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11/24/2015

Breadth

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A trending video over the weekend was SNL's A Thanksgiving Miracle. The video depicts a family quibbling over politicized topics - ISIS, Syrian refugees, transgender people, and the #BlackLivesMatter movement, only to be assuaged by a smart little girl who dials everything back by hitting "play" on Adele's hit song Hello. I've been at those Thanksgivings before - we probably all have - and they are mighty uncomfortable. 

With Thanksgiving merely a few days away and controversial topics looming high, I'm reminded of a quote by Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust-survivor and renowned psychotherapist:
"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." Thinking about reaction as power rather than instinct is a bit of a game-changer. We've heard all of our lives that when we're afraid, our bodies do one of two things - fight or flight. Sure, running or flailing our fists may be our physiological responses, but they don't have to be our mental responses. We have power to do something different - like empathize, or clarify, or listen, or love. Think about it - if we choose those responses over fleeing or fighting, how is the outcome likely to be different?

The space between stimulus and response signifies breadth - if we can consciously choose our reactions, then the menu of our choices is limited only by our experiences and free will. I think that we're all  likely to get along a little bit better if we keep this in mind. We're each more than what we distill into soundbites on Facebook or into stylized portrayals of ourselves. I watched an online fight go down yesterday over whether or not a conservative guy advocating for refugees was indeed really a Republican. Know what? Political parties haven't cornered the market on compassion and empathy. Those are human virtues. When we slap labels on such virtues, we risk alienating people. The stakes are simply too high to err on the side of pigeonholing.  Just as we see the value in having options that are greater than fight or flight, we should also see the value in not having our responsive power conscripted by artificial labels and constructs.


The SNL skit is funny because it is a parody of current American discourse. If only Adele could save the world and make everyone get along. Based on how often Hello is played on the radio, we could name the song as a peace accord.  But the reality is that every time I scroll through Facebook, click on Internet comments, or watch a news network, I read, see, and hear hatred, vitriol and ignorance. Then I get mad, and I want to fight. Stimulus meet my fist. But as each day goes by, I'm learning to check myself. I have the power to model compassion. I have the power to show love. I have the power to cultivate empathy. 

The task before us is to shed the labels and occupy the virtues. Fighting and fleeing only maintain the status quo. The world is throwing a lot of crappy stimuli at us right now. Good responses are those that are thoughtful, compassionate, loving, empathetic, and kind. Those are the types of responses that propel humanity forward. Those are the types of responses that lead to clickbait headlines like "Man Helps Refugee Child and You Won't Believe What Happens Next!" What happens next has nothing to do with labels or ideologies. What happens next is people moving forward, mutually transformed. What happens next is growth and freedom.

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11/20/2015

Out of grief...

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The world lost its mind this week. The carnage and terror in Paris was horrific, and people around the world grieved. Then many Americans gave into fear and did the exactly wrong thing by turning their backs on millions of suffering Syrian children and families, sparking grief anew for those of us aligned on the side of compassion. There's only so many times that I can cry, then check Facebook, then cuss and shake my fists, and then want to cry again. There's only so many petitions I can sign, Facebook fights I can start, and Bible verses I can quote before I want to bang my head against the wall out of frustration. 

I had no other recourse but to channel that grief into something good. So, I made a holiday garland for my stairs.

The garland is made out of strips of fabric tied to twine. It took about three evenings of binge watching Psych reruns and tying knots to finish about 20 feet of garland. Beyond the fact that I really like how it turned out, the exercise of making this garland was meditative and soul-soothing. Here's why.

I made the garland out of my father's old clothes. My dad suddenly passed away last October of a heart attack. His absence looms large in our everyday lives, and my family still aches with the pain of losing him. But as I sat on the couch, cutting up the blue and white-striped denim shorts that my dad used to wear with American flag suspenders, I thought about how much I've changed in the past year. I thought about how my commitment to doing and writing about good has made me less fearful, and about how my outlook has transformed for the better as a result.

As I selected which of his many Christmas ties to cut into strips, I thought about what makes the world a scary place, and what helps to take some of that fear away. The answer is people - people like my dad who unequivocally loved me; people like my friends in Harrisonburg who are willing to give their time to be helpers of all stripes; and people like the parents and educators I know who are committed to raising ethical and caring children. 

As I carefully cut his old reindeer flannel sheets, I thought about how our lives are the culmination of many different experiences, and how important it is to make those experiences positive for ourselves and others. When I was a child, my dad used to drive me crazy with math word problems that he told me to solve with my "mind's eye." But as I cut up those sheets, I smiled as my mind's eye brought forth images of him clear as day, sitting on those sheets and joking around in the morning before I got ready for school.  

As I cut up a t-shirt that read "World's Best Dad," I thought about how it's not shameful to wear your heart on your sleeve or as a slogan emblazoned across your chest. I used to keep my faith to myself. I used to bow out of political arguments (with everyone except my dad, that is... sorry mom). I used to choke back my tears if the situation wasn't "appropriate" for crying. I don't do that any more. I am my father's daughter. He was more proud of being my dad than anything in the world, and I could always count on him to have my back. Feeling secure and unconditionally supported is a tremendous gift. 

This week the world went crazy, and I made a garland in response. With each knot, I reflected. With each fabric strip, I felt resolved. With each inch, I felt supported. And when I hung the garland on the stairs, I felt loved. I know that we live in scary times that will continue to get scarier if we retreat into hatred and fear. But after my three evenings of meditative DIY, I know that I am proud to wear my heart on my sleeve. I will keep fighting the good fight. I will keep approaching each day with reflection, resolve, support, and love for all of humanity... for every single broken one of us. 

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11/14/2015

I love everyone in the whole world

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The kiddo had gymnastics this morning, and I took a quick detour through the McDonald's drive thru for some caffeinated mommy juice. While waiting to place my order, Emme exclaimed, "I love everyone in the whole world!" I told my sweet child that I am so very glad to hear her say that.

Emme doesn't know about what happened in Beirut earlier this week. She doesn't know about what happened in Paris yesterday. But still, I decided to opt for a teaching moment. "Some bad people did things that were very hurtful this week, and a lot of people are sad. Some people are speaking about the bad guys with words of hate..."

Emme interrupted me, "But we don't do that, do we mama?" She went on to say that she thinks that it's important to love everyone, even bad guys, because otherwise they won't learn how to be kind. 

Wise words from a child.

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11/10/2015

Hardening

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The local mosque hosted a lovely potluck dinner this past weekend to welcome newly-arrived refugees to our little corner of the world. I wasn’t able to attend the event, but some great Rocktown Rallies folks were there and reported back that it was beautiful, heart-warming, and soul-soothing. The next day, a local media outlet posted coverage of the event on their Facebook page. The coverage was upbeat and positive. But then ERRRRRRRKKKK - all of the warm fuzzies quickly evaporated in an onslaught of ignorant, racist, xenophobic (and worse) Facebook comments.

OMG. SMH. WTF. Text-speak acronyms are so inadequate to characterize the level of my disappointment. I know, I know… rule #1 of the internet is DON’T READ THE INTERNET. At least don’t read the comments, the place where the dredges of humanity hide and spew vile attacks on people they don’t know. But I did read them, and I was livid. My first instinct was to write back: HOW DARE YOU. HOW %#&#% DARE YOU! We are talking about scared, persecuted, cold, and hungry children. CHILDREN!

I didn’t write back, though, because experience has taught me that engaging with ignorance doesn’t get me anywhere. Instead, I thought about who the vitriolic people are, and what their lives must be like. I tried to practice empathy, and I engaged in some introspection. This is what I figure....

We’re all born blank slates. Babies don’t hate. Babies don’t understand the social meanings of gender, skin color, or religion. Babies want to be handled gently. They want to be spoken to kindly. Babies want to be warm. Babies want to be fed. Babies want to feel safe. In fact, regardless of age, we all want those things. When those things are denied to us, we harden.

As children grow, they have hundreds of encounters with adults. Adults that nurture (or not). Adults that appropriately express love (or don’t). Adults that provide (or withhold). Adults that guide (or mislead). Adults that attempt to heal (or permit suffering). Parents, teachers, preachers, doctors, neighbors, aunts and uncles, child care providers, coaches, friends… all adults are capable of profoundly impacting the trajectory of a child’s life for both good and evil.

So going back to the hateful internet trolls, this is my revelation. Every one of the people who chose to broadcast scorn on Facebook entered this world as an innocent. Every single one of them was born hoping for the world to write love on their life, and somewhere along the line they received hatred instead. The adults that failed them (probably multiple adults, over and over and over again) are the wellspring of their malice.

I’m not a child-rearing expert, and I’m not going to pretend that I know how to raise or to teach a child the “right” way. But it doesn’t take an expert to know that children learn from their interactions with adults, and that some interactions are toxic. Some messages are poison.

As I’ve gotten older and become a parent, I’ve come to realize that I operate within fairly straightforward parameters. For me, there’s a line in the sand. On one side are actions that are conducive to healthy, well-adjusted, and capable children. On the other side are actions that are harmful, soul-crushing, and debilitating for children. But truth be told, no one is perfect. Even the most conscientious among us may sometimes find ourselves walking into dark and dangerous territory.

My goal is to be mindful of when I’m toeing that line, and I hope that you’ll be mindful too. Sometimes this requires doing things that are completely new – like advocating for refugee children half a world away. Sometimes this requires paying close attention – like noticing when a sharp tone or raised voice leads to little eyes being averted and little shoulders slumping. It is hard work, and it is easy to be discouraged, but we have to try. The internet trolls may veil their vitriol in language about preserving our “way of life,” but the only way that we’ll have a bright future is if we raise children capable of bearing a beacon forward. After all, we all know that light will turn a troll to stone. 

Onward, friends. 


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11/3/2015

My case for Halloween

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When I was a child, my church hosted a big Halloween party every year. It wasn't a fall festival. It wasn't trunk-or-treat. It was a Halloween party, complete with a haunted house. I went to a United Methodist Church in a sleepy Georgia town. Our church was small, and behind it was an old single wide trailer that housed three classrooms. One of the rooms was a nursery, and the others were for Sunday School. But every October, the trailer was transformed into a place of terror. The older kids from church dressed up as zombies, vampires, and other scary monsters. The lights were all turned out. Walking through the haunted house took nerves of steel because a swamp creature was certain to jump out and grab your leg. And then in the last room, air thick with dry ice "smoke," we were expected to reach our hands into buckets of fear to touch cold brains and eyeballs (er, spaghetti and peeled grapes) in order to earn the privilege of exiting the building.  I loved Halloween at church, and could hardly wait until I was old enough to be one of the leg-grabbing monsters. 

Flash forward to my adulthood (seriously I was 23, I think) when I figured out that some people don't celebrate Halloween because, I dunno... I'm still not sure why. It's the devil's holiday? The religious explanations were/are so at odds with my experiences of Halloween at church that I've never really understood them. If you don't celebrate Halloween, that's fine, it's your prerogative. Still, I find myself every October waiting on pins and needles to celebrate Halloween as I know and love it. For me, Halloween is a holiday about community. This year is a perfect example of why.

Let me tell you about my weekend. 

On Friday, we hosted a potluck at our house in honor of the iDebate Rwanda team. My house has been decorated for Halloween since October 1st - bats and spiders, witches and lots of pumpkins. For a couple of the guests, the potluck was stop #1 on a night full of Halloween revelry. One was dressed as a suffragist, which led to a historical conversation with our Rwandan guests about women trying to earn the right to vote in the U.S.  (always a worthy conversation to have - GO VOTE TODAY!). Another guest arrived wearing fairy wings and the glittery-est tutu I've ever seen. After she left, my house looked like it had been glitter bombed, and that was awesome. In a world where grown-ups are saddled with multi-tasking, 24-hour availability, and so many plates in the air that juggling seems like a pipe dream, Halloween allows fully-fledged adults to indulge in creativity. Adults need more fun in our lives, and Halloween is a place where that is allowed. 

Saturday was actual-factual Halloween. After a full day of gymnastics and soccer, we headed out around 4:30 to start our trick-or-treating fun. We stopped at friends' houses, oohed and aahed at the effort some people put into making the front of their houses look oh so spooky, complimented other kids' costumes, petted dogs, and accepted candy treats from people we don't even know. We ate a quick dinner out with Nana and Oma, and then joined some friends so that the kiddos could trick-or-treat together. After a while, we headed to Grammy's neighborhood where we dumped the jack-o-lantern bucket and started over again. Emme trick-or-treated for UNICEF, raising a grand total of $196 with online and in-person donations. We visited with Grammy for a while, and she told us about all of the new neighbors she met when they knocked on her door to trick-or-treat. After a pleasant visit, we declared the end of Halloween and reluctantly headed home. Of course, we ate a couple of pieces of candy before bed. :)

Although our night ended with sweet treats, my case for Halloween is about more than just getting candy. On Friday and Saturday night, this is what I experienced: 
  • A chance to indulge in creativity as an adult
  • Time spent visiting with friends and family at their homes
  • The opportunity for little ones to create fun memories together
  • Positive engagement with perfect strangers
  • Appreciation over the effort that people put into making their homes hospitable
  • Compliments to and from strangers
  • Kindness to animals
  • Trust in our neighbors
  • Charitable giving

Emme talked all the way home, not about all of the candy that she got, but about all of the people that she got to meet. She exclaimed, "We must have met a BILLION!" She talked about how much she loved her town. She talked of the fun houses that she saw. She talked about the good time she had with her friends. For our family, Halloween was a community-building experience, and I wouldn't want to have it any other way. 

On Sunday, we hosted our annual post-Halloween movie party. It's a chance for the kiddos to wear their costumes one last time. There is a lot of food, some silly games, the house gets trashed, and everyone has a blast. By the end of the weekend, I was tired to the bone, but it was a good kind of tired. It was the kind of tired that begs for a good night's sleep, just so that I can wake up with a huge smile on my face and a bag of Peanut M&M's for breakfast. Happy Halloween, y'all. 

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