When we've crossed off 14,600+ days tangled up with ourselves, we start really noticing the blemishes and bruises. Our emotional shortcomings and annoying habits no longer hide behind youthful ignorance. Sometimes these self-aware truths reach right out and slap you across your middle-aging face. And maybe, if we're honest, sometimes we embrace them. Hugging them close as parts of us that create our identity.
But when I crossed 40 years off and yet still get emotional and ugly red-face cry in public and run from contact with other humans, I just want to slap myself and scream, "put on your big-girl britches and grow up!" Because...for the love, why are you crying? Why in the middle of an average Tuesday where nothing has gone wrong, why am I crying?
Because at 40, I'm still fighting. Fighting harder than ever.
Fighting to keep my pride in check
Fighting disappointment
Fighting for my voice to be heard
Fighting to keep my children innocent
Fighting as an introvert in an extrovert's world
Fighting for my faith - to keep it, to uphold it, to cherish it
Fighting for equality and dignity.
Fighting to end slavery in the 21st CENTURY!?
Fighting, but hitting a wall.
Because at 40, I'm not where I want to be -
Geographically, financially, spiritually...
Because at 40, my country is far from where it should be.
Politically, economically, humanitarian-ally.
Because in a world of ultra-electronic connectivity,
We, as a society, are L O N E L Y.
Because the rate of adolescent suicide increases,
And mass shootings at schools erases...lives, dreams, peace, safety.
Because we are left empty. Empty of the words to say,
Empty from changes not made.
Because in a world full of all the things, we are empty,
Empty, but full of A N X I E T Y.
So, at 40, I cry, but not for the wrinkles that time has earned me. Not for my youth, because I am as young as I want to be. I cry, my country, my country, why have you forsaken me? Forsaken a nation under God. Forsaken liberty and justice for all. Instead, you cry, "build a wall!" Keep the immigrants out. For the king has said, they are hungry and thirsty and naked and homeless, but we have no resposibility. My country chose her own safety over her blessed history and elected arrogant pride and selfishness.
So I cry as we make enemies of our allies and incite violence from our enemies and boast about women being assaulted in our company. I cry for the poor example that is set for our children...no wonder they are full of anxiety. Look at the world we have chosen for them. I cry because I am guilty. We are guilty. My country is guilty.
And we cry, "why God have you forsaken us?" To a God whose voice we've silenced, whose face we've slapped, whose commandments we've broken. Whose love we've abandoned. But has he abandoned us? Or has he given us what we have chosen for ourselves?
