Yesterday’s walk down the sidewalk proved to be an exercise in wonder. Everywhere we looked, our eyes feasted, on the burning beauty of autumn overflowing, the air as clear as clear water; sky and sea blue beyond blue. At the farmer’s market, the bins were cornucopias of the harvest, greens, oranges, reds of squash, beets, onions, potatoes, the last tomatoes, fresh apples.

And all the while, in my mind’s eye, next to this beauty, are juxtaposed images of devastation, from Syria, from Haiti, from North Carolina, the wake of storms, floods, and bombs. Like most people, I’ve been torn apart inside by what’s happening in our country especially during this presidential election season, by the ugliness, the degradation, by the violence, the on-going intersection of injustices of racism, sexism, poverty. On the one hand, all the hatred is out in the open;  we can see it. On the other hand, I’m terrified because the hatred is out in the open, and it seems like there’s a license to kill figuratively and literally, with guns and with words. It’s a raw time. My spiritual struggle is how to speak, and to act, with love, in such times, when the temptation every day is to sink into fear, anger and despair

And then I remember the stories of incredible faith, hope, and courage coming from Aleppo, from Haiti, from children, from the songs of whales, from the breath of the earth, and the Spirit’s sighs too deep for words.

This morning, I read a wonderful column/blog post by a fellow clergy-woman at https://revgalblogpals.org/ I’m sharing it below, because it’s a wonderful affirmation that words matter. And that we rise for another day, to speak words that create worlds–to borrow Abraham Joshua Heschel’s phrase. May our words make worlds of compassion.

Words Matter.