agreeing on what’s bad

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As I wrestle with reaction to recent current events, I find myself mentally thumbing through the mantra of why we can’t somehow just all get along. We don’t. We won’t. And thus there seems too much infighting to make any authentic progression. So our means of crafting solution becomes less about listening, respecting, and evaluating varied viewpoint; it instead becomes more about recruiting others to our supposed side. If recruitment is significantly successful, listening, respecting, and evaluating varied viewpoint become no longer necessary.

What I’ve noticed in our recent infighting, is that we can’t even agree on what is bad.

I’ll say that again: we can’t agree on what is bad. We fight about even that. Where is the moral clarity? What is the definition of right and wrong? Does such exist any more?

Most of us (most of the time) agree with what is right… love, joy, peace, patience, perseverance, kindness, charity, etc. But agreeing with what is bad is harder for us.

The most succinct, complete list seems embedded in the ancient scriptures. Let me offer an abbreviated paraphrase:

  1. No other gods, only me.
  2. No carved gods of any size, shape, or form of anything whatever.
  3. No using the name of God, your God, in curses or silly banter.
  4. Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
  5. Honor your father and mother.
  6. No murder.
  7. No adultery.
  8. No stealing.
  9. No lies about your neighbor.
  10. No lusting after your neighbor’s house, wife, possessions, etc.

A couple commands would benefit from added explanation… The idea of “no carved gods of any size, shape,” whatever, for example, means that our own two hands cannot create something that authentically serves as a god.

Secondly, regarding the call to honor the Sabbath… I suppose we each do that differently; but I think the underlying idea is similar to being intentional in setting a time aside each week to be still — to thank and reflect upon the One who made us… resting… recognizing this world isn’t and has never been “all about me.”

Today’s challenge comes in the other eight commandments. I don’t think we agree anymore that those are really so bad…

Honor your father and mother? (… well, until those parents don’t raise you the way the rest of us think they should…)

Adultery? (… well, sometimes you were just meant to be with someone else… if it feels right, it must be right…)

And no lies? No lusting? (… oh, come on… we all do that!)

My point is that what’s bad has digressed into a point of contention.

Note that when a person walks up D.C.’s First Street steps to the majestic Supreme Court Building, near the top of the building is a sculpted row of the world’s historic law givers. Most of the figures face the man in the middle who is facing forward; it is Moses holding the Ten Commandments. Fascinating in regard to the acknowledged infighting, in recent years some have argued what Moses is holding; they are two stone tablets… but, as some contend… There’s no visible writing on the tablets… Moses could have been holding something else!

I suggest that a single, even halfhearted viewing of Charlton Heston’s most epic role will leave little doubt what Moses could and would be holding.

That’s it. We fight about it. If we can diminish any significance of the Ten Commandments — as noted by their prominence in the highest court of the land — then we can justify acting as if what they actually say isn’t that bad.

But if we can’t agree on what’s bad, it’s pretty hard to discern what’s actually good.

Respectfully…
AR

editing aspects of truth

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Still wrestling with Orlando… why? Because it was awful.

Why else? Because it continues to be challenging the way many respond… again, this past weekend.

Borrowing from one of the Intramuralist’s fave sites, RealClearPolitics.com…

The Washington Post reported last week that the gunman made multiple phone calls while holding hostages: “The gunman who opened fire inside a nightclub here said he carried out the attack because he wanted ‘Americans to stop bombing his country,’ according to a witness who survived the rampage.”

Salon reported that: “Everybody who was in the bathroom who survived could hear him talking to 911, saying the reason why he’s doing this is because he wanted America to stop bombing his country.”

The Washington Post also noted that during his 911 call from the club, the gunman referenced the Boston Marathon bombers and claimed “that he carried out the shooting to prevent bombings, [echoing] a message the younger Boston attacker had scrawled in a note before he was taken into custody by police.”

In other words, the murderer clearly claimed his allegiance to radical Islamic terrorism.

On Sunday, U.S. Attorney General Loretta Lynch announced that the Justice Dept. would be intentionally editing the 911 transcripts from that fateful evening — removing those Islamic pledges of allegiance. They then released the redacted transcript  — no audio  — later on Monday morning.

Her motive?

“The reason why we’re going to limit these transcripts is to avoid revictimizing those who went through this horror,” said Lynch.

Interesting…

If such is the full, sole motive, then I am assuming this precedent will be set for other horrific, violent acts…

… if someone attempts to blow up an abortion clinic… if someone is viciously raped… if someone targets black people… Jewish people… police officers…

So “revictimizing” is a justified reason to omit details?

As simply a semi-humble current events observer (and as always, the emphasis is on the “semi”), I question whether it’s rational, logical, and wise that the full and only motive is as the Attorney General states. With all due respect, I am not suggesting lies or deceit; I do not claim to know. I am merely saying that in our ongoing desire to wrestle with all aspects of the truth — hard as that may be some days — this just doesn’t make sense to me. The fact that the Orlando murderer was motivated by his violent interpretation of Islam is relevant to this crime. It is one aspect of the truth.

Let me also not assert that I know the entire motive for scrubbing the 911 transcripts; there is much I don’t understand… I don’t understand, for example, the purging of references regarding radical Islamic terrorism in government agent training manuals in recent years. My thought is that it would be wisest to include all aspects as a part of those trained to recognize potential problems.

So I wonder… Can we not deal with all aspects of the truth?

And if we decide it’s best to omit specific aspects, will we be consistent in the way we wrestle with others who commit such awful crimes? Will re-victimization be an acceptable reason for withholding details then? … for the non radical Islamic terrorist?

As usual, my wondering sometimes gets the best of me…

[Added update:  after strong negative reaction to the Justice Dept.’s arbitrary decision to redact all references to Islam in the murderer’s 911 calls — from far more than the Intramuralist — the Justice Dept. reversed their Sunday declaration, releasing an uncensored transcript later on Monday. As for this observer, I continue to wonder…]

Respectfully…
AR

redirecting anger

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The examples are seemingly endless. First is Col. Lawrence Wilkerson (Ret.): “If anybody is directly responsible for Orlando, it’s the Republican Party for stymieing all manner of gun control.”

Next is Sen. John McCain: “Barack Obama is directly responsible for it because when he pulled everybody out of Iraq, Al-Qaeda went to Syria, became ISIS, and ISIS is what it is today thanks to Barack Obama’s failures, utter failures, by pulling everybody out of Iraq.”

And let’s not omit ACLU attorney Chase Strangio, suggesting Christians are to blame: “You know what is gross — your [Christian] thoughts and prayers and Islamophobia after you created this anti-queer climate.”

I get it. We’re mad. We’re mad that someone could annihilate the innocent. It makes no sense. To all of us.

While conversations regarding gun control, Obama’s military strategy, and the truths in Christianity can and should be respectfully had, each of the above arguments directs the anger more at something other than the source. As stated in a recent post, we don’t know all the details yet in regard to what happened at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. What we do know is that a Muslim man who claimed loyalty to ISIS, an Islamic terrorist organization that routinely executes homosexuals, took it upon himself to brutally murder 49 more.

My sense is our most intense anger should be directed at him.

It concerns me, nonetheless, when we redirect our anger. It’s as if when someone does not match the intensity of our passion, we assume they should be looped into the opposition. It’s as if we’ve changed the idea of “if you’re not for us, you’re against us” to “if you’re not as loud and angry as we are, you are just as bad as them.”

We seem to keep feeding the growing divide… the divide that too many of the politically expedient immediately succumb to. I was saddened, I will say, that in the immediate aftermath of the atrocity in Orlando, some of the most prominent politicians attacked their partisan opposition more than focusing on the victims. When we pounce on politics first, we have fed the division more than wrestled with the truth.

What happened in Orlando was awful. As said here previously, I believe it was the clear manifestation of evil. So regardless of whether you’re a Republican or Democrat (or like the many more seemingly gathering somewhere in the middle), whether you’re a card-carrying member of the NRA or desire to abolish the 2nd Amendment, or even if you’re a supporter or not of gay marriage as the law of this land, it doesn’t change the fact that what happened in Orlando was horrendous. And we can each see that regardless of partisan stance.

Now is not the time to chastise those who don’t share our intensity. Now is not the time to demand that everyone “agree with me” because only “I” know what is right. Now is also, no less, not the time to feed any division.

What if we could pause long enough to see what we have in common?

Republicans and Democrats…
Gay and straight…
NRA members and non-members…
Trans-bathroom supporters and non-supporters…

What if we realized that regardless of where each of the above stand on the issues with which they most identify, their hearts still hurt for what happened to those 49 innocent men and women in Orlando?

What would happen if we took the time to take a deep breath and realize that?

Maybe, just maybe, we then could wrestle with the truth. Maybe, too, we could heal.

Respectfully…
AR

wrestling with the truth

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Many of our longtime Intramuralist readers are aware that my professional background is in human resources. I was privileged to spend several years consulting after a career working for a highly respected hospitality management company. While the “semi” of my oft repeated “semi-humble” status would never allow me to say I was “the best,” I do believe I was trained by them (… thanks, JG).

Over the course of the last several years, no less, consistent with the progression, digression, or whatever of society you wish to call it, the HR field has changed significantly. There was always a plethora of forms… taxes, immigration, demographic info, etc. HR directors ensure the company has all their ducks, details, and doctrines all in a row.

Human resources also oversees all new hires. We meet, greet, they apply, we interview. Sometimes there’s a second interview. In the hospitality industry, typically the first interview is with HR alone and the second with the probable future supervisor. If all looks good, we would then check the person’s references, ensuring they are who they say they are — or are how they represent themselves.

But a funny thing happened during these years of progression/digression…

It used to be when I’d call former employers, I’d ask them to tell me a little bit about the their former employee’s performance record… What is this person like? How’d they do? How was their performance? What were their strengths… weaknesses? How did they interact with their peers? … supervisors? … subordinates?

And near the end of our call, I would ask, “Why did they leave? Are they eligible for re-hire?”

This process was always helpful — gleaning information in order to best discern who to hire and who to not. Every HR professional wants the right person in the right position — making sure skill set, gifting, and experience are commensurate with the job. If the person excelled in a recent job, it makes sense to know that, thereby potentially affirming a perceived future fit. If a person struggled, it made sense to know that, too, discerning any applicable relevance.

This process, however, is no longer routinely, fully in use. Due to the subjectivity that may enter into an assessment of past performance, companies found themselves liable if their record or perspective painted any picture of a past employee as anything less than positive. Even if the assessment was true — that the employee, for example, struggled getting along with others, was late, rude, had a temper, stole, refused to follow the rules, etc. — even though this would be helpful for a future employer to know in discerning fit — applicants sued past employers because this made them look something less than wonderful.

That’s one thing I perceive in this progression/digression of society… we have trouble when we paint a picture of something less than wonderful.

We keep feeding a festering culture that is fearful of making another look bad. We like to paint the picture — often making it more positive than it really is.

I chuckled last week receiving one of those “proud parent of my honor roll kid” stickers from my son’s school. Yes, my son, JT, does very well academically. The sticker, though, was for my youngest — the one with special needs on a modified curriculum.

I love it — I’m thankful they want to honor each of my kids, but it’s ok to be truthful and accurate about the strengths and weaknesses in each of our lives. There’s no need to worry if he looks something less than wonderful (…I, for one, find him incredibly wonderful!). But there is no need to omit details and be so politically correct.

In our society, unless a person is perceived as a bigot, racist, or some other derogatory, socially unacceptable position — our progressive/digressive culture can’t always handle the truth.

Why does it matter to call something what it is and respectfully share something perceived less than wonderful? Because then we can wrestle with reality — and can make a better assessment of what should happen next.

Respectfully…
AR

this side of heaven

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Every time we witness such a horrific event, we struggle with how to react. We are mad, sad, outraged, and more. The existence of evil on Earth is profoundly disturbing, and I pray we are never numb to it.

And so we cry out… we rant and rave… scream “how dare they.” Many of us will even change our Facebook profiles. This just hurts too much.

I am actually, soberly thankful that we are not numb. A society that is numb and fully fails to recognize evil is a society that I’m afraid will soon cease to exist. A society unwilling to acknowledge evil — therefore discarding any semblance of a moral compass — would seem to have lost any blessing or coverage from an omniscient, almighty God.

Let’s be clear: any time mass murder is targeted against a specific people group, it is evil; it is the clear absence of God.

And so I wrestle… how should we react?

I wish I could say that there was only one right answer with a singular fix, a sole perfect way to respond, and each of us simply needs to support and follow suit. But there is not. I think God gets the ranting and the raving… I think he also gets the crying out… I think he weeps.

Some of us then insist that we do whatever it takes to ensure this horror never happens again, no one is ever hurt, nor must we ever feel as awful as we do today. I admire that motive and emotion. I admire the desire to extinguish the evil.

Others still, call for peace, love, and the playground mantra of “can’t we all just get along.” This, too, is admirable.

The wrestling is whether our reactions are effective in the fight against evil.

The man responsible for the Orlando shooting early Sunday morning killed at least 49 people seemingly solely because they were part of the LGBT community. For my dear friends also a part of that community, I can’t imagine how that must feel. I know if I shared the same specificity for which the people group was targeted, my heart would hurt even more.

It’s true that we don’t know all the details of what happened; we may never know. Just like in Boston, San Bernardino, Ft. Hood, etc., it takes multiple days for details to be divulged. What we do know, however, is that the man was a Muslim, claimed allegiance to Islamic State, and ISIS claimed responsibility for the attack. While it’s illogical to judge all or most Muslims as terrorists, it is also illogical to ignore that many Muslims abhor various threads of current American culture — including homosexuality. Homosexual behavior is subject to severe legal punishment in many Muslim countries. ISIS routinely executes homosexuals, and on Sunday, the radical Islamic terrorist group called for more shootings in gay nightclubs across the globe.

That makes my heart again hurt more.

I wish there was a more effective way to wrestle with this evil rather than solely calling for greater gun control or invoking playground mantras. While each is a valid angle and worthy of discussion, neither will stop the man motivated by terror — the man bent on destroying another simply because of what the other believes. We must do more than that.

I also wish that it didn’t take a breaking news report about a shooting massacre to bind us together, in the recognition of the preciousness of life — and even more so, recognizing the preciousness of lives that are different than our own.

And so I find myself still wrestling, wondering how best to respond.

I will pray for peace for the families of the victims. I will pray that we each learn a little more what love really is — and learn to love those who are different than we.

And then — just as I believe the God of the universe often does — I will weep this side of heaven.

Respectfully…
AR

how many days left?

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One of my fave songs from last season’s phenomenal show choir season went as follows:

“Before last night, I was down on my luck
There was nothing going my way
Before last night, wasn’t feeling the love
No reason for a smile on my face
But I was always told, ‘You could turn it around,
Do it for the light of day
So get yourself together, head out on the town
The music gets you feelin’ okay’

Now I’m on a roll, and I’m losing control cause
I got that sunshine, it’s like the world is mine
I can’t deny I’m feelin’ good
Can’t stop from smiling, I’m bottled lightning
Oh, deep inside, I’m feelin’ good
All my heartbreak, my long and rainy days
Are gone, and now I can’t complain
Everything’s all right, I’m feelin’ so alive
I can’t deny I’m feelin’ good…

I got that sunshine, the world is mine
I’m feelin’ good
I feel it deep inside, I can’t deny
I’m feelin’ good
Everything’s all right, I’m so alive
I’m feelin’ good, I’m feelin’ good…”

The above song was from the talented Christina Grimmie, an American singer who found success via NBC’s “The Voice” in 2014.

On Friday night, after a concert, for currently unknown reasons, a 27 year old man intentionally shot and killed Christina, as she signed autographs at a merchandise table. Grimmie was only 22.

I’m reminded of our post only ten days ago, quoting the poignantly piercing words of Sheryl Sandberg, the Chief Operating Officer of Facebook. Sandberg delivered an unusual, albeit beautiful commencement address, where she recalled the unexpected, tragic loss of her young husband. Cutting through any comfort or coziness of the crowd, she asked the graduates:

“… Can you ask yourselves to live as if you had eleven days left?”

Realisticly, I don’t know that I can do that. And yet, none of us know the hour or the day. Christina Grimmie had no idea Friday would be mark the expiration of her days.

And so the question before us is not how long we live but whether we live our lives well… Do we live them for a greater purpose? Are we intentional? Do we do what we’re called to do? Do we encourage another? Do we come to grips with who God is and what he asks of his people?

What have we valued that matters so little?

What molehills have we made into mountains?

And what have we missed that means so much?

Where are we blind?

Sorry… my deep thoughts are plenty this day. It’s just that murder disturbs me. While the Intramuralist will always advocate for mercy, grace, and forgiveness in incredibly generous portions, I also believe that murder is a most arrogant act.

May God be with the family of Christina Grimmie. She only lived a short time, but “I can’t deny” she made her mark on me. I will forever both smile and shed tears at her song.

Respectfully…
AR

raped

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Perhaps by now you’ve read the story of the unconscious young woman who was raped by the college freshman. If you have not yet heard of it, let me start by saying it was awful. Awful… heartbreaking… heinous… disgusting. Pick whatever disturbing word you wish. It’s that bad.

20 year old Brock Turner went to Stanford on a swimming scholarship. Unrelated to this story, Turner was a three time All-American in high school. In January of 2015, he sexually assaulted an unconscious 23 year old. They were at a fraternity party. She was out of college and had a boyfriend, who was not in attendance; she had no intention of engaging physically with any other. Turner drank a lot; the young woman drank a lot — more liquor than her out-of-college body now tolerated, she stated. She did call her boyfriend during the evening, leaving an incomprehensible, slurred message. What ensued later that evening she does not remember in any capacity. It was relayed by a pair of graduate students who walked by, witnessed, and (thank God) stopped the horrific incident.

The woman was unconscious. She was totally out of it. She had been dragged behind a dumpster adjacent to the frat house, half of her clothes ripped off, with pine needles, etc. in multiple areas on and in her body. The witnesses shockingly saw Turner sexually violating a completely immobile, unresponsive, and clearly non-consenting woman.

12 jurors found Turner guilty on three felony counts, which are as follows (again, this is awful): (1) assault with intent to commit rape of an intoxicated or unconscious person, (2) sexual penetration of an intoxicated person, and (3) sexual penetration of an unconscious person. Note that “sexual penetration” is distinct from “rape,” as it involves any object or body part other than a sexual organ. Note, also, that Turner made no apology nor offered any admission of wrongdoing.

At sentencing last week, Turner faced 14 years in prison. Prosecutors had asked for 6. Guilty of three violent felonies, astonishingly, the judge gave him 6 months… (You read that correctly…) 6 months.

Please don’t mistake this as any race/privilege issue; no evidence suggests such. Allow me to instead return to the reference earlier identified as “unrelated” to this story. Truthfully, a more accurate phrasing is should be unrelated”…

Brock Turner was a varsity swimmer — a reported Olympic hopeful. After Turner left the university and lost his scholarship, his father, Dan, who pleaded for leniency, responded: “His [Brock’s] life will never be the one that he dreamed about and worked so hard to achieve. That is a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20 plus years of life.”

“20 minutes of action”… “a steep price to pay.” I agree… but a steep price to pay does not mean the wrong price to pay. There are serious consequences for serious sins.

The judge actually said a harsher sentence would “have a severe impact on him”… Him.

Let’s be clear: there was only one victim in this instance, and it was not Brock Turner. Yes, I believe in forgiveness. Yes, I believe in mercy and grace. I also believe in justice. This sentence does not in any way appear just. This shockingly light sentence, in fact — which only paves the perception that losing his scholarship and Olympic dream was somehow enough — indicates that the judge valued the impact of the rapist’s consequences more than the impact of the violation of the victim. It furthers the fictional, societal notion held by far too many that rape isn’t as violent or criminal as we think. These kind of judgments — sentencing profound minimums, forgiving an offense because it’s one’s first, and reducing rape to the absurd description of any “minutes of action” — disturbingly fuel the normalization of rape — again, in too many people’s minds. That’s awful.

Let me sensitively add that I am also hesitant to join some of the succeeding public protests demanding re-sentencing. I have no desire for the loudness of the people to dictate appropriate consequence (see Salem, 1878). I do, however, believe in justice, restitution, repentance, and forgiveness. I just don’t believe we’ve witnessed any of it here.

What we have witnessed, no less, is an amazingly articulate victim, who read her poignant, 12 page account in court and shared it publicly. She is both bold and sincere — and honest about her own strengths, weaknesses, fears and failures. As one empathetic friend said, “Her words speak powerfully of the brutality of rape, the imperfection of our justice system, and the strength of the human soul.”

Indeed they do… all in the face of something awful and unjust.

Respectfully…
AR

authenticity

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One of our long time family traditions is that at the onset of any vacation or significant road trip, as soon as we hit the interstate, we pop in our fave Ricky Martin CD, skip to song #9, and blast it through the car speakers…

“Do you really want it?
Do you really want it?
Do you really want it?…”

And so begins Martin’s rousing “Cup of Life” rendition from 1999. After the bold question of whether we really want something, we are then encouraged to “go, go, go.” My question today is whether we really always want what we say we do.

Think about authenticity…

Authenticity is the respected trait of sincerity within existence, expression, or intention. It’s saying what you mean and meaning what you say. It’s getting what you paid for. It’s knowing what you hear, see, and sense is the real deal. It’s not fake. It’s synonymous with genuineness and bona fides. We say we really want it…

… or at least we think we do.

And yet as we continue to watch at least the vernacular of our current polarized, political climate seemingly spiral downward, we still cling to the perceived value of scripts.

Scripts are prepared texts of what a person will or will not say.

They are poll-tested, time-tested, and ensured as much as humanly possible to produce a specific outcome or emotion. They are often great speeches.

But… they are not written by the deliverer of the address. Scripts are typically written by screen writers, speech writers, or campaign staffers because they have the best education and experience aimed at eliciting the desired emotion. Scripts are not the authentic words of the one doing the delivery. The deliverer may pose that “this is exactly how I feel — thanks for writing this script” — but yet, it would be more accurately said that “this is better than I can say it” — meaning his or her actual own words may not produce the yearned for outcome or emotion.

Scripts are not authentic.

They are not genuine nor bona fide.

They are written for a reason.

But we say we want authenticity. In fact, while it’s no secret that this semi-humble current events observer has serious concerns about the economic effect of the advocated policies of a President Sanders, it seems that many are attracted to his perceived authenticity. Authenticity is refreshing… especially when too many others are so scripted.

But herein lies the problem; if a person’s authenticity leads them to say something that feels especially harsh or incorrect, we sometimes seem to prefer the scripting. We prefer the inauthenticity.

Really? Do we prefer a person who says what we want to hear? … one who knows what to share how, and with which particular audience — meaning they are utilizing their script especially well?

Or… do we prefer a person who is authentic? … transparent then, too?

My sense here is there’s a little bit of having our cake and eating it, too, as it’s not an easy choice. We want authenticity as long as we don’t disagree too much with what’s actually expressed; hence, we don’t always really want it. We aren’t quite ready to “go, go, go” and dispose of the long held script.

Respectfully…
AR

something new

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Yesterday I did something I’ve never done before. It was one of a possible 25 things…

  1. Voted for a Republican.
  2. Voted for a Democrat.
  3. Ran for elected office.
  4. Whitewater rafted on class V-VI rapids.
  5. Flew to France by myself.
  6. Ate a pickle.
  7. Got thrown out of a Major League Baseball game.
  8. Sang with a top 40 band in a nightclub.
  9. Hung out with Derek and Julianne Hough.
  10. Shook a sitting president’s hand.
  11. Lost my temper.
  12. Got caught under a sinking sailboat.
  13. Witnessed a boy hit on his bike.
  14. Was on radio and TV.
  15. Sat on the edge of the Rhein and the Thames.
  16. Jumped off a cliff.
  17. Emceed a hermit crab race.
  18. Gave a speech.
  19. Conducted a mediation.
  20. Taught a class.
  21. Wrestled a free t-shirt away from a group of ten year old boys.
  22. Won at the blackjack table.
  23. Cried.
  24. Was judgmental.
  25. Asked for forgiveness.

Ah, alas… while I have done all of the above (and some have been done or needed to do far more than once), yesterday, for the first time, my family brought home a dog.

With such a choice, I realize anew that we are a divided nation in far too many ways — in this case: pro-dog vs. no dog. We are — in my sincerely strong opinion — so good at finding things to fight about. We can — in my also sincerely strong opinion — do better at that… at giving grace to one another, to hold the opinions they hold, even when different than “mine.”

I’ve been told, no less, that what’s so beautiful about a dog is that they are often far better than the rest of us at unconditional love. They’re happy to see you. Our mood doesn’t matter. The differences of opinion we hold don’t matter. They are loyal. They love you no matter what. Differences and opinion and intellect and all the other earthly obstacles are removed.

So I’ll say what I’ve learned with most of the new things in life — more than the 25 moments listed above… I look forward not to what I will teach this pup…

But rather…

… what she will teach me.

Respectfully (with a faint bark from a back room)…
AR

grateful for every step

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It’s an excellent annual quest to find wisdom embedded in the collection of commencement speeches. This year — from Apple CEO Tim Cook encouraging George Washington U. grads to find “work that’s infused with moral purpose” — to Hank Azaria delivering advice in the varied voices of “The Simpsons” characters Chief Wiggum, Moe Szyslak, and Apu Nahasapeemapetilon at Tufts — there was yet one address I found myself returning to repeatedly. It was delivered by Sheryl Sandberg, the COO of Facebook, at the University of California-Berkeley two and a half weeks ago. I started by liking part of her intro…

“… Today is a day of thanks. A day to thank those who helped you get here — nurtured you, taught you, cheered you on, and dried your tears. Or at least the ones who didn’t draw on you with a Sharpie when you fell asleep at a party…”

She was also, wisely reflective…

“… A commencement address is meant to be a dance between youth and wisdom. You have the youth. Someone comes in to be the voice of wisdom — that’s supposed to be me. I stand up here and tell you all the things I have learned in life, you throw your cap in the air, you let your family take a million photos – don’t forget to post them on Instagram — and everyone goes home happy…”

She was bold…

“… Today will be a bit different. We will still do the caps and you still have to do the photos. But I am not here to tell you all the things I’ve learned in life. Today I will try to tell you what I learned in death…”

And then in a seemingly unprecedented message, Sandberg was transparent. She shared the story of losing her husband only a year ago. He was young; it was sudden and unexpected. She talked about being “swallowed up in the deep fog of grief — what I think of as the void — an emptiness that fills your heart, your lungs, constricts your ability to think or even to breathe.” And instead of pouring into these brand new adults by imploring them to “be all they can be” in all “the places they’ll go,” she shared with them an empowering reality. She shared with us… a deep truth — a lesson in death…

“Last month, eleven days before the anniversary of Dave’s death, I broke down crying to a friend of mine. We were sitting — of all places — on a bathroom floor. I said: ‘Eleven days. One year ago, he had eleven days left. And we had no idea.’ We looked at each other through tears, and asked how we would live if we knew we had eleven days left.

… Can you ask yourselves to live as if you had eleven days left? I don’t mean blow everything off and party all the time… I mean live with the understanding of how precious every single day would be. How precious every day actually is.

A few years ago, my mom had to have her hip replaced. When she was younger, she always walked without pain. But as her hip disintegrated, each step became painful. Now, even years after her operation, she is grateful for every step she takes without pain — something that never would have occurred to her before.

As I stand here today, a year after the worst day of my life, two things are true. I have a huge reservoir of sadness that is with me always — right here where I can touch it. I never knew I could cry so often — or so much.

But I am also aware that I am walking without pain. For the first time, I am grateful for each breath in and out — grateful for the gift of life itself. I used to celebrate my birthday every five years and friends’ birthdays sometimes. Now I celebrate always. I used to go to sleep worrying about all the things I messed up that day — and trust me that list was often quite long. Now I try really hard to focus on each day’s moments of joy.

It is the greatest irony of my life that losing my husband helped me find deeper gratitude — gratitude for the kindness of my friends, the love of my family, the laughter of my children. My hope for you is that you can find that gratitude — not just on the good days, like today, but on the hard ones, when you will really need it.”

Sandberg makes me think. About being grateful. For every step.

Respectfully…
AR