This is a theme that’s been growing in my mind. Like those bulbs buried all winter in the dark, the other day it finally sprouted. I’d been watching people hoard, criticize, ignore, demand, and blame leaders, especially politicians. Fear and anxiety can spread across the world faster than a virus. I struggled daily trying to figure out my role, to come up with a spiritual vaccine I might offer. What could protect us from losing our better selves in the face of this crisis?
This is a picture of some of the world’s greatest body builders, all assembled in one place for an early Thanksgiving dinner. The little church building on the corner of where highways 309 and 23 meet in Ozark–Webb City Baptist–can’t contain them all at once anymore. Lifting weights, after all, makes you grow.
We say it takes a village to raise a child, and I believe that’s true. But equally true is that we adults also need raising sometimes. We all need a village.
I simply have to write about this cool thing that happened, because it’s one of those most beautiful kinds of stories that bring hope into the world. And if your committee meetings or Facebook feed or nightly news are anything like mine, you could use one of those stories.
I believe writers write at least in part so we don’t have to talk; we can say what we want to say, put it out there, and hope people connect with it. But we don’t have to face anyone else when we’re writing. We don’t have to feel stupid if a joke falls flat—at least not instantly, like happens when you’re speaking. We can also edit till we feel we’ve got it right, or as close as we’re going to get. Speaking is not like that unless it’s totally scripted. And of course, totally scripted is not how I roll.