I’m tired of significant and meaningful and reflective. I’m tired of seriousness and sin. I’m weary of North Korea, and Congo and terror in Boston. I want someone else to be responsible for today. And I feel like a terrible human being admitting that.
Just for today I want to dance in the kitchen and hug my kids, and write a thank you note and eat fresh berries.
A friend of mine who works tirelessly for justice in the ugliest parts of the world was, at one time, on a sailboat in a lovely tropical port. She said she wrestled with the incongruity, the unfairness of the situation. Why should she get to enjoy such a lovely respite while so many are fighting for survival, enduring violence, and oppression? How could she accept the gift that is her relatively privileged life?
