We can’t tell you what we’ve seen, because it would be violating section nine of code-code something-something, but we’ve seen it and we can’t unsee it. Our children carry deep and lasting pain because somebody who was supposed to protect them hurt them.
If we dare to meet your eyes at this moment, it would help so much if we could see in them that you respect us – not because of what we’ve done or left undone, but because we are fellow humans going through the worst days of our lives. If you think we don’t care, or don’t feel, or don’t know this, you are wrong. We really, really messed up; and we do not expect to find mercy in this place.
Everyone says the moral of Thanksgiving is to be thankful. And it is. The Pilgrims took a deep breath and said, “We made it. Look at this harvest, we’ve stored up what we need for next winter, and we give thanks to God.” But I can’t help thinking about that first dark winter, and the poverty of isolation, the shivering widows standing at the graves of their babies under a chilly moon. God forbid that someone finds out we’re not doing okay…
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not have needs
He maketh me to be just fine, thank you, and I have it covered
What you said did not hurt me and what you did does not make me angry
But I have a friend you could pray for, she is really having a hard time…
Let’s say that the mister and missus are going outside to dig in the yard. Maybe she needs a new flowerbed, or maybe the septic system is acting up again. One of their two shovels is a little unwieldy; the other is the perfect size, strong and reliable, with a comfortable handle grip.
WHO GETS THE BETTER SHOVEL?