containers

Mondays. The day I often write snail mail letters to my two oldest sons. Usually, I sit holding them in God’s presence for a while and then I write what comes up. Sometimes a story, sometimes news of home, sometimes a tale of our walks, but often remembrances of how much I have enjoyed being their mom.

Early this morning, before our daily time of retirement, Len awakened me with a cup of coffee and the news of the evening and day. After our readings, and our Divine query for the day, and our sharing of afterthoughts, I sat with the news a bit. Ambivalent. Many conflicting feelings. Cynical about how those who don’t like President Obama would contort their integrity to not give his administration any credit. And yet also not happy that his administration carried out the assassination that former President Bush had called for. A weird place.

I read my oldest’s facebook status: You know if your kidneys didn't work, and you knew you didn't have long to live but you desperately wanted to take down an imperialist power I think manipulating it into an unfunded guerrilla war in Afghanistan has to be damn close to the top of the "Most effective ways to kill an empire" list.

I read many status updates of those who I know were against both wars and were, as American citizens, further saddened by the nights events. I read admonitions not to gloat and not to rejoice. I read “In Judaism we say upon hearing of the death of someone like Bin Laden:"Ba'avod resoim rinah!" (When the wicked perish, there is jubilation!)” and “As we say in Judaism upon hearing the death of someone: "Blessed are You, oh L-rd our G-D, ruler of the universe, the true judge." I listened to two interviews with American Muslims happy that this defiler of their faith was gone.

Then I watered my climbing container rose, my shade containers, and I dared to fertilize them because they already are full of buds. The bathroom shines now, the wooden floors gleam, and the kitchen tile is spotless.

My middle son, the 18 year old and college freshman, and I have had a text conversation about a question on his final “Which of the judicial philosophies most accurately reflects the the true constitution? 1) Strict Constructionist 2) Living Constitution 3) Framer’s Intentions."

And in the midst of my vacuuming, I thought of Jesus’s words to Peter “He who lives by the sword dies by the sword.” And I thought of George Fox, taking the words of Christ at face value, leading to his statement that he “lived in the virtue of that life and power that takes away the occasion for war and all strife.”

Somewhere during the day, I realized that since 2001, my sons had lived with the hunt for Osama Bin Laden hanging over them (well except for 2006-2008 when then President Bush dissolved the group who was hunting him). Half their life’s as a citizen of a country bent on vengeance and rigid self-protection. I thought about my tendency to avoid my own roll of emotions by wanting to tell others what they should do and how they should feel. Tears came to my eyes as I remembered the words of a beloved Friend, telling of her family running to the air raid shelter during the Battle of Britian, her small hand clutched to her younger siblings stroller, thinking “I never want to be the cause of so much commotion and fear.”

There is nothing in me that can know what it is like to order the assassination of an outlaw, a man who was responsible for many deaths the world over. Fear and chaos though, have been almost life long acquaintances. In that world of fear and chaos, there was no room for holding conflicting emotions. Life was black and white, rigid and self-protective. There are days I need to remind myself I don’t live in that world anymore.

Comments

[aola]

I came by so many times to see you and you had not been here that I finally stopped coming... until today and here you are!!! I love to read your words and hear about your life.