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.

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. 

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.