| It was a beautiful sunrise here in the heartland. Because Daylight Savings time lasts longer this year I get an extra week of sunrise meditations. With the clock going back on Sunday, I may not get up early enough for sunrise for a while. I can't remember a Halloween with such nice weather. Usually it is cold and wet, a few years ago we got a huge snowstorm, still referred to as the October Surprise by weather forecasters around here. The trick or treaters will actually get to show off their costumes rather than hide them under winter coats this year. Halloween chills and thrills are fun for some, but for others it is simply the harbinger of a time of year fraught with difficulty. The holiday season draws nigh!!!! It is amazing isn't it how many emotions get stirred up in us as the holiday season draws near. There are those of us who had less than functional families growing up, and this time of year always seems to be a time when family dynamics can be trying at best, and downright dangerous in some instances. I remember the first Christmas stocking I ever had. I was a freshman in college, and in conversations with a new friend, it came out that we didn't have pleasant holidays in my family. I loved hearing the stories told by my friend Lizzie of the traditions of her family. Christmas stockings were important to her family, so much so that her stocking was being sent to her to hang in her dorm room before she took it home with her for Christmas. When the package came, there were two stockings. The one she had treasured all of her life, and a brand new one for me. As alien as the concept of loving family was to me, the concept of a non loving family was even more alien to her, and she had asked her family to make me a stocking. I visited her home several times over four years of college. Stopped off at her parents house a few times in my travels as an adult. I will always remember that they taught me about Christmas. So when I became a mother, I purposed in my heart to create traditions for my son. There was just the two of us for the first 12 years of his life, and we created wonderful traditions. Then I met my husband, and we adapted some of our traditions into family traditions. We have pizza on Christmas Eve because I was too tired from working at the store to cook, so my son is in charge of Christmas Eve. He cooks the pizza and serves us. While I am at work he bakes 2 batches of cookies. One batch is a recipe he has baked every year since middle school, and then he combs the holiday magazines for a new recipe to try. Christmas morning my son opens presents, there usually aren't any for the 'grownups' we spend the money on my son. I fix biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and we go to the movies in the afternoon.We come home and have our dinner, ham and wild rice dressing. I am not sure how that came to be our tradition, but it has been since my son was small. Traditions can be created where there were none. Traditions can be changed when the original traditions no longer fit, traditions can be thrown out the window when they simply aren't good for us to continue them. We can choose to make healthier traditions. Do we usually cook too many things that are tempting? Try new recipes. Yes, stick to those one or tow things that you have to have, but honestly, we all cook things that no one will miss. Think about what goes into the fridge as leftovers. Maybe that's a dish that can be changed. Not only can we change the things we cook, but if there are issues that come up for us in this emotional time of year, we can change how we think about them. If there are expectations from others that aren't in our best interest, we can choose to not feel like we are letting someone down. Our well being is our concern, and we are not dishonoring anyone, or disrespecting anyone when we choose to honor our needs and respect our choices. Choose to take care of you! YOU are then better able to take care of the ones you love. Do something spectacular for yourself today, choose to not let the candy dishes take control. Choose to be in control of what you eat. Peace and Blessings, EstherBelle | <><>
Monday, October 31, 2011
Halloween,oh my!!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Let's Go Racing!
Last weekend was a racing weekend. My son and I have season tickets at Kansas Speedway, and yes I have had people question whether that is a good use of our money. I usually answer that if I have to rob a bank, my son will have his Nascar tickets! It is a one of the no compromise parts of our budget. There are only a couple of people who the right to question, and they don't. Our entertainment dollars are budgeted for the Nascar tickets, and the return on investment is priceless.
Nascar is one of my son's sports interests, and it has been very good for his social skills. When we were at Crazy Horse Memorial he was able to have a conversation with a stranger once the subject of Nascar came up. When we go to the Speedway, the other season ticket holders that sit around us no longer notice the things that make him different. In fact, our arrival is eagerly anticipated and my son is warmly welcomed. Everyone is glad to see him.
One of the positive aspects of my son's autism is that when he becomes interested a sport or any other subject he studies it in depth. In fact, I would venture that very few people understand the rules of a sport he is interested in as well as he does. Now that I think about it, it may be a male thing more than an autistic thing. My late husband could give you infinite details about college football teams and players. My son can do the same thing about Nascar. He knows the rules, he knows who owns and drives every car, he knows every detail of every drivers career. And he knows the rules. So, when we go to the races, the people around us don't see someone who is challenged, they see someone who is knowledgeable. They see someone who can answer any question about the sport, and they look forward to sharing that sport with him.
It is always a joy to go to the races with my son. It is always good for me to see him in a situation where he is admired. Now I personally think he is the most amazing person I have ever known. But, I admit that as his Mom I may be a tad biased, so it is always good for me to see him succeed in a social situation.
Races are a week long round of activities in our lives. There are show cars displayed around town and there are opportunities to meet your favorite driver. We take advantage of as many of these opportunities as we can. One of those opportunities this year was also what I call a divine appointment. Like the young woman I was able to share with at Mt. Rushmore, or the gentleman that talked to my son at Crazy Horse, an opportunity to be in the right place at the right time. We were standing in line at a local grocery store waiting to meet Clint Bowyer. I got in a conversation with the 2 people in front of us in line.
The conversation started off about Nascar. But was soon about something even more important. It turned out that the gentleman was the father of a 9 year old son, a son blessed with autism. As my son was able to hold a conversation with this man about the sport of Nascar, I could see that something even more important was happening. This father had never met an adult with autism, and he was soon sharing with me how important it was for him to be able to talk to my son. To be able to first see my son as a fellow Nascar fan before he saw him as a person with autism.
When we become parents, we dream dreams for our children. The first time you hold that child in your arms, you think of the future.As your child grows from a newborn to a baby to a toddler, you start to imagine what they might be when they grow up. When you start to figure out that there is something different about your child, and then perhaps when you receive a diagnosis you often have to let go of some of those dreams, but you are in uncharted territory, and you don't know what the future is going to look like. So often, we have no frame of reference because we have never met anyone who has faced similar challenges. Standing in line that day, this father met an autistic young man. A young man who was knowledgeable and interesting, and for the first time in a long time this father could imagine a future for his son.
I think that is a great return for our Nascar dollars, don't you? Makes me a very proud Nascar MOM!
Nascar is one of my son's sports interests, and it has been very good for his social skills. When we were at Crazy Horse Memorial he was able to have a conversation with a stranger once the subject of Nascar came up. When we go to the Speedway, the other season ticket holders that sit around us no longer notice the things that make him different. In fact, our arrival is eagerly anticipated and my son is warmly welcomed. Everyone is glad to see him.
One of the positive aspects of my son's autism is that when he becomes interested a sport or any other subject he studies it in depth. In fact, I would venture that very few people understand the rules of a sport he is interested in as well as he does. Now that I think about it, it may be a male thing more than an autistic thing. My late husband could give you infinite details about college football teams and players. My son can do the same thing about Nascar. He knows the rules, he knows who owns and drives every car, he knows every detail of every drivers career. And he knows the rules. So, when we go to the races, the people around us don't see someone who is challenged, they see someone who is knowledgeable. They see someone who can answer any question about the sport, and they look forward to sharing that sport with him.
It is always a joy to go to the races with my son. It is always good for me to see him in a situation where he is admired. Now I personally think he is the most amazing person I have ever known. But, I admit that as his Mom I may be a tad biased, so it is always good for me to see him succeed in a social situation.
Races are a week long round of activities in our lives. There are show cars displayed around town and there are opportunities to meet your favorite driver. We take advantage of as many of these opportunities as we can. One of those opportunities this year was also what I call a divine appointment. Like the young woman I was able to share with at Mt. Rushmore, or the gentleman that talked to my son at Crazy Horse, an opportunity to be in the right place at the right time. We were standing in line at a local grocery store waiting to meet Clint Bowyer. I got in a conversation with the 2 people in front of us in line.
The conversation started off about Nascar. But was soon about something even more important. It turned out that the gentleman was the father of a 9 year old son, a son blessed with autism. As my son was able to hold a conversation with this man about the sport of Nascar, I could see that something even more important was happening. This father had never met an adult with autism, and he was soon sharing with me how important it was for him to be able to talk to my son. To be able to first see my son as a fellow Nascar fan before he saw him as a person with autism.
When we become parents, we dream dreams for our children. The first time you hold that child in your arms, you think of the future.As your child grows from a newborn to a baby to a toddler, you start to imagine what they might be when they grow up. When you start to figure out that there is something different about your child, and then perhaps when you receive a diagnosis you often have to let go of some of those dreams, but you are in uncharted territory, and you don't know what the future is going to look like. So often, we have no frame of reference because we have never met anyone who has faced similar challenges. Standing in line that day, this father met an autistic young man. A young man who was knowledgeable and interesting, and for the first time in a long time this father could imagine a future for his son.
I think that is a great return for our Nascar dollars, don't you? Makes me a very proud Nascar MOM!
Monday, October 3, 2011
Social skills?
Our neighborhood had it's fall picnic over the weekend. Unlike the weekend before, the weather was perfect, and the turnout was good! My son went with me for the very first time. He used his best social skills, shook hands with the people I introduced him to, enjoyed the hamburgers and hot dogs, stayed much longer than I thought he would, and chose to leave when he felt uncomfortable. I was very, very proud of him. His social skills get better all of the time.
This story isn't about my 26 year old autistic child, however. This story is about neighbors.Like the 2 year old I met at the picnic. His behaviors were the spitting image of my son at that age. He was a beautiful little boy, the MOST interesting grey eyes, and to this MOM, exhibited many characteristics of autism. His parents had their hands full keeping up with him!
I attempted to open conversation with his parents a couple of times. After all, if he is indeed autistic, I have a lot of experience. I could offer support and encouragement. But, they are fairly new to the neighborhood, and seemed a bit wary. Now that may or may not have anything to do with their son, who may or may not be autistic. It could have just been the nerves of meeting all of us old folks, many for the first time.
Our neighborhood is a throwback to a different time. The 100 homes in our subdivision are inhabited by mostly older folks who have lived together for decades, raised families together, become family for many. I can remember the address of the Southern California house I grew up in, if pressed I might be able to figure out the addresses of the rest of the houses on our street. But in my mind, and my memories they will always be remembered by the names of the families that were living there. Our house was the Jones house, William E to be specific, and we had to be because directly across the street was the William H Jones family-no relation. There were 6 original families, families who built their homes themselves, upgrading over the years. Then in the late 1950's a new subdivision replaced the fields across the street creating a new neighborhood. A very interesting neighborhood, a mix of ethnicity's and family styles moved into the really nice 3 bedroom houses-2 floor plans available-that were affordable for working class families.
The homes were built on the same floor plans, but every house had it's own color and landscaping as the families made them their own. As we children grew up together we knew all of the houses by the names of the families. We knew that we were safe on our way to school as we walked past the Bartletts, the Martinez, eventually past the Bachelor's house. As an adult I know that the bachelors were a same sex couple. As a child, they were just the Bachelors, a very important part of our community. They were always there to lend a helping hand when needed.
I thought about the Bachelors today. I was reading some really hate-filled comments on facebook, and I felt so blessed that I grew up in a diverse neighborhood. A neighborhood where you were not judged by anything other than your being part of our lives. I don't know when it dawned on me that the Bachelors were a 'same sex' couple, because it just didn't matter. What mattered was that they were neighbors. Good neighbors. It can be so easy to get jaded in this day and age, but then I think about our neighborhood and the neighborhood I grew up in. When I see people saying ugly things, I need to remember that there are places in the world where you can grow up to believe that all people are just your neighbors and it doesn't really matter whether you have much in common with them other than the most important thing, they are part of the weft and weave that makes up the tapestry of your life. Just like this neighborhood has been for my unique son, and hopefully will be for the little guy with the grey eyes.
This story isn't about my 26 year old autistic child, however. This story is about neighbors.Like the 2 year old I met at the picnic. His behaviors were the spitting image of my son at that age. He was a beautiful little boy, the MOST interesting grey eyes, and to this MOM, exhibited many characteristics of autism. His parents had their hands full keeping up with him!
I attempted to open conversation with his parents a couple of times. After all, if he is indeed autistic, I have a lot of experience. I could offer support and encouragement. But, they are fairly new to the neighborhood, and seemed a bit wary. Now that may or may not have anything to do with their son, who may or may not be autistic. It could have just been the nerves of meeting all of us old folks, many for the first time.
Our neighborhood is a throwback to a different time. The 100 homes in our subdivision are inhabited by mostly older folks who have lived together for decades, raised families together, become family for many. I can remember the address of the Southern California house I grew up in, if pressed I might be able to figure out the addresses of the rest of the houses on our street. But in my mind, and my memories they will always be remembered by the names of the families that were living there. Our house was the Jones house, William E to be specific, and we had to be because directly across the street was the William H Jones family-no relation. There were 6 original families, families who built their homes themselves, upgrading over the years. Then in the late 1950's a new subdivision replaced the fields across the street creating a new neighborhood. A very interesting neighborhood, a mix of ethnicity's and family styles moved into the really nice 3 bedroom houses-2 floor plans available-that were affordable for working class families.
The homes were built on the same floor plans, but every house had it's own color and landscaping as the families made them their own. As we children grew up together we knew all of the houses by the names of the families. We knew that we were safe on our way to school as we walked past the Bartletts, the Martinez, eventually past the Bachelor's house. As an adult I know that the bachelors were a same sex couple. As a child, they were just the Bachelors, a very important part of our community. They were always there to lend a helping hand when needed.
I thought about the Bachelors today. I was reading some really hate-filled comments on facebook, and I felt so blessed that I grew up in a diverse neighborhood. A neighborhood where you were not judged by anything other than your being part of our lives. I don't know when it dawned on me that the Bachelors were a 'same sex' couple, because it just didn't matter. What mattered was that they were neighbors. Good neighbors. It can be so easy to get jaded in this day and age, but then I think about our neighborhood and the neighborhood I grew up in. When I see people saying ugly things, I need to remember that there are places in the world where you can grow up to believe that all people are just your neighbors and it doesn't really matter whether you have much in common with them other than the most important thing, they are part of the weft and weave that makes up the tapestry of your life. Just like this neighborhood has been for my unique son, and hopefully will be for the little guy with the grey eyes.
Friday, September 23, 2011
On Needing Help!
Things are still unsettled in our lives, we haven't found a place to move to yet. BUT, the truth is we have to move, so we have started getting packed up. I am ashamed to say that I would be an excellent candidate for one of those Hoarding shows. Grief, depression, and physical pain have conspired to make me let the house go. Not making excuses, and actually thinking moving will help me to get things back under control. There, a positive thought!
But, right now I am feeling overwhelmed. I know I need help, but have no idea how to access it. Most of my family and friends live far away. The ones who live closer have problems and issues of their own, but honestly if I asked might try to help out. So, why haven't I asked? Back to that old pride thing, I think.So, why am I blogging about this? I think I am sharing these thoughts in order to help myself get past that embarrassment causing pride so that I can make myself reach out.
Part if the problem is that it is all too easy to become isolated in this day and age. Technology is awesome, but when it is easy to keep in touch with those you care about by email, facebook, message boards, and blog posts you can become a hermit and so no one sees that your house has become untenable. It is easy to pretend that no one visits because everyone is busy, but the truth is you haven't invited anyone to visit in a very long time. You used to have people over, used to fix meals, used to share your hospitality, when did that stop? No answers, but the questions are important to becoming accountable to yourself.
So, here I am, struggling to pack up a house full of memories buried in years of detritus.I know I need help, yet have no idea where to start. But, I can already feel myself changing, I can feel the need to come out from under this grief and depression in a way that will make life easier and better. How encouraging that the most difficult thing I have dealt with since I lost my husband is bringing positive change to my thinking. Moving forward, brick by brick. Perhaps just acknowledgng to the world that I need help is the first step in reaching out for it! Every step I take is a step away from where I used to be, and I am taking steps every day!!
But, right now I am feeling overwhelmed. I know I need help, but have no idea how to access it. Most of my family and friends live far away. The ones who live closer have problems and issues of their own, but honestly if I asked might try to help out. So, why haven't I asked? Back to that old pride thing, I think.So, why am I blogging about this? I think I am sharing these thoughts in order to help myself get past that embarrassment causing pride so that I can make myself reach out.
Part if the problem is that it is all too easy to become isolated in this day and age. Technology is awesome, but when it is easy to keep in touch with those you care about by email, facebook, message boards, and blog posts you can become a hermit and so no one sees that your house has become untenable. It is easy to pretend that no one visits because everyone is busy, but the truth is you haven't invited anyone to visit in a very long time. You used to have people over, used to fix meals, used to share your hospitality, when did that stop? No answers, but the questions are important to becoming accountable to yourself.
So, here I am, struggling to pack up a house full of memories buried in years of detritus.I know I need help, yet have no idea where to start. But, I can already feel myself changing, I can feel the need to come out from under this grief and depression in a way that will make life easier and better. How encouraging that the most difficult thing I have dealt with since I lost my husband is bringing positive change to my thinking. Moving forward, brick by brick. Perhaps just acknowledgng to the world that I need help is the first step in reaching out for it! Every step I take is a step away from where I used to be, and I am taking steps every day!!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
On Tough Times
Tough times come to all of us. Some tougher than others, but all of us will experience challenges and obstacles in life. Today I am reminded of something I wrote not long after my husband was killed. It is as applicable today as it was then, so I think I will share it.
The quote for the day is...
People say, "What is the sense of our small effort?" They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time.~~Dorothy Day~~
This one has applications for my life right now, and for our weight loss journeys, our spiritual growth, our every day existence. Right now, it is all I can do to put one foot in front of the other. Everything I know about life, everything I believe has come into play these last few weeks, and the next months and years as I look to build a different life than I had expected to be building. But, that life will only be built one brick at a time. That's all anything is built by. Fortunately, for me, I have most of my bricks in place. I have a good foundation of friends and family, a strong belief in my Higher Power, bolstered by years of study and practice. I am blessed by these bricks, and blessed that they are available to me. One step at a time, that is all I can do, that is all any of us can do.
The quote for the day is...
People say, "What is the sense of our small effort?" They cannot see that we must lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time.~~Dorothy Day~~
This one has applications for my life right now, and for our weight loss journeys, our spiritual growth, our every day existence. Right now, it is all I can do to put one foot in front of the other. Everything I know about life, everything I believe has come into play these last few weeks, and the next months and years as I look to build a different life than I had expected to be building. But, that life will only be built one brick at a time. That's all anything is built by. Fortunately, for me, I have most of my bricks in place. I have a good foundation of friends and family, a strong belief in my Higher Power, bolstered by years of study and practice. I am blessed by these bricks, and blessed that they are available to me. One step at a time, that is all I can do, that is all any of us can do.
Friday, September 16, 2011
On Being Poor
Yes, I know I just took a vacation, but honestly it didn't cost much, and it was necessary for our mental health. The whole trip cost just a bit more than one months mortgage,and that would not have saved my house from foreclosure.Yes, I am aware that some would question the decision I made to take a trip, but honestly the need for healing, and the spiritual benefits far outweighed any other factors and were well worth it. We would not have made the trip if we had not had free hotel rooms available and a car that gets outstanding gas mileage!
Finding a place to rent has become an exercise in frustration. I am finding that no one will take a chance on low income people. Frankly, if I had the income level that is being required I would be able to afford the mortgage payments. I have no other debt, my car is payed for, I have no credit cards, and I am very good at living frugally. All I need is a safe place for my son and I to live.
I realize that most people would choose to live in a safe neighborhood, in fact most people take living in a safe neighborhood for granted. But when your resources are low, as so many these days, finding that place that feels safe is nigh on to impossible. So once again, I am seeking a miracle. Been there done that, but this morning I am wondering if my miracle quota has reached it's limit.
Wow, just typing this is making me feel vulnerable and I am not known for feeling vulnerable. I am know for my strong positive outlook. I am known for counseling others to remain positive and in the moment. So this morning I am looking at my circumstances,and trying to ignore them as I seek a solution.
Ignoring circumstance may seem foolish, but how many times are we in a position where we have to do just that? When talking to a landlord this morning I had to give a synopsis of our challenges, and even as I spoke I assured the nice man that we weren't quite as pathetic as we sounded, but I also was not surprised that he couldn't take the chance.. Yes, we have moved from crisis to crisis in recent memory, but honestly all we need is a chance to build on our healing and go forward. OK, so my husband was unemployed for 5 months, and then killed by a drunk driver on his way home from the first day on a new job, and then I fell at work requiring surgery, then fell at home breaking my leg, then lost my job, then my neurological disease worsened, then my autistic son became seriously ill and I got behind in the mortgage and need to move because of foreclosure. I do sound like a lost cause.
But I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that I won't find a safe place to live,and I refuse to believe that circumstances will keep us from being safe. I just refuse. Does that make me an idealistic dreamer? Perhaps, but these days our dreams for the future are all that we have to hold on to, and we do have dreams for the future-we just don't have a place to live. That puts us in company with so many people in this country and around the world. Yes, it is a scary place to be.
But as one of my mantras has always been "fear is the mindkiller", I have to ignore the fear and move forward. The only way to move forward is by continuing to have faith that we will find that safe place, that place where we can heal and reach for our dreams. Faith doesn't always make sense, but it is necessary. Faith means believing even when circumstance tells you different. Faith means that in the words of my son "Just because you know the truth doesn't mean you don't believe."
So yes, I know the truth, we have no place to live. We have major obstacles to finding a place to live, but we have to continue believing that this circumstance is not the end of the story.We have to continue ignoring the circumstance and not let the current obstacles keep us from looking forward. I know that somewhere there is a place for us, I just haven't found it yet.
Well, as the opening to this blog says, some days I may celebrate, some days I may whine and vent. But always, I am going to share my stories. This morning I needed to whine and vent, but in doing so I have found my positive outlook hiding in my story. Time to put one foot in front of the other and act out that faith!!
Peace and Blessings,
Finding a place to rent has become an exercise in frustration. I am finding that no one will take a chance on low income people. Frankly, if I had the income level that is being required I would be able to afford the mortgage payments. I have no other debt, my car is payed for, I have no credit cards, and I am very good at living frugally. All I need is a safe place for my son and I to live.
I realize that most people would choose to live in a safe neighborhood, in fact most people take living in a safe neighborhood for granted. But when your resources are low, as so many these days, finding that place that feels safe is nigh on to impossible. So once again, I am seeking a miracle. Been there done that, but this morning I am wondering if my miracle quota has reached it's limit.
Wow, just typing this is making me feel vulnerable and I am not known for feeling vulnerable. I am know for my strong positive outlook. I am known for counseling others to remain positive and in the moment. So this morning I am looking at my circumstances,and trying to ignore them as I seek a solution.
Ignoring circumstance may seem foolish, but how many times are we in a position where we have to do just that? When talking to a landlord this morning I had to give a synopsis of our challenges, and even as I spoke I assured the nice man that we weren't quite as pathetic as we sounded, but I also was not surprised that he couldn't take the chance.. Yes, we have moved from crisis to crisis in recent memory, but honestly all we need is a chance to build on our healing and go forward. OK, so my husband was unemployed for 5 months, and then killed by a drunk driver on his way home from the first day on a new job, and then I fell at work requiring surgery, then fell at home breaking my leg, then lost my job, then my neurological disease worsened, then my autistic son became seriously ill and I got behind in the mortgage and need to move because of foreclosure. I do sound like a lost cause.
But I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that I won't find a safe place to live,and I refuse to believe that circumstances will keep us from being safe. I just refuse. Does that make me an idealistic dreamer? Perhaps, but these days our dreams for the future are all that we have to hold on to, and we do have dreams for the future-we just don't have a place to live. That puts us in company with so many people in this country and around the world. Yes, it is a scary place to be.
But as one of my mantras has always been "fear is the mindkiller", I have to ignore the fear and move forward. The only way to move forward is by continuing to have faith that we will find that safe place, that place where we can heal and reach for our dreams. Faith doesn't always make sense, but it is necessary. Faith means believing even when circumstance tells you different. Faith means that in the words of my son "Just because you know the truth doesn't mean you don't believe."
So yes, I know the truth, we have no place to live. We have major obstacles to finding a place to live, but we have to continue believing that this circumstance is not the end of the story.We have to continue ignoring the circumstance and not let the current obstacles keep us from looking forward. I know that somewhere there is a place for us, I just haven't found it yet.
Well, as the opening to this blog says, some days I may celebrate, some days I may whine and vent. But always, I am going to share my stories. This morning I needed to whine and vent, but in doing so I have found my positive outlook hiding in my story. Time to put one foot in front of the other and act out that faith!!
Peace and Blessings,
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Cynicism
You know it is so easy to become cynical these days. Turn on the TV, check your newsfeed on Facebook, read a message board. Everywhere you look people seemed to have become mean, hateful, lacking the simple human qualities of compassion and kindness. It honestly doesn't matter what your political, or religious beliefs are you can find examples of people who just seem to have forgotten how to behave towards other people. If you are in a difficult situation yourself, it starts to feel rather personal. It starts to feel as if you just have no right to exist if you are down on your luck.
I think it is to easy to say ugly things about other human beings when you are anonymous. I think that if we turn off the TV, get off the computer and encounter one another face to face, most behave differently. Yes, a few will still be hateful uncaring monsters-quick to demean or ridicule anyone they see as different. These are just all around miserable people and it must be hard to be that unhappy. But most people are not that miserable. Most people will speak kindly even to a stranger.
While vacationing last week we met so many nice people. People who were truly happy to have us in their home town, or visiting their area. As I worked my way through doorways, or up a step or two with my cane or my walker, there was always someone rushing to hold a door, or offer a helping hand. I tend to want to let others go through the doorway before me, offering the caveat that I am slow, and no one ever takes me up on it.
It seems to me we need to get out and meet each other. It seems all to easy, no matter where your belief lies on the spectrum to demonize those who are different than you.Personally, i have never understood bigotry and hate, and it seems to be growing stronger. It seems like it is all too easy to think that the problems are all the fault of the 'others'. But when the 'other' is someone we are face to face with we are able to see that we are all fighting some battle, and we aren't all that different. Those folks, young, old, male, female who held a door for me, or waited to get to their seat while the lady with the walker made her way slowly ahead of them had no way of knowing whether I am a liberal or conservative, a Christian or a Muslim or a pagan, or any thing in between. All they saw was a middle aged woman with mobility issues, and they were happy to offer assistance or a bit of encouragement.
It is so easy to fall into cynical thinking, I have thought many times recently that there are those who would gladly let me die by the side of the road because I am no longer a productive member of society. And there may be a couple of those out there, but for the most part this country is full of good people, people who will offer a helping hand no matter who you are or what you look like.For the most part this country is full of friends we have yet to meet. And even those who say the most hateful hurtful things under a cloak of anonymity, will usually think that their friends or family are not who they are railing against.
So we need to get out of the house, out of our neighborhood or comfort zone and meet each other. Maybe then we will remember that we are all human, and all deserving of a bit of help now and then.We have to remember to be kind, even to those miserable ones, because truly we never know what battles the other person is fighting,and our smile or kind word may remind even them that they are human.If it doesn't, we must truly feel sorry for them, because it certainly can't be easy to be that unhappy.But, we must not let the hate we see and feel rub off on us, we must fight the cynical tooth and nail, but we must fight it with kindness and caring, and that is what I found out there in our country. Nice people, they really do exist!
I think it is to easy to say ugly things about other human beings when you are anonymous. I think that if we turn off the TV, get off the computer and encounter one another face to face, most behave differently. Yes, a few will still be hateful uncaring monsters-quick to demean or ridicule anyone they see as different. These are just all around miserable people and it must be hard to be that unhappy. But most people are not that miserable. Most people will speak kindly even to a stranger.
While vacationing last week we met so many nice people. People who were truly happy to have us in their home town, or visiting their area. As I worked my way through doorways, or up a step or two with my cane or my walker, there was always someone rushing to hold a door, or offer a helping hand. I tend to want to let others go through the doorway before me, offering the caveat that I am slow, and no one ever takes me up on it.
It seems to me we need to get out and meet each other. It seems all to easy, no matter where your belief lies on the spectrum to demonize those who are different than you.Personally, i have never understood bigotry and hate, and it seems to be growing stronger. It seems like it is all too easy to think that the problems are all the fault of the 'others'. But when the 'other' is someone we are face to face with we are able to see that we are all fighting some battle, and we aren't all that different. Those folks, young, old, male, female who held a door for me, or waited to get to their seat while the lady with the walker made her way slowly ahead of them had no way of knowing whether I am a liberal or conservative, a Christian or a Muslim or a pagan, or any thing in between. All they saw was a middle aged woman with mobility issues, and they were happy to offer assistance or a bit of encouragement.
It is so easy to fall into cynical thinking, I have thought many times recently that there are those who would gladly let me die by the side of the road because I am no longer a productive member of society. And there may be a couple of those out there, but for the most part this country is full of good people, people who will offer a helping hand no matter who you are or what you look like.For the most part this country is full of friends we have yet to meet. And even those who say the most hateful hurtful things under a cloak of anonymity, will usually think that their friends or family are not who they are railing against.
So we need to get out of the house, out of our neighborhood or comfort zone and meet each other. Maybe then we will remember that we are all human, and all deserving of a bit of help now and then.We have to remember to be kind, even to those miserable ones, because truly we never know what battles the other person is fighting,and our smile or kind word may remind even them that they are human.If it doesn't, we must truly feel sorry for them, because it certainly can't be easy to be that unhappy.But, we must not let the hate we see and feel rub off on us, we must fight the cynical tooth and nail, but we must fight it with kindness and caring, and that is what I found out there in our country. Nice people, they really do exist!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
