What was I thinking

On the spur of the moment, I looked up a friend on Facebook. I found him easily, a childhood friend from the neighborhood, I recognized his picture with his wife and an elephant on one of his world cruises. So, I sent a “friend request” to which he replied. It was only then that I saw the mistake I had made. Thereafter I saw various postings that he “liked” which were of a very conservative, pointed nature. Am I the only one on Luke Avenue to have voted for Clinton?

Judging from the tenor of posts on FB, I’m not a screaming liberal nor a mealy mouthed conservative. I guess I’m more of a progressive. I believe that taxation is good in that it supports the institutions that our society values: education, roads, social services, public safety. I support a single-payer system for health care. I believe in the two-state system in Israel. I think there should be term limits for all elected government officials. My friend, on the other hand, (in a drunken state I think) supported Arapaio the last time we discussed politics. That was many moons ago. I didn’t think that one through.

So, the vitriol on FB is heating up again to the toxic levels it was before the Nov. 8th. Time to limit my time there and to pursue more worthwhile activities. I’m enjoying the book by David Brooks The Road to Character. It’s very adult and makes me ponder about my life choices. Although I claim to have had the vocation of being a priest (with a small p) as a pastor and a social worker, I left it all behind when the option of retirement came along. Of course, ill health may have had something to do with that. To leave Long Beach, my friends, my volunteering activities, the beach, my condo and to return to Phoenix to THIS house — most people thought I was crazy. People in Long Beach, that is. Family in Phoenix have welcomed me back after my self-imposed exile.

So, I rattle around in this big house, in decent health given all the maladies I’ve got going for me, and I attempt to fill each day with usefulness and opportunities for growth. I’m on the brink of volunteering at the St. Joseph the Worker which aids in work development for the disadvantaged. I’m toying with the idea of joining a home group. I still plug away at the gym and plinking away on the keyboard. I do love my naps.

So, even though I’m here in Phoenix, amid howling wolves of cranky conservatives, I pray for serenity each morning and “gird up my loins” to discern God’s will in my life as it unfolds before me. Miracles only occur in the present tense. Like panning for gold, I keep my eyes open for the shiny nugget of God’s grace amid the muddy gravel before me.


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