In the midst of our anxiety, we have a cloud of witnesses attesting to the truth of what it really means to be blessed by God.


How we see the light only when it’s dark
All Saints’ Observed C |  Luke 6:20-31

When I went to vote on Thursday, I drove around the one-way streets trying to figure out where to park. I found a spot on the street and crossed. The sun was out. Our unseasonably warm weather confuses my family. We keep wondering when it will finally cool off. Maybe this will be the week we put away the shorts.

I walk past a ribbon statue, which seems to honor life itself, clicking and crunching the leaves, no longer alive. “Vote Here” signs are plentiful here at the back of the building. None visible from the front. I couldn’t see them when I planned to drive here, passing the Courthouse many times, certain that Google had given me the right spot.

But now that certainty is assured. And as I approach the doors, another man comes from the other direction, both of us taking different doors to get to the same line inside.

The line to go through the metal detector.

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