Don’t flay the sheep.

Washington Moments

I stuck around in DC for a few extra days after my conference. It was different to be there alone as an adult. I’ve done the DC thing a few times as a kid, and the previous time as one of 90+ junior high kids (a recipe for disaster) Here are a few good and not so good moments:

1. Saturday at dusk I walked through the Vietnam memorial. It is quieter than I remembered–there aren’t as many people there. It felt less fresh in the memory, which is a little sad because it is such a huge gash in our history. But then, coming up out of the memorial, I could see the top of the capitol lit up and I felt mad. I am sick of politicians referencing Vietnam when they talk about Iraq, but not doing anything about it. If they feel that strongly, why don’t they act, and if they want to act now, why didn’t they do something earlier? (On the other hand, I know it must be difficult: if we just leave, it’s something like walking into someone’s house, trashing it, getting its family members to fight with each other, and then leaving them to pick up the mess.) God help us. And I mean that in the theological sense, not the taking-the-name-in-vain sense.
2. I love the National Gallery of Art. Partly because, back on that junior high trip, I think I was dating my love-interest for 5 minutes in one of the galleries when a few intermediaries got us to agree we were “going out.” It was over by the time we got to the National Archives, but it was a good 5 minutes. But really, I love the National Art Gallery. I should have been an art history major. I should have ditched the religion major since I repeated most of it anyway in seminary–this might be the thing I now regret most in my life. All things considered, that’s not too bad a regret.
3. Sunscreen is my friend, and I forgot to pack some. I am a lobster. People at church today seem to think I spent the week at the beach.
4. The pillars of the Lincoln Memorial are really comfortable for leaning against–they have these scallops in them that are back shaped. The back side of the memorial is quiet in the evening.
5. I found the WWII Memorial overwhelming. It was big and flashy. I agree with that war, but it felt triumphant, and I think even good wars are sad.
6. I went for a walk around the White House. I think I saw Air Force 1 take Karl Rove away. That is a moment in history that I’m willing to be a part of.
7. The last time I was there, one of my junior high classmates stuck his camera through the fence bars to take a picture of the White House and many many men with guns jumped out of the bushes and took aim. This time, I noticed what I am sure was a sniper on the roof. I hope junior high kids today are smarter than my classmate.
8. There is a church in DC that has pew kneeling cushions embroidered with the names of each president. Even though it’s across the street from the White House, it’s still a little weird. If you get upset that your church has an American flag in front, but you can’t do anything about it, just think about that and remind yourself that it could be worse.
9. And a true confession: when I visit a place like DC, there’s a little part of me that is convinced that somehow, I’ll be walking around and someone important will think, “Why, look at her. She looks to be someone who has a great intellect and keen theological insights on the issues of the day. And what great hair–with a little work, she might even be good on camera. We could use someone like her in the nation’s capitol.” And thus, I become trusted theological adviser to some important person. God’s way of slapping some sense back into me: the only person who recognized me for someone who might have some theological insight was the lone guy protesting outside the Supreme Court who saw my cross necklace and started saying something about some passage in Matthew. When I ignored him and walked on by, I think he maybe said something about me being in league with the anti-Christ.

All in all, it is pretty humbling to walk around this town and recognize how much power resides there and to hope in the most American little part of your heart that you maybe have some teensy bit of influence. However, I think I might have a stress fracture in one foot from all the walking, too. So, mostly, I just feel woefully out of shape. (And sunburned.)

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