Our nation is set to welcome Donald Trump as President tomorrow, and everything in me mourns- not because I fear him but because he’s become a catalyst to unleash the ugliness within.
I felt concussed most of November trying to sort through what had happened. I felt betrayed by those who share my faith, scared for those whose well-being and lives were being threatened because they were seen and labeled as outsiders. I was despairing and felt hopeless that a nation that boasts of progress is still so backwards.
I watched Obama’s farewell speech the only way I knew I could- alone with a box of tissues and a cup of hot tea. I was expecting to be inspired, to hear him call us to justice, to get me riled up and ready to face what’s to come. But his speech wasn’t a fiery sermon. It didn’t get me on my feet shouting hallelujahs and amens. Instead it was a heartfelt reflection of where we are and how we can move forward from here, and though it was inspiring, it made me wonder if having hope in people is too naive.
The days leading up to and after Thanksgiving I was bombarded with ad after ad for Black Friday, Small Business Saturday, and Cyber Monday. They were shouting at me, enticing me, telling me “good news” in the midst of hard times. Free shipping! Buy One Get One! Lowest prices of the year! Such sweet words to my frugal soul. They understood the game of shopping for me- getting the most bang for my buck. Funds had never been overly abundant in my life so deals had always been something to relish and boast of.
But with the many goodbyes and transitions we’ve gone through this year, with the heartache around the world and with the current of fear and grief running through our nation, I’ve lost taste for it. Possessions seem like sand slipping through our fingers in light of it all. Little of what we own will last in value or entertainment or even in sentimentality when life requires us to downsize and move or forces us from our normal lives into the unknown…
I started a couple dozen posts about ending our 7 years in Las Vegas and entering into this new season back in California. Phrases and sentences were jotted down, but the words fell short of the enormity of my feelings. I stayed silent, grieved, cried a million tears, and barely wrote a thing while we transitioned.
But now we’re here, and I was finally able to match the words to my feelings in this post I wrote for The Mudroom.
Coming home usually fosters feelings of comfort, peace, ease, but instead a stifling pressure rises in my chest. What am I doing here? Why did we move back? Like a wild horse being bridled, I’m frantic inside. Everything in me wants to run away till my lungs hurt and the tears fall freely…