Saved by Peggy Noonan

After housing two extra bodies and puppies in my home the last two weeks, I sipped coffee alone with my cat yesterday morning. While I woke with lofty goals, focusing proved more challenging than normal; reentry only palpable with time.

So, I started some laundry. Completing small tasks while crafting words both distracted and helped. By day’s end, I readily accepted Don's offer to eat out. After pizza, we strolled arm in arm through a few stores, trying to rouse me from the depths.

Now, a soft rain falls outside an open window and a warm sweater defies the chill. With a new momma bird in the nest under my covered porch, a twinge of excitement breaks through my virtual clouds. In time, my muddy thoughts will clear.

The collision of stories I encountered last week have yet to disseminate. Instead, they've clogged my soul. 

Back in 1996, a law abiding, black college student from New York was stopped by police when he and three fraternity brothers crossed the Georgia state line. The cop walked up to the window and told the travelers they weren't welcome in the great state and insisted they leave. 

Atlanta hosted the summer Olympics in 1996. My first husband died months later. So, I remember that era well and not once was I ever told to turn around or leave any place because of my skin color.

About five years ago, a black Jesus follower with dreadlocks visited a church close to my home. Desperate for fellowship, he appreciated the initial acceptance. But when he didn’t respond to an altar call a month later, the lead pastor pointed to him and said, “I’m disappointed in you.”

Oh the ugly evil of prejudice that lurks.

On another page of sadness, my dad recently shared sketches of the biography of Robert Pierce. While the man who started World Vision blessed million of lives, his family paid a price. Estranged from his wife and kids, he struggled to connect on a personal level. One daughter committed suicide.

A recent visit with a friend made me aware that his situation was not unique. A culture of family neglect once infiltrated the lives of many who served Christ on the mission field in self-sacrificing ways. Their young children grew up without guidance, love, and basic over site. 

Imagining their pain, left me awash in emotion. Am I sad? Confused? Disenchanted? Humbled?

I’m not sure.

Mostly, I think I’m knocked silly by the stark reality that my world view, while stretched beyond the norm, is still so impacted by only the culture of those in close proximity to me. And most of them have white skin and wear skinny jeans or leggings with long shirts—or the latest style choice of the season.

I considered wrapping this up last night but felt my conclusion rather trite. So I gave up, crawled into bed, and opened the Wall Street Journal app on my phone.

There I read these words by Peggy Noonan, one of my husband’s favorite columnists:

“Monday afternoon just before dusk there was a bird outside my window, all by itself and singing so loudly—byeet-byeet-chur-chur-chur. Over and over as if it had just discovered its voice. I was emailing with a friend, your basic hard-bitten journalist, and told him what I was hearing—it sounded like the beginning of the world. He wrote back not with irony but with the information that a band of rabbits had just taken over his garden and were out there hopping and bopping: ‘They are so excited to be on earth.’ This struck me as the most important news of the day.” 

[Noonan, Peggy (2018, April 26) What Does This Moment Demand of Us. The Wall Street Journal. Retrieved from https://www.wsj.com/articles/what-does-this-moment-demand-of-us-1524784323]

At this point I thought, ‘If Peggy Noonan likes birds and rabbits, I must be on to something.’

From there she quoted a poem and then asked, “What is required of us at this point in history? What is required of those of us who aren’t making history but observing it, watching with concern or alarm?”

 After expounding on recent political diatribes that if honed in on will only exacerbate my tired soul, she finally began her answer, “The political turbulence we’re experiencing isn’t going to go away, and what’s important at such a time is to absorb the daily shocks, think long-term, speak your mind, share your heart, and do your best.”

Her simple yet grounding advice spoke. But when she brought home the conclusion I abandoned earlier, I felt emboldened, “And we should stick to our knitting. Help your country in every way you can within your ken. National figures come and go, but local realities sink in and spread; families fail or flourish."

Ms Noonan's article examines much more than I've shared. But she started with birds and ended with family. As a major voice smack dab in the middle of national news, she encouraged her audience to just flourish "within your ken." 

So, tonight I drove to South Paulding High School and watched my student, Katelyn, perform in Sister Act:

Tomorrow I'll go see my granddaughter, Hazel, perform in The Wizard of Oz:

Then I'll celebrate my mother's birthday, hang with family, and maybe just maybe, take up knitting.

And for sure, next week, when I sing with Gordon again, I'll belt out this song as if we can change the world. 

Noonan, Peggy (2018, April 26) What Does This Moment Demand of Us. The Wall Street Journal. Retrieved from https://www.wsj.com/articles/what-does-this-moment-demand-of-us-1524784323