Dear Family

The table is set.

The turkey is carved, the bread is broken, and the wine is poured. The windows are slightly cracked and fresh, new life air is streaming in, carrying the waves of rich fulfillment with every oscillation. There is nothing here at this banquet that is withheld from you. You are invited and there is enough for everyone. But, oh, the things we tangle ourselves with. Though the fragrance pass just now and again through the nostrils of the family quarreling in the living room, the chef and servers stand ready to bless your weary, aching hearts with the most healing fruits and rich desserts and belly warmth, if only we would end the scalping, the stabbing, the unholy spray of spit and searing speech. A banquet room of refreshment and grace is waiting around the corner just as soon as we drop our blades and purge our poison.

* * *

To those of color:

I hear your cries. I see that you're hurting. I see that you are desperate for your soul to be heard and I see that you want to be seen by the rest of us. I see that you long for a society that bestows your dignity as it does its founders. Regardless of media sensation or the vengeful narratives spray painted on city streets, our country's history has not proven kind to you. Wickedness of the father carries on through the generations and we don't realize just how young we are. We claim "all men are equal" yet too often, our true beliefs, our actions, do not match that claim. How many more decades must pass for us to learn? You are not simply an individual. You're a member of a family whose past is sacred and marked with scars and pain and injustice. What wisdom do you have to share to the rest of us? What profundity could come of your sure suffering inflicted by ancient sin?

We need to hear your voice.

To those sworn to serve and protect:

You've sacrificed so much to be our nation's sheepdogs, volunteering for a line of work that sees you bear so much responsibility for the reprehensible. You worked so hard for your badge and desire so deeply to uphold an ideal, an ideal that says our streets should be a welcome, secure place for children and pets and families of any shape and size. You patrol our corridors late at night while the world slumbers. You've prevented more dark unrest than we know to thank you for. You're terribly taken for granted. But you continue to volunteer your services for the sake of what you uphold. Your family knows the sincerity of your work and adapts to your incredibly demanding schedule. Your organization may not be perfect - it shares that trait with any institution conjured by humans - but every day, you take a risk on others' behalf. What can you tell us about protecting our own homes?

We need your dedication.  

To the LGBTQ community:

You have traveled a road many of us cannot relate to. To engage in the greater community, to find your place in our tribe, has presented barriers I cannot imagine. In your heart, you do not wish ill on anyone and only want to make sense of your life and where you can find meaning there. And there is certainly meaning there. You have more to contribute to our country's well-being than most of us realize. Your struggle is not in vain, even if it is largely misunderstood. You don't deserve labels other than a human being that carries a divine spark just like the rest of us. You are loved. What can you teach us about love?

We need your story. 

To the Veteran:

You did not volunteer to go to war to come home to an America that was at war with itself. You freely choose to risk the ultimate sacrifice so that a mostly ungrateful people could continue to thrive. You know better than any of us the price of peace and freedom. You know that these virtues do not come without a bitter fight. You know the nature of that battle. You look around and see so many taking that for granted. It is all of our responsibilities to pitch in to that fight, to make sacrifices to buttress that peace. You happen to be the one that carries an M4. As you trained to disarm IEDs, engage in close quarters combat, jump out of airplanes, maintain our aircraft, submarines, tanks, hovercrafts, and aircraft carriers, you keep the fabric of this country's pillars maintained. Downrange, you experienced the brutal end results of racial and cultural unrest. What a tremendous amount you must have to tell us about in our own.

We need your leadership. 

To the young women: 

How much incredible potential you have to breathe life into our world. You face a challenge this author never will. In many ways, this may seem like a man's world you have to navigate. You may well have experienced inequality rooted in our ancient sins and it stings. You're compelled to fight back, to make a stand, to engage in good work and show the world just how strong you are, just how capable you are, just how much you matter. But men are not your enemy. You may feel objectified, taken for granted, and suppressed by the opposite sex. And those things happen and it's not okay. But most of your brothers want what's best for you. They want to see you succeed. It's just that the amplitude of hatred issuing from those that do not have a terrible tenancy to drown out those that do. The energy you have to overcome can change the world. How much more are you capable of?

We need your tenderheartedness. 

To the young men:

You face a modern challenge that many of your ancestors did not. America has lost its healthy initiation rites it needs to launch its young kings and princes into their God-given roles. You may have felt forgotten, left out in the wake of a backlash against wrongs not your own, and hope may feel lost. You're having trouble finding your place in a tribe that so desperately needs you to take up your cross and carry us into the next generation. You are a load-bearing creature, designed to do good work and carry a burden. And we have plenty of burden that needs carrying. While it may sound daunting, it is through this suffering that you will come to know who you are, and there's nothing better than that. You will receive scars, be pierced by thorns and wrapped with thistles. You'll learn betrayal and the high value of trust and it will come at a very high cost. But this is the way. No one else can show us that way but you. While you're on that journey, remember just how immensely valuable the female spirit of our world is, regardless of what surface stories may or may not tell. What boundless ideas do you have that are yet to be discovered?

We need your diligent spirit. 

To those of other minorities: 

Your family chose to find posterity in this crazy human experiment emblazoned on a statue near Ellis Island. We opened our arms to peoples of many tongues, faiths, colors, and ethnicities but weren't prepared to receive you as we should have. This land's original native founders can attest to this. But this was a beautiful experiment, for many tribes to collectively join as one like no other country every has. God only knows what we can accomplish when the Indian, native and eastern alike, have a place at the negotiation table. Your particularities that some of us find odd are the very thing that give our colorful nation its attractive light on our hilltops. For over 200 years we've tried to understand how to give you a voice, too, and we're continuing to figure that out. What can you teach us about patience and long suffering?

We need your courage. 

To the God-fearing:

You were raised with your eyes set on the stars. You've been taught that there's such a thing as real good and evil and you want nothing more than to see God's goodness triumph over the devil's evil. As you engage in this holy calling, remember that the dividing line between good and evil runs right down the center of your heart. The most radical and powerful change you will see in this world is within yourself. The spirit is far more mysterious than we could ever understand. Whenever you see anything across our chaotic landscape that resonates authentic love, peace, and hope, that spirit can only have one source. That Source moves in such unsearchable, hidden ways. When you encounter what you deem wrong and you are compelled to do something about it, remember that a hand of compassion and a mind of humility are your models. God joins in His creation in its suffering and so, too, do you. How much can you teach us about compassion?

We need your prayers. 

To the politician:

You've chosen a profession more rife with danger and traitorism than most could ever imagine. Change was your cause and public service was your station. None of us realize how complex a job it is to keep a Government on its feet. The mystery isn't why our State doesn't collapse into ruin. The mystery is how it is upheld at all. You volunteered to represent us. You are us. You have an office that enables the rest of us to pursue life, liberty, and property. What do you receive in return for your efforts? Mostly pitchforks and torches. But you are us. You've answered a call to participate in democracy, a revolutionary ideal millions of years in the making, and it couldn't happen without you. Where on Earth is our sympathy?

We need your service. 

To the skeptic: 

You are a student of history. You know the capacity for human gullibility and you're not going to join a mass that follows an ideology. You have so much to offer. Humans have fallen for so much, making decisions not on rational, inclusive dialogue but on the charisma of nefarious leadership. Today our country cries out for action. What action appeals to you? What are you compelled to do now? You cannot find your meaning in questioning alone. As the last sun sets on your life, you'll say you were only on a quest for truth. You'll contend that your criticisms weren't to burn the world around you down but to discern what is truly good and what is seriously harmful. What have you found to be truly good?

We need your discretion.

To those with prejudice in their hearts:

You have been hurt. Someone has wronged you or your family or your family before you. In your effort to protect those you love from harm, you've erected walls to keep out those things you've deemed a threat. And boundaries are good and healthy and everyone needs to learn to sort the wheat from the chaff. But we must also remember that keeping bad things out is only half of the job. We must also let good things in. Sometimes those good things come in a package that we're not familiar with, wrapped in a color seemingly unsavory. But just because something is unfamiliar doesn't make it bad. The caveman had to venture from the fire if he ever wanted to discover anything new and wonderful and vital to the thriving of his tribe.

We need your swords to plowshares. 

* * *

The table is set.