Budding flowers....not bombs

So here we are again. March has arrived - and with a quickness that always surprises. The daffodils are sprouting out of the earthen pot sitting near our front steps, and the sky is gracing us with longer days and the occasional warm rain shower.

Tomorrow, I'll be marching downtown with some members of my church to remember the 5th anniversary of our adventure in Iraq. I feel a strange numbness to war these days - my anger about it feels worn and ragged and dull. Pressing on against this illegal and immoral act - in the face of mass apathy, devastating personal loss and everyday American living has turned out to be a real challenge. I used to spend my days (especially before fatherhood) railing against what I believe to be a wrongheaded and unelected presence leading our country. When 2004 came and went, it was like adding insult to injury. Would it ever end?

Five years along....I feel empty inside. Like my generation couldn't pull away long enough from the distractions of mid-life to rise up and say "no more of this". Part of me knows that the dice were loaded...the media programmed to disconnect us....and that we would have to do even more than those who protested before us to wake the nation up.

And so I go out again. Maybe it will rain. Maybe it won't.