How can it be that our state governor, who has never before mentioned anything about rigged elections related to his own past campaigns or the most recent campaigns of others within his political party, is now whining and complaining because he's behind in the vote count this time around? Suddenly, now the election is rigged and there has been voter fraud.
How can it be that people who have never felt any fear for themselves or their loved ones are now looking around and wondering which of their neighbors wants others of their neighbors to be deported? And which of their neighbors might hate, resent, fear, or ridicule their LGBTQIA child, their other-abled child, or they themselves - simply for being who they are, who they have always been?
How can it be that inter-racial families, inter-national families, inter-religious families now have to make contingency plans in case some of their loved ones have to "be registered"?
How can it be that I feel like I don't want to make eye contact with some people out of concern that they may say something racist to me?
How can it be that nowadays I am surprised when white people treat me with respect? How can it be that I have come to expect to be mistreated, disrespected, or ignored simply because of the color of my skin? How can it be that I've been so sheltered for so long?
How can all of this be happening in the United States of America?
On the other hand...
How can it be that so many coalitions are forming between groups and individuals that have never worked together before - coming together for peace, unity, protection, and non-violent resistance?
How can it be that more churches are beginning to figure out ways to be sanctuaries for those who might be deported?
How can it be that plans are already being made, that plans are still being made, that plans cannot stop being made for long term subversive action, long term commitments to long term solutions to our nation's long term problems?
How can it be that in the midst of the angst, in the midst of the uncertainty, even on the days when my heart rate climbs precipitously at the mere thought of my beloved son being stopped, harassed, beaten, or even killed by someone bent on evil, someone in the small southern town where he attend college, when I shudder at the thought that someone might speak harshly and insultingly to my precious daughter - how can it be that even in those moments, a few deep breaths, a prayer, a long conversation in a parking lot with a prayerful friend, an exquisitely written poem by the daughter of a soul sister friend, two pieces of watercolor art made for me that now hang above my desk, and a timely text from a wise friend all arrive at just the right moments, and serve to guide me back onto the path of peace, of strength, and of hope for a brighter future?
How can it be that in two days I will have both my children at home with me again, two or three of my son's college friends, along with my mother and one of my brothers - all eating and drinking (I'm gonna need a couple of strong drinks, for sure), talking, watching television, laughing, sighing, and giving thanks?
How can it be that my mother and others in her generation can watch all that is transpiring in our country since the election, and while shaking their heads in dismay, still rest in the blessed assurance that they have seen this foolishness before and survived it? They saw worse. They went through worse. They sang and prayed and walked and boycotted and laughed and cried and mourned and resisted their way to victory once - and they believe that we will do it again. How can they be so hopeful, so joyful, so powerful? How can this be?
How can it be that simply repeating the name of Jesus - Jesus, Jesus, Jesus - is enough to reignite the embers that keeps my subversive hope simmering?
How can it be that in less than a week Advent begins? The days of preparation before the celebration of the birth of that same Jesus remind me that, even in the darkest days (the people group to whom Jesus was born lived in a land that was under occupation by violent, hateful people), in the most unlikely of circumstances (Jesus' mother was a young woman, unmarried, pregnant, in a community where such an occurrence could be resolved by execution), even when everything feels hopeless, frightening, and completely out of any single person's control, light shines. Faintly. Dimly. But it's there. Hope grows. A tiny seed. Barely visible. Hardly reasonable. But it's there. Love is born. Again. For the first time.
How can it be that I need Advent, I need hope, I need faith, I need love, I need Jesus more than ever this year?
Isaiah 43: 1b-3a - Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk though fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
I find myself wanting to remind God of this promise and all the others that I read in Scripture - promises that I will never be left or forsaken. Promises of peace that passes understanding. Promises of justice. Promises of a future with hope. The truth is that I don't need to remind God; I need to remind myself that those promises are real and true - and I have already experienced their fulfillment in my life. Many times. Many many times.
I look forward to remembering and celebrating those promises around our dinner table on the ultimate Thankful Thursday, two days from now.
How can this be?
PS. I know I've mentioned Kathy before on this blog. She's a strong sister in the faith who lives in Colorado and writes and lives and speaks and preaches and breathes her faith. Out loud. Even when it hurts, especially then. She inspires me in ways she can't even imagine. This is her latest blog post - about the length of the journey ahead of us, all of us. I found it on Facebook earlier today and this is the caption I added when I shared it on my timeline: "Thank you, Kathy Silveira Escobar, for yet another message of hope and determination and forward momentum. This is gonna be a long, hard journey. May we learn to walk together in ways we never have before. Together. In peace. Unstoppable."
That's exactly how we have to get through this, whatever "this" is and whatever "this" becomes -
together, in peace, unstoppable.