I don’t know what to say about mothers & children. But to say nothing seems compliant or do I mean, complicit?
Mothers and children.
Mary and Jesus come to mind.
‘Tis the season.
I spent some of the holiday week among loved ones who voted for the current occupant of the White House. They dislike him too. They are appalled too. They hoped for the best but feared the worst when they voted along their party line. “We knew who he was,” they said. (We all knew who he was.)
Neither of us is affected by his antics, not directly; but plenty are and we don’t have to go as far as the border.
Others double down on seemingly rational explanations for each atrocity refusing to see that the Emperor isn’t (and never has been) wearing clothes. “There are hungry children here,” they say. “We need Saudi oil. Guns protect us. Trees & leaves are dangerous. Romaine lettuce too. Hillary. Hillary.”
For them, democracy has become a trophy sport and winning is what matters no matter that there is nothing here to win but heartbreak and hell and highwaters.
Jesus loves the little children.
We hold these Truths to be self-evident.
I have a dream.