It has been one week. Sabbath to Sabbath. That the world turned her attention to the place often in the periphery of being unless the news shatters the perception of innocence and assaults our eyes with the unseeable. Last week, during celebrations for the Jewish people, Hamas hang glided intentions of destruction and rained down terror upon hundreds of young people at a music concert. They indiscriminately killed people, raped women, snatched hostages, all in the space of moments that the Israeli government was unable to respond. It was a weekend. it was a holiday. It was planned. It was barbaric. It was evil. It was inhumane. It was terror. I was offline last Saturday, my television not tuned into the prior week incessant wrangling about the American elections and the will=they-or-won't they of the Republican congress. My husband and I were enjoying much needed respite. Even Sunday, when I took a little road trip up to Vermont to just be, I was not fully aware ...
life, really, and a latte by Tayé Foster Bradshaw