The aunties and the grandmas and the mamas were done in the kitchen, for now. Everyone was fed, and now they were lingering around the table. They had already caught up on family news while they were working, so know they started picking at the remains of this recent election.
And who am I, in this family, in this home. I am just an old white grandma; my daughter married into this family. I and my daughter are the only white faces. The last thing I want to do is call attention to my presence. I feel that I am being given a gift to hear this conversation that isn't being edited for my benefit.
And I hear the sorrow and concern, so much like my own. I don't want to intrude, but I do get drawn in. And suddenly I feel free to talk about how confused I am by people who would vote for clearly stated hate.
And the elders, they have been there before. They know about enduring. But they aren't too elder that they don't pull out their cell phones and send each other email addresses to write to the Mr. Obama, to write to Mrs Clinton. They will endure, but they will speak.
I will admit now, that I am afraid that I will not live up to my own standards. When I have read the stories from history of those who stood up for the oppressed even sacrificing their own lives, I always wondered "Could I be strong enough and brave enough to stand for what is right?"
And we are the mothers, and we are the aunties. We are the elder women. I am part of that circle, and I must not fail.
Who knows what changes we will see between now and next Thanksgiving. But I make this commitment, and hope that I have the courage for it. I will meet hate with love. I will stand for what is right. I will not be silenced.
This is the song that has been running in my head the last few weeks, as I have seen the darkness gathering:
This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.
No comments:
Post a Comment