Where the Faith Work Begings

Beloved:

          My 1-year-old grandson just learned to sign “more,” which he uses to mean more food, as well as please go get that ball I just threw?  I spent a good part of yesterday chasing balls to toss back to him.  Next time I’ll remember not to schedule the dog’s grooming the same day I’m keeping the baby.  She lives to chase a ball.  As babies go he’s practically perfect in every way:  a good eater and sleeper who rarely cries and enjoys sitting outside with me watching and waving at the people, dogs, cars and squirrels passing by.  He’s not terrified of the vacuum or the mowers.  He’s content in the car, mostly, and he worships his big sister.
          Yet, what grandmother would say otherwise about her own babies’ babies?  We’d all concede ours are the best of the bunch, the pick of the litter.  Which is why my heart positively falls to pieces when I think of all the grand- mothers this world over who feel equally convinced and called to help raise these babies and yet face the daily obstructions to this most essential work, obstructions which come down to a single word – violence.
          Gun violence, the primary cause of child death in our own country.*  The violence of poverty, of disease, of war, of corrupt politics, of addiction.  None of which is entirely disconnected from the others, and each of which is for the most part preventable, should humanity ever choose to do the work to prevent it.  Of course, like everything else, our work – the faith work – begins not in some legislative realm but in the human heart where the drivers of violence live:  fear and greed, fear and hate, fear and grief, fear and fear, and fear upon fear.  Fear which turns so easily into grief and greed and hate and anger before finally exploding among us as the violence on our streets and in our neighborhoods.
          Just imagine all this work actually getting done – thereby enabling every Abuela, Babushka, Bubbie, Baba, Cacky, Gran, Granny, Gram, Grammy, Grandma, Meema, Mamaw, Nan, Nana, Nin, Non, Nonna, Nonny, Netnet, and Lala everywhere to do her job freely and securely.  Imagine a world full of grandmothers fit as soccer players from chasing wiffle balls instead of dodging bullets or scavenging scraps to feed their families one more day.  I expect we’d all take a great deal more of that. 

~peace & prayers,
pastor annette

* There were 2,526 gun deaths in 2022 among 1-to-17-year- olds, averaging to nearly 7 per day.  I hope you will take the time to read this article.  It takes less than two minutes. 
https://publichealth.jhu.edu/2024/guns-remain-leading-cause-of-death-for-children-and-teens.