in town Sunday night, and as I'm making my mental to do list for Monday while driving from home from the airport, it hits me harder than it had all weekend. A sick note. I have to write a sick note for the girls because they were out sick all last week from school. But wait,... I still have my girls. I GET to write a sick note because my girls are going back to school. They had the flu (and not to freak anybody out about the flu- it was very rare circumstances/complications that occurred - way out of the norm), just like "S". She died. They didn't. I get to to write a sick note. "S"'s parents will never get to write a sick note for their girl ever - EVER - again. And S will not be there when my daughter goes back to school. Muriel will go to her first period Spanish class, and S - who was in that class - will not be there on Monday. And she never will be there - NEVER. Memorial Day. I'm going to shed some tears for S and her family. For her parents. For her sister that doesn't have a sister anymore. Her sister in an instant has NO siblings. NONE. Just like that. It's Memorial Day, and I've got some tears to shed. I have two girls- that's it - if the same thing happened to me, I'd have ONE girl, but that ONE girl would now have NO sister. Tears fall. They pour. Its Memorial Day.

Zaki- I think of Zaki on Memorial Day- especially because I'm in Florida right now. Zaki was a sweet, crazy-funny boy who also had a deep appreciation for some good food or even a snack. Zaki was in a Bible study that I helped with when he was about 8 or 9 years old. Loved that boy. Zaki lived on what many would call, "the wrong side of the tracks" or the "bad" side of town (And okay, honestly- there was a lot of crime in Zaki's neighborhood, I probably wasn't going to be doing house hunting for my family in that neighborhood - but at the same time,  in the midst of the more-common-than-there-should-be gunshots and other crime in that community, there was still community- and love- and some very, very beautiful people - some of my favorite people in the world, Diann Richardson, Teidra Richardson McBride, Alany, and James Porter (another WWII vet- who up until the time that I left Ocala 2 years ago was still living in the house he built with his own hands after WWII - He was 106 or 107 when I moved away- and one of the best, most precious gifts I ever received came from him, James Porter - at age 106 or 107, he went to the trouble of catching me some fish - an 100+ year old African American man who lives in a neighborhood, "that" neighborhood- the one that sometimes feels like a war zone on many levels - "that" man gave "this" white 40-something female who lived in a much different neighborhood and had a lot more material resources --- He - though he did not have much at all in respect to material things, He gave big. He loved big. That's something. That is a gift to be treasured from a man who has a heart - A man who loves well) live in "that" neighborhood. 

And while, "that" neighborhood may be poor in material resources- they've got some good love stuff going on there. If you doubt that- message me, call me- I've got more stories ... I've been a recipient of it on multiple occasions. I could share more about the kindness and love towards me from Diann and Teidra and... but i know i've already been going on for awhile now. I just wanted to let you know that, while there may be some awful things that happen in "that" neighborhood - and that happen more often there/ disproportionate levels of crime...there are also some beautiful stories of love and hope and perseverance through some crazy storms -storms that only people in "that" neighborhood have experienced- and that some can come out of those storms and still love is no small thing. I've got something to learn about that kind of love. We've got some things to learn from people in "that" neighborhood. People that can love and keep on in the midst of such hard circumstances. At least, I know I have some things to learn. How do I learn? I spend time with the people in "that" neighborhood. And then the more I listen, the more I can understand why some things are as they are over there- a place different from my here...

I don't think I finished the story that I wanted to share about Zaki. Within a year I think, for reasons I can't remember, the Bible study that Zaki and I were in, ended. And I didn't see Zaki much after that. I would see him every long once in awhile as I was taking my girls to school because Diann's house (Diann is Zakis Aunt)- was right on the path of the daily carline I would sit in waiting to pick my girls up from school- sometimes parked right next to Diann's yard. Also drove by it every morning taking the girls to school. 

So.... Zaki.... fast forward to late September 2016. I'm at home, pick up the newspaper. That's normal so far... then my normal was forever rocked/scarred/wounded/injured/torn/broken.... I see a headline about a boy that took a bullet to the head in a drive-by shooting. Then I see a face. I think I know that face. Zaki. No, come on God - not Zaki, please not Zaki. Please not Zaki. I start to read the article- the name doesn't exactly match up and the street address/the map shown in the article doesn't match. The name said Ri'Zaki Johnson. And the article says that he was shot at the home where he was staying- and that address wasn't the same as Diann's. I never knew his given name was Ri'Zaki. Everyone always just called him Zaki. Well, I guess I was still just trying to hold on to some hope that it wasn't him- even though i recognized the face. I called someone in Zaki's neighborhood- they confirmed what I hoped to God was not true. It was Zaki that got shot in the head. It was Zaki that was in critical condition at a local hospital. His cousin, Alany, was also shot. But they were really more like brother and sister, Zaki and Alany. Real close. Alany was shot in the stomach- she had a short stay in the hospital - no major physical damage. But Zaki was in critical condition. I wanted to go there - to be there - closer to Zaki - in the hospital. To pray. To be.

I know not everyone would have that reaction. I don't expect it - and I don't think anyone is better or worse based on whether they would want to go see Zaki or not. But I'm wired a certain way - sometimes it paralyzes me - and other times it gets me to move like never before. When I read about Zaki's shot to the head, it was like a knife to my heart. deep wound. deep cut. blood spilled. I wasn't expecting that I would actually see Zaki when I went to the hospital to pray. I just wanted to be there- to pray- and also if family came- I wanted them to know- that even though it had been a long time since I'd had close ties with Zaki- I was crazy sad about that boy being shot in the head. Crazy sad. So, yeah, I didn't expect to see him. But the family invited me in -to pray with them. And we held hands around him, and we prayed for him to be healed... and I kissed that boy on the forehead and told him i loved him. 5 days later he would die- and I guess he got healed in a different way - not in the way we were asking for - we weren't ready to let that 17 year old boy go. I know I wasn't. Now was Diann or his Mom, or his Aunt Teidra or Aunt Kiki or Aunt Jazz or his cousin Alany who was there, too, when he got shot. And she got shot, too. But now he was gone, and she was still here.

Memorial Day. Maybe you're wondering why i'm writing all of this- am i trying to make you sad? angry?....

I'm getting to my point. Memorial Day. A lot of people die young in Zaki's neighborhood. As awful and painful as it is, its almost normal there in "that" neighborhood. Not normal as in people aren't hurt and pained by it- not that some don't also feel the knife to their heart each time it happens - but normal as in expected/ like those things happen here. Like it might be normal in some neighborhoods to hear the ice cream truck go round two times a week - still love that ice cream- but not surprised that the truck is there. we're used to the truck. 

Emily, you may be saying, I still don't get where you're going with this..... Welllll- I'm not done yet.

(and this is where things might get a little uncomfortable in a different way and you may think i'm trying to make a political statement- I'll try to tell you now that i'm not- that this is personal, not political - whether or not you believe me, I cannot control)

In these days, past 4 or so years in our country, America, I believe things are at an unusually high point of tension. Tension between political parties and tension between Black and White. There is a lot of "us" and "them" or "those people" language being thrown around - and its a two way street. White folk do it. Black folk do it. Conservatives do it. Liberals do it. And lets not get all caught up in who is doing it more- its not contest. If we are doing it at all - whomever we are, it is wrong. We are putting people into boxes, including ourselves - and making whomever "those people" are "those Democrats" "those republicans" "those blacks", "those whites", "those..." fill in the blank. We've created so many groups of enemies that many people don't even want to speak for fear that they'll lose their friend because their friend has already made one if not more public statements about one of "those people"- and they are them- and so if he or she says "Oh, this is who I voted for, or this is the party I identify most with" - by the way many of us talk, some feel immediately condemned and hated for their political choices or ideas. People are feeling more and more isolated from people whom they would call a friend because - oh- well I guess my friend doesn't like any of "those people", so if I told my friend, MY FRIEND, whom i voted for or what my political leanings are - they might not be my friend anymore. So, I better just keep quiet about that, and this, and that, and this--- I guess i better just not talk at all. About anything - because maybe i'll lose my friend (because they already told me or all of facebook or instagram how they feel about "those people".... but I'm one of "those people" - so I guess we can't be friends - or at least I can't talk to my friend. so - who could i talk to --- because over here- well, this other friend doesn't like these other people, and that's well I think that's me too - on that. So we can't be friends either.... What's happening in America? aren't we all individual people. Do we really all fit in these boxes of "these people" and "those people" so neatly. I don't think so , but my friends do. So, maybe i don't have any friends anymore . Cause it seems like I'm always gonna be in somebody's hate box. If I say i like this, then this friends hates "this", but if i say i'm that, then my other friend - well he believes that all of the people that believe in "that" are wrong and dumb and cruel- maybe even evil. Does he think I'm evil? ...... I'm feeling pretty alone right now. And no box is safe. Maybe I'll just choose a whole new box...thats just for me. Cause it doesn't seem like i really fit well in any of these other boxes. 

And well, its Memorial Day, and I couldn't find a box with anyone else in it that really fit- or where I wouldn't lose another friend. I couldn't choose between my friends. Its Memorial Day. I made my own box. I wonder if anyone will leave flowers for me next year, by my box.

--------------
Friends - this is me, Emily, out of my storytelling hat now. Just me. what i wrote above is how i see (not for all people) happening today in America. No one party or color or political leaning or ideology or culture has the perfect answer to the hurts or challenges of our country or our world. We all mess up- I love my daughters like crazy, but as a mom I don't ALWAYS make the best decisions for them or say the right words. The best thing I can do for my daughters and for anyone else is to communicate love to them. I think (and maybe its not how you feel) that i can tolerate any bad, poor or flawed policy or mistake or.... if I still deep down believe that no matter what, the person across the table will still love me. 

So, while even still there will, this side of heaven, be no perfect (in my opinion) political party or perfect person to run our country (and I do realize that voting still needs to take place and people will be asked to vote for someone)- I think I could tolerate or survive and maybe even thrive if I knew I was loved by someone - no matter how different we are in perhaps so many other ways. I can survive, and yes- thrive- on love alone. and i don't think i'm alone in that sentiment. Others may feel differently - but I'm telling you where I'm coming from.

And so on that note, could be maybe tear down the boxes -or at least the assumptions we make about the people in the "other" box. because i think its killing us- i know its near killed me. i stayed in a box above ground for way too many months- and then was tempted all too much to get the underground box so i could be done with all of the boxes forever- it was almost too much to bear- i couldn't bear it without love
we are not operating as "one nation under God" -
Could we try it out?
that doesn't have to mean that we agree on everything.
that's not going to happen... but
when there is a confrontation and a young black boy gets shot, before we go to our boxes where the first thing we try to do is figure out whose fault it is- why the cop shot or why the black boy shot....
Could we please - for God's sake, for love's sake - first think about Memorial Day- because no matter whose "fault" it was (and I'm not against justice- please don't misunderstand).... no matter whose fault it is,
Come Memorial Day, somebody is going to a box that wasn't there before-
whether its the mother whose going to her young black son's box
or the wife of a cop going to her husband's box
Its still a box, with a person
And its Memorial Day
And I'm pretty done with all of these boxes, aren't you?
It's Memorial Day, and one day we all will end up in a box
So let's cry for ALL of the boxes. For God's sake. For love's sake.
Its Memorial Day.
God help us ALL