Love a Stranger

Over the weekend, our neighbors had some friends of theirs move into their basement. A young couple with an almost 2 year old, were unpacking their very modest collection of things, and were moving into a 300 sqft basement. I am not even sure if this basement is more than cold cement. Bryant and I were sitting out on our patio and overheard bits and pieces of their story and it broke us. Their financial struggle was at a place that I found unimaginable, and watching their toddler play in the grass brought it all to another level.

Bryant and I decided we’d pick up a giftcard for them, not really knowing exactly how they were brought to this place, but not really feeling like the details were important. I did that on Monday, and had it sitting on the counter for a few days. I had tried making small conversation with the wife whenever she was outside, and was trying to just know her better before I gave it to her. On Wednesday, I just decided to walk over there and give it to her. I had been struggling with how she would respond, or if she would consider it offensive. I didn’t want it to be an intrusion of privacy or come off like we were looking down on them; but, on Wednesday, I had a moment where I accepted that my intentions may not be understood, but I needed to just do it anyway.

I walked out my front door and across the street and said “I really hope this isn’t awkward, or makes you feel uncomfortable, but my husband and I overheard a bit of what your family is going through, and we just wanted to say we are happy to have you here, and do something nice for you.” I handed it to her, and she said thank you, and shared a bit about how they ended up without a house, and I just listened and formally introduced myself and then came back home.

About 10 minutes later, there was a knock on my front door. I opened it and she was standing there sobbing. I hugged her, and she told me that it was her 25th birthday. She said she was out of diapers and food, and had been crying about it being her birthday and feeling overwhelmed by what they were going to do. Lots of tears were exchanged on my front porch.

I’m telling this story not to get praise or high fives. I’m telling it because I’m not sure how you can be a witness to this and not see God’s incredible timing. I didn’t know it was her birthday. I didn’t know very much about them at all, but I just suddenly got up enough courage to go over there. It was a fleeting moment of courage too. I think I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water or something, saw it sitting there, and just decided to do it already.

My faith was encouraged by the vulnerability that was exposed on my front porch yesterday. She told me that I was rare, and I felt my spirit send up a prayer. That moments like these wouldn’t be so rare; not just in my own life, but as humans. That we, as a collective community of people wouldn’t rarely help others, but that we would make it a habit.

Do something nice for someone today. Pull your neighbors weeds, or buy the stranger behind you a cup of coffee. It makes a difference.

Candid

I had just finished making little Kinsey lunch on Friday when I read a tweet that simply said, “An elementary school? Is this for real?” I turned on the television, and could not believe my eyes. I grabbed my little girl, sat her on my lap, and wept while I watched the news coverage. Something so barbaric, and so disgusting, did not seem possible to me. I responded as a parent, though I have not been one very long. The idea that I was able to hold my little girl close, while the parents of 20 children would never see their babies again, broke me.

Our country is broken. And, I am doing my very best to stop asking the question “why?” Because, if I try to understand the “why” then I am drawn to the details of the shooter, who I do not want to remember. I do not want to know about his secret journals, or his Facebook page. I do not care to read about his personal life, or  how long he was planning to commit such a horrific and unconscionable act. I’ve seen many articles posted about mental illness, one in particular stating “I am  < insert his name >’s Mother,” describing what her life is like dealing with a mentally ill child. And while I was amazed at this mother’s vulnerability, I could not accept this as an explanation for what happened. We do not know the true details of the shooter, and his mother is dead, and I can not sit back and listen to the speculation and “why’s” from people, because 20 children and 6 heroic adults, are dead. I could not help but worry about the autistic children who will now be labeled as “dangerous” because of the conclusions that the media is choosing to give America. We assume too much to answer the question of “why?” We forget to consider who we are hurting by trying to find answers to our questions that ultimately, will probably always be left UN-answered. In our determination to find the “why”, we put a sick individual at the center of this tragedy.

I do not want to remember his name. I do not want others, with minds like his, to think that they can do better. In a celebrity driven culture, I do not want anyone to think that this is how they can become famous.

This tragedy has to be different from the others. As President Obama stated in his speech last night at the memorial service, we must do better.

“We can’t tolerate this anymore. These tragedies must end. And to end them, we must change. We will be told that the causes of such violence are complex, and that is true. No single law — no set of laws can eliminate evil from the world, or prevent every senseless act of violence in our society.

But that can’t be an excuse for inaction. Surely, we can do better than this. If there is even one step we can take to save another child, or another parent, or another town, from the grief that has visited Tucson, and Aurora, and Oak Creek, and Newtown, and communities from Columbine to Blacksburg before that — then surely we have an obligation to try.”

-President Obama, December 16th, 2012

So, I am choosing to forget his name. I am trying to remember the names of the victims, of the precious children who’s lives, entire lives, were taken from them. Will you help me remember them?

They deserve to be remembered.

Charlotte Bacon, 2/22/06, female
Daniel Barden, 9/25/05, male
Rachel Davino, 7/17/83, female.
Olivia Engel, 7/18/06, female
Josephine Gay, 12/11/05, female
Ana M. Marquez-Greene, 04/04/06, female
Dylan Hockley, 3/8/06, male
Dawn Hochsprung, 06/28/65, female
Madeleine F. Hsu, 7/10/06, female
Catherine V. Hubbard, 6/08/06, female
Chase Kowalski, 10/31/05, male
Jesse Lewis, 6/30/06, male
James Mattioli , 3/22/06, male
Grace McDonnell, 12/04/05, female
Anne Marie Murphy, 07/25/60, female
Emilie Parker, 5/12/06, female
Jack Pinto, 5/06/06, male
Noah Pozner, 11/20/06, male
Caroline Previdi, 9/07/06, female
Jessica Rekos, 5/10/06, female
Avielle Richman, 10/17/06, female
Lauren Rousseau, 6/1982, female (full date of birth not specified)
Mary Sherlach, 2/11/56, female
Victoria Soto, 11/04/85, female
Benjamin Wheeler, 9/12/06, male
Allison N. Wyatt, 7/03/06, female

Huffington Post)

Civility in Politics

A few weeks ago, my Mom mentioned that her and my Dad were hosting a Wine & Theology party. The topic for this month was “Civility.” And, in the spirit of election season, they wanted to address the conflict of how we remain civil despite our differences.

I wish that I could say that all of the conversations that I have encountered this election season have been respectful. I wish that I could tell you that I am impressed by the level of civility. Unfortunately, the elections bring out the worst in people.

I am predominately, a conservative. My friends are mostly, liberal. For the most part, my friendships are respectful. We listen to each other, and we disagree fairly. But, my Twitter timeline has been shockingly gross. Eva Longoria tweeted that if women vote for Mitt Romney then they are stupid. Yes, stupid. Ann Coulter called President Obama a “retard” and isn’t planning on apologizing.

It is challenging isn’t it? To be respectful? To withhold the name-calling and the insults?

Normally, this wouldn’t bother me that much. I would call it typical. But, it is disheartening when I see this kind of language and lack of civility within the Christian community.

After a short rant about this the other day on Twitter, my friend Lauren replied with something like, “Remember when it was considered rude to talk about politics or religion at the dinner table? Because of Twitter, it is all fair game.”

The self that I project on Twitter, I want to be true to the self that I am in real life. The self that I project on my blog, I want to be the same self that I project in my everyday, real life conversations. If I am talking politics or religion with a friend over a cup of coffee, and we disagree, I wouldn’t dare call her a moron. I wouldn’t dare tell her that she is misinformed or “retarded” or make her feel uneducated. I would not be dismissive or arrogant. Instead, I would respectfully share my opinion, respectfully hear hers, and move on.

I don’t think we have to avoid the topics that are messy. We don’t have to be quiet about our opinions. A couple of friends in the last couple of weeks have called me “brave” for blogging about the things that I do. I wouldn’t call it bravery. I want to believe that we all can live in a world where our opinons collide, yet we can still commune together.

So, in this season, especially as we are days away from the election, remember this:

We are all people. We have different stories that shape us. Our opinions and feelings matter. You are all valid. None of you are irrelevant.

Let’s all try to remember that we are people. Democracy is what makes our country great; but, also, equality. Be tolerant of each other. Converse respectfully. And, don’t be afraid to say what you mean. Your opinion matters, and it counts.

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