Rain clouds have moved in, the weekend’s here, and so is the Rodeo. You can already smell the mix of sweat, dirt, bulls, and, well, some good ol’ bullshit. It’s that time when the town gathers—drinks in hand, gossip in full swing, kids mutton-busting, and everyone just staying connected. But today, I’m not feeling it. I feel disconnected. Isolated. Attacked, even. And honestly, it’s because my son feels that way. That whole empathy thing got me good today.
His so-called “friend” isn’t allowed to be his friend anymore. Those carefree days are over, cheapened by whatever mess led up to this. The way he was treated and the abuse he endured is more than I can swallow. Especially when this “friend” stood in front of me this morning, staring at me with those dark eyes, smiling like she had no clue the pain she’d caused. I wasn’t happy to see her.
The ugly words that come out of her mouth—it’s hard to imagine she starts her days at Catholic class. She sits in church, probably praying, with the same lips that spew hatred toward the friend she used to care about. She talks like an enemy, full of contempt, spouting off things about having male genitalia and telling people to, well, suck it. She puts all the blame on him, calling him names and telling him to shut his “fat mouth.” But it’s funny, because the only voice we ever hear is hers.
This division, it’s pulling everyone in, like quicksand. You don’t even realize how deep you’re in until you can’t get out. It’s a trap, an encampment that can hold you prisoner if you’re not paying attention. Everyone’s walking around with masks over their eyes, hiding the truth, pointing fingers, turning people into villains and victims. The reality is, though, everyone played a part in the ugliness. They all threw out hurtful words. But only one of them tried to throw out a little love.
That love? It came in the form of a heart emoji, believe it or not. It wasn’t sarcasm, snark, or anything sexual. It was a small, tired attempt at saying, “I’m over this.” The heart followed the words, “Once again, all about division,” and it was his way of offering a little pity-love. Despite being knocked down, he was trying to stay in the light, trying to leave the argument behind for the night.
Just another day of being a Christian in modern-day Babylon.
