Our United States stands now one month away from an election of what feels like momentous consequence. To think that the November 3 outcome may be cast by little more than half of our voting population threatens our concept of democracy. When marginally more than half of the age-eligible population votes, we don’t hear the voice of the people, we hear barely more than a whisper.
Life has its valleys and when joy becomes an illusion, Christmas easily intensifies emptiness. That emptiness is expected for, say, widows or widowers, for those in nursing homes or hospitals, but beware the walking wounded. They sit next to us in cubicles or on the bus—smiling every day without sharing the deep, hard realities of their lives—aching inside.
Resilience — that’s the Hurricane Maria story that teaches us, so powerfully, about the humanity we all share.
“What does peace mean to you?” A no-brainer, I thought at first. Peace is the absence of war. Simple. End of story. Upon more reflection, however, I realized I had never considered the question.