Most mornings you can find me looking for a good little story that sheds some light in the local scene. I’ve been looking for a story with some positive lift to it since about five am. It’s not happening. The local scene is weighed down with a whole lot of anger and grief.
I read on Twitter that blogging is obsolete, so perhaps that’s my problem. What can you expect if you’re persisting in an obsolete medium?
Some friends of ours in Baltimore got married in a tiny, physically distanced ceremony over the weekend. It wasn’t the kind of wedding they had envisioned, due to the pandemic, and it wasn’t the timing they had planned on, either. Recent changes on the Supreme Court concerned them enough to move up the date. The love and joy on their faces in their wedding photo far outshines the restrictions, the timing, or the fear of what the future might bring.
Other friends here in town are awaiting the birth of a child. It feels as though all their friends are waiting breathlessly with them, every day checking for good news. In so many ways we are struggling right now, but the prospect of a new baby gives us a sense of hope in new beginnings. We hope the best for our friends because we care for them and wish them well.
If only that sense of wishing the best for others translated more widely in the community, having joy for someone else’s joy even if we get nothing from it for ourselves.
Lastly, I read last night about the death of two people who meant a lot to Columbia. I don’t have enough to write more than that at this point. But for once the responders on social media brought the right mix of condolences and respect, rather than use the occasion to hold forth on their opinions about Columbia. I’m grateful for that. A time of loss is not the time to jump in and try to make one’s point.
Who would do that? You wonder. You would be surprised.
Birth, death, a small and quiet wedding. We rejoice in love and life and mourn those we have lost.
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