as hell, apparently. It's not as if I didn't know I've gained weight. It's not as if I don't see myself in the mirror after I get out of the shower. It's not as if I don't realize my clothes don't fit. I'm aware of my weight gain. I'm also aware that I'm 47 years and 7 months old and my skin is sagging; I have sun damage on my face; I have wrinkles around my eyes and between my eyebrows and across my forehead. I am aware of all these things. Trust me. But why do strangers, friends-of-friends, people I might know because they know my people feel comfortable telling me I'm fat and wrinkly? Oh right, they're trying to help, and it's on social media so it doesn't count.
We've all received the friend request from a person whose name seems familiar. We check with whom they are friends and find commonality, so we accept the request. They aren't looking to be friends; they are looking to improve your life (a life they know nothing about) by making you look younger or keeping you from being so dang fat. Yes, I can unfriend them or unfollow them, but the damage has been done. I've already read what you think of me. You think I'm not enough the way I am. You think I need improvement.
Let me be clear, I appreciate the hustle. I love that you are providing for your family. Hats off to you. I'm not talking about the people with whom I'm actual friends posting offers on their timeline. It's THEIR timeline. Get your money, honey. I'm talking about folks who don't really know me sending me direct messages or a friend request, so they can sell to me.
Maybe you've seen me walking my dogs and noticed my butt is big. Maybe you've seen me in the grocery store in yoga pants and my husband's t-shirts, because my clothes are so uncomfortable I can't wear them, and I refuse to buy another size, because I know how to get in shape (move more, eat better) and am determined to do it. Maybe you just saw my face in my profile picture and thought it to be a little too round. Thought that I could use some help. I'm sure you had my best interest at heart. I'm sure you were thinking of a bill you needed to pay, and this is your job, so you should be doing it. I'm sure you wouldn't walk up to my chubby, lined face on the street and tell me I'm looking old and you have the solution or I'm looking overweight and you can help with that problem. I'm sure of this, because no one has done that. But scrolling Facebook, you felt comfortable offering (inadvertent?) subtle criticism along with a your simple solution.
What you didn't see, I'm assuming, in that picture is my genuine happiness. My husband loves me. All of me. And I may not be thrilled with my body, but after lots of hard work mentally and emotionally, I love me too. Do I want to BE fit and healthier? Yes. Does that mean "skinny"? No. A weight loss plan that doesn't including moving more is just weight loss. It's not a healthier lifestyle. It's not making me stronger. It's not building muscle and helping my balance, which will truly serve me as I age. It's just simply looking better, so maybe people who don't know me won't think of me as fat anymore.
What you also don't see is the hysterectomy scar running most of the length of my stomach. I got that scar last August. I went into the hospital and they cut me open like a c-section, but we didn't leave with a baby. Nope. I left brokenhearted, feeling a little less like a woman, mourning the loss of potential motherhood via my own body, this time for sure and forever. My husband left with a wife who was sad and broken and he unable to fully remedy it.
So I ate and I sat on my ever-growing butt. After a hysterectomy you literally feel the empty space where your uterus once lived. Your organs feel like they are moving to fill in the spot that's now empty. Did you know that? Sitting here, writing this nearly a year out, I can feel it. That blank space. So, I tried to fill that emptiness with the S'mores blizzards and cake and potato chips. That obviously doesn't work.
See, I know how I got into this shape. You don't. You weren't here for that journey. I appreciate your wanting to help me reach my goal weight, lose 40 pounds in 40 days, de-bloat my belly. But I don't need that. I don't need someone else commenting on my body, because for several months now, I've been telling myself how disgusting my stomach looks. How jiggly my thighs are. How my butt looks like it has a shelf on each side. I've been avoiding going out because of it. I've said it, and your simple offer, says that to me. As unfair as of me to feel that way it might be, it does. I know I'm reading a lot into a blanket sales pitch, but that's how communication works, it's what the listener gets out of it. I get out of that "marketing" that I'm overweight and need help.
My value isn't my weight, I tell myself. You're the sexiest woman I know, says my husband. You look so pretty, say my stepdaughters. But somehow, your voice telling me I need to lose weight and do it fast is louder. That's my fault, not yours. You're just doing your job. You're just trying to help. But I gotta do it myself for myself.
Here's my point, if you don't know me, don't friend request me to sell me weight loss products or anti-aging products. I have real friends who are selling the same thing, as do most folks on Facebook. If I want that kind of help, I'll get it from them. Again, if we're friends, SELL YOUR STUFF. No harm. It's the stranger whose intention is to remind me that I need improvement, physically, that can cause hurt.
Today while walking my dogs (and picking up their poo - my goodness DO THAT if you have dogs. Geez, I shouldn't have to say that but my lawn says otherwise), two women in two different vehicles smiled enormous smiles as I crossed the street. One gave me a huge wave. Two women I don't know. While I was walking and trying to remain invisible, ball cap pulled down, over-sized shirt to cover my butt and gut, feeling fat because another person sent a message telling me they could help me lose weight, these woman saw my face. They saw it and smiled. True, real smiles. I walked a little faster. I held my chin up a little more. I felt encouraged.
So maybe do that. Encourage each other. Send me a message saying you think I'm doing great. Or send one that says you are struggling and need lifted up. I promise you, I'll encourage you in anyway you want me to. I will give you my best smile and a big wave and a "way to go, I see you working at your goals". I'll most certainly be cheering you as you walk through your hell. I'll not focus on your scars and wrinkles and weight, I'll be too busy cheering your success and joys to even notice.
Again, I'm not against the hustle. I struggle with strangers acting like friends to sell me something to change my body when I've not asked for it. That hurts. It shouldn't, but it does. Perhaps just think about it for a moment before you hit the friend request button.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Wednesday, February 6, 2019
Words...
like shoes, matter. They wound and heal. They can share your fears, loves, joy, sorrow. They give and they take away. They love and they break hearts. When they are whispered, they can make you smile with delight or blush with embarrassment. When shouted, they can excite and encourage or destroy and incite. They save you and they escape you. They can be heaven and they can be hell.
I have a love/hate relationship with words. Their meanings seem to change depending on who is using them. Their relevance decided by the youngest among us. We can manipulate and convince folks that lies are truth. Sometimes, I can't find the right ones, good or bad, to tell you exactly what I'm trying to tell you. Frustrating, that's a word that fits.
I remember being young and thinking the descriptors my parents used were, like totally gross. Can you imagine saying "You dig, man?" or "That's so groovy!" Conversely, I cringed when my mom would use our current vernacular. "Jump back" out of my mom's mouth would make me roll my eyes. And now, some of the phrases my stepdaughters' use would be absolutely mangled in my mouth. They say "extra" to describe things not just ask for more mayo for their fries. It's all very confusing and makes me feel so antiquated.
I have noticed, though, that some words which have always had the same definitions, important words, heavy word, have now become throw-aways. Due to overuse or incorrect context (in my opinion), their meaning is diminished. So much so, that when we use them as they were originally intended, they can't express our depth of feeling or our intent. And we're left without the words we need.
Friend. Best friend. Remember what those meant before the age of social media? Best friend is the first person I told when I got my period and lost my virginity. Best friends are the ones who showed up when my dad died, when I lost my babies, when I had a hysterectomy. They were there when I found my big, crazy love. They cheered for me from afar when I married. They are on my team, even when I'm not,
They've also shared everyday little things.Their friendship is made up of thousands of moments and memories. They've been there and done that with and for and to you. They hold your memories. They are gentle with your heart and your mind, but they are also a leopard print shoe in the tush when you need it. You have argued and disagreed and taken breaks from each other, but you always, always find your way back, because that's what true and loyal and real friendship is made of. You find it hard to have a new "best friend" when you've had a real one. (Of course, a life change can create an opportunity for a new best friend.) You find it impossible to use the phrase so easily when you've experienced the love of a kindred spirit.
Friend or best friend has now become a "confirm" click on a keyboard. Instead of years in the trenches with someone, sharing and trusting, it's a thumbs up. If we get real, some of our "friends" on social media are really just people we knew whose life we want to search. We want to see if we are better, smarter, more successful than they are. We want to complain about their world views, they hairdos, and what they are up to. We are friends in order to pick them apart.
So friendship has devolved into simply a pass-time. A word with less meaning. Best friends change daily. They become the person in the latest selfie with you or who you spending time with this weekend. I'm concerned that if the word loses its meaning, soon friendship will too. I hear words like "we're close friends" and what that means is "we talked crap about the same person" or "we sat beside each other at a ballgame".
There are times when I think the word "friend" simply isn't big enough. It doesn't say everything I need it to say. I also think that about the word "love". We use the same word to describe how we feel about ice cream as we do about how we feel about our dogs. We love our spouses and our children, but not in the same way. I love my bed. I love moisturizer. I love my husband. Those things are not equal, yet one word is all we have to describe how we feel. I'm thinking that started long ago, just like what we're doing with words like "friend". It meant something big, something particular and then we decided to toss it around like candy at the end of a parade route.
I looooove that chair. I looooove you man. I'll love you forever. Love isn't a big enough word for how I feel about my husband. I try to think of words that do describe it and find my vocabulary lacking. What if we had different words that described the love of a friend, how you love your pets, what you feel for you children? They would be so specific and so precious, we'd all understand. We'd all know what you meant when you said it. No confusion. And you would feel satisfied when you used the word that their depth or type of feeling was being clearly expressed.
Literally...don't get me started on that. Unless you are in that moment dying, you aren't literally dying. Hater is used to describe anyone who doesn't agree with you, not necessary someone who hates. Hero is someone who bounces a ball and also someone who defends our country. Patriot, well that's anyone who agrees with our politics and yells it loud enough. We've robbed these words of their intended use.
Words need their weight. They have to have heft and intensity and poignancy. They must have true meaning. We are charged with making them do their jobs. We must keep them real and true. We can't just toss them out without their definitions motivating their use and keep ourselves true to their purpose. We need to find ourselves more frequently at a loss for them instead of just grabbing on and using them without thought. Even me. There's really no hell here. Not in my life or my writing. Fresh or otherwise. There's literally friends and best friends instead of hell. And always the search for the word that explains love.
I have a love/hate relationship with words. Their meanings seem to change depending on who is using them. Their relevance decided by the youngest among us. We can manipulate and convince folks that lies are truth. Sometimes, I can't find the right ones, good or bad, to tell you exactly what I'm trying to tell you. Frustrating, that's a word that fits.
I remember being young and thinking the descriptors my parents used were, like totally gross. Can you imagine saying "You dig, man?" or "That's so groovy!" Conversely, I cringed when my mom would use our current vernacular. "Jump back" out of my mom's mouth would make me roll my eyes. And now, some of the phrases my stepdaughters' use would be absolutely mangled in my mouth. They say "extra" to describe things not just ask for more mayo for their fries. It's all very confusing and makes me feel so antiquated.
I have noticed, though, that some words which have always had the same definitions, important words, heavy word, have now become throw-aways. Due to overuse or incorrect context (in my opinion), their meaning is diminished. So much so, that when we use them as they were originally intended, they can't express our depth of feeling or our intent. And we're left without the words we need.
Friend. Best friend. Remember what those meant before the age of social media? Best friend is the first person I told when I got my period and lost my virginity. Best friends are the ones who showed up when my dad died, when I lost my babies, when I had a hysterectomy. They were there when I found my big, crazy love. They cheered for me from afar when I married. They are on my team, even when I'm not,
They've also shared everyday little things.Their friendship is made up of thousands of moments and memories. They've been there and done that with and for and to you. They hold your memories. They are gentle with your heart and your mind, but they are also a leopard print shoe in the tush when you need it. You have argued and disagreed and taken breaks from each other, but you always, always find your way back, because that's what true and loyal and real friendship is made of. You find it hard to have a new "best friend" when you've had a real one. (Of course, a life change can create an opportunity for a new best friend.) You find it impossible to use the phrase so easily when you've experienced the love of a kindred spirit.
Friend or best friend has now become a "confirm" click on a keyboard. Instead of years in the trenches with someone, sharing and trusting, it's a thumbs up. If we get real, some of our "friends" on social media are really just people we knew whose life we want to search. We want to see if we are better, smarter, more successful than they are. We want to complain about their world views, they hairdos, and what they are up to. We are friends in order to pick them apart.
So friendship has devolved into simply a pass-time. A word with less meaning. Best friends change daily. They become the person in the latest selfie with you or who you spending time with this weekend. I'm concerned that if the word loses its meaning, soon friendship will too. I hear words like "we're close friends" and what that means is "we talked crap about the same person" or "we sat beside each other at a ballgame".
There are times when I think the word "friend" simply isn't big enough. It doesn't say everything I need it to say. I also think that about the word "love". We use the same word to describe how we feel about ice cream as we do about how we feel about our dogs. We love our spouses and our children, but not in the same way. I love my bed. I love moisturizer. I love my husband. Those things are not equal, yet one word is all we have to describe how we feel. I'm thinking that started long ago, just like what we're doing with words like "friend". It meant something big, something particular and then we decided to toss it around like candy at the end of a parade route.
I looooove that chair. I looooove you man. I'll love you forever. Love isn't a big enough word for how I feel about my husband. I try to think of words that do describe it and find my vocabulary lacking. What if we had different words that described the love of a friend, how you love your pets, what you feel for you children? They would be so specific and so precious, we'd all understand. We'd all know what you meant when you said it. No confusion. And you would feel satisfied when you used the word that their depth or type of feeling was being clearly expressed.
Literally...don't get me started on that. Unless you are in that moment dying, you aren't literally dying. Hater is used to describe anyone who doesn't agree with you, not necessary someone who hates. Hero is someone who bounces a ball and also someone who defends our country. Patriot, well that's anyone who agrees with our politics and yells it loud enough. We've robbed these words of their intended use.
Words need their weight. They have to have heft and intensity and poignancy. They must have true meaning. We are charged with making them do their jobs. We must keep them real and true. We can't just toss them out without their definitions motivating their use and keep ourselves true to their purpose. We need to find ourselves more frequently at a loss for them instead of just grabbing on and using them without thought. Even me. There's really no hell here. Not in my life or my writing. Fresh or otherwise. There's literally friends and best friends instead of hell. And always the search for the word that explains love.
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
What would you do...
if that thing, the belief that winds you up and makes you raise your fist, was suddenly gone? I'm talking about you winning your cause, then what would you do? What if the fire in your belly was suddenly put out? Would you become part of the solution or would you find a fresh hell?
My timeline is absolutely full of people posting what they are "pro" or "anti". Guns, family, America, walls, Veterans, confederate flags... and on and on and on. What if the thing you are PRO or ANTI (capitol letters, hundreds of memes, "I hate..."), was resolved in your favor? Then what?
The thing I'm seeing most lately is anti-abortion or pro-life. There's a difference, you realize? At least to me. In the broadest of terms, anti-abortion means you don't believe any abortion should ever be performed. Pro-life means believing all lives are sacred and it's our duty to care about all those lives. Even if we don't look like that person, agree with the person, their lives are still something we cherish. No matter what they have done, if you say all lives are sacred then you certainly must behave that way. Right?
I'm not here to talk about abortion or anti-abortion. I'm not going to try to convince you to think one way or the other. I'm not going to judge anyone for believing what they believe. I'm here to talk about calling oneself "pro-life" when one really means "anti-abortion". I'm asking you what you are really doing to make an abortion unnecessary for someone else? I'm asking you what are you really doing to help the women who are making the decision in this moment whether to terminate their pregnancy? Are you actively part of the helping or simply doing the judging?
I see many rants/pictures/reposts of absolute rage and hatred towards women who have abortions. I see "murderer" "trash" and "sluts". I read comments from women saying if they met a women who had an abortion they would "beat the $hit" out of them. Women who have abortions should be stabbed, shot, drowned, tortured and burned. If you are "pro-life" how do you reconcile that with wanting to kill women?
I've read stories of women who have chosen to terminate a late-term pregnancy because their child would come into the world gagging and clawing for air, seizing and writhing in pain. I've read about men who've had to chose who dies... their wife or their baby. I've read about a mother choosing to save her own life because when she said she'd do anything for her children, she had to pick between dying for one and living to take care of the others. And I've read the comments. The absolute hate and vitriol and "I would never" from women and men who have no idea what that must have felt like. Instead of "Christ-like love", I see hate on a demonic level. Jesus forgives, but commenters don't.
I read posts about people marching and I wonder how many crisis nurseries the money spent (fuel, hotels, airfare, food) could fund. I see the protesters outside of abortion providers and wonder if there isn't a more helpful way they could spend their time...a way that could actually provide a solution for a woman who believes this is her only choice.
I read the posts online and I wonder what else that person is doing to help. Because frankly, posting hate and rage and passing along information that is sometimes true and sometimes propaganda doesn't seem to be ending abortion.
If you really want to end abortion, truly end it, outlawing it won't do it. It just won't; women will have them illegally. So you're not really ending abortions, you're just ending legal abortions. What if we focused our time and energy and money on making abortions due to economic situations unnecessary? What if we created a true alternative? You can say adoption, but look at all the kids in foster care who never are adopted. Look at kids with special needs who can't find a home.
The abortions I'm discussing here are specifically women who make this decision based on their economic circumstances. Based on research, women have abortions for multiple reasons, often chief among them is financial inability to care for a child. So let's just work on that for now.
What if abortion due to lack of financial capacity to raise a child stopped tomorrow? Would you be done or would you step up and help all those women and men who carried their babies to term and now don't have the ability, means, or help to take care of that child? Are you doing that now?
Are you offering the woman walking into the clinic a ride to her prenatal appointments? Will you take her child to school when she can't? Will you take that child into your home when its sick so the parents don't have to choose between taking off work to stay with them because daycare won't take a kiddo with a fever and putting food on the table? Will you help with clothes and toys, books and medical expenses? Will you pay school fees and help get their kid to ball games? Will you do all that until the child is 18? Or will you stand with your signs screaming and name calling?
Which do you think is the more effective approach? Which do you truly think will change a woman's mind? Social media posts or actual help? What are you doing now?
Will you volunteer at a crisis nursery? Will you be more understanding of the parent using SNAP or WIC or will you continue to post about "deadbeats" and "the government tit"? Will you text about the mom in the doctor's office using a medical card? Going so far as to snap a quick picture and post with the comment, "This is what's wrong with America." Will you call for the mother to be drug tested, because she must be a druggie to be on government assistance? Will you march for free birth control or will you loudly joke about "keeping their legs together" if they can't afford a child?
Will you be aware and grateful if you are fortunate enough to have parents, family and friends who supported you when you became pregnant or are still helping you and/or your partner take care of your children? Will you judge the mom who takes her 16 year old daughter to get birth control? Will you be righteous because you have help and support and belittle those who don't or will YOU become the support? Will you donate coats and clothes and toys without having to show everyone on social media that you did? Or will you take pictures of the parents and kids receiving your "charity" caring more about your recognition than about their dignity?
I do pray to end abortion. I do. But I know that prayer has to have legs and helping hands. Condemning and judging and hate flying from your mouth and fingertips absolutely will never end abortion. It won't or it would have already. Doing, being, supporting and helping might.
When you see that little momma in front of you swiping her SNAP card, instead of taking inventory of what she's wearing and what kind of cellphone she is using, how about seeing if you can help? Entertain someone's children in the waiting room instead of posting about "trash" on public assistance. Ask the single parents you know if they need help getting their children to and from school/appointments/sports or if they need a break. How about instead of posting, you start helping.
Believe me, I understand the outrage. I also see the heartbreak. I also know that people will do what feels like the biggest payoff for them. For some people, it's relishing the delicious feeling of righteous indignation. It's the rush of the rage. For some people it's feeling superior. "I'd never do that; I'm better than you." For some people it's hiding their own regrets by getting everyone to look at someone else. I understand it, but it creates no change. It solves nothing.
If you were doing all of the above things, then you probably wouldn't have as much time to carry that torch and pitchfork; you'd be too busy cradling a baby or dropping someone's child at soccer. You'd be too busy bearing one another's burdens to press post and contribute to their hell.
My timeline is absolutely full of people posting what they are "pro" or "anti". Guns, family, America, walls, Veterans, confederate flags... and on and on and on. What if the thing you are PRO or ANTI (capitol letters, hundreds of memes, "I hate..."), was resolved in your favor? Then what?
The thing I'm seeing most lately is anti-abortion or pro-life. There's a difference, you realize? At least to me. In the broadest of terms, anti-abortion means you don't believe any abortion should ever be performed. Pro-life means believing all lives are sacred and it's our duty to care about all those lives. Even if we don't look like that person, agree with the person, their lives are still something we cherish. No matter what they have done, if you say all lives are sacred then you certainly must behave that way. Right?
I'm not here to talk about abortion or anti-abortion. I'm not going to try to convince you to think one way or the other. I'm not going to judge anyone for believing what they believe. I'm here to talk about calling oneself "pro-life" when one really means "anti-abortion". I'm asking you what you are really doing to make an abortion unnecessary for someone else? I'm asking you what are you really doing to help the women who are making the decision in this moment whether to terminate their pregnancy? Are you actively part of the helping or simply doing the judging?
I see many rants/pictures/reposts of absolute rage and hatred towards women who have abortions. I see "murderer" "trash" and "sluts". I read comments from women saying if they met a women who had an abortion they would "beat the $hit" out of them. Women who have abortions should be stabbed, shot, drowned, tortured and burned. If you are "pro-life" how do you reconcile that with wanting to kill women?
I've read stories of women who have chosen to terminate a late-term pregnancy because their child would come into the world gagging and clawing for air, seizing and writhing in pain. I've read about men who've had to chose who dies... their wife or their baby. I've read about a mother choosing to save her own life because when she said she'd do anything for her children, she had to pick between dying for one and living to take care of the others. And I've read the comments. The absolute hate and vitriol and "I would never" from women and men who have no idea what that must have felt like. Instead of "Christ-like love", I see hate on a demonic level. Jesus forgives, but commenters don't.
I read posts about people marching and I wonder how many crisis nurseries the money spent (fuel, hotels, airfare, food) could fund. I see the protesters outside of abortion providers and wonder if there isn't a more helpful way they could spend their time...a way that could actually provide a solution for a woman who believes this is her only choice.
I read the posts online and I wonder what else that person is doing to help. Because frankly, posting hate and rage and passing along information that is sometimes true and sometimes propaganda doesn't seem to be ending abortion.
If you really want to end abortion, truly end it, outlawing it won't do it. It just won't; women will have them illegally. So you're not really ending abortions, you're just ending legal abortions. What if we focused our time and energy and money on making abortions due to economic situations unnecessary? What if we created a true alternative? You can say adoption, but look at all the kids in foster care who never are adopted. Look at kids with special needs who can't find a home.
The abortions I'm discussing here are specifically women who make this decision based on their economic circumstances. Based on research, women have abortions for multiple reasons, often chief among them is financial inability to care for a child. So let's just work on that for now.
What if abortion due to lack of financial capacity to raise a child stopped tomorrow? Would you be done or would you step up and help all those women and men who carried their babies to term and now don't have the ability, means, or help to take care of that child? Are you doing that now?
Are you offering the woman walking into the clinic a ride to her prenatal appointments? Will you take her child to school when she can't? Will you take that child into your home when its sick so the parents don't have to choose between taking off work to stay with them because daycare won't take a kiddo with a fever and putting food on the table? Will you help with clothes and toys, books and medical expenses? Will you pay school fees and help get their kid to ball games? Will you do all that until the child is 18? Or will you stand with your signs screaming and name calling?
Which do you think is the more effective approach? Which do you truly think will change a woman's mind? Social media posts or actual help? What are you doing now?
Will you volunteer at a crisis nursery? Will you be more understanding of the parent using SNAP or WIC or will you continue to post about "deadbeats" and "the government tit"? Will you text about the mom in the doctor's office using a medical card? Going so far as to snap a quick picture and post with the comment, "This is what's wrong with America." Will you call for the mother to be drug tested, because she must be a druggie to be on government assistance? Will you march for free birth control or will you loudly joke about "keeping their legs together" if they can't afford a child?
Will you be aware and grateful if you are fortunate enough to have parents, family and friends who supported you when you became pregnant or are still helping you and/or your partner take care of your children? Will you judge the mom who takes her 16 year old daughter to get birth control? Will you be righteous because you have help and support and belittle those who don't or will YOU become the support? Will you donate coats and clothes and toys without having to show everyone on social media that you did? Or will you take pictures of the parents and kids receiving your "charity" caring more about your recognition than about their dignity?
I do pray to end abortion. I do. But I know that prayer has to have legs and helping hands. Condemning and judging and hate flying from your mouth and fingertips absolutely will never end abortion. It won't or it would have already. Doing, being, supporting and helping might.
When you see that little momma in front of you swiping her SNAP card, instead of taking inventory of what she's wearing and what kind of cellphone she is using, how about seeing if you can help? Entertain someone's children in the waiting room instead of posting about "trash" on public assistance. Ask the single parents you know if they need help getting their children to and from school/appointments/sports or if they need a break. How about instead of posting, you start helping.
Believe me, I understand the outrage. I also see the heartbreak. I also know that people will do what feels like the biggest payoff for them. For some people, it's relishing the delicious feeling of righteous indignation. It's the rush of the rage. For some people it's feeling superior. "I'd never do that; I'm better than you." For some people it's hiding their own regrets by getting everyone to look at someone else. I understand it, but it creates no change. It solves nothing.
If you were doing all of the above things, then you probably wouldn't have as much time to carry that torch and pitchfork; you'd be too busy cradling a baby or dropping someone's child at soccer. You'd be too busy bearing one another's burdens to press post and contribute to their hell.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
And days of ...
auld lang syne. Do you know what it means? Times long past. That's what it means. It seems like this time of year we all seem very melancholy about how it used to be. We become nostalgic for the loveliness that was visited upon us over the past year, and we pause and get a bit misty eyed as we begin to shake off the dust of the old year and walk hopefully into the new.
But not this year. Our nostalgia for "times long past" reaches further back, beyond 2016 which is now scorned and disparaged and, dare I say, hated. Frankly, I see why. The performing arts community has lost some beloved members, our country seems divided in ways those of us fifty and under haven't experienced. Divided by money and power, race and religion, popular and electoral, gender, sexuality... the list goes on and on.
One of the saddest divides seems to be between those who hope and those who are in despair. There are those who are frightened and confused and oppressed. There are those who have become embolden -- for good and for bad. There are those whose voices now roar and those who have been reduced to a whisper -- again for good and for bad. Those who are seemingly irrecoverably lost, irreparably broken, irreversibly hurt. And we wish for old times past when they were whole. When we were all whole or at least we were more whole.
But in the middle of this darkness, fear, despair, gloating, greed, rage and arrogance we find beautifully bright lights. These lights, the people who carry them will show us the way home... the way to the before we broke ourselves, individually, as a community, as a nation, as a civilization. It was not perfect, our humanity, it really never was but it was striving to do better. I believe that most people have a centering spot inside them, sometimes deep but often near the surface, that wants this world to be good for everyone. We all want to leave it better than we found it. We have to start acting like it.
I've always tried, when writing this blog, to not accuse or judge or sway a person's thinking. I believe free-will was given to us after we begged for it from the Divine. When writing I imagine walking you over to a window and asking you to look at the view from there. Sometimes you are familiar with it and have embraced it. Sometimes you haven't. It's up to you at that point to decide if that view is how you want to see what's out there or not. It's up to you. I'm not here to make you feel and think and believe as I do. I'm here to offer my perspective.
Here's how I'm looking at my 2016. I do come from a place of privilege... white, middle-aged, Midwestern, Christian, straight married woman, so take it as you may. Here's the view out of my window, because honestly, it's all I've got.
2016 is the year...
I found myself engaged, married, infinitely loved, divinely favored, truly blessed. I found myself stuck in an airport with my patient and loving husband. I found out that the wife must carry all the things. I've learned that step daughters will bring you joys unspeakable and that they will repeatedly scare you with a loud noise all the while taking video to put on Snapchat. I found that St. Croix isn't my cup of tea, and that sunrises with coffee and my husband are.
My hair will never not be gray in some spot. My feet now reject my highest of heels and sometimes any heel at all, but looking at my shoes color coordinated on the rack is enough. That figuring out what's for dinner for more than just myself is hard, yo. That you will find peace and contentment in folding laundry when you allow yourself to be grateful not just for your clothes but for the people for whom you are folding them.
Girls use lots of toilet paper. Taking a vacation to the beach with my husband and his girls and my brother's family was a dream come true and that I seriously suck at beach volleyball, but am awesome at fetching wet sand for sand castles.
Today when I accidentally gave my husband an anniversary card instead of a birthday card, he laughed and told me he loved me and that it was his very favorite card aside from those his daughters have made him. I found that even when I make a mistake... small or large... I'm loved and accepted. And that it will likely be a running joke for a while.
The kids in my life will never again be the age they are. The urgency I feel for this or that will wan as I find a new something to be passionate about. That drama is usually created by those of us who constantly point out drama. That there are people I don't need in my life and those I want with me every sunrise and sunset. Some people won't be here this time next year, so I better be grateful and present for them now. That I'm not guaranteed the next 365 days.
I learned that we have a lot of work to do to make the world a better, safer place and I should start with my corner, my mind, my heart and my mouth.
I learned that you cannot take away someone's fear.
I learned that I'm entitled to my beliefs, but expressing them also requires me to be responsible for them.
I learned that you never change someone with hate or ridicule, but by love.
I've learned that I have so very much to learn.
2016 took a lot, broke a lot, hurt a lot. Oh but didn't it have some high spots for you? I do hope that as 2017 creeps over the horizon, you have a small sense of nostalgia for moments this past year that were shining and beautiful. I know I do. So as we count down to the new year perhaps we purposely take the love and laughter with us, while also using the heartbreak to motivate us to do better this time around the sun. Let's keep in mind the song just says "times long past" not happy or perfect times... just times.
Here's to loving and learning and finding the fresh in 2017 and leaving the hell behind. Me, I'll probably be fast asleep, holding my husband's hand when 2017 dawns. That's a perfect beginning.
But not this year. Our nostalgia for "times long past" reaches further back, beyond 2016 which is now scorned and disparaged and, dare I say, hated. Frankly, I see why. The performing arts community has lost some beloved members, our country seems divided in ways those of us fifty and under haven't experienced. Divided by money and power, race and religion, popular and electoral, gender, sexuality... the list goes on and on.
One of the saddest divides seems to be between those who hope and those who are in despair. There are those who are frightened and confused and oppressed. There are those who have become embolden -- for good and for bad. There are those whose voices now roar and those who have been reduced to a whisper -- again for good and for bad. Those who are seemingly irrecoverably lost, irreparably broken, irreversibly hurt. And we wish for old times past when they were whole. When we were all whole or at least we were more whole.
But in the middle of this darkness, fear, despair, gloating, greed, rage and arrogance we find beautifully bright lights. These lights, the people who carry them will show us the way home... the way to the before we broke ourselves, individually, as a community, as a nation, as a civilization. It was not perfect, our humanity, it really never was but it was striving to do better. I believe that most people have a centering spot inside them, sometimes deep but often near the surface, that wants this world to be good for everyone. We all want to leave it better than we found it. We have to start acting like it.
I've always tried, when writing this blog, to not accuse or judge or sway a person's thinking. I believe free-will was given to us after we begged for it from the Divine. When writing I imagine walking you over to a window and asking you to look at the view from there. Sometimes you are familiar with it and have embraced it. Sometimes you haven't. It's up to you at that point to decide if that view is how you want to see what's out there or not. It's up to you. I'm not here to make you feel and think and believe as I do. I'm here to offer my perspective.
Here's how I'm looking at my 2016. I do come from a place of privilege... white, middle-aged, Midwestern, Christian, straight married woman, so take it as you may. Here's the view out of my window, because honestly, it's all I've got.
2016 is the year...
I found myself engaged, married, infinitely loved, divinely favored, truly blessed. I found myself stuck in an airport with my patient and loving husband. I found out that the wife must carry all the things. I've learned that step daughters will bring you joys unspeakable and that they will repeatedly scare you with a loud noise all the while taking video to put on Snapchat. I found that St. Croix isn't my cup of tea, and that sunrises with coffee and my husband are.
My hair will never not be gray in some spot. My feet now reject my highest of heels and sometimes any heel at all, but looking at my shoes color coordinated on the rack is enough. That figuring out what's for dinner for more than just myself is hard, yo. That you will find peace and contentment in folding laundry when you allow yourself to be grateful not just for your clothes but for the people for whom you are folding them.
Girls use lots of toilet paper. Taking a vacation to the beach with my husband and his girls and my brother's family was a dream come true and that I seriously suck at beach volleyball, but am awesome at fetching wet sand for sand castles.
Today when I accidentally gave my husband an anniversary card instead of a birthday card, he laughed and told me he loved me and that it was his very favorite card aside from those his daughters have made him. I found that even when I make a mistake... small or large... I'm loved and accepted. And that it will likely be a running joke for a while.
The kids in my life will never again be the age they are. The urgency I feel for this or that will wan as I find a new something to be passionate about. That drama is usually created by those of us who constantly point out drama. That there are people I don't need in my life and those I want with me every sunrise and sunset. Some people won't be here this time next year, so I better be grateful and present for them now. That I'm not guaranteed the next 365 days.
I learned that we have a lot of work to do to make the world a better, safer place and I should start with my corner, my mind, my heart and my mouth.
I learned that you cannot take away someone's fear.
I learned that I'm entitled to my beliefs, but expressing them also requires me to be responsible for them.
I learned that you never change someone with hate or ridicule, but by love.
I've learned that I have so very much to learn.
2016 took a lot, broke a lot, hurt a lot. Oh but didn't it have some high spots for you? I do hope that as 2017 creeps over the horizon, you have a small sense of nostalgia for moments this past year that were shining and beautiful. I know I do. So as we count down to the new year perhaps we purposely take the love and laughter with us, while also using the heartbreak to motivate us to do better this time around the sun. Let's keep in mind the song just says "times long past" not happy or perfect times... just times.
Here's to loving and learning and finding the fresh in 2017 and leaving the hell behind. Me, I'll probably be fast asleep, holding my husband's hand when 2017 dawns. That's a perfect beginning.
Monday, November 7, 2016
I'm nervous...
about tomorrow. I really am. I usually have these feeling before an election: nervous anticipation, fear, concern, excitement and hope. This election, well, it's more anxious than anything. It's basically all anxious. I've not written anything really about the candidates, nor will I here today. By now I think people who call themselves "undecided" aren't that at all. They know for whom they will vote, they just don't want the judgment they'll face if they actually name their choice. This election has been hell. And even when it's over, it's really only just begun.
We all have issues that we prioritize when picking a candidate. Jobs, education, health care, gun rights, abortion, equal rights, environment... on and on and on. One of those topics or combinations of them are the stuff that keeps us awake at night trying to piece together justification for voting for this guy or that woman. There are infinite social media posts about how "bad" he is or she is. You can read them until you absolutely feel panic. Yet that changes nothing. Tomorrow we decide. It will happen with or without you.
Here's what I want to talk about, what about the day after tomorrow? The day we all wake up and this has been decided (hopefully) and we are all still Americans? How do we move forward from this huge divide we all feel? Them and us. His side and hers.
The leader of this country is one person. There is this big beautiful nation full of citizens who are trying to do what they feel is best for us. I truly believe that. Perhaps what they think is best isn't what I think is best, but I believe that none of us want to see this country fail. We don't want to hate our neighbors or step on the necks of our countrymen to further our personal agendas.
I believe that this country has been through horribly dark days, days where we could barely raise our heads. Days where we didn't think we'd recover, much less thrive. At the beginning we were the underdogs. We declared our independence, fought for it, built a more perfect union. We were split in two during a hateful civil war, literally. Men shot and killed their neighbors, yet we reunited. We saw injustice that previously was accepted as righteousness and changed the collective conscious to begin to weed out the wrongs done to our fellow men and women.
We have marched and protested and supported. We've made terrible decisions and achieved greatness. We've succeed only to fail and failed only to then succeed. We've tried and tried and tried. And we have never quit. We have hoped and believed and doubted and feared. We've been attacked from outside and inside and rebuilt. We have stood up, shaken the defeat from our shoes and walked on. Forward. Pressing towards the goal of what our Forefathers and Mothers envisioned for us. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. To be free and equal. To work diligently, tirelessly, endlessly to make it better for the next generation.
If we are true patriots, truly patriotic, we do not want us to fail. We do not want to fail our children. We do not wish harm on each other. We win with grace and lose with dignity. And we pass those things onto our children. We lead by example.
Whatever happens tomorrow. I am an American. I am proud. I am your neighbor, your friend, your community. Without you, there is no us. No matter who wins, I hope they succeed in continuing to build a more perfect union. I hope that we remember that we cannot be the end of what has been so nobly built. We must continue to be united. We're the underdogs, yet here we are winning. This is our 57th Presidential election. This will not break us. Decide THAT today with me. No debating, no campaign ads, just you and me and our nation, united in the belief that our form of government is the ideal. That the way we do things should set a standard. That out of many, we are one.
Tomorrow I'll be rooting for America. I'll be so proud of my small contribution. One vote, one voice amid a chorus of millions. Doing our best to preserve this amazing experiment started with some starry eyed dreamers who knew we could achieve greatness. Yes there are still injustices of monumental size, yes we often behave in such a shameful manner that we want to turn away and give up. But we don't. Because we are Americans and that still means a hell of a lot to me and to you and to the world.
Vote. It's a gift paid for with blood. Vote and then get to the business of supporting this country as a whole. After this election is decided, if your candidate doesn't win (and perhaps even if he/she does) find a small bit of light and focus on that. Work towards positive instead of wallowing in the filth this election cycle has created. Once again, take a small step forward and keep moving. I'm going to. I owe that to you, my fellow Americans. I'll do that for you. Can you do that for me?
A big thank you to the women working at Shear Madness for the kind, encouraging words you sent to me through my husband. Also thanks for cutting his hair, because he'd end up bald if I did it.
To you KP. Always the middle child voice of reason. Thank you for keeping my feet planted.
We all have issues that we prioritize when picking a candidate. Jobs, education, health care, gun rights, abortion, equal rights, environment... on and on and on. One of those topics or combinations of them are the stuff that keeps us awake at night trying to piece together justification for voting for this guy or that woman. There are infinite social media posts about how "bad" he is or she is. You can read them until you absolutely feel panic. Yet that changes nothing. Tomorrow we decide. It will happen with or without you.
Here's what I want to talk about, what about the day after tomorrow? The day we all wake up and this has been decided (hopefully) and we are all still Americans? How do we move forward from this huge divide we all feel? Them and us. His side and hers.
The leader of this country is one person. There is this big beautiful nation full of citizens who are trying to do what they feel is best for us. I truly believe that. Perhaps what they think is best isn't what I think is best, but I believe that none of us want to see this country fail. We don't want to hate our neighbors or step on the necks of our countrymen to further our personal agendas.
I believe that this country has been through horribly dark days, days where we could barely raise our heads. Days where we didn't think we'd recover, much less thrive. At the beginning we were the underdogs. We declared our independence, fought for it, built a more perfect union. We were split in two during a hateful civil war, literally. Men shot and killed their neighbors, yet we reunited. We saw injustice that previously was accepted as righteousness and changed the collective conscious to begin to weed out the wrongs done to our fellow men and women.
We have marched and protested and supported. We've made terrible decisions and achieved greatness. We've succeed only to fail and failed only to then succeed. We've tried and tried and tried. And we have never quit. We have hoped and believed and doubted and feared. We've been attacked from outside and inside and rebuilt. We have stood up, shaken the defeat from our shoes and walked on. Forward. Pressing towards the goal of what our Forefathers and Mothers envisioned for us. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. To be free and equal. To work diligently, tirelessly, endlessly to make it better for the next generation.
If we are true patriots, truly patriotic, we do not want us to fail. We do not want to fail our children. We do not wish harm on each other. We win with grace and lose with dignity. And we pass those things onto our children. We lead by example.
Whatever happens tomorrow. I am an American. I am proud. I am your neighbor, your friend, your community. Without you, there is no us. No matter who wins, I hope they succeed in continuing to build a more perfect union. I hope that we remember that we cannot be the end of what has been so nobly built. We must continue to be united. We're the underdogs, yet here we are winning. This is our 57th Presidential election. This will not break us. Decide THAT today with me. No debating, no campaign ads, just you and me and our nation, united in the belief that our form of government is the ideal. That the way we do things should set a standard. That out of many, we are one.
Tomorrow I'll be rooting for America. I'll be so proud of my small contribution. One vote, one voice amid a chorus of millions. Doing our best to preserve this amazing experiment started with some starry eyed dreamers who knew we could achieve greatness. Yes there are still injustices of monumental size, yes we often behave in such a shameful manner that we want to turn away and give up. But we don't. Because we are Americans and that still means a hell of a lot to me and to you and to the world.
Vote. It's a gift paid for with blood. Vote and then get to the business of supporting this country as a whole. After this election is decided, if your candidate doesn't win (and perhaps even if he/she does) find a small bit of light and focus on that. Work towards positive instead of wallowing in the filth this election cycle has created. Once again, take a small step forward and keep moving. I'm going to. I owe that to you, my fellow Americans. I'll do that for you. Can you do that for me?
A big thank you to the women working at Shear Madness for the kind, encouraging words you sent to me through my husband. Also thanks for cutting his hair, because he'd end up bald if I did it.
To you KP. Always the middle child voice of reason. Thank you for keeping my feet planted.
Monday, October 17, 2016
I'm too soft...
for this election. I am. I've found myself crying more times than I care to admit lately. The news makes me exceedingly anxious. Social media makes me feel completely disheartened. My faith in my fellow Americans has been shaken. Who the hell have we become?
My husband and I were discussing it while drinking our morning coffee and he asked me if I could imagine a local election playing out the way the national one is. If the candidates for mayor of our small town talked about each other and acted towards each other the way the candidates for the most influential office in this fine country do. If the supporters of those candidates treated each other the way we see supporters behaving in news interviews and on social media. Our tiny town would be irreparably damaged.
Families would be divided. Marriages compromised. Kids taunting each other on the playground. Churches coming apart at the seams. Hate and rage and fear would walk down the street with us everyday. Past the courthouse where we fly our deceased veterans' flags every Veterans Day. It would follow us down the aisle of the grocery stores where we'd hide behind the cracker display to avoid THAT person who thinks THAT way. It would follow our kiddos into the swimming pools where parents would usher their child to the other end because THAT parent is here and did you read what SHE said? It would put space between us watching the band at halftime at the football games. Instead of all of us waving that two finger high over our steering wheels, we'd be met with scowls and perhaps a middle finger wave.
Politics gets passionate. People feel so strongly about their interests and beliefs, so convinced they are right and the "other" school of thought is leading us off into the abyss that we rant and scream. And cry. We hate each other secretly and not so secretly. We believe "they" are self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and just plain wrong. We post funny little pictures that like-minded people comment "lol" or click the haha reaction on FB. We mock each other. We tear each other down a little at a time and turn ourselves into the very things we hate. Self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and wrong.
I understand the passion. I lay in bed awake concerned that this is where this country is right now. So divided and afraid and angry. And then I realize anger comes from hurt. Hurt about jobs lost, hurt about a way of life being made the butt of jokes, hurt that people don't seem to care about "doing unto others" anymore, hurt that their life, their thoughts, their love is being swung around like a club, hurt that this big beautiful country has turned into a bunch of squabbling siblings who are hell bent on taking the other side down instead of building something better.
I'm not talking about how we're specifically voting; I'm talking about how we are acting. I care about how we are treating each other. Me included. I'm not just talking about during this election time; I'm talking about all the time. (Matt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been that angry. I was wrong. Forgive me. -- But I'm standing by the whole "speaking in memes". Gag, okay?)
We are a community: my family, my friends, my neighbors, my small town, my church. WE are a community... this country. If this country is going to you-know-where in the proverbial hand basket, we're all going together, so why don't we all change course or at the least be civil during the ride.
My husband and I were discussing it while drinking our morning coffee and he asked me if I could imagine a local election playing out the way the national one is. If the candidates for mayor of our small town talked about each other and acted towards each other the way the candidates for the most influential office in this fine country do. If the supporters of those candidates treated each other the way we see supporters behaving in news interviews and on social media. Our tiny town would be irreparably damaged.
Families would be divided. Marriages compromised. Kids taunting each other on the playground. Churches coming apart at the seams. Hate and rage and fear would walk down the street with us everyday. Past the courthouse where we fly our deceased veterans' flags every Veterans Day. It would follow us down the aisle of the grocery stores where we'd hide behind the cracker display to avoid THAT person who thinks THAT way. It would follow our kiddos into the swimming pools where parents would usher their child to the other end because THAT parent is here and did you read what SHE said? It would put space between us watching the band at halftime at the football games. Instead of all of us waving that two finger high over our steering wheels, we'd be met with scowls and perhaps a middle finger wave.
Politics gets passionate. People feel so strongly about their interests and beliefs, so convinced they are right and the "other" school of thought is leading us off into the abyss that we rant and scream. And cry. We hate each other secretly and not so secretly. We believe "they" are self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and just plain wrong. We post funny little pictures that like-minded people comment "lol" or click the haha reaction on FB. We mock each other. We tear each other down a little at a time and turn ourselves into the very things we hate. Self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and wrong.
I understand the passion. I lay in bed awake concerned that this is where this country is right now. So divided and afraid and angry. And then I realize anger comes from hurt. Hurt about jobs lost, hurt about a way of life being made the butt of jokes, hurt that people don't seem to care about "doing unto others" anymore, hurt that their life, their thoughts, their love is being swung around like a club, hurt that this big beautiful country has turned into a bunch of squabbling siblings who are hell bent on taking the other side down instead of building something better.
I'm not talking about how we're specifically voting; I'm talking about how we are acting. I care about how we are treating each other. Me included. I'm not just talking about during this election time; I'm talking about all the time. (Matt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been that angry. I was wrong. Forgive me. -- But I'm standing by the whole "speaking in memes". Gag, okay?)
We are a community: my family, my friends, my neighbors, my small town, my church. WE are a community... this country. If this country is going to you-know-where in the proverbial hand basket, we're all going together, so why don't we all change course or at the least be civil during the ride.
I'm too soft...
for this election. I am. I've found myself crying more times than I care to admit lately. The news makes me exceedingly anxious. Social media makes me feel completely disheartened. My faith in my fellow Americans has been shaken. Who the hell have we become?
My husband and I were discussing it while drinking our morning coffee and he asked me if I could imagine a local election playing out the way the national one is. If the candidates for mayor of our small town talked about each other and acted towards each other the way the candidates for the most influential office in this fine country do. If the supporters of those candidates treated each other the way we see supporters behaving in news interviews and on social media. Our tiny town would be irreparably damaged.
Families would be divided. Marriages compromised. Kids taunting each other on the playground. Churches coming apart at the seams. Hate and rage and fear would walk down the street with us everyday. Past the courthouse where we fly our deceased veterans' flags every Veterans Day. It would follow us down the aisle of the grocery stores where we'd hide behind the cracker display to avoid THAT person who thinks THAT way. It would follow our kiddos into the swimming pools where parents would usher their child to the other end because THAT parent is here and did you read what SHE said? It would put space between us watching the band at halftime at the football games. Instead of all of us waving that two finger high over our steering wheels, we'd be met with scowls and perhaps a middle finger wave.
Politics gets passionate. People feel so strongly about their interests and beliefs, so convinced they are right and the "other" school of thought is leading us off into the abyss that we rant and scream. And cry. We hate each other secretly and not so secretly. We believe "they" are self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and just plain wrong. We post funny little pictures that like-minded people comment "lol" or click the haha reaction on FB. We mock each other. We tear each other down a little at a time and turn ourselves into the very things we hate. Self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and wrong.
I understand the passion. I lay in bed awake concerned that this is where this country is right now. So divided and afraid and angry. And then I realize anger comes from hurt. Hurt about jobs lost, hurt about a way of life being made the butt of jokes, hurt that people don't seem to care about "doing unto others" anymore, hurt that their life, their thoughts, their love is being swung around like a club, hurt that this big beautiful country has turned into a bunch of squabbling siblings who are hell bent on taking the other side down instead of building something better.
I'm not talking about how we're specifically voting; I'm talking about how we are acting. I care about how we are treating each other. Me included. I'm not just talking about during this election time; I'm talking about all the time. (Matt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been that angry. I was wrong. Forgive me. -- But I'm standing by the whole "speaking in memes". Gag, okay?)
We are a community: my family, my friends, my neighbors, my small town, my church. WE are a community... this country. If this country is going to you-know-where in the proverbial hand basket, we're all going together, so why don't we all change course or at the least be civil during the ride.
My husband and I were discussing it while drinking our morning coffee and he asked me if I could imagine a local election playing out the way the national one is. If the candidates for mayor of our small town talked about each other and acted towards each other the way the candidates for the most influential office in this fine country do. If the supporters of those candidates treated each other the way we see supporters behaving in news interviews and on social media. Our tiny town would be irreparably damaged.
Families would be divided. Marriages compromised. Kids taunting each other on the playground. Churches coming apart at the seams. Hate and rage and fear would walk down the street with us everyday. Past the courthouse where we fly our deceased veterans' flags every Veterans Day. It would follow us down the aisle of the grocery stores where we'd hide behind the cracker display to avoid THAT person who thinks THAT way. It would follow our kiddos into the swimming pools where parents would usher their child to the other end because THAT parent is here and did you read what SHE said? It would put space between us watching the band at halftime at the football games. Instead of all of us waving that two finger high over our steering wheels, we'd be met with scowls and perhaps a middle finger wave.
Politics gets passionate. People feel so strongly about their interests and beliefs, so convinced they are right and the "other" school of thought is leading us off into the abyss that we rant and scream. And cry. We hate each other secretly and not so secretly. We believe "they" are self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and just plain wrong. We post funny little pictures that like-minded people comment "lol" or click the haha reaction on FB. We mock each other. We tear each other down a little at a time and turn ourselves into the very things we hate. Self-serving, ignorant, naive, stupid and wrong.
I understand the passion. I lay in bed awake concerned that this is where this country is right now. So divided and afraid and angry. And then I realize anger comes from hurt. Hurt about jobs lost, hurt about a way of life being made the butt of jokes, hurt that people don't seem to care about "doing unto others" anymore, hurt that their life, their thoughts, their love is being swung around like a club, hurt that this big beautiful country has turned into a bunch of squabbling siblings who are hell bent on taking the other side down instead of building something better.
I'm not talking about how we're specifically voting; I'm talking about how we are acting. I care about how we are treating each other. Me included. I'm not just talking about during this election time; I'm talking about all the time. (Matt, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been that angry. I was wrong. Forgive me. -- But I'm standing by the whole "speaking in memes". Gag, okay?)
We are a community: my family, my friends, my neighbors, my small town, my church. WE are a community... this country. If this country is going to you-know-where in the proverbial hand basket, we're all going together, so why don't we all change course or at the least be civil during the ride.
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