I blinked.
I gasped.
I clicked on additional info.
I grunted my disapproval.
I hummed my agreement.
I spent TWENTY minutes reading comments and replies to comments and replies to replies.
And by the end, I was resoundingly ticked off.
Then came the moment of reflection. (because all my kids are STILL blissfully snoozing, and moments of reflection are only possible during this time.)
Here's what the moment sounded like inside my head:
"Are you kidding me?"
"I cannot even."
"That's the biggest load of..."
"Why in the heck do people ACT like that?"
"Why in the world do people spend their time and energy on that?"
Seriously...I spent 20 minutes reading the tail end of a few news-worthy (and I use that term VERY loosely) updates, and I have nothing, NOT ONE THING, good to show for that 20 minutes of time.
Why do I even bother?
The right-wing will still be the same, whether I am educated on it's views or not.
The left wing will still express hostility for the right wing, regardless of me or ANYONE ELSE weighing in with opposing and/or enlightening info.
The right wing will return the hostility of the left wing with equal ferocity.
There will be name calling.
There will be cursing.
There will be lies and propaganda and misleading facts and half-truths.
NOTHING WILL CHANGE OR BE SETTLED.
And we are all a bunch of birds with our metaphorical wings clipped, because we cared more about destroying the wing on the other side than about anything else.
Dear God. What a waste.
What an absolute load of crap.
So, after a few moments to let the feathers on my metaphorical wings settle from their previously ruffled state, I have decided to confess, to the entire blogging community (well, the minuscule amount of it that will read this post, anyway) something that only a few people know about me. It is a multi-level confession, and will doubtless ruffle the feathers of some readers.
(And now I'm imagining everyone is awaiting my confession with baited breath...and now I'm laughing at myself for the delusional thoughts that creep in when the house is silent...)
Confession: I don't watch the news. EVER. Only the weather, and only if I can't get my weather app on my phone to work.
I barely know who's running for president next year. I only know that because my husband told me about it. I definitely don't watch the debates between the candidates. I can't think of many things I would like LESS than spending my evening doing that.
Confession, part 2: Not only do I not watch the news...I DON'T CARE about most of the crap that is newsworthy.
Well, let me clarify: I would care about it, if I thought for one second that my caring would change anything in any way.
But I am profoundly aware of the fact that my life, my voice, my beliefs on matters that make it to the television, have absolutely ZERO impact on the issues being discussed and debated and lied about and fought over and flung about like grenades.
I CANNOT CHANGE THINGS.
My indignity toward Obama-care doesn't keep that extra money from coming out of my husband's pay-check each week.
My irritation that models always look perfect in swimsuits and I know their photos are airbrushed and why do they have to lie ad make us all feel bad about ourselves...doesn't affect the swimsuit or modeling industry in any way.
My horror at late-term abortions doesn't stop them from happening.
My fury at racial atrocity doesn't cause bigots to rethink their slander.
The only thing that happens when I watch the news or read the news or hear about the news is that my metaphorical wing feathers get ruffled, and then I spend twenty precious minutes (quiet minutes, people...I spent twenty of my very few quiet minutes!!!) reading the angry viewpoints people are hurling at each other, and NO ONE IS CHANGING ANY ONE'S MIND.
Confessions, part 3: I don't care if you judge me for being politically and socially uninformed.
Seriously. I. Don't. Care.
You know what I DO care about?
I care about my daughter learning what it means to be a woman of character, and virtue, and kindness, and grace, and true beauty. I devote my passion to teaching her about modesty, and about sacrifice, and about courage, and about humility, and about honor, and about love.
I care about my sons growing up to be men of valor. Men who love deeply, who apologize readily, who listen compassionately, who protect their family fiercely, who serve the Lord faithfully.
I cannot do anything about the political or social climate. Trying to convince me otherwise is fruitless. I am aware of the arguments that every voice makes a difference. I just don't care.
I'm entirely filled up with caring about the climate of the four little hearts and spirits that are still, STILL, blissfully snoozing down the hall.
THIS HOME is a climate I can affect change in. And someday each of them will have a home of their own, and they can weigh in on the issues of their home, and change can occur within those walls.
My parents shaped the climate of their home, and they shaped the lives of 5 children. The 5 of us have 14 lives we are actively weighing in on every day, which makes 19 lives my parents have affected. And when those 14 kids have kids...
You see where I'm going with this.
I don't care if you judge me for barely knowing anything about anything going on in the world.
My world has challenges and debates and sins and hurts of its own, and that's where I'm focusing today.
Let the rest of it go up in a ball of fire and feathers, for all I care.
Media rant adjourned.
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