On Wednesday, Beangirl spotted kids with buttons in the line-up before school.
On Thursday, Blue said that one of the kids in his class was “an undercover No voter.” Apparently, he wouldn’t talk about it at home, but at school, he was all for the Union. (Beangirl reminded Blue that, like him, this kid was five years old and didn’t get to vote. Pithy and logical, my girl.)
On the walk to school on Friday, we counted twenty posters in windows.
On Saturday morning, the regular soccer club was cut short because crowds were gathering for a large march of No voters. I chatted with one of Blue’s friends as he took off his shin guards and put them away in his kit bag for another week. He told me that if Scotland left the UK, we’d be lonely and England would be lonely for us, too.
The Scottish referendum on independence has definitely permeated the primary school.
And I’m tired of it.
I’m tired of buttons. And signs and posters. Tired of friends declaring that they are Yes voters or No voters. I’m tired of crowds and marches and protests and leaflets. Enough already.
Except it isn’t enough. There are still several days left before the Scottish independence referendum on Thursday and tired isn’t an option. These are days to get through. Come what may.
Now, I should say, I do have a vote. My fatigue isn’t about powerlessness or detachment. I think that what tires me out about the whole process is how entrenched and all-pervasive it has become. Everything is about the referendum. Everything. Emotions are high, and everybody is getting critical. I find myself scanning my friends for buttons, their windows for posters, looking for indications of which side they support. It has all become rather us and them.
I felt glad not to be preaching yesterday. The lectionary readings were stacked up for a doozy of a sermon, one way or another. Forgiveness and the mandate to not judge others though their faith may be weak. And, of course, the crossing of the Red Sea and the creation of the nation. Goodness me, you could barely have picked a better handful. Anything you said would be cause for delight and alarm in equal measure in these charged days. But sitting in church yesterday, it occurred to me that one (read: me, myself and I) should never feel smug when not in the pulpit. Any more than one should feel smug in the pulpit. Smugness is a smiling form of self-congratulation and blatant criticism of others.
I heard an excellent piece of advice once at a conference. Some of the speakers had been a little shall-we-say rough, and many listeners were finding things to complain about. But in a small group conversation, one man gently challenged us and reminded us that it is always easy to find faults. The trick is to find the wisdom.
Whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:8
(And, I confess, that nugget stayed with me much longer than any other remark, criticised or not, from that conference. Isn’t that the way?)
So, looking for wisdom, here’s what I find today.
I am glad for the political system which gives not only voice, but power to individuals to work for change when they see the need.
I am grateful for the peace which is protected by this system, that those who seek change can do so without violence.
I am encouraged by the creativity and intellectual effort of all who work to have their views shared.
I am inspired by the optimism, passion and vision of those on both sides of the debate who seek only what they see as the good and prosperous way forward for a nation with many ideals and many relationships.
These are all good things, aren’t they?
I hope to hold onto those in this week of so many voices and so much feeling. As for Thursday itself, I’ll be down at the polling station at the primary school bright and early. To have my say, of course, and then to pitch in with the other parents. We’re using the day off school to get together in the playground because we’ve got work to do. There are new sandboxes that need to be built. And it’s time to dig up the potatoes, too. There will be new plants and bulbs to tuck into the soil. We’ll be getting our hands muddy together. Which sounds just about right to me.
