A reflection on D.C.

On Saturday morning, I had a chance to visit the National Archives. In addition to seeing John Adams signature (I love that man), I was fascinated by a record book they had on temporary display from the Freedman's Bureau. It was a record of the first black American marriages recognized by the state. It recorded names, dates, ages, number of children, causes of divorce, number of years lived together, as well as color of skin. Under the section entitled "color of skin" they not only said black or white, but yellow, copper, mulat, dark brown, etc. What an wonderful way to recognize differences that make each of us unique rather than divide us into opposing teams. One of the incentives for black Americans to marry was to hopefully avoid being separated by the slave market. Still, there were several who were "divorced" by cause of being "sold."
A second record was displayed nearby that listed known killings and beatings of black Americans. It was saddening to see the large numbers, the names of the perpetrators, and the manner in which the harm was administered.
That night I read again the address written on the left wall of the Lincoln memorial and marveled at the man he was and what his words and actions did for this country. I sat at the pool on the Mall and watched a swirling kaleidoscopic sunset illuminate the stunning memorial built for that man. I was impressed by the juxtaposition of the creations of God and the creations of Man.