September feels heavy

September feels heavy.

Maybe it’s the anniversaries. Maybe it’s the memories that come with them. Maybe it’s the nonstop political noise that seems impossible to escape lately.

This isn’t my normal journal entry. Politics isn’t usually where I want to spend my time. In fact, lately I pretty much hate talking about it.

There was a time when I actually enjoyed a political conversation. I liked hearing someone else’s opinion, even when it wasn’t mine. I liked a good debate. I didn’t need someone to agree with me in order to respect them.

But somewhere along the way, it feels like we lost that.

The left has moved further left. The right has moved further right. And those of us somewhere in the middle are standing here wondering what happened to common sense.

And then there is the Lindsay Clancy case.

Three children are dead. Cora, Dawson and Callan.

I understand having compassion for mental illness and acknowledging the very real issue of postpartum psychosis. But watching women rally around her with “Free Lindsay” has weighed on me. Maybe fifteen or twenty years ago the public reaction would have looked very different.

Somewhere between compassion and accountability, it feels like we’ve forgotten to stop and remember the victims.

Compassion and accountability don’t have to be enemies.

Sometimes there shouldn’t be a team.

Sometimes something can simply be tragic.

The same thing happened after Charlie Kirk was killed. People publicly celebrated the death of someone they disagreed with politically.

I don’t care whether you agreed with one word the man ever said.

Celebrating the murder of another human being because you disliked his politics is something I will never understand.

And then September 11 comes around.

Twenty-five years.

Maybe that’s part of why this September feels especially heavy to me.

I remember a time when September 11 brought Americans together. We weren’t asking whether the person standing beside us was Republican or Democrat. We were Americans.

Now even remembrance seems capable of becoming another political argument.

I don’t like that.

And no, this isn’t me defending Donald Trump.

There are plenty of things Trump says that I dislike. There are things he’s doing that I disagree with. I’m also very aware that politicians make promises because they want votes. Republicans do it. Democrats do it. That’s politics.

Personally, I’d rather see families able to afford groceries, utilities, gas, insurance and everyday life without feeling like their paycheck disappears before the month is over.

But my frustration goes much deeper than one president.

I’ve said this before and I still believe it: sometimes it feels as though people have more hatred for one politician than they have love for the country they all share.

That scares me more than Trump does.

Because presidents come and go.

Political parties gain power and lose it.

But we still have to live next door to one another.

We still have to raise children and grandchildren together. We still have to work together. Sit in church together. Stand in grocery store lines together. Help one another after hurricanes and floods. Mourn together when something terrible happens.

And somewhere in all of this political madness, we’ve forgotten that the person who votes differently from us is still a person.

I know where I stand on certain issues. There are policies from the far left that I will never support, just as there are things coming from the far right that I want absolutely nothing to do with.

I have strong opinions about immigration, taxes, women’s sports, government spending and the direction of this country.

Having those opinions doesn’t mean I have to worship a politician.

It also doesn’t mean I have to hate someone who disagrees with me.

Maybe that’s the part we’re missing.

There should still be room in America for someone to say, “I agree with this. I disagree with that. And I’m going to think for myself.”

There should still be room for common sense.

There should still be room for decency.

And there damn sure should still be room for humanity.

September already carries enough grief.

We don’t need to add hatred to it.