Linking up with Five Minute Friday today. The theme?
Well. I don’t see the draw with this one. We certainly don’t need help, do we?
Har har har. Little bit of sarcasm there. In case you weren’t tracking. Sarcasm is my jam, y’all.
I was talking on the phone with my mom the other day. Normally our conversations go like this:
“I made coconut muffins the other day! Want to talk about them for the next twenty minutes?”
“Ooooooo! Muffins! Yes! Let’s discuss!”
And so on.
But instead, this conversation traveled into a scary place called the Great Angry Cat Box Called the Political Arena.
Me: Mom. We are doomed. Doomed, I say.
Mom: I pray one thing, mainly, every day. I pray for Mercy for the United States. We need it.
Let’s face it. We need HELP.
Or maybe we don’t really want to face it at all. Thus, we have social media. Which doesn’t allow us to really face truth, in any way. It just gives us filtered versions and demands, “Now, WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?”
We need a hero. A real hero. Someone to save the day. And I don’t see Jesus coming back and then saying, “Stop! Stop all the prophecy! I mean, yes, we WILL get to that, Elijah and Moses, so just get a bottle of water and take a break. Maybe watch a little Great British Bake Off. It’s such a good show. Anyhow, FIRST, I need to fix this president thing over in the United States. Did you hear about them? They are a Great Angry Cat Box right now and I am going just head over there and clean it UP. And then, we’ll get back to Revelations, ok?”
I have no other wisdom. I can only offer this – a former student of mine said it:
“Maybe instead of watching the Republican National Convention I should spend that time praying and fasting for our country.”
Sounds good. Prayer and fasting never hurts.
When I was a girl, I always used to listen to my mom’s Simon and Garfunkel albums – one of my favorite songs by them would croon: “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.” But the truth? DiMaggio was no hero. We sure wanted him to be, yes. We want someone, anyone, to show up. To BE the help we need. Our heroes are being dismantled, before our eyes, on a daily basis.
Help. We need help.
We don’t just want it. We really, REALLY need it.
This is good, all this need. Somehow, I think, this is just the place we are supposed to be. Because of all this gaping, messy need, it is good. Weakness forces us to lean. Somehow, I really do think, it’s all going to be all right.
In the meantime, I guess… help others? I dunno. I think that’s what we are supposed to do with all this. Maybe. I don’t mean to get all Mother Teresa here on this but. Well yes, I do. Because when I focus on that it makes me feel less afraid. I was told once, from an editor, “Never throw Mother Teresa into your writing. Nobody needs the reminder of who they are not. She’s become kinda, well, overused.” Perhaps, but today? She helps ME. So, she’s in here. Take that, Mr. Editor. (I don’t think he reads my posts anyhow, so I’m safe. I hope.”
Or…if the Mother Teresa route makes you dizzy and you just can’t picture yourself in the white head-dress, maybe we should just stick with discussing coconut muffins with your momma. Both are very good options.