Sending Love to Mr. Trump

This little blog has very few followers, yet I feel compelled to tell the few of you why I’m sending love to Donald Trump.

During the seemingly endless months leading up to November’s presidential election here in the U.S., a tremendous amount of  energy – some of it positive,  most of it negative – is being extended by folks squaring off against each other. That’s the nature of politics and, sadly, the seeming unchecked nature of humans. More often than not things come down to the dangerous mentality of Us or Them. To the highly sensitive among us such divisive energy can be quite painful.

I’ve been following election news more than I have done in the past, and with both national and state politics an embarrassment . . .  well, it’s hard not to notice all the conflict and ego; hard not to feel impotent while wanting to do something, any thing, to wake people up to to God’s Prime Directive: Love one another.

Embarrassing as it is to admit, there was a period of time over the past few months when I was on the popular  bandwagon of bashing Donald Trump. Never a name caller, I’m ashamed to say that my personal adjective to describe the man was Megalomaniac. Whether or not the word is accurate, to use it to bash rather than educate was ill-willed. I’d gotten caught up in fear; easy enough to do these days, but not something I’m happy about.

I’d periodically heard Mr. Trump answer various queries “shortly”, saying, for example, “Bad things will happen.” And then I happened to see the news replay of Mr. Trump’s response to Bill O’Reilly’s questions about abortion, that women who abort “should be punished.” Stunned at both his answer and the knowledge that I’d not realized it earlier, I suddenly knew that Mr. Trump was answering and speaking as the unacknowledged wounded child, using a child’s vernacular.

As a counselor who works with and guides individuals in re-parenting themselves and coming to love the child they were and the adult they are, culling out what’s no longer useful in the way of thoughts and behavior, and to eventually come to understand and forgive their parents/caregivers who, I believe, did the best they could, I saw, plain as day, Mr. Trump as a little boy in need of acknowledgment and validation. In that moment I had the thought, “He needs love.”

If not now, when? if not me, who?

I started that minute sending love to him every day with the intention for it to be received at whatever level it can be.

Turning now to the ever faithful wisdom of The Andy Griffith Show, I recall the show’s very first episode, the one where Opie’s caregiver, Rose, is leaving to get married and Andy’s Aunt Bee is to arrive the next day to take Rose’s place. Opie’s fit to be tied and will have none of it, in spite of all his Pa tries to do to help him understand how good a mother figure Aunt Bea had been to him when he was a boy, giving him such good loving. When Bee arrives, Opie ignores her, chooses not to eat her fried chicken that night at supper. “It’s not like Rose’s,” he says (he manages to sneak three or four pieces upstairs). The next morning Andy takes the three of them fishing, spelling disaster (Rose could fish – Bee runs away from the worms). They try to teach her to play baseball (Rose was good at the game – Aunt Bee can’t even hold the bat right side up.) The proverbial last straw is when she leaves open the birdcage in Opie’s room and his parakeet, Dickie, flies away.

Facing facts, Aunt Bee decides to leave the next morning. Opie awakens early to hear Andy and Bee talking in the driveway as he’s about to take her to the bus. Opie runs outside in his pajamas, crying “Don’t go Aunt Bee, don’t go!” Andy asks him what’s happened, saying “Opie, you didn’t want Aunt Bee to stay.” Crying, Opie says, “What’ll happen to her? She  can’t fish, she can’t play baseball!” He then throws his arms around her and says, “You need me!”

The way I figure it, Donald Trump needs somebody’s love, whether he knows it or not. And who knows, maybe somewhere in Time, it will work its way into his hungry little boy’s heart.

If you are so inclined, please consider re-posting this or emailing this to your friends.

Copyright 2016, In Amy Pierce and Spiritual Wonder

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