In the last week I have watched two documentary series about 9/11, and the thing that sticks in my mind above all else is how much we’re capable of coming together. Of helping people, while not even thinking about differences. We can just be good humans and good neighbors.
If we could just figure out how to do that outside of a tragedy or a war, we might truly be great.
It’s complicated.
How I feel about Biden and Afghanistan and the world is complicated.
Biden really screwed up.
Why are we still even in a country that we invaded because we wanted Bin Laden? We got him a decade ago. No answer anyone gives me will suffice because the truth is – outside of heated moments just after 9/11 when I really wanted retribution – I have always kind-of been an isolationist, against our country’s crusade-ish tendencies and angered by the thought that young men and women go off to fight in wars that aren’t ever about what politicians say they are about. I support our troops 100 percent. The people who get to send them out to do their bidding? Not so much.
Every president in my lifetime, maybe every president ever, has blood on their hands. The blood of 13 soldiers and hundreds of Afghans this week, the blood in Beirut in the 1980s, and the blood of the people living under the Shah we put back in power in the 1960s, and the blood of Kansans during their own civil war in the 1850s, and even the blood of a half a million U.S. citizens who’ve died from a virus we lied about and didn’t protect people from.
It’s easy to play Monday morning quarterback. I don’t have all the information and I’ve never had to make decisions of such magnitude, but it just seems like we could have done some things differently. I don’t think we could have pulled such a large number of people out of any turmoil-filled country without casualties, but that doesn’t make what happened this week feel like less of a fail. Colin Powell quoted No battle plan survives contact with the enemy and perhaps that’s why we’re here today – failure to accurately predict and plan for all possible outcomes.
It’s heartbreaking, learning the stories of these soldiers – kids really – who were in a land very far away, helping to save the lives of strangers and trying to protect themselves and their comrades. It was all the more poignant for me this week because we were traveling around DC seeing federal buildings and museums, monuments and memorials. I was in my element – a history buff talking about the accomplishments or inventions of great Americans, some well-known and some unknown, in ways that I hoped would be interesting at 16 and 10. But as I looked down the wall of names etched in granite at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, it struck me that those were the names of my Dad’s comrades. And that he was a young soldier once, in a land very far away.
“All of these people died?” Ella said. Yes, tens of thousands of people. It was a long war and it was the first televised war, where the American people had a small glimpse into what happens when they send their sons off to war. There was a lot of conflict about whether or not we should stay the course but one of the lessons I hope we learned is that it doesn’t matter whether or not we agree with the decisions of our leaders, we must always always always support the young people they send out into the world – who dedicate years of their lives to serving our country and our people, and who are committed to freedom for people everywhere.
Just like everyone else on social media, I know pretty much nothing about what really happened this week and all the factors that led us to this point. And yet still I can’t shake the feeling that we could have done better. Maybe I’m all up in my feelings, but Biden really screwed up this exit. I won’t defend someone I voted for simply because I don’t want to admit that my candidate isn’t perfect or I was wrong. Our votes are complicated, or at least mine sometimes are. The truth is I’d vote for Biden again, given the same choices – my vote was for health care and against a man who abuses women. But I don’t feel good about it today.
As I stood at the wall staring at tens of thousands of names, I said a quick prayer for all the people who loved them. Their lives were forever changed – because of the decisions of politicians, because of evil in the world, and even because of the ballots cast by voters. I believe all of us will one day be accountable for our votes (or lack of participation in that regard), and I feel that responsibility today. It’s not just presidents who have blood on their hands – it’s all of us, too.
Help us, O God, to remember that we are Americans, united not by race, or religion, or blood, but to our commitment to freedom and justice for all. When we focus on ourselves, when we fight each other, when we forget you: Forgive us. When we presume that our greatness and our prosperity is ours alone: Forgive us. When we fail to treat our fellow human beings and all the earth with the respect that they deserve: Forgive us. And as we face these difficult days ahead, may we have a new birth of clarity in our aims, responsibility in our actions, humility in our approaches, and civility in our attitudes, even when we differ. Help us to share, to serve, and to seek the common good of all. May all people of goodwill today join together to work for a more just, a more healthy, and a more prosperous nation and a peaceful planet. And may we never forget that one day all nations, and all people, will stand accountable before you. ~ Rick Warren, 2009
Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt.
Men generally believe what they would like to be so.
The second quarantine Ides of March.
And perhaps the most appropriate Caesar quote for a time when Americans can’t agree on fact versus fiction or feelings in terms of votes, masks, vaccines, and just about everything.
Mr. Martin from junior high Latin class, I still remember you. And your songs to remember how to conjugate.
Amo Amas Amat Amamus Amatis Amant
I also remember you named me Metella, which sounded nice but ended up being terrible once I got headgear and a mouthful of braces.
You should never ever tell me how you voted. This is the conclusion I’ve come to. In order for us to coexist peacefully or for me to not be disappointed in you, I cannot know that you voted for a candidate who would not support my daughter. I cannot know that you voted against my daughter.
I logically know that no one voted against Audrey. In fact, I’m one hundred percent positive that she never crossed your mind as you voted. And yet, she’s one of the two most important people in my life, so I cannot do anything – especially vote – without her at the forefront of my mind.
As a cancer survivor, it’s incredibly important that Audrey always have health care. I’m a believer that health care is important and necessary for all people, but it’s truly critical that those among us who have battled or who are battling serious diseases or conditions receive care from childhood into adulthood. That means the parents of the most vulnerable need access to affordable health care and coverage, and that those kids who are the most vulnerable have access to affordable care and coverage as they move into adulthood.
Maybe Audrey will be waiting tables when she’s 26, trying to finish grad school or medical school or law school. Maybe she’ll be an artist or a missionary or fixing cars. Whatever she wants to do, whatever she’s called to do, she will need access to health care. Which means she likely needs to be a cube dweller (and maybe not focusing on her calling), working in a job that doesn’t need advanced education, or she needs some form of the ACA to be in place.
I want my child to have the same access to health care as anyone else’s child. Not only is she deserving of that as a human being, she fought very hard for life.
So we can disagree on things like the second amendment, climate change measures, and taxes – but we cannot disagree on health care without me harboring a grudge against you and wondering if you really care about Audrey. Because no matter why you cast a vote for a candidate, I see your vote against Audrey.
And maybe that’s not fair and maybe it’s mean. But it’s how I feel, and it feels good to give it a voice. I am longing for the day that America is a country where health care is not a partisan issue. Because sometimes I feel like West Virginia in the 1860s.
And we still don’t know, just as I suspected. And yet just as I dreaded. We may not know the outcome of the presidential election for quite some time, but we do know this: many of our neighbors and friends that we have categorized as good people because they are nice to us have in them the ability to support racism and the mistreatment of women and children. I will never understand how someone can say they are a Christian and support someone who so blatantly is not.
My heart is heavy.
I did not expect a landslide and yet my heart had this hope I was afraid to ever voice. It hoped that there was goodness in more people than I believed. That their goodness would rise up and stand for their neighbor. That their faith would rise up and say this behavior is not right and not what Jesus would do.
It still matters to me who wins. But my faith in the goodness of people took another huge hit in the last 24 hours.
Brave, Anyway 