My Rambling Thoughts

  May Not the month. Just my reflective thoughts at three in the morning. During this season of my life, I found myself saying, “I can’t do one more thing.” Not out loud necessarily, but in my head. Sometimes several times a day. I didn’t think I could do one more Monday. I didn’t think I could set that alarm one more time, get dressed, put on a smile, and head off to work pretending that everything was perfectly fine. But then Monday came and somehow I did. I got up, got ready, grabbed my coffee, and headed out the door because people were counting on me and life didn’t really care if I was tired. I didn’t think I could spend one more day worrying about the people I loved. My daughter had surgery on her feet. It was outpatient surgery and everyone assured me it would be fine, but if you’re a wife or a mother, you know those words don’t always quiet the thoughts in your head. You still worry. You still wonder. You still imagine every possible outcome and then try to convince yourse...

In 2013, we took an extended tour of Western Europe and Hungary. One of the places we visited was the Dachau concentration camp—located not on the outskirts of civilization, not hidden deep in the woods, but in the very center of town. The same center of town it occupied in the 1930s. The homes, the streets, the daily routines—largely unchanged. The biggest difference today is the absence of the busy rail lines that once brought human beings into what was described as a “work camp.” When local citizens questioned what was happening there, they were told it was for protection. That the Jews, the Gypsies, the mentally ill were being kept safe. That they were learning skills, contributing to society. That this was the best option for them. The explanation was accepted. No one asked again. That may be the most disturbing part of Dachau—not just what happened inside the camp, but how ordinary life continued all around it. Trains came and went. Smoke rose. Bureaucracy functioned....