In the Land of Nod
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In the Land of Nod

Buried In The Deep

This morning I prayed for a friend’s sister who was recently diagnosed with leukemia. I started to think how their mother may be crying in heaven and wondered if angels cry. I think the angels have a better perspective of time and beauty in heaven, in ways that allow them to know that suffering endured on earth, for those saved, is short in the timespan of life everlasting. That our brief stay on earth and our earthly pain and suffering is but the blink of an eye, compared to the span of forever. So there probably aren’t tears in heaven, at least not in the earthly way, but rather an offering of spiritual perspective that would serve us well, if learned and embraced here on earth. Our time here is really to make life better for those that come after us and for our good works to inspire a new generation. So that the gift passed down is a more stable and desirable dwelling, fit for all future earthlings to inherit a more harmonious planet, because of the traits we leave behind.

This does not simply come with time, but through coming together and by seeing the suffering of God’s people and being called to act. By righting the injustices, instead of further justifying them. And not by holding onto beliefs that one deems worthy, while keeping evil in the highest power by exercising your right to choose, while at the same time taking away mine. To be passionately vocal for the rights of an unborn human, yet silent as born humans are murdered by those in uniform that took an oath to protect them. So what is being saved? I suppose it goes both ways, a human may be born to save the world, or be born to slaughter the world. The issues are complicated, and at the same time, can a single issue allow humanity to suffer greatly, risking the rise of evil because of disagreements on a woman’s right to choose? Or is the position a moral excuse to maintain a place at the table of white privilege, disguised as the single most important issue to hang a hat on?

I admit, unapologetically, that I don’t understand the undecided voter who struggles with whether to vote Donald Trump out of office. What if voting for a candidate was blind, simply based on the candidate’s true moral compass, before politics even enters the equation? How important is it to be moral and to set examples for our kids, right now? How willing are we to continue to allow our children to hear the white noise of a newsfeed where the President of the United States curses, lies, admires dictators, and consistently acts in a manner that those with decency four years ago would have abhorred? What is the real issue that keeps an otherwise scrupulous person buried with their head in the sand? Until there is a personal pause for a heart to heart deep within, the struggle for whom to cast your vote will continue. Asking the hard questions and answering thoughtfully from the deep, where truth can be found, waiting to welcome you home.

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That which layers on top of the effects of racial injustices, discrimination and generational trauma — this morphs into the metaphorical streams of thought that stay on my mind…and I’m mad as hell about it.

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Cherisse Robinson

Cherisse Robinson

Zen seeker, sharing streams of consciousness.

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