I See...

Today is June 20,2015.  It's the last day of spring.  Tomorrow brings the first day of summer and in the US the celebration of fathers.  A little information for you is that the week between June 19 - June 25 is known as Midsummer and June 24th was designated by the Christian Church as being St John the Baptist's Day. This year Ramadan has fallen in this period of time as well, from June 17th - July 17th.  This moment in time is special for so many for entirely different thoughts; yet, I find myself sitting here, thinking over the events and discourse which grips us all.

Time, of course, continues to move however swiftly or slowly it is perceived by each individual.  Every second ticking by provides us with motivations, changes, experiences, decisions, and multitudes of other reflections of life.  We find ourselves deluged with information the media gives us to which we respond with gripping horror, enthralled wonder, or bored indifference among the gamut of emotions we reciprocate with.
This period of time has been filled with it all which I have been reflecting upon in order to find some sort of explanation for.  Religious faith has bloomed with love; at the same time, it has writhed with convulsions spewing hatred and venom. Some politicians have expressed compassion and abhorrence; others seem indifferent or at best, dismissive of the devastating murders in Charleston.  Rage is displayed by all, but for totally different reasons.  Blame is barraged around from the suspect to the victims.  Hatred boils forth as love enfolds.  Answers are sought; yet none provide comfort.  Many condemn, others cheer.  Prejudice flies forward while respect and diversity envelop and shield.

The murders of 9 worshipers within a House of God by one angry individual has impacted not only the US, but the world.  Nine black Americans slaughtered by a white supremacist man has escalated the concerns, fears, and outrage of a country all ready reeling from racial disparities which have flooded across the nation with killings of black Americans by those sworn to protect all citizens; with the disregard and malice toward Hispanic Americans; with antagonism and animosity toward Muslim Americans; with ridicule and contempt toward Asian Americans; with abomination and acrimony toward the LGBTQ community; with loathing and enmity toward non-Christians, with grudges and bitterness toward the poor; with antipathy and disapproval toward anyone who is deemed different from the so-called norm of society.

I cannot help but wonder if the 9 are the catalyst to begin change and discourse; that their lives were not lost to be construed within a statistic.  I ponder on how their murders have been politicized by those whose hatred gushes and leaves one feeling bereft of empathy and tenderness.  Then I look at the news and see the murder of a New Orleans police officer.  I see the dehumanization of the homeless.  I see the loss of innocence of a young girl as she watches her father kill her mother in front of her.  I see the manipulation of women being perceived as the  culprits rather than the victims of sexual assault.  I see man subjugate religious ideals to overpower and bastardize faith by enforcing and fear mongering their followers.

Now I look around and look toward a different perspective.  I see the families of the 9, one after another forgiving the man who took the lives of their loved ones.  I see vigils being held at houses of worship for the 9 and for those of us who are trying to comprehend this cowardly act of murder.  I remember the young black woman who threw her body over the white supremacist in order to protect him.  I see the two young boys who raced into a burning mobile home to save the life of two babies.  I see the college students gathering around a 52 year old woman protecting her, showering her with love when a religous fanatic insults her, as she stands and protects the love of Christ over his rhetoric of hate.  I see the people who search for the senior citizen suffering from dementia who has wandered away.  I see the ministers who stand, link arms, and march for love, equality, and protection. I see the parents, friends, and family of children cleaving away the shackles of genderizing. I see the Olympian and the struggles ensued as she embodies her identity of transgender.  I see the Muslim women in a restroom at a theme park reacting with fear as two white women walk in and then the smiles of love and gratitude when they are shown respect and caring.  I see young men protecting a lesbian from the name calling of homophobics and I see love between two gay men as they marry one another.

I smile and acknowledge that which is a universal truth.  Good does triumph!  Love does overcome!  The light shines bright within the darkest of nights.  It is time which marches ever forward.  It is this moment and the next which conveys to us the right.  It is we who create the change not by being inert or stagnant, but by being active and pursuing the good for all of us, not just the privileged few.  It means leaving the comfort zone and standing up for human rights.  It means not arguing, but informing.  It means not violence, but comfort.  It means justice guided by truth and compassion, not coldness.

Finally, I reflect on the meaning of Father's Day.  I think of the chiildren whose fathers have been taken away by violence.  I think of the fathers whose children have been massacred by hatred.  I think of two young women I know whose father died and how much they miss him and would love to spend tomorrow with him.  I think of my friends who; although we are in our 50s mourn the loss of their fathers.  I think of fathers who seem to have distanced themselves from their children and wonder at the pain they have suffered to have done this.  I think of the single mothers who are both father and mother to their children who are constantly besieged by politicians, religious organizations, and individuals at how they are horrible parents and how much their children deserve fathers; and I wonder if any of those condemning and judging have ever thought that maybe, just maybe being supportive and compassionate would be welcoming.  I think of the single fathers who love their children.  I think of gay men who wish to adopt and be fathers to so many children who have no parents.  I think of fathers who feel that since it is Father's Day tomorrow they can do what the want on "their day" and I think of their children and the mothers of these gifts from Heaven who just want to be with their dads.  Most importantly, I think of fathers every where who work, protect, teach, and love their children and show their children how much they love the woman who gave them the gift of being a father.

Time keeps moving forward and; yet, we are given moments to define and engage in.  It is up to us to prove Shakespeare wrong when he wrote in A Mid-Summer's Night Dream:  "Lord, what fools the mortals be! (3.2).  It is we who have the ability and the power to join together rather than be pulled apart and hide in the shadows of anger and fear.

So, I am at peace.  Contentment has come to me as I move forward with this thought "It's not how many years you've lived...but how you've lived them.  Someone once told me that time is a predator that stalks us all our lives.  But maybe time is also a companion who goes with us on our journey, and reminds us to cherish the moments of our lives...because they will never come again.  We are after all, only mortal.  (Star Trek Generations  185, Picard).