It always seems like a miracle when the tulips bloom (and the deer ignore them). Feels a little like hope.

Let’s form a caravan of hundreds (or thousands?) of cars.

Let’s get together and head south.

We’ll drive through Mexico, down to Guatemala, and make our way to El Salvador. We won’t worry about cartels or bandits because we will stay together, so many of us. We will drive until we reach that notorious prison in El Salvador where they are holding a man who was wrongly deported, a man who Trump is refusing to bring back, although the government admits that he was deported due to an “administrative error.” He has done nothing to deserve this, nothing wrong. Trump is the one who is doing things wrong, but he is playing golf and eating cheeseburgers.

We could get out of our cars and fall on our knees in front of the gates to that prison and pray. Or we could hold hands and sing. Maybe others would join us. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference, but maybe it would.

These are days when I am trying to figure out what to do. Call my representative? He is a Trump lackey who is not holding in-person meetings but only “virtual town halls.” If he was going to have an in-person session, I would like to think I’d be brave enough to go, but not to scream or shout, since that’s not my style anyway.

Some of the folks at Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene’s session earlier this week yelled at her and ended up getting stun gunned and, a few of them, arrested. These folks were the ones who had the audacity to go inside and not be relegated to the outside area that they had marked off for “protestors” (which is just a word for citizens who disagree with her that she is still supposed to represent, no?). But if my Representative Kevin Kiley had an in-person meeting, maybe I could quietly make my way to the front, or go off to the side, and get down on my knees and weep. Just cry out. For all the things that are happening, especially during this Holy Week. To pray silently for justice and mercy and love to win out.

Would they arrest someone who was on her knees praying and weeping?

Probably.

But what would happen if thousands of us gathered and wept, bringing tears to power? Or what if we fell on our knees and were just silent, bringing stunned, mourning silence to  power?

Just something I am wondering on this night before Easter.