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What the Hell is Wrong With Us?


Fear is what is wrong with us.

We are so afraid of the wrong ideas, the wrong conclusions, wrong president, wrong color, wrong winning baseball team we can't function as adults.

I cannot believe Facebook these days. I assume it's the pandemic isolationism that has allowed us the space to become really rotten humans online.

But that is what fear does. It creeps in and whispers about the fall of nations, the threat of hell and fire, conspiracy and hidden devils. It takes us out of the considerate grey areas we were once willing to tolerate and even celebrate. As if breathing the same air kept us aware of the humanity residing in our neighbors.

We once believed that there was beauty and progress in exploring our differences and finding that holy middle ground where reasonable conclusions grow in balanced soil. Maybe even celebrate alternative life experiences as a way to enrich our own understanding in a way we could never do in a vacuum.

If there are, and there probably are, wide reaching conspiracies bent on destroying our freedom, from where I sit it doesn't matter. We are packing up the things that make our country beautiful and functional and handing them right over. They can sit back and watch us burn ourselves to the ground.

Contention will kill us faster than this pandemic will.

Narrowing our minds to protect our fragile belief systems only make us weak and blind. Regulating truth to one fully formed ideal threatened by opinions of departure makes us blind to God. Comments that devalue the experiences and feelings of others tear apart the ground we stand on and leave us as islands alone in rising waters.

Cancer isn't one big thing. It's made up of impossibly small bits of terror that collectively wreak havoc on something that was once strong and healthy; A body that once functioned because it's smallest parts didn't turn on each other.

Now, as I have myself indulged in a little bit of extreme level fear mongering I'm going to step back.

I'm going to do my part to save the world.

I'm going to take my son to 1st grade where he will enjoy his little friends and their little piece of pandemic-era schooling.

I'm going to hit a silly green waffle ball over a net with a herd of local seniors for more hours than I should and be utterly elated at how beautiful the people in my town are. I'm going to ask Mike about the sleepover with his granddaughters, and tease Stan about throwing the last few points of a game to make it last longer.

I'm going to help my sister shop for a post-baby wardrobe and I am going to greet people from behind my mask and pray that my eyes can reflect that I am smiling at them

I'm going to help my husband put up our new fence so that our dog can run in the yard again.

I'm going to call my Grandmother because it's been too long and I'm grateful I still have a grandparent to talk to.

This year has taken so much from us. I'm not willing to give it my kindness, my joy, my curiosity about the lives of people I don't know.

It can't have my future, my day, not any more of my morning.


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