Yesterday the Green Bean Kid said:
"There are monsters in the woods. Scary monsters."
"No, there are not," I answered. "Daddy and Beaux chased them out before you were born. And Mama and I went behind them and checked to make sure all the monsters were gone."
Last week I did something that made me feel immensely adult. I wrote my first letter to the editor. It seems like such an old-world thing to do; yet it was the only thing to be done. It may well and good for us to rant about personal grudges here on the Internet, but there's something in my mind something halfway sacred about a newspaper. Sometimes you read something in print and think, wait - did I really just read that? Is this line of thinking still possible, and if so, why is it in this newspaper?
Sometimes monsters don't want anything to change. They are accustomed to reigning supreme. They resist those blasts of fresh air, any light coming through the windows. But it is the duty of those with chinks of light in their hearts to do battle.
I thought about my outrage and counter arguments for several days. I prayed for a peaceful, loving heart. I handwrote several drafts. Then I typed it up very carefully, and emailed it into the Editor, who may or may not have the balls to print it. I have a feeling his inbox has never been so full.
It felt immensely good to sign my name to something I'd written. I do know that.