Today I was a mama ninja. Or maybe it was the old middle school teacher in me, buried but not gone, that instinctively ran toward the fight that broke out in the parking lot of my daughter’s school at the end of the day.  There were two boys, one bigger than the other. There were spectators, a whole group of girls and boys together, some with phones out, ready to film the fun.  There were no other adults around.  It must have been a planned scuffle. Nobody just wanders up to that isolated parking lot, home of the Nordic ski shed and auto shop.

At first,  it seemed like the boys were roughhousing, throwing mock punches.  Until one grabbed the other by the hood and threw him on the ground.  This act of violence propelled me out of the car, across the parking lot and into the crowd.

“Cut it out! Back off! Go away! Move along!” I shrieked.

Clearly, I am not very intimidating. It took long seconds and a lot of shouting on my part before the kids scattered and the fighters disappeared.

I don’t know what would have happened if I wasn’t there. Maybe not much. I am glad I was there, though.  I am glad no one was injured.

I wonder now if I could have done something differently. Earlier that morning, I had enjoyed two centering prayer sits with my weekly prayer group. We then watched a few minutes of a Fr. Keating video which talked about the spiritual senses. I was full up of silence and basking in the time spent with my centering friends. I never dreamed that just hours later I’d be shrieking like a mad woman at a bunch of teenagers in a parking lot.

I wonder what would have happened if I had wandered out of the car and been quiet, if I had stood by the boys and waited? Could silence de-escalate a fight?  At the time, it didn’t occur to me. My initial response to the violence was to unleash some loudness of my own. What would Fr. Keating have done?  Gandhi?  Mother Teresa (now St. Teresa)?  I imagine them carefully exiting their cars, breathing deeply, walking slowly, and raising their hands in peace and blessing. I can’t imagine any of them shouting like I did.

I’m not sure I will ever get there. I have a lot of inner work to do before the silence is that deep in me. Still, it’s an interesting idea. What would it mean to bring the power of prayerful quiet to scary, even violent situations? I hope I don’t encounter another fight anytime soon. If I do, though, maybe I’ll remember this and respond in a different way.  Maybe I’ll just be a prayerful mama, no ninja required.

Donald Trump has been president a little over a week now.  I don’t recognize the world anymore.  I am wondering what to do now, because it doesn’t seem right to continue doing normal things. How can I go to Costco and browse when Muslim scientists are being denied entry into the country?  How can we watch movies on Friday night, buy pizza, ski on a beautiful sunny morning when refugees are turned away and “alternative facts” are preached as truth?

Here are other things that don’t matter much anymore: the Super Bowl. Shoe trends. Brad Pitt’s dating life. Oscar nominees. All of this was interesting before.  Now, it seems unimportant, trivial, even distracting. When I check my Facebook feed, I am so consumed by the news of each new executive order, that when something unrelated shows up, it makes me crabby, especially ads. You want me to buy your Doctor Who shirt now, or subscribe to your better living podcast, when the world as we know it is changing right before us? Have you lost your mind?

I worry about the international students, home in their native countries for winter break, who can’t get back to their classes and lives here.  Or the Syrian families, approved and vetted, finally slated for arrival, who are told when they are on the plane that they are not wanted after years of waiting.  A friend told me about a Syrian family who delayed their trip here so they could attend their daughter’s wedding. It was just a few days. Now, it seems like they might never be able to come.

I can’t go on like everything is all right. I can’t feel a little bad, shake it off, then head to the mall.

One of my neighbors is starting a political action group. A few people in our little town will meet for the first time at her house Thursday. I have never been part of a political group before. I have to go now. I am hoping that nationwide there will be thousands of new groups like this, full of people like me who are stunned, shaken, and no longer able to feel better by binge watching a season of “Once Upon a Time” on Netflix.

I am still practicing centering prayer through this, and am trying to drop below my angst and be still.  Underneath, there is quiet. Always. So today. Today, what are my hooks? Clearly, I am insecure about the future, and deeply aware of my lack of power. I am not in control of any of this, of Trump or the Republicans, who seem so gleeful for their current state of power that they don’t seem to care about the suffering Trump’s orders will cause.

One of my favorite places on the internet is the website for the Center for Action and Contemplation.  Franciscan father Richard Rohr founded the center, and often talks about how contemplation should lead to action, that prayer is just part of our call.  Sometimes, I’m aware of Jesus meeting me in the silence of my centering prayer times. Actually, he is always there. I just often miss him, because I am easily distracted and move from my sacred word to my grocery list.  When Jesus has my attention, though, at the end of my prayer time, he taps me on my shoulder and tells me it’s time for us to move along.  He reminds me that he was a big fan of refugees, prisoners, and small things like flowers and birds.  The powerful and religious establishment? Not so much.  I love that about Jesus. I think Jesus might even appreciate our little political action group and show up there.  It seems like a good start. Who knows what we will do.