I was going to tell you the story of a flag. One of those disgusting political flags. Those in-your-face, middle-finger-to-the-constitution flags you see around town, you know?
I even drove back around the block to take a picture of it, because what I thought I would be writing about here is how the flag is falling. How one wind storm twisted its staff and half-toppled its cement base. How its flaccid affect can be seen from a quarter mile in either direction. How wide that made me smile.
But then I went for a walk. On this glorious, blustery Winnie-the-Pooh kind of day. I was enchanted by the blue sky and the crisp cold air. I was pushed along by the wind, and even laughed out loud a few times.
It was like the wind blew all of that angsty stuff right out of me. Replaced it with Joy!
And as if to underscore the moment, there was wide and wild wind that roared through the forest, and I watched as these hundreds-of-years old pine trees swayed in the wind. SANG in the wind.
Their roots were deep enough. Their community was supportive enough. And they were strong enough.
They didn’t twist or bend or fall. They resisted. And they sang!
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