Christmas Poem, G.K. Chesterton

Christmas Poem

G.K.Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.

Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.

A child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost—how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.

This world is wild as an old wife’s tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
Home shall all men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

(Gilbert Keith Chesterton)

With thanks to:

http://www.gkc.org.uk/gkc/books/christmas-poem.html

Not only do GKC and I share a name (my first name is Keith, as is my father’s), he is truly one of my great literary heroes.  If you aren’t familiar with his work, please look it up.  His biographies of St. Francis and St. Thomas are very good, and his fiction is always fun; even his serious Christian work is a pleasure.  He was a great influence on C.S. Lewis.  Oh, and he carried a sword cane and pocket pistol with which to defend his treasured wife.  Thanks, GKC, for your gifts to us!

 

Holidays and Holy Days; My Christmas Book

This is a book of columns about Christmas and Easter that I put together with the SC Baptist Courier two years ago.  It’s still available and I think you would enjoy it!

https://www.amazon.com/Holidays-Holy-Days-Grace-Sacred-ebook/dp/B00PBHEF58/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1480385263&sr=1-1&keywords=holidays+and+holy+days+edwin+leap

 

Learning to be Careful; The Hard Way.

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One of the terrible things about being a physician who has spent his adult life working in emergency rooms is that you have a certain terrible clarity about the dangers of this life. It’s why we’re forever pestering our loved ones with phone calls and texts: ‘are you there yet!’ Or telling the children, ‘be careful! After midnight there are too many drunks on the road!’ Met, of course, with rolled eyes.

We see, we have seen, a shocking variety of ways in which people shrug off this mortal coil. However, it’s always a bit of an eye-opener when you walk through the valley of the shadow in person. I can think of a few times I did. Once, coming home from a residency interview, my dad and I nearly went full bob-sled under a jack-knifed tractor trailer driving downhill on an icy interstate in Maryland. There was the time I was almost stuck in the middle of a 10 foot wall of flames in the woods on our property. I ran out but only later realized how close I came to being barbecue. There was also the time I was bent over a tree that fell in an ice-storm, cutting it with a chain-saw. I stood up to stretch and another tree fell right where I had been bent. My doctor brain ran the possibilities and none were pleasant. I know what happens to the human body.

Now here I am, 23 years into my practice following residency, and I had another brush with my mortality. First, a little back-story. Like many families with multiple kids in high school and college, we are afflicted with vehicles. One of these cars (and I use the term loosely) is assigned to my high-school senior son, Elijah. For a few months the car (an automatic) would simply drop out of gear and lose all power. Thus it was consigned to the local transmission expert for a six week spa treatment, after which the transmission issues seemed fully resolved. But then it wouldn’t start.

So, one day last week Jan (my wife) and I decided to push it into a better location to try and jump the battery and trouble shoot. It was also in the way of the propane delivery truck, so it had to be moved. We were pushing it backwards, she at the front and I behind the open driver’s side door, pushing and steering simultaneously.

It’s a light car, an Infiniti I-10. Moving it was fairly easy. What became immediately clear was that stopping it was more difficulty. We pushed it across our driveway into the yard, which (we sadly forgot) slopes away at about 15 degrees.

The car picked up speed as objects on inclines are wont to do. But I was still behind the door. And it was headed for the many trees and stumps of our own forest. Jan yelled for me to be careful as I ran backwards. Then I tried (like the 52 year old fool I am) to jump into the seat and put on the brake. ‘Au contraire,’ said the involved force vector, which was hurtling the vehicle ever faster into the kingdom of the squirrels. And in my attempt, I fell to the side of the moving metal death-dealer, in front of the open door which my paramedic brother later described as a ‘scoop blade’ or some other horrible thing.

In a not very manly manner, I yelled. A lot. Perhaps to increase my strength as we do when lifting. Or perhaps because I knew it wasn’t going very well and I was very scared. I had visions of the car rolling over me and realized I had to push away. Finally, after being struck on the left shoulder and knee by the car door, I hit the ground hard and rolled away. As did the car, about 75 feet downhill into the woods, in the process nearly tearing off the driver’s side door, knocking down several trees and ending with a dent in the rear bumper and trunk.

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Many a small animal suffered panic attacks that day, and several trees crossed the rainbow bridge, or whatever it is trees cross when they are killed by hurtling bits of steel powered by stupidity.

Jan came to my side and I stood up, my pride injured, my arm black and blue, my knee tender and swollen. Nothing serious at all. The car? Less so. It had to be pulled out of the woods with a winch and hauled off on a flat-bed truck. In truth, I was ready to be shy of that car. I always had fears that it would lose power on the Interstate as Elijah pulled in front of a larger vehicle, or something like that. I’m ready to be done with it. I just didn’t realize we’d dispose of it by crashing it into the woods.

Christian that I am, I see divine providence all around. Maybe this was God’s way of making me sell the car; or scrap it. Certainly, God’s hand was in my escape from the Infinity that might well have launched me (somewhat ironically) to eternity. I am convinced that my guardian angel pulled me clear then threw his hands up and walked away for a snack break, or the weekend off. ‘Lord, I can’t be responsible when someone does something so ridiculous,’ he (or she) might have told the Father.

Even as I am thankful to God, I am also glad that I work-out, and so I have reasonable strength and agility. Among the many health problems associated with obesity and a sedentary life-style, one that is seldom mentioned, is that since life is dangerous, we must be prepared to rescue ourselves from said dangers as much as possible. As Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’s mother said, ‘A fat mongoose is a dead mongoose.’ I’ve always tried to live by that maxim. Except of course for not being a mongoose nor regularly encountering cobras.

I do think the lesson also reminded me to be more wary. I’m a guy who works in an emergency room. Not only do we treat the results of dangerous events, we are around the violent, the ill, needles, chemicals, infections and all sorts of things. I have to be diligent. Furthermore, I drive at all hours of the day and night. I work with power tools, including chain-saws. I handle firearms. I have a (sadly neglected) metal smithy where temperatures reach upwards of 3000 degrees F. I wrestle with my teenage sons. It is possible that God was just saying, ‘look, you’re no Spring chicken. I want you to do a lot more stuff for the Kingdom, so please be careful!’ To which I reply with a heart-felt, ‘You bet Lord, and thanks again!’

I shudder to think of the possible injuries I could have sustained the day the car rolled out of our control. They come to me in flashes of anxiety now and then, as I consider the horrific alignment of physics, anatomy and physiology. Head smashed against tree, hip dislocated, femur snapped like a dry branch, ribs broken, lungs collapsed. But the bottom line is I’m here, I’m fine, and God is good.

And I will try to never accuse any future victim of an accident of being stupid. Because bad things, dangerous and deadly things often start off with the most innocent of motives and accelerate much faster than we can imagine. All too often to terrible conclusions.

So we all need to just pay attention and think before we do, well, almost anything. Life is short. As one of my neurosurgeon friends used to say every time I consulted him, ‘hey, be careful out there, OK?’

Coastal Job for PA

Dear Physician Assistant Friends,

I have a friend who is recruiting for a position on the Southeastern coast.  Here’s his ad.  If you’re interested, send me a CV (edwinleap@gmail.com) and I’ll forward it on.  He’s a very nice guy and would be a great employer, in a nice location.

Edwin

 

Comprehensive family care is a family practice with a steady additional walk-in population throughout the year, and picking up in March and peeking in May June and July, averaging, 25 at the low, 55 at the high end. Ancillary staff are medical assistants . Current EMR is Greenway, formerly success EHS, and intend to switch to azalea. Ultimate goal is scribing, with only 25% of documentation currently being accomplished with the use of scribes. Hours are 8 to 5 daily,  Monday to Friday, half a day Saturday during seasonal hours, and will expand to Sunday with 1 to 2 PAs, who had been working 40 hours a week. I try to connect a competitive salary based on experience, and will ultimately arrange partnership track, with plan for buy-in options. Benefit package includes at this time malpractice and contribution toward health plan, but the benefit plan will expand based on productivity and commitment to the practice.

Election Related Illness…

Now that the presidential election is past, national emergency departments are seeing an increase in election-related health problems. While anxiety, depression and homicidal rage are what one might expect, it turns out, according to emergency physician Dr. Chuck McShortridge, the bigger issues seem to stem from people sitting at computers all day long and linking to political posts on Facebook, Twitter, Reddit and assorted other online outlets.
“Just last week we had three patients with massive pulmonary emboli. I asked their spouses about surgery, cancer, fractures, trips overseas, and the common thread was this: ‘No, but he (or she) spent the last six months linking to articles about how Hillary is a crook or Donald is a liar, or something like that.’”
Other physicians have noticed the same. Dr. Maggie McFarris reported another issue: “I keep seeing patients who complain of a constellation of symptoms: blurred vision, sleeplessness, carpal tunnel syndrome and in some cases, acute renal failure. I call it Donald-Clinton Syndrome. They never get off the (expletive deleted) couch. All day long it’s ‘that Hillary is a crook who can’t be trusted’ or ‘he hates women’ and links to dozens of articles a day. They don’t eat, they don’t drink, they don’t exercise, they don’t even have sex.”
One spouse we interviewed in the waiting room of a large ER said, “My wife has lost a lot of weight because she won’t eat! Just the other day I made this great vegetarian dish she loves and all she said was ‘I don’t have time, I just found this incredible piece on Trump at Politico and I have to share it!’ I ate dinner alone. Thank God the election is over say she can finally get the Xanax and IV fluids she needs.”
On a related note, some politically active physicians we met in the course of this article are lobbying to have advocacy counted as CME. Dr. Joseph Mooring, known for his bumper-sticker-laden Subaru, political buttons and frequent presence at online forums, stated: “CME? Who has time for that? I’m trying to save America, and in the process American healthcare! I should totally get credit for the hours I’ve logged trying to save the nation!” American Board of Emergency Medicine representatives said the board might be able to work political advocacy into the new Lifelong education modules.
Practitioners are urged to continue to be diligent in looking for election related illness and injury.

Idols All Around

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/11/14/commentary-humans-easily-deceived-idols-every-sort/93588762/

One of the consistent themes that runs all through the Bible is the theme of idolatry. And if we can learn anything from its writers down the thousands of years and hundreds of generations since they lived, it’s that humans are easily deceived by idols of every sort.
It’s arrogant for us to laugh off the idea of stone and wooden deities, and shake our heads at the fish or dragons, serpents or elephants that they represented to our ancestors. (That’s right, all of our ancestors!) Because we’re no less susceptible despite our assertions that we are modern and rational. Twenty-first century man remains a remarkably idolatrous creature.
This is rarely as evident as it is during a presidential election cycle, when we believe that vast power, and all our destinies, rest with the office and person we are electing. If only we elect him, or her, all our problems will be solved and our enemies smitten! We elevate candidates and politicians to places they were never meant to be, not by God, nor indeed by the founders of our republic, who doubtless had a much more suspicious view of human character than we do; else they would never have built in so many checks and balances.
In fact, during elections we also make idols of government in general, constitutions, courts and legislative bodies. We worship commentators and media outlets and anyone and everything connected with the process. We idolize our own opinions and spend far more time in our own personal echo-chambers than we do either worshipping God or (for the non-religious) simply pursuing secular knowledge or simple joy. Pity, as our self-adulating tirades and tantrums change few minds.
But it isn’t only politics. We all have our idols. Thanks to social media, young people take constant photos of themselves in a kind of self-worship. Social media have also allowed Americans to make an idol of the approval of others, whether in likes for one’s selfie, or agreement with one’s views. The disapproval of others is a bitter pill whose side effects include exclusion from friendly society; a kind of excommunication for heresy. How many opinions would be shared more honestly if not for the fear of being shunned or attacked en masse online?
Conservatives often idolize guns or military prowess, as if they could save us from all danger. And yet the Bible says ‘Some trust in chariots and some trust in horses, but we trust in the Lord our God.’ (Psalm 20:7) (The chariot being the main battle tank of antiquity, by the way.) And liberals make an idol of choice, as if replacing the word ‘killing’ with a euphemism makes it less like the reality of killing an unborn child, less like a modern adoration of the dark god Molech.
We idolize the freedom of sexual expression and sexual orientation, as if all that mattered in this life were who could have sex with whom. And on the other side, we idolize morality, as if our sanctimonious attitudes about sexual sin were anywhere as important as the forgivingness and redemption offered in the Bible to those who sin sexually, gay or straight. Grace matters more than moralism.
America idolizes the idea of compassion and charity without understanding the moral and spiritual underpinnings that make it reasonable and possible. And yet, we also idolize the American concept that everyone can simply succeed if they try, which is simply untrue. The deck is sometimes stacked and there are those who need our assistance, personally and through state programs. Some idolize capitalism, some idolize socialism, but both can become monstrous deities when not applied with Godly wisdom and caution.
The Decalogue begins with ‘I am the Lord your God who brought you out of slavery, out of the land of Egypt.’ And follows it immediately with ‘you shall have no other gods before me.’ And of course, after receiving the Ten Commandments, the people promptly made a Golden Calf and ignored God, the source of all their good things. You can be an atheist and still see the truth in this tale. This is the story of all mankind. The worship of those things we shouldn’t, and the rejection of those things that are truly, ultimately good.
Whether a citizen is religious or not, we can surely agree that we all have idols we should take from their altars. Maybe it’s a good time to start.

On Veteran’s Day ask, ‘what would I die to defend?’

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Veteran’s Day has always meant something to me.  But then, I was born in 1964.  I’m the last of the ‘Baby Boomers.’  I grew up on stories of family members in time of war.  I remember my father, Keith Leap (my name also) leaving for Vietnam when I was four years old, and remember (vaguely) his return.  I recall my uncle’s stories of the Navy, and of a grandfather in the Army in Mississippi and a great-grandfather who served during the Spanish-American War.  There were others, back to the Civil War, the War of 1812 and the Revolution.

I grew up looking for dates of service on tombstones, and for flags, ranks and units of the fallen.  I grew up with toy guns, toy soldiers and war movies, in a time when we threw plastic grenades with caps in them, which sometimes actually went off and frankly surprised us.

A great-uncle I never met was a Col. in the US Army in France during WWI, and I always heard that he said he was determined to bring his men home safely.  Another great uncle gave me a bayonet he took from an ammo-dump in Italy during WWII; there appears to be a ding in the side from a bullet. A neighbor survived the Bataan Death March; not surprisingly, he suffered as an alcoholic as long as we knew him.  I once met a gracious gentleman who was a former Wehrmacht soldier, who (after a CT scan when his arms were held above his head) said ‘the last time I held my arms like that one of Patton’s soldiers had a rifle in my back!’

I was immersed in veterans and their stories.  And the ones I knew were ever humble and kind.

Was I taught to idolize war?  Was I taught that bloodshed was the answer?  Was I taught that violence was some sort of higher good, as if we were Lacedaemonian children of Sparta?

I don’t think so.  I think I was taught to idolize sacrifice, courage, and simply fortitude.  I grew up in Appalachia; fortitude was necessary, if only for my ancestors to survive against nature.

I suspect that much that these men did had less to do with bravery than determination; in practical application they can look the same, I suppose.

Many brave men and women follow that tradition of service.  They fight, are wounded and die on many fields.  They live or die by their conviction, by their camaraderie, by their patriotism and belief in something higher.

This is hardly limited to the armed forces.  Many live their convictions, in all sorts of fields of endeavor.  But what I wonder now is this:  who will die for their convictions?

We live in a time when many people, especially those in universities, are emotionally wrecked by the slightest challenge to their beliefs, the faintest intrusion into the coddled safety of their own fragile minds.  College administrators give them coloring books, Play-dough, therapy dogs.  Safe rooms are established where they can cry when things don’t go the way they perceive that they should, when there is no trophy or certificate for all.   I suppose this is included in the price of tuition?

But on Veteran’s Day, I must ask of all Americans, what beliefs will they, will we, go through life willing to die to defend?  We should all ask this. What matters most?  Faith, country, family, these are things men and women historically died for.  Ideology?  To some extent, but I wonder.

Will generations of young people learn the lesson of Veteran’s Day?  Not that they need to serve in the military to be real Americans; not that the only heroes are those in uniform, those in battle.  That is a heresy that would produce a warrior class, and we don’t need that.

The lesson, as I see it, is different.  What will you have the courage to stand up and live for, instead of lying down and weeping?  And what will you have the fortitude to die for, if it comes to that?

On this beautiful Veteran’s Day, contemplate that, whether you are or were or never were in the armed forces.  And find an answer.

The future may call on you to decide.

Rare Gems in the Rolling Seasons of Life

http://journals.lww.com/em-news/Fulltext/2016/10000/Life_in_Emergistan__Rare_Gems_in_the_Rolling.15.aspx

My column from the October edition of Emergency Medicine News

It’s August. I’m looking out the windows of our log house and across the immense variety of green leaves, on oak and birch, mountain laurel and sycamore, magnolia and honeysuckle. It’s a rain forest here. Indeed, after a long dry spell, we’ve had days and days of soaking rain, with breaks in the clouds so that the sun can raise steam from the earth like water coming up in the garden of Eden.

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But the greens have hints of yellow. And the clouds are not just summer thunderheads but low, fast, and broken. The dogs are lazier than normal, as their crusted red-clay coats begin to flake off to reveal the fur underneath. Even the cats seem less mobile, if that were possible. The evenings, despite the blast furnace of August, cool more than in July.

All in all, the signs are there for those who watch. I grew up watching the weather, watching leaves flipped before storms, listening to the sound of winter winds, smelling storms on the air. I know Autumn is hiding across the Blue Ridge Mountains, a child peeking over and shaping the weather, teasing us, reminding us that summer will soon go on its own vacation and the wind will chill us and drive down the leaves, their red, orange, and yellow as varied as summer green.

But for all my love of Autumn, for all my desire for cool air and the smell of wood smoke, Autumn hurts me. It is the end of summer and the beginning of fall that takes my children from me and forces them back to school and schedules. It’s difficult enough to leave them for work, more so to know that my schedule and theirs conspire to separate something so vital, so elemental, as the time families spend in communion with one another.

Even as I write, my daughter Elysa, a high school sophomore, is finalizing her summer reading. Her brother Elijah, a high school senior, is spending his last days with his girlfriend Tori, who leaves for the University of South Carolina all too soon. My oldest boys, Sam and Seth, will return to Clemson in a few days, closer and closer to independence. The leaves change, the sky is darker, the children are growing up and moving on, with the imperatives and requirements of their own lives, their own passions, their own needs and desires, their own loves.

As difficult as this can be, I recognize that I did the same, as did my wife Jan. And our parents and theirs. This is the cycle, the natural history of the world. We raise and guard our precious children and launch them forth to do the same. And we hope that the chords that tie us remain intact; that the circle remains unbroken.

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Time is Fleeting

What has any of this to do with our work? Our physician lives? The lesson is this: Time is fleeting; life and love are precious. Wives and husbands and children are rare gems in the rolling seasons of life. So waste not, want not, as it were.

The seasons will turn. The clouds race, the school buses arrive, and the graduations loom. In the midst of this, we must never delude ourselves that our money, our directorships, even our retirement accounts will ever be sufficient solace if we look back and feel that we did not use our time wisely with the ones who mattered most of all.

Our work, our patients, our skills all matter to the extent that they help others to live long and well, that they help those parents and children to enjoy the passing years together. Beyond that, they are important but less so than our own people, the ones we are committed to, bound to by vows and rings, by birth and blood, by adoption and choice.

So as the year turns and new opportunities and shifts arise, be honored. But be circumspect. Keep before you the fact that everything changes, but with attention and love, all of our connections can remain intact despite years and geography. If only we value them more than we do our certificates, degrees, incomes and positions.

The clouds will roll and the leaves will fall, my friends, and we might as well watch them pass with joy, not regret.

Copyright © 2016 Wolters Kluwer Health, Inc. All rights reserved.

MonstERs Aren’t so Scary!

MonstERs Aren’t so Scary!
It’s Halloween Emergencies
beneath the cloudy skies,
And every beastie that we see
Is worried it might die.

But ghosts and ghouls that terrify
Are actually big chickens,
They moan and wail and loudly cry
and whine to beat the Dickens.

Wolf-man fears the rabies
from his canine inclinations;
he mauled some little ladies
but he wants a vaccination.

Mummy chased an aged docent,
Now he’s out of breath.
Usually he won’t relent
Until his victim’s gruesome death.

Vampires dapper count their losses,
suffering from many things;
garlic, wooden stakes and crosses,
wailing ‘holy water stings!’

A witch’s coven comes in haste
in fear of deadly toxins;
their brew had such an awful taste
like someone put a pox upon ‘em!

Hulking monster Frankenstein
is quite the sobbing wreck;
while terrorizing villagers
the bolts fell off his neck.

And skeletons of every size,
have bones of all sorts broken;
the orthopedist shakes his head
since all the breaks are open!

By morning all have slunk away,
the blood and fur swept up.
The staff can see the light of day
and cling to empty coffee cups.
Doctors, nurses, medics all
and seasoned secretaries
know this happens every fall;
to them the beasts ain’t scary.

Compared with all the normal nights,
the mayhem and the pains,
the wrecks and strokes and hateful fights
that leave the staff all drained,

The monstrous band of Halloween
does not cause much alarm;
It’s mortals and their earthly woes
that suffer all the harm!

I Love America! My latest Greenville News column.

It’s an ugly political season.  But I still love America!  This is my most recent column in the Greenville News.  Please share liberally.

http://www.greenvilleonline.com/story/opinion/contributors/2016/10/23/ed-leap-love-america/92453876/

Over the Summer I was working in the ER at North Greenville Hospital, doing some temporary work for GHS. I arrived in Traveler’s Rest early one morning to get some breakfast and a drink for work.
As I pulled into a drive-thru, I looked at the nearby gas-station. I was amazed at how busy the place was. And I was suddenly overwhelmed with love for America and her people. It was about 6:45 in the morning, but there were cars and trucks of every variety. I saw utility company trucks and pest-control vans. Those pulling trailers full of lawn-equipment, with mowers and weed-eaters. Electricians, plumbers, contractors, police and EMS workers were getting out of all manner of vehicles. Many essential, difficult jobs were represented, as men and women were headed to work. Motivated by dreams of success, and by love for those they support, they were up with the sun. There were people of every race and ethnicity, many of them working on the same crews, for the same companies, laughing together.
It was going to be a long, hot day, so they were loading up on breakfast, coffee, snacks, water and other drinks. Trucks were being fueled, the staff of the gas station hurrying to keep up. There was an energy there that was quintessentially American. I felt honored to see it.
The wonderful thing is that America and Americans, for all our contentious behavior, remain wonderful. We work and innovate. We strive and create. We educate and parent and look after our loved ones young and old. And despite the reality of bias and discrimination, we are one of the most welcoming nations on earth. We adjust to social changes, we generate and rapidly adapt to technology, and even when it looks bizarre, the average citizen and average politician try to make democracy work.
We are conflicted at times, but usually over means, not ends. We want to help refugees even if we reasonably fear terror. We may worry about immigration but typically enjoy immigrants as our friends and neighbors. We desire to see the poor and their children lifted up. We still, as a nation, want to see justice done. Thus we are equally offended by false imprisonment of the poor and by the way the wealthy and connected sometimes stand apart from the law.
I meet all kinds of Americans in my work. I meet poor, rural Southerners struggling to find jobs, and facing chronic diseases with limited resources. I meet immigrant families trying their best to care for sick children. And even though we live in the South (where popular media loves to paint us as just so hateful), I regularly encounter doting white grandmothers and grandfathers cuddling and adoring their beautiful, mixed-race grandchildren, looking after their sons and daughters-in-law who have different skin colors, and sometimes different languages. I am often amazed at the men and women whose English grammar may not be perfect, but who learn Spanish out of love for a partner; not for a grade in a class or semester abroad.
I see my colleagues care for everyone, with never a thought to treating them poorly because they are gay, lesbian or transgender. I watch as physicians and nurses struggle mightily against the death and suffering of people different from them.
There are churches and pastors, congregations and church groups as well as government and secular organizations (and individuals) who help provide housing for the poor and drive people to work who are battling the nightmare of drug addiction. Those same people adopt children and spend time and money to give food to hungry families.
In America the laborer and the academic are both passionately devoted to fairness and those who never graduated high school are as important to the republic as those with advanced degrees.
Are there exceptions? Obviously. And it doesn’t take many hateful, cruel, manipulative people to cause great damage. ‘A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough,’ said St. Paul.
And yet, the lovely reality is that we remain a great nation, going through a hard time. I don’t know where it will lead. Maybe to darker places, maybe not. But for now in America, the America I see every day that I work, the America that starts the day early and ends it late, working together for common cause, the love outweighs the hatred, the strength outweighs the weakness, every time.
That’s something to celebrate.