Here in Michigan summer is only just now drawing to a close. For most children in the area, school officially begins today. Between the advent of the iconic yellow school buses making their rounds, mums appearing on patio steps and the cider mills announcing their fresh donuts and apple cider, fall in all its glory is here. I tend to mourn the end of summer; the long summer days, lazy afternoons spent at the creek, jaunts up north to my in-laws cabin and Mackinac Island, more ice cream (for the kids) and iced coffee (for myself) than I tend to admit, or permit. After a long winter here, summer here to me is best characterized by light; lightness in being, responsibilities and tangibly at it tends to stay light out until nearly 10pm most nights. However, this year, the summer weighted heavily on my heart. So much went awry in such a short time: terror in Orlando, FL and Nice, France, Black Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, Brexit, the circus that is our presidential race, the quagmire that is Syria, refugees left and right grasping for safe ground and new life. It all felt overwhelming and slightly surreal given that most days my definition of drama involved kids bonking each other on the head with water guns, a toddler melting down in Costco or summer kitchen science experiments going south. I am grateful for my peaceful (at this point in time) little corner of the world but I'm conscious that a price is being paid for it, and many times it takes a conscious effort to not drown in that unbearable lightness of being. How do we live, love, exist in the midst of sheer evil in the world? How do I teach my kids to always do good, look for the helpers and be their best selves in the midst of such despair?
Our summer weekends were coincidentally bookended by two weddings; one in Tacoma, WA, the other here in the suburbs of Detroit, MI. It had been a few years that we had attended multiple weddings in such a short period of time and bearing witness to these marriages, witnessing the joy in the union of two entirely different sets of couples that have decided, amongst the drama in the world, to forge ahead, side by side, together, fanned the flicker of hope that I hadn't realized had all but almost gone out.
I recall the last presidential election, such hope, oh the hope, the audacity that things would change, we would change, all would change. I look back on that time with a wry smile, feeling a bit of pity for the naivety of that young woman who placed so much hope in a system that most likely will always remain a bit broken, but proud of her for continuing to cultivate a hope that so many have lost. Nearly a decade later that young woman has morphed into a mom of three children with a mortgage, minivan, a company and more responsibilities than she cares to have at times, but still chooses (at times hourly), despite all odds, to bet on hope.
May we enter the fall knowing that our labor, emotionally and physically, has not been in vain; to remember that there are still people out there willing to make lifelong covenants to each other, who hope for a better future; with the knowledge that teachers, government officials, doctors, nurses, pastors, lawyers, employees of all levels, will forge ahead in their spheres of influence, buoyed by the notion that tomorrow will be a better day, with such hope in what is yet to come.