breaking faith

Unintentionally but nevertheless, up early, two-thirty-something o'clock, coffee, this mug with milk for the early stomach. Out onto 7H porch to check the shrimp boat wreck's red light, the weather, sky and moon

quite nice, though I missed a pattern of moon and clouds that changed in the ten seconds or so it took me to rush back inside for my phone camera to snap a shot. I won't say "It always happens," because it actually doesn't, but actually it does.

News early, to see if Ukraine's long anticipated Spring Offensive has begun: apparently not. Not checking US news because it's overwhelmingly discouraging, hopeless, and opinion and comment are futile; inexplicably a nation bringing ourselves down, in my very own Time. My father's generation would be appalled, not to mention breaking faith with our Founding Fathers.

But Psalm 90 has Good News: so soon passeth it away, and we are gone. My friends, life is short, and we haven't much Time. Most of my generation born in the 1930s are beyond agonizing about our shameless stewardship of that which was passed along to us as sacred national trust, indeed the stewardship of our dominion as lords of the earth.

What will be today's? In yesterday's national display of irresponsibility, some obtuse Texas congressman was quoted defending prayer as a solution, saying he is a Christian and God is in control. What outrageous, nonsensical mindlessness. Is the congressman thinking that in answer to prayer, God will say a Word and the problems we have created will disappear? What idiotic Christianity, faith of fools. God does not control, God created us in his image and gave us dominion, we are in control, trusted to be responsible stewards.

These are the same crusaders of inconsistency whose faith drives them to protect the innocent unborn by banning abortion but/and whose intellectual grasp doesn't extend to protecting the innocent living by controlling access to means of murder. We elect and are governed by imbeciles, which reflects not on them but on us who vote for them; God help us, but God who surely despairs of us, turns our prayers back on us: we are not only the problem and the question; we are the answer. Except that we are blind to ourselves.

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On another front, early morning reading included yet another essay on failing to prepare to the max for sure and certain impending natural disaster. From the Politico online magazine this morning, "A Disaster the Size of Multiple Katrinas Is Building Off Washington's Coast - - a sudden and deadly marine shock will strike the Northwest coast: what locals call the Big One, a circa 9.0-magnitude offshore earthquake generating tsunami surges reaching 60 feet high or more. ... 70 miles past the outer coast, two slabs of planetary crust are locked in a titanic struggle. One, the offshore Juan de Fuca Plate, is what’s left of a continent-sized plate that has for the past 200 million years been intermittently sliding under the larger North American Plate, an actual continent, in a process called subduction." Last occurring in 1700 and its period overdue, a sure and certain catastrophic natural event.

Meanwhile, the Yellowstone Caldera super volcano rises and falls like a breathing sleeping monster: "Past volcanic eruptions that have taken place at Yellowstone National Park have been global disasters."

Or, preordained, a mountain-size meteorite that's been hurtling toward Earth since not long after yeh-HI, the Big Bang?

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What will get us, or y'all. Something natural that's beyond our control, or human stupidity that is entirely within our control?

As written, most of us are already in that realm where death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain. No worries for us.

Or maybe John McCrae had it right:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

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A busy day looming, things to do, places to go, and people to see.

RSF&PTL