Weary

I am weary.

I’m weary of being jerked around like a puppet on a string by politicians practicing medicine.

I’m weary of holding virtual, one-sided debates on Facebook and Messenger with invisible people who post links on my page but won’t state why they put them there. It’s like being hit with a paintball by someone hiding behind a wall. Own it.

I am weary of governors and mayors making threats about enforcing mandates and laws they have no legal right to make. The executive branch does not make laws. Congress does.

I am tired of rioters, domestic terrorists in face mask disguise, destroying people’s lives and property and public property while police are told to stand down. It must make our public service employees want to vomit. Or resign. Which they are doing in droves.

I am tired of having the name of a virus shoved down my throat any time I am in contact with my phone or my television or drive down the freeway my tax dollars built while electronic signs tell me to wash my hands and surrender my intelligence.

I am tired of the brainwashing attempts that have taken over every ad and store window in America.

I am tired of the double and triple speak coming out of the mouths of medical people who even to this date admit that they “just don’t know.”

I am tired of people using the excuse “we just don’t know” to keep people enslaved by medical martial law.

I’m shocked by how little any of us know about the constitutional rights left in trust for us by generations who died to protect them. And how easily we have watched, wringing our hands in vain, while political terrorists rip our rights to shreds in full view of television cameras.

I’m weary of the panic. In God we do not trust. In science we trust if it fits with the narrative we believe. In freedom we no longer believe, or we would not submit to the tyranny of politicians who grow rich off our submission and ignorance.

I’m weary of bad news. Of weak governors and mayors who allow their wonderful cities to be stolen and call it “love” and “free expression.” Who sympathize with the frustrations of bored teens and disillusioned college students who drank the kool-aid.

And yet, in all of my weariness and shock and fatigue and disillusionment and boredom and loneliness I have never once thought the best way to express my frustration over stolen freedoms was to terrorize innocent people, vandalize public property, destroy police departments and vehicles, injure other people, and threaten to bring down America.

I am weary. But I am also awake.

I am informed.

I do trust in God.

I do not trust in science or its various interpreters who do not agree with each other yet are convinced we crawled out of a muddy bog and created ourselves.

I am watching.

I am taking notes.

I am speaking out.

I am connecting despite all oppressive attempts to keep us away from each other.

Most of all, I am talking to the King of the universe who sits in the heavens and laughs while the nations rage and imagine empty schemes, counseling together against the Lord. (Psalm 2)

I suggest you do the same. If you, like me,

Are weary.

One Blood

We hold these truths to be self-evident that ALL men were created equal ~

That they are endowed by their Creator with certain essential (unalienable) rights ~

That among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.


The 244-year-old document that includes these words never once qualified people in its sweeping statement.

All this attention on whose life matters has made me nervous when I’ve never been nervous before. It’s the same anxiety I now feel around strangers and friends ever since a virus turned us against one another. Are you afraid of me? Are you afraid I’m afraid of you? Should I avert my eyes in a grocery store lest you fear I’m a carrier—or a racist?

Doesn’t it seem to you like the real enemy bent on destroying our country, our communities, and our lives uses fear, suspicion, isolation, and division as ammunition? It does to me. And I’m sick of it.

I don’t look at people through a grid of color or size or age. I look at their eyes for sincerity. Their smiles for laughter. I listen to their words for understanding. And when we shake hands or share a hug, our connection makes our differences evaporate.

Once again, color is being used as a weapon against us by people who say they’re speaking for us. They’re not speaking for me. Their words are divisive, not uplifting. Hatred is not a problem of color. It’s a problem of the heart.

Did you know we all trace our beginnings back to the same man and woman? Even evolutionary articles admit that. (https://nypost.com/2018/11/24/turns-out-all-of-humanity-is-related-to-a-single-couple/)

Which means:

We are all one blood.

We are all one race.

We bleed the same color.

We cry the same tears.

We did not evolve from amoeba.

We were created in the image of God.

And this skin thing? Ignorance says color makes us different. But the color wheel we all represent means we’re the same. Our common denominator is melanin—a pigment in our skin. If you have too little of it, like I do, you’re gonna roast in the sun like a pig on a spit. If you have a lot of it, the sun is probably your Facebook friend. And I envy you.

Here’s the truth:

It’s not my fault I was born with a freckled, pale complexion.

It’s also not my fault I have English ancestors.

And Irish ancestors.

And black ancestors.

And Native American ancestors.

All of those.

I could check every box on those medical forms that demand to know what race category they can place me in. I’m pretty familiar with my lineage now and, so far, nobody I can name ever even visited Caucasus. Maybe I should just check “other” and let them wonder since Caucasian doesn’t ring true. I’d bet money the same is true of your ancestry.

So, tell me again—how are we different?

No one has the right to look at me and judge my life because of my color, my size, my age, or my sex. No one has the right to judge me even if they know me. They haven’t walked in my shoes. Or yours. It’s nobody’s fault that our genes look like goulash under a microscope.

And maybe that’s the problem—microscopes. Focusing on things that are insignificant instead of admitting how human we all are. Do you think for one minute the Artist Who delights in and splashes color across His landscape prefers one hue above another?

All I know is that I don’t want anyone to come between me and my friends and family by pointing out the obvious and then having the hypocritical nerve to call us racists.

We need each other. We may not understand each other, but we need each other. All the isolation we’ve just endured is evidence enough of that. It’s past time to come out of hiding and stand shoulder to shoulder again.

I don’t care how much melanin you have. I wish I had more of it so I wasn’t afraid to go out in the sun. Most of all, I wish we’d all stop being afraid of each other. Afraid that every person we see will kill us with a virus. Afraid that every skin color represents an enemy.

And afraid that a country paid for with the blood of patriots will soon destroy itself.

If it isn’t self-evident by now that we all are equal, created equal by God Himself, maybe it’s time to put divisive networks and other media on pause and remember the essential rights gifted to us by our Creator.

Your life, your liberty, and the pursuit of happiness by your children's children depends on it.




I am grateful beyond words and moved to tears by the beautiful artwork seen at the top of this piece. Created by the talented artists Siobhan Sullivan and her sister, Cat Sullivan, they showed with perfection the truth of how we are all one blood and can only find freedom when we are united. Thank you, Siobhan and Cat, for bringing my vision to life.