Rains and snows came when they were supposed to, bringing much needed refreshing to our community and land. Now, we are in a prolonged drought. We are in a national sacrifice zone with the nation’s largest methane hotspot hovering overhead.
Imperfect, abnormal, disabled in the eyes of the world, “despised and rejected of men,” it is they who meet life with the indomitable strength of the divine realm, while I faint and falter before every obstacle.
But this little plot of land, where my son swings from oak branches beside the bayou . . . where we make mashed potatoes for three instead of twenty-three . . . where I call home . . . is much more than just a settler's trophy. We live in Caddo territory, or so it was before the Treaty of Cession of 1835.
Our reactions and feelings of loss toward having our weekly temple worship stripped away might reveal something of an idolatry within us. Have we become too dependent, too anchored, too confined to the temple walls and to the warm fuzzies we get from the familiarity with our siblings in the church?
Our country is at the boiling point in the divide between these two people groups. We listen to different news sources and make up our minds accordingly. There is a great evil that perpetrates false conspiracy theories with the intent to divide us.