Playing small

There’s a chill in the air tonight.  The days are short and it gets dark far too early for my taste.  The Bradford pear tree in my front yard has a section of branches with leaves that are turning ruby-red.  It’s mid-November, and the seasons are finally changing.

It’s not just the weather changing.  I find myself watching the world around me shift and jerk in a violent and graceless rage, and it is like nails on the chalkboard of my soul.  So much anger and hatred.  So much judgement.  So much compromise.  So much us vs. them.

So little love.

We were made for more than this.

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