The green, green grass of home

Walking along the cycle path, I am struck by how vivid a green the grass is wearing today, stark contrast to the gold and reds and browns of the trees.

Leaves turn from green to brown heading into winter; grass turns from green to brown in the height of summer. It is almost as if one solution to the challenges of life does not fit all.

I listen in on their conversation. This, too, is striking. The trees do not belittle the grass, nor the grass rail against the trees. Instead, each one compliments the other, and with good reason; the whole is more beautiful than any of the parts.

As I drill down in Red States and Blue States, I notice that, broadly speaking, urban counties turn blue and rural counties turn red (and this would be mirrored in the UK, although we use the same colours with the opposite symbolism). Almost as if one solution to the challenges of life does not fit all.

Elections are not zero-sum game battles over the soul of a nation (though they often feel that way). The real struggle is to love one another, to love your neighbour as yourself, including the injunction to love your enemies as your friends. The battle line is drawn not on a map, but in our own heart.

Consider the trees and the grass of the field. Or urban park.