Speaking up

I think I am a compassionate person - or at least I try to be. I think I have mostly goodwill in my heart toward people who are different than me.  But I realize that I'm kinda' clueless about what life is really like for them. I have never walked in their shoes but I have made feeble attempts to learn more about such things.  It is easy to see that in many cases, black lives do not matter and that is not okay with me.

A couple years ago I was challenged to read Black authors so I made a commitment to read and listen and learn.  I am finding so many writers from whom I can learn more about their reality. 

Jacalyn Wetzel is one of the many Black writers I've found and this is one of her everyday normal life stories.

I don't often speak up or share the things I'm reading.  Maybe I'm hesitant to get up on my soapbox.  But I am deeply troubled by the things that must be endured by so many - simply because of their skin color.

Maybe I could find the courage to speak up once in awhile.

Somber day, somber year

Feels like a somber 4th this year.

Feels like a somber year.

So unusual

Weird

Surreal

No friends gathering in the back yard tonight to view the fireworks...

Because …  no fireworks show this year

No gathering with family for months now

No snuggling with grandkids…

...

I’ve always been grateful to be an American.

I used to be proud…

But this year, I am humbled and sad.

I am embarrassed about how little I really knew about the history of my country.

And so this Fourth of July finds me more serious.

• Somber
• Quieter - well, except for fireworks exploding every night for weeks now!
• More thoughtful
• More intentional
• Choosing to listen to voices that I have not bothered to hear before
• Choosing to listen and learn
• Noticing how I have benefited from racism
• Processing how to handle my privilege

...

Speaking of privilege... 

Takes me back to my years in church leadership.

I used to preach sermons about a proper attitude about our blessings.

I used to sign my letters with the closing, "Blessed to be a blessing"

Because I really believed that I was...  blessed SO THAT I could be a blessing.

And I still believe that.  

I still want to use my blessings to bless other people.

That's the kind of person I want to be.

"With great blessing

comes great responsibility..."

But there was so much I did not realize.

It had not occurred to me that some of my blessings and some of my privilege came at such an unfair cost to others.  Well, maybe I knew parts of it.  Bits and pieces.  But maybe I had not yet taken time to get quiet and somber enough to sit under the truth that so many of our systems are cruel and unjust.  

Methinks this processing will be a LONG journey.  

But I have started.

…

On this day commemorating freedom and independence, I am embarking on a quest to learn how to stand for freedom for those Americans whose skin is darker than mine.  

I have much to learn.

I wish I had known better sooner.

I wish I were farther along.

But I am where I am.

And I can only start where I am.

Now I choose to know better. 

... so that I can do better.

King Friday XIII

Once upon a time there was a wonderful neighborhood ruled by King Friday XIII.  I had known of the neighborhood before because of Mister Rogers, but had never spent much time there until recently.  In the last few months I have been so impressed by Mister Rogers and wanted to know more about him.  

Just this week I was introduced to King Friday XIII having only heard of him.  Turns out that he is “the imperious monarch of the neighborhood."  According to Wikipedia, "he is relatively egocentric, irrational, resistant to change, and temperamental, although open-minded enough to listen when told he is wrong. He has a fondness for giving long-winded speeches and using big words.”

Yikes!  He feels really familiar to me - maybe because I am a little like him…  

• Relatively egocentric, huh?  ...Yep, but then aren’t we all?
• Irrational?  ...Okay, sometimes guilty.
• Resistant to change?  Oh, dear; that could be me.
• Giving long-winded speeches and using big words?  ...Seriously?!?  Yah; don’t ask my family about that one!

I certainly did not expect to discover how much I am like King Friday. To the contrary, here I have been really hoping to emulate the mild-mannered Mister Rogers.  I am convinced that the world would be a better place if more of us would learn to be more like him.  Because you see, there are lots of us who are egocentric, irrational, resistant to change, temperamental, and yes, even imperious*.

The most obvious trait I want to learn is that of kindness.  Mister Rogers used to say… “There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind.”

Yah, sounds redundant and maybe even silly; right?  

But it gives me pause.  

That’s the way I want to live my life.

That’s who I want to be - someone who treats all people with kindness.

So how do I do that?

Perhaps by following yet another of his examples - that of listening.  Really listening.  Listening to learn how it feels to be in the other person’s shoes. That kind of deep listening requires me to become comfortable with silence. To give myself time to think before reacting.

Oof!!! I admit that I am not good at that one! Silence can feel awkward, as if it needs to be filled. But Mister Rogers believed that “Silence is one of the greatest gifts we have.” 

Oh, dear. Here I’ve been saying all week that I want to be like Mister Rogers and then I find out that I might be more like King Friday! How will I ever upgrade to those more admirable traits?

But wait; there was one other trait that I might share with King Friday…  One that I’m kind of happy about.  I did notice that he is “open-minded enough to listen when told he is wrong.”

Good for him!!!

And good for me when I can do that.

Because that’s how I can become better. If I can be open-minded enough to listen, then maybe I can be kinder and more understanding…

But then...  even while I’m trying to be better...

What’s that I hear off in the distance... ?

“You are special and I like you just the way you are.”

Thanks, Mister Rogers!

I’m learning to like me just the way I am, too.

And that’s another really good step toward liking other people just the way they are.

...

* Vocab words for you to look up...

Conversation. Actual conversation

Sometimes I get scared.

Scared about our country. 

Scared for our world.

For our planet.

Like when I hear so much anger and vitriol.

Name-calling, accusations and all kinds of nastiness.

So much violence and strife and destruction. 

Sometimes it’s all I can do to stay calm.

To slowly walk away.

To take in a deep breath - and then another.

To find something else to occupy my thoughts.

...

Other times I am privy to conversations between people who disagree with each but who do so calmly and respectfully. 

What a novel idea.

I’m talking real conversation; you know?

Not interrupting each other.

No name-calling.

No getting mad and yelling. 

No judging of motives.

Conversation that doesn't get shut down by anger. 

Where people actually listen to the other.

Real dialog between mature responsible people. 

Calm, reasonable, civil.

Ah, yes. 

At those times I am so terribly grateful for good friends.  

And for friends of friends. 

For friends who cultivate respectful friendships.

Wise friends. Mature friends. Thinking friends. 

And then I feel better.

About my world.

About our world.

Not sure how I feel about that

"Not sure how I feel about that."
Those are the words she said, but what I heard was more like, "I do not approve of that."
They sounded judgmental to my ears, almost like "I do not approve of you."

...

Different occasion:
"I'm not sure what to think about that."
Those were the words that came out of my mouth.  I did not mean them to be judgmental or disapproving, but I now realize that they may well sound that way in the ears of someone hearing them.  Someone who felt like I disapproved of them.

...

Two separate conversations.
Two separate issues.
Similar words.
Totally different understanding.
What made the difference?

 ...

Probably the main difference is that one time I was the hearer, the judged, from whom approval was being withheld.  In the other instance I was the speaker, and possibly the judge.

Is it possible that the first speaker did not intend to judge me? 
Maybe.  But I certainly felt judged.

Is it also possible that someone hearing the second conversation may have felt judged by me, may have felt the lack of my approval, even though that was not my intent?
Maybe.  I must admit that my words may have sounded like judgment.

...

Moral of the story:
Be aware that my words may come out sounding like disapproval even when I don't mean them that way.  Duh. 

Another difference could be the tone of the two conversations.  The first was full of questions - almost an interrogation.  The second was mostly listening.  Learning.

Yep, listening is usually a good thing.
I could learn to do more listening.

An awkward silence

It was an innocent question, a simple question, asking about the welfare of a mutual friend. However… the friend in question had died 12 years ago. The person to whom the question had been asked didn’t say anything for a really long time. At least to me it seemed like a really long time. He was likely taking some moments to consider the kindest way to phrase the answer – one that would minimize the embarrassment of the questioner. I found myself wanting to jump in with a quicker answer, but am thankful that I refrained – because it wasn’t my question to answer, but also because it provided an important lesson for me.

In hindsight, I remember standing there thinking, “Why doesn’t he say something?” Even later I marveled at his deliberation and then it occurred to me that this man often does that… often takes some moments to collect his thoughts before giving an answer. Whoa. Think before you speak. What a novel idea.

Then it dawned on me that I had witnessed an illustration of two kinds of conversational response. My internal reaction was immediate, almost impatient, feeling that somebody needed to get the answer out there a.s.a.p. On the other hand, the response that was eventually given seemed to emerge instead from a philosophy that valued taking the time to give a measured response. Duh. “Slow to listen, slow to speak…” Yah, I’ve heard that somewhere before. And no, I’ve never been very good at it. Could it be that I am uncomfortable with silence in some social settings? Do I feel compelled to fill it in before it can become too awkward?

In this case I think I would have given a fine answer. I am sensitive enough to have been kind and gracious, but I would have tried to do it quickly. This was just an ordinary conversation between old friends – so maybe it didn’t really matter – but in a more volatile situation the speed of the answer might have made a big difference.

So, let this be a lesson to me. How many times have I wished that I had stopped to think before speaking? What will it take to help me change? Maybe one step would be to recognize that a moment of silence is not a terrible thing and that it is not always my job to fill it with words. Maybe I could learn that. Just maybe.