Yes, Jillian, There Is Goodness   The seven year old came home from school upset that her aunt might lose her health care. Auntie’s health care allows her to be a functioning member of society because she has a pre-existing condition. No teacher, nor her mother, told her this. Rather, she is a bright and inquisitive child who soaks up the information around her. No child should have be in tears at the thought of watching someone they love needlessly disappearing into the voices in their head and possibly being found dead in an alley somewhere.   Yes, Jillian, there is still goodness. I know it is hard to see. It is there, that hope is always there. You probably don’t remember this, but when you were younger you were afraid of the dark and all the things that went bump in your mind. That fear caused you to wake up in fear, call your mom’s name, and be in tears by the time she got there.   When you calmed down, your mother would walk you, with your four-legged stuffed friend under your arm for protection past every door and window to show you they were shut, you were safe, and nothing could get in. Back to bed, you would drift off to sleep secure in the knowledge of your mother’s love. In the morning, as the light came in, you discovered that your closet was still your closet and your floor, your floor. And you would laugh at how irrational you were the night before.   We adults have the same irrational fears of the darkness and terrors of what might lie just behind the closet door. Sadly, our worries seem grander, sometimes overwhelming, and keep us up more nights than we like to admit.  Instead of listening to the voice of our mother’s love, we too often listen to those who out of their own interests seek to take advantage of our fears. They create monsters and boogey men out of the darkness so that we stay scared and forget that our closet is just our closet and our floor just our floor.  They turn us against each other for their own power and greed until we cannot see our brother is not our brother, nor our neighbor as our neighbor. They cloud our minds with fears and falsehoods until we cannot lose our common humanity. That tall or short, rich or poor, big or small, some of us might walk with a limp and others a tad slow, we all are loved in equal measure by the same God.  We are judged not by the greatness of our accomplishments or the strength of our economy, but how the least of us suffers and falls.   Yes, Jillian, there is goodness. Even when things are darkest, we all wake up in the light.  I know it might not seem that way, especially in the darkness. Your mother has taught you to love a God who walked among the poor, feed the hungry, and carried the weak.  He healed the centurion’s servant, the lepers, the hemorrhaging woman, the crippled man and the one with the withered hand. One’s successes or failures, their poverty or wealth, had nothing to do with his healing hands.  Although we adults forget it sometimes, He taught us to love so that we could love like him in return.   Although they have different words and stories, your Jewish, Muslim, and Hindu friends are bathed and nurtured in that same love. Even those that have no faith share in that light.     The rich and the powerful, even those that whisper to our fears in the night, making us fear the darkness, they have the same hopes and fears for their children and grandchildren and kneel before their God in the light.  Too often they don’t hear the heart of the stories they claim to love and repeat. Yet, drip by drip, sometimes it seems so agonizingly slow, like the morning light finding its way through the night, that love and goodness cannot be denied.   Yes, Jillian, there is goodness and sometimes we have to join hands to be that light. Have faith in that light.  
Yes, Jillian, There Is Goodness   The seven year old came home from school upset that her aunt might lose her health care. Auntie’s health care allows her to be a functioning member of society because she has a pre-existing condition. No teacher, nor her mother, told her this. Rather, she is a bright and inquisitive child who soaks up the information around her. No child should have be in tears at the thought of watching someone they love needlessly disappearing into the voices in their head and possibly being found dead in an alley somewhere.   Yes, Jillian, there is still goodness. I know it is hard to see. It is there, that hope is always there. You probably don’t remember this, but when you were younger you were afraid of the dark and all the things that went bump in your mind. That fear caused you to wake up in fear, call your mom’s name, and be in tears by the time she got there.   When you calmed down, your mother would walk you, with your four-legged stuffed friend under your arm for protection past every door and window to show you they were shut, you were safe, and nothing could get in. Back to bed, you would drift off to sleep secure in the knowledge of your mother’s love. In the morning, as the light came in, you discovered that your closet was still your closet and your floor, your floor. And you would laugh at how irrational you were the night before.   We adults have the same irrational fears of the darkness and terrors of what might lie just behind the closet door. Sadly, our worries seem grander, sometimes overwhelming, and keep us up more nights than we like to admit.  Instead of listening to the voice of our mother’s love, we too often listen to those who out of their own interests seek to take advantage of our fears. They create monsters and boogey men out of the darkness so that we stay scared and forget that our closet is just our closet and our floor just our floor.  They turn us against each other for their own power and greed until we cannot see our brother is not our brother, nor our neighbor as our neighbor. They cloud our minds with fears and falsehoods until we cannot lose our common humanity. That tall or short, rich or poor, big or small, some of us might walk with a limp and others a tad slow, we all are loved in equal measure by the same God.  We are judged not by the greatness of our accomplishments or the strength of our economy, but how the least of us suffers and falls.   Yes, Jillian, there is goodness. Even when things are darkest, we all wake up in the light.  I know it might not seem that way, especially in the darkness. Your mother has taught you to love a God who walked among the poor, feed the hungry, and carried the weak.  He healed the centurion’s servant, the lepers, the hemorrhaging woman, the crippled man and the one with the withered hand. One’s successes or failures, their poverty or wealth, had nothing to do with his healing hands.  Although we adults forget it sometimes, He taught us to love so that we could love like him in return.   Although they have different words and stories, your Jewish, Muslim, and Hindu friends are bathed and nurtured in that same love. Even those that have no faith share in that light.     The rich and the powerful, even those that whisper to our fears in the night, making us fear the darkness, they have the same hopes and fears for their children and grandchildren and kneel before their God in the light.  Too often they don’t hear the heart of the stories they claim to love and repeat. Yet, drip by drip, sometimes it seems so agonizingly slow, like the morning light finding its way through the night, that love and goodness cannot be denied.   Yes, Jillian, there is goodness and sometimes we have to join hands to be that light. Have faith in that light.