Monday, December 10, 2018

Room at the Inn

It’s time for my annual Holiday newsletter to send out to friends and to prepare, I re-read last year’s. I liked my ending paragraphs and find them still relevant today, with an added twist. My unfounded hopes from a year ago are on the cusp of being realized. The shift in political energy from the midterms, Mueller’s investigation rolling to a cadence and the taste of the possibility that the people who deserve their just desserts will finally get them—including a permanent Time-Out for the Toddler-in-Chief. How sweet that would be! And note my warning that if this indeed comes to pass, it’s not time to relax, but re-double our efforts to keep democracy alive and moving forward. Here’s the excerpt:

Can I get through this without mentioning the American political scene? Of course not! But you might be surprised to hear that I’m extremely hopeful. What happened last November revealed all the unresolved ugliness in American culture, but as the year went on, it also showed the beauty of the many who have been silent starting to speak up, the courage of those who have excused things starting to notice that it has gone too far, the long history of free speech helping to stem the tide of bad people in power trying to unravel democracy and our justice system keeping things together enough that the attempt to dismantle democracy is either halted or slowed and impeachment could become a reality. The big lesson is to not relax once these bad, bad people are gone, but to keep vigilant and most importantly, to educate, educate, educate. All ages, but particularly the young ones.

My world is populated with beautiful people from Iran, Turkey, Ghana, South Africa, Brazil, Colombia, China, Japan, India, Finland, Iceland, Spain, Austria and beyond and it warms my heart every moment I spend with them and hurts my heart that some of them can’t enter my country. The political scene at the moment is not only cruel and mean-spirited, but we have crippled ourselves by shooting ourselves in the foot every time we close the door and refuse hospitality and welcome. About to go to my annual Posada and sing the song where the innkeeper refuses a room to Mary and Joseph. When he finds out that she’s carrying “the Divine Spirit,” he smiles and says, “Oh, why didn’t you say so? Come on in!” If only we realized that every person who knocks at the door is carrying that Divine Spirit, we could finally be more generous and actually learn to love our neighbor the way someone suggested some 2,000 years ago. Wouldn’t that be a good idea?

So that’s it. As we turn with the year to 365 more chances to get it right, let’s collectively renew our vows to stay awake, be involved, speak out, listen, grant ourselves some stillness and silence. The happiest of holidays to you and yours!  

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