I wonder how many newspaper pages it would take to list all the unarmed people of color who have lost their lives unfairly in this country? Or the property owners who have incurred damage in cities ravished by violent protests? Or the women and girls who have been discriminated against, assaulted, killed, or worse because of behaviors incorporated into cultures centuries ago? Or the people who have suffered harm from the extreme storm events sweeping across our planet because of climate change?
So many names. So much suffering. The walls of the heart feel as if they are collapsing.
“It is only when the seed is broken that a tree begins to grow,” Gary Jensen writes in his book, Station to Station: An Ignatian Journey through the Stations of the Cross.
Perhaps we can find a way to nurture the seeds of our brokenness, find ways to grow a tree, maybe even a forest. Perhaps we can fill the air with oxygen so all people can breathe. Perhaps this time we will find a way to listen, learn, negotiate our differences, and nurture God’s forest.
In gratitude for what may be learned while walking through a forest.
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