Kathleen McQuillan

Last Saturday morning, following a good night’s rest, I awoke inspired, ready to embrace a brand-new day. It was 5:30 a.m., and while I was still lying quietly in the dark, unbeknownst, hell was breaking loose in the Middle East.
I fixed my first cup of coffee then sat down for a sip. Before looking over my to-do list, I opened my phone and scanned the headlines. The lead stories were all about a full-scale U.S.-Israeli attack on Iran. The “Peace President” had just launched America into another war.
He’d been giving inklings about this move for a few days, but I wasn’t prepared. As he dodged questions at press conferences, his war team was following orders to deploy massive air and naval power across the region. The main target was Tehran. He’d ignored the constitutional prerequisite that Congress debate and approve any such action. This incursion didn’t warrant an exemption from the rule. Iran was not showing any signs of imminent threat to our nation. Trump successfully kept the American people in the dark and was now positioned to make his move with no clear motive or cause for immediacy. Just a post on Truth Social at around 1:30 a.m. CST. The stated goals were broad and rather vague. Some analysts conjectured that it might have been triggered by frustration among U.S. negotiators. I guess the diplomatic process over Iran’s development of defensive ballistic missiles and their nuclear energy program was moving more slowly than preferred. This shocking announcement of the start of another war hit me hard.
Journalists stationed there for the British News Service were sending reports, photos, and live videos of the bombings. Large plumes of smoke and flying debris rose from damaged buildings. Haunting images, taken at midday on Sunday, Iran’s first workday of the week, showed city streets filled with people frantically searching for haven, or streets utterly absent of any human activity — evidence that a major attack was undoubtedly underway.
I continued to scroll for more details. My newsfeed suddenly jumped to YouTube video footage of historic events during the 1960s civil rights movement. There was Selma, Alabama’s famous demonstration on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, March 7, 1965. Others showed members of the Ku Klux Klan, dressed in their white robes, carrying burning torches. These images sent a shudder through my body. Especially disturbing were those of Jim Crow-era lynchings. The still shots were followed by filmed interviews with well-known black and white entertainers, writers and civil rights activists of the time discussing slavery and forms of racial injustice in the South. As I listened, up came childhood memories of the 1967 race rebellion in Detroit, pent up rage after years of unrelenting inequality and police brutality. It lasted five days and damaged the community in ways far more profound than just burned-out buildings. Forty-three people died and 342 were injured.
With their stamp of authenticity, the videos provided documentation of one of our country’s darkest times. They captured the fear and sense of urgency that permeated American society. These images from our history would be preserved for generations to come.
Now we’ve entered another dark period. Since Trump entered political office, our lives have been infected with a never-ending stream of frenzied emotion, a mixture of fear, confusion, conflict, division, unchecked lies, and corruption. In a 2025 poll by the Partnership for Public Service, people’s discontent with government showed up at an all-time low. Sixty-three percent of Americans not only reported lacking trust in their government but also a lack of faith in its competence.
History continues to be made every day. Since Trump’s return to office, it’s not very pretty. You can bet there’ll be concerted efforts by White House loyalists to whitewash stories of his illegal actions while in office. From his attacks on Venezuela’s fishing boats and the removal of their president, to this current military assault on Iran. His cavalier threats to take possession of Greenland and his clearly articulated strategy to bring down the Cuban government, beginning with a worldwide embargo on imported essential goods, like food and crude oil. Trump’s goal is to strangle the Cuban economy. When its people can no longer endure the suffering, their government will likely collapse, opening the island to a possible U.S. takeover. A plan crafted by a bully.
After hearing the announcement of Operation Epic Fury and stumbling upon the archived newsreels from America’s mid-20th century, seeing these images of rampant hate and mayhem, made me weak and feeling queasy.
I needed to find comfort. Instinctively, I retreated to my bed. Drawing the covers to my chin, I lay there and wept. My chest felt heavy, like my heart was going to break. All I could do was wait in silence for my tears to subside, breathing slowly until I’d regained my composure. My relief came from deep within, a place where my untapped faith and courage reside. It took some time and effort before I was ready to rise and face the day.
Sometimes life throws wild pitches. We hope for a solid hit that’ll carry us around the bases. But sometimes, balls fly foul. Nearby fans quickly duck and cover. Sometimes, there are “swings and misses.” Three will send us shuffling to the dugout, head hanging, demoralized, seated alone, buoying ourselves up until we find our way back into the game.
No one can do the work required to turn our emotional pain into something that’s useful. In sports, we might get a good coach who can help guide us to our inner resources. In other areas of life, we might have to look a little harder. This is when our closest relationships matter.
Family members, friends, people from clubs, church, or a good neighbor can all be sources of wisdom and experience. People who can share some insight and remind us to go within. These are folks who strengthen our resolve “to keep on keepin’ on.” That’s resilience.
In times like these, the need to be emotionally resilient is more important than ever. Simply put, it’s our ability to get back up when we fall down. I think I’ve said enough for now, but I urge you to google resiliency and you’ll find a lot more about ways to stay upright at a time when we’re being beaten down by bad news. It’s been almost a week now since I was immobilized by my grief. I’m wondering now if, embedded in the horror of another war, is a message that portends the need for increased preparedness and courage. I want to renew my commitment to peace-making.
Our coping abilities are stretched thin. If we want to make things better, peace and love must be at the heart of our efforts. We can build stronger relationships. Ones that will feed our desire for social justice and guide us in our actions, even when we’re surrounded by a climate of hate and destruction. It’s time to soften and listen. Encourage and be encouraged. I’m ready to work with others through our differences, lock arms in solidarity with goodness and intention, build on our shared values of cooperation and community. I think our futures depend on it. And if this message strikes a chord, come stand together on Saturday March 28 for the 3rd No King’s Rally to be held at Cook’s Downtown Community Park from to 5 p.m. It’ll be a beautiful day! Speak your mind and bring your sign!