AR – Page 93 – intramuralist ™

05/08/2016

mothers day 2016

None of us would be here without our mothers. Likewise, none who is a mother would be the same without their children… without all the joys, tears, and teaching embedded within the obviously, divinely-designed experience.

As I wrestled with what I most wanted to say — about why we love our moms, appreciate our moms, thank them, bless them, and why we miss them when they’re gone, why they miss us when not near — acknowledging that this day is merry for some and mournful for others — or maybe a little bit of both for several of us — I saw this comment from one parent: “I almost missed the incredible gift in front of me.”

… missing the gift… I don’t want to miss the gift…

I used to think that as a parent, we would engage in all this teaching. We would teach and train our kids, training them up in the way they should go, and it would be this amazing, educational experience. Whether it’s for biological or adoptive children… whether is for young ones who we are called to be a “mom” to… it would be this awesome, sharpening experience. And it is…

For us.

I almost missed the gift that the teaching would have on me.

Said by one parent who seems to have realized that, from “Love That Boy” by Ron Fournier, a nationally known journalist and parent to a special needs teen…

“… Our son is learning to connect and belong, and we know he will be a happy, thriving adult. Rather than sweat over his Asperger’s, I see how much I’d miss if he wasn’t an Aspie — his humor, his bluntness, his unaffected obsessions with everything from video games to family.

In the spring of 2014, my father died. Mom decided to rent a boat and scatter Dad’s ashes in the Detroit River. After my mother, my siblings, and our families had boarded the boat, we filled the 30-minute ride with awkward conversation. How’s the job? How about those Tigers?

My sister, Raquel, lost her composure, dashing below to find a bathroom. She almost ran into Tyler at the bottom of the stairs. He recognized her distress and said, ‘I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, but I can give you a hug.’

That was exactly what she needed. ‘He hugged me so tight. And kept hugging me,’ Raquel told me later. ‘It meant the world to me.’

At the appointed spot, the boat stopped. Raquel poured Dad’s ashes over the side, while Mom stood alone behind her. My brothers made eye contact with me. What should we do?

Rather than step forward to comfort Mom, I stepped back. It was not my finest hour. But Tyler exceeded my expectations, walking over to hold his grandmother tightly. He whispered to her, ‘Everyone thinks I’m comforting you, but really I need comforting.’

Finally, I know what perfect is. It’s a child blessed with the grace to show goodness, even on the worst of days. No, Tyler is not my idealized son. He is my ideal one.”

I think that’s it. I think that’s what I most want to say. I like how this parent sees his child as the “ideal one.”

We don’t get to pick our parents. We don’t get to pick our children. But I used to think it was the parent that always teaches the child. What I’ve since learned is that the children teach us even more.

With a heart that is humbled and sometimes knows not exactly how to say all there is to say…

Happy Mothers Day…
AR

05/05/201605/05/2016

nothing short of scary

What if during an election season, there was a candidate described as follows:

… one who tell lies…
… one who is malicious…
… one with a clear lack of character…
… one no reasonably intelligent person could support…
… one who preys on our ignorance…
… one who lacks integrity…
… one who is nothing short of scary…

And what if during an election season, you knew that wasn’t true?

We all get it. We’ve all seen it. Those descriptions are all around us.

That’s what too many candidates do… even, perhaps, what good candidates do.

But sometimes… what they say, is not true.

People don’t know what they don’t know.

Many times over the last seven and a half years on the Intramuralist, we have tackled tough angles in regard to how the American political system seems so broken… it’s too big, too controlling, too financially imbalanced… there’s too much arrogance, too many attacks, too much self-servingness… too much money involved.

It seems, too, that one of America’s biggest political problems is what it now takes to get elected… utilizing a misrepresentation of truth.

No longer is an election a rational attempt to discern between two (or more) people in which each presents themselves honestly and authentically, clearly representing their policy stances and perspectives, letting us know how strongly they feel, respecting their opponent… And saying at the conclusion of their campaign, “We wish each voter and candidate well. Win or lose, we trust you will make a good choice.”

No. Elections have seemingly instead become a manipulative attempt in which each candidate presents themselves in the perceived most positive light, hiding policy stances and perspectives that they know are not popular, dampening how strongly they feel, denigrating their opponent… And saying at the conclusion of their campaign, “God forbid my opponent should win. I am the only good choice.”

I have been asked by many: “how do we fix this?” If we want to fix what’s clearly broken in the American political system, we can’t fall prey to left or right talking points. We can’t embrace solely the notion that the insertion of term limits or the repeal of the high court’s Citizens United decision, that then all will be good and true and right. No. The system will still be broken. Those are more rhetorically, good-sounding, political-party-pleasing Band-Aids… as if they alone can retract the embedded arrogance and disrespect.

The American political system will remain broken as long as there remain too many people who think too highly of themselves. The American political system will remain broken as long as there remain too many people who refuse to humble themselves, pray, and love their neighbor more than self. The American political system will remain broken as long as too many people refuse to love all people well.

…Most… only love… some.

Yes, most only love some people well — typically only those who agree with us. We then denigrate those who disagree, justify looking down on others — even calling them ignorant or something worse. Thus, the American political system will remain broken as long as we, the voting public, continue to support that less than virtuous mentality.

Again, we need to humble ourselves, pray, and love our neighbor more than self. Anything less remains sadly, nothing short of scary.

Respectfully…
AR

05/03/201605/03/2016

change your questions, change your life

Years ago I was introduced to a great book by Dr. Marilee Adams, an adjunct professor at American University’s School of Public Affairs, with the same title as listed above. Adams specializes in consulting, coaching, and leadership training. She has created and promoted the concept of “question thinking.” It’s based on the premise that everything starts with a question and that question then bridges the gap to increased comprehension, healthier communication, and more effective results.

Think about that; everything starts with a question; in fact, when I wake up, I typically ask myself a series of unspoken questions, such as… “What’s on my agenda?… How warm is it outside? … Is it raining?”… or “Is my favorite outfit clean?”

Those questions then affect the entire day ahead; they transcend how we interact with other people. In order to clearly comprehend and both adequately and accurately understand what’s going on in life, we have to ask and answer questions. Note: asking and answering questions is more vital and intimate than simply spewing an opinion; spewing opinion typically stems from an incomplete perspective. In other words, as Dr. Adams says, “You can’t get the best answers unless you answer the best questions first.”

I then took a brief scan of the weekend headlines from the most popular internet news sites. After dismissing those centered on cleaning my kidneys, Ted Cruz’s VP ploy, and the latest developments in the NBA playoffs, the following 20 questions caught my eye:

(1) Can Corporate Leaders Be Good Citizens?
(2) Can Songs Help You Learn Scientific Concepts?
(3) How did Prince die?
(4) The 9/11 Truth?
(5) Could Texas Become the Next Trans Bathroom Battleground?
(6) ’Dumbest pick’ in NFL draft history?
(7) What is May Day, anyway?
(8) Why Are Blacks Leaving Liberal Cities?
(9) Is Sara Ramirez Leaving ‘Grey’s Anatomy’?
(10) Is U.S. Ready for Post-Middle-Class Politics?
(11) Did Larry Wilmore go too far with N-word joke at Obama’s last #WHCD?
(12) Will the Paris Climate Agreement Deliver?
(13) Beyonce: Making Marriage Work?
(14) Is The Party Warming To Trump?
(15) Why Do Progressives Cling to Hillary?
(16) Does Bernie Sanders Really Deserve Any Concessions From Hillary Clinton?
(17) Did Michael Strahan make big mistake leaving ‘Live!’ for ‘GMA’?
(18) For Donald Trump and Ted Cruz, it’s all about Indiana … isn’t it?
(19) Prince, Bowie and Haggard: Icons? Legends? What’s the difference?

(… and my personal favorite…)

(20) Wardrobe whoopsies: On purpose, or an accident?

I must go back, no less, to one of Dr. Adams’ core principles. That is, again: “You can’t get the best answers unless you answer the best questions first.”

With all the difficulty and tension in discussing tough topics (especially on social media), I wonder first if we’re being intentional in asking questions.

I wonder second if we’re asking the best questions — questions that prompt insight, perspective, and honest, heartfelt exchange — questions that lead to sharpening and growth.

And I wonder third if we’re pausing long enough to actually listen to the answers.

I remember a lesson taught to each of my budding young sons… Listening does not simply mean hearing what another says; listening means hearing and thoughtfully considering all that was said.

May we learn to ask good questions (… and… to hopefully never experience any sort of “wardrobe whoopsie”).

Respectfully…
AR

05/01/201605/01/2016

dirty laundry

For years a woman put her laundry out to dry. For years she also mocked her neighbor, as she hung her laundry out to dry.

It wasn’t always a loud mocking. In fact, it was never to the neighbor’s face. Instead it was first only a mocking to her spouse and inner circle of friends. She would daily stare out her window, hiding slightly behind the pleated shades, observing her neighbor, who was always washing and hanging the family’s clothes improperly. Her neighbor’s clothes always remained dirty!

If only she knew what I knew…

If only she was as wise as me…

The woman’s complaints grew louder. She told more people. Focusing on her neighbor’s misdeeds, poor process, and lack of critical thinking, she consistently made fun of her neighbor’s clear inability to do laundry properly. Granted, she was politically correct enough to withhold all denunciatory comments when running into her neighbor during any community interaction.

She would smile and wave and intentionally hide all fault-finding, editorial thoughts. But she would still think them…

My neighbor is ridiculous…

It’s not hard to do laundry…

What’s wrong with her??

And so the woman would generously judge away, making sure to at least grab a daily glance, justifying and fueling her conclusion of ignorance and stupidity that she had so graciously cast upon the neighbor next door. After all, she had seen this with her own eyes; she wasn’t making this up. Her view was clear. Yes… how stupid indeed.

After years of these neighbors never really communicating nor connecting at any heart level — since the internal criticism silently but definitively impeded the way — what to the woman’s wondrous eyes one day, all of a sudden appeared??

Shockingly, the neighbor’s laundry was for once, beautifully, sparkly clean!!

The woman immediately called her husband to the room. She said, “Would you look at that?! I no longer have to show her what to do! Her laundry is finally clean!!”

Her husband at first offered only a calm, quiet nod. He then hesitated for a moment, questioning how to say this, and then acknowledged he knew why.

Daily he listened to his spouse complain about their neighbor. Daily she spewed emphatic rants about the neighbor’s manifest faults and unchanging idiocies.

Her husband then said he had tired of the complaining. So he got up early that morning…

… and washed the windows.

I wonder…

Where are we looking at someone else and only seeing dirty laundry?

Where in all these messy issues and current events, are we finding fault in another because our own view is skewed?

And where do we need to start by washing our own windows first?

Respectfully…
AR

04/27/201604/27/2016

arguing about restrooms

Let me be clear: I have close to zero desire to write about public restrooms. It’s not because the Intramuralist is hesitant to enter into controversial conversations. It’s more because I don’t see any conversation going on.

I see a lot of people shouting at a lot of people. I see more spewing of opinion than seeking to understand other opinion. And that’s not even quite it, regarding this growing national debate over gender-based restrictions placed on public restroom use.

I feel a little bit, in fact, like legislating about public restrooms like I feel about federal courts discussing the inflation levels in NFL footballs… surely we have something better to do?!

I don’t deny that this is a tough issue. And I don’t deny it’s worth in the context of healthy dialogue and discussion. What leaves me reluctant, though, is that this has just become another argument.

Perhaps some don’t argue immediately; perhaps we are better at least at asking a few questions first; but then at a certain point we seem to declare ourselves omniscient enough to know exactly what all others in disagreement are thinking.

We then go a step farther. Not only do we think we totally get it how all others in disagreement are feeling, we also seemingly subconsciously declare ourselves judge, jury, and whatever else seems phonetically convincing in that phrase. We are so good at exerting our opinion and projecting it onto others…

“Well, because I’m comfortable with this, you should be, too!” … or…

“Because I’m not uncomfortable, it makes no sense that you are uncomfortable!”

Once again, “I/me/my/myself” is the subject of each of those sentences. The reason we struggle with even a bathroom conversation is because “I” is the focus of our sentence. When will we learn it’s possible to be compassionate to more than one people group and more than one perspective?

As for the issue at hand and to those most affected in this messy shouting match…

To the transgendered individual who has felt shame and societally ostracized, I want you to feel great compassion. None of us should ever intentionally heap humiliation upon another.

To the individual who is uncomfortable (or uncomfortable with their children) sharing a bathroom with other genders, I respect your conviction. None of us gets to make this decision for everyone else.

And to those intending to take advantage of how messy this situation is — the person who uses this as a means to prey on others to fulfill their own perversion — that is wrong. I pray you get help soon.

Friends, there are solutions to this issue that don’t have to be an argument; there are options we can work through if we quit arguing long enough to listen. I’d start by enlisting the help of every parent of an opposite-sex toddler who’s had to navigate through this when the urge calls at the local department store.

We also will at sometime have to address the issue of transgender identity — and make no mistake about it; it’s a tough one… there are some who hold the conviction that gender falls into a single spectrum — a so-called continuum ranging from masculinity to femininity on polar opposite ends of a single scale. There are many others who hold the conviction that gender falls into separate spectrums, and God chooses what kind of masculine or feminine each baby starts out as. That is a longer, future conversation and one I am willing to have.

But again, that is a conversation — one marked by listening, respect, and empathetic consideration of another’s opinion and emotion.

There. Done. I said I had close to zero desire to write about public restrooms. And don’t get me started on those Porta Potties. My desire there is even less.

Respectfully…
AR

04/26/201604/26/2016

revisionist history

The face of American currency is currently very male and very white. After a push by “Women On 20s” — a non-profit organization which “aims to compel historic change by convincing President Obama that now is the time to put a woman’s face on our paper currency” — the Treasury Department announced last week that Harriet Tubman would be the new face of the $20 bill.

Way to go Harriet Tubman!

(Note: let me share at the onset that the Intramuralist doesn’t have a strong opinion on this matter; that, however, is not the point of today’s post.)

Harriet Tubman is regarded as one of America’s most prominent abolitionists; her goal was to eliminate slavery and set people free. Utilizing the Underground Railroad’s network of secret routes and safe houses, Tubman — who was born into slavery — escaped and then assisted approximately 70 enslaved people via 13 dangerous, secretive trips, ushering persons out of slavery and into freedom in the 1840’s and 50’s in Maryland.

Andrew Jackson is the current face of the $20 bill…

Andrew Jackson served as the seventh U.S. President from 1829 to 1837. He was a courier during the Revolutionary War — captured and mistreated by his British captors as a teen — a colonel in the Tennessee militia, the hero of the 1815 Battle of New Orleans, and then later served in both the House of Representatives and Senate, prior to being elected President. His supporters would go on to found what has become the Democratic Party. Jackson, also, was a slave owner. He owned hundreds of slaves.

As for the bill itself, when first issued in 1914, the currency originally featured Grover Cleveland, the country’s 22nd and 24th President. Fifteen years later, Jackson was chosen to don the currency instead.

Last week, no less, the Treasury Dept. announced multiple future changes to American currency, with Tubman becoming the first African American appearing on U.S. paper money ever, and the first woman in 100 years. Treasury Sec. Jack Lew called it a “powerful message.” Jackson will be moved to the back of the bill.

Again… way to go Harriet Tubman!

What I find interesting is how our opinion of people changes over the course of history. At one point, Andrew Jackson was considered worthy of such an honor; in fact, for decades he was considered worthy.

As time goes on, however, many — who were not alive when he was, by the way — believe Jackson is not worthy.

And so it begs the question:

Who among us now do we feel is worthy of great honor that as time goes on, as history is revised, those who come after will say, “What were they thinking?!”

Where will the interpretation of history change?

On whom will history cast a different light than we see now?

… Barack Obama? … Hillary Clinton? … Donald Trump?

Oh, that history…

What a funny and fascinating thing…

Respectfully…
AR

04/24/2016

prince, et al.

Never will I forget… far too many to quote from…

“Little red Corvette
Baby you’re much too fast
Little red Corvette
You need a love that’s gonna last…”

… to…

“How can you just leave me standing?
Alone in a world that’s so cold?
Maybe I’m just too demanding
Maybe I’m just like my father too bold…”

… to…

“Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad
Sometimes I wish life was never ending,
And all good things, they say, never last…”

“Little Red Corvette,” “When Doves Cry,” even “Sometimes It Snows In April”… When iconic musician Prince passed away on Thursday, so many of those lyrics flashed through my head. I found myself engaged in my own, private, somber lip sync…

Prince Rogers Nelson contributed much to far more than a small corner of the world. His death is shocking and sobering, recognizing that an incredibly gifted and talented man has left us. Much like the deaths of David Bowie, Glenn Frey, and Joey Feek earlier in the year, we are left saddened by the loss. I must say, there many nights I spent — especially in the 80’s — with a school book on my desk and Prince singing somewhere in the background. Still more nights I dropped the book and danced away with several of us sorority sisters in the room. But we are sobered by the loss of someone who meant so much.

I never wish, however, for the loss of any other to be any less sobering…

As one of my long time friends that is closer than a brother said yesterday:

“While we collectively mourn the death of Prince, let us not forget to mourn and pray for the families of ‘everyday people’ who also leave this world long before we desire. Let’s remember to pray for the parents who have to bury their child, or the family who has to say goodbye to one of the shining beacons in their family who has touched countless lives. Let’s remember to pray for those whose family member(s) were killed due to some seemingly senseless crime or had their lives snatched away from an earthquake, flood, or other natural disaster. These people may not have a global impact like a celebrity may have, but to those who knew them, they were a big part of their world.”

In other words, there exist lots of “big parts” to our individual worlds. Celebrity status does not equate to less sad or less sobering. Celebrity status only means more of us are familiar; it does not mean the impact of a lesser known person is any less.

Most of us have experienced the loss of life of someone who is deeply important. From the waitress I spoke to on Friday who just lost her father to the over 650 who passed away in Equador’s recent earthquake, all loss of life is significant.

As Prince’s brother-in-law said, “Death isn’t easy for anybody.” No, it’s not.

Death is sobering. The loss of life is sad and significant. It also prompts me to ask some of life’s bigger, more challenging questions.

Let us not forget…

Respectfully…
AR

04/21/201604/21/2016

something bigger

How many of us would walk away from a million dollars?

Better yet, how many would willingly walk away from thirteen million dollars?

Nothing illegal. Nothing more than being paid for the profession you love to do. That’s it. Walk away. Such is the status of Major League Baseball’s Adam LaRoche. There are two seemingly relevant reasons why the former professional recently walked away. First, as told by ABC News….

“Adam LaRoche said he decided to resign from the Chicago White Sox about 20 minutes after ‘a short, heated conversation’ in which he was told he could no longer bring his 14-year-old son to the team clubhouse, telling ABC News in an exclusive interview that he didn’t hold any grudges and wouldn’t rule out returning to baseball.

The first baseman had played 12 seasons for seven different teams and his son, Drake, has been with him practically all the time. Drake even had a locker right next to his dad’s in the White Sox’s clubhouse.

‘I haven’t lost an ounce of sleep,’ LaRoche said of his decision. ‘I mean, I have zero regrets.’

LaRoche, 36, acknowledged that exceptions had probably been made to allow Drake’s presence and that he knew it could come to an end at any time. Nevertheless, he said he was ‘mad at the time’ when Ken Williams, the team’s vice president, made the decision.
‘I don’t hold a grudge. I don’t hate anybody over there. You know, it just made my decision easy,” LaRoche, alongside his son, told ABC News’ T.J. Holmes, adding, ‘Honestly, it’s not the end of the world to me. And I thank my parents for that. The way I was raised. Because baseball — and I’ve said it before, I don’t want to be defined by this game. I know there’s a lot more to life’…

Being available for Drake during his formative years was essential, LaRoche said.
‘Our kids are going to follow in our footsteps, good or bad. And you know, we got a small window here, a very small window here, to turn them into the men that they’re going to be. And I don’t want to miss six months of that window, even for $13 million.’ ”

There is a second relevant reason. According to QPolitical.com…

“This was recently reported by ESPN’s Tim Keown, and it might give some insight into the real reason for Laroche’s retirement:

‘LaRoche, along with Brewers pitcher Blaine Boyer, spent 10 days in November in Southeast Asian brothels, wearing a hidden camera and doing undercover work to help rescue underage sex slaves. All of which raises a question: After 12 years in the big leagues, the endless days and nights in dugouts and clubhouses, how did LaRoche’s nearly cinematic level of nonconformity escape detection?

… Working through a nonprofit called the Exodus Road, LaRoche and Boyer conducted surveillance in brothels and tried to determine the age of the girls — known only by numbers pinned to bikinis — and identify their bosses.
‘Something huge happened there for us,’ Boyer says. ‘You can’t explain it. Can’t put your finger on it. If you make a wrong move, you’re getting tossed off a building. We were in deep, man, but that’s the way it needed to be done. Adam and I truly believe God brought us there and said, ‘This is what I have for you boys.’

That’s right, last fall LaRoche, along with fellow big-leaguer Blaine Boyer, went undercover in Southeast Asia to rescue underage sex slaves from local brothels. Let that sink in for a minute. A pair of white professional athletes went undercover in an effort to rescue children from sex slavery.”

While it was assumed that LaRoche retired because of reasons stemming from his son not being allowed in the clubhouse, that seems only the last straw, as he can now focus more on something bigger.

So what does it take to walk away from a million or thirteen million dollars?

It would seem — by Adam LaRoche’s example — something bigger than self.

Respectfully…
AR

04/19/201604/19/2016

hating pickles

I hate pickles. I know, I know… that’s not really an appropriate use of the word “hate.” But it’s true; I hate them.

As an adult who desires to be at least perceived as semi-mature most days, I confess to hiding the depth of my loathing. If the watching world knew that I’ve totally caved to hating something with a passion — that is based solely on my own perspective and experience — and has been steadfastly fueled by the other secret pickle haters out there in existence — I know I’d be subject to rampant disrespect.

And yet, my hate continues.

But wait; it gets worse…

Not only do I hate pickles, when I observe someone else ordering “extra” pickles or ordering those stinkin’ fried pickles as some sort of desired, tasty appetizer, I cringe inside. I have zero comprehension how someone I otherwise admire could adore something that I do not. I have no idea how their taste buds and logic could allow them to even entertain the idea of eating “extra.”

Geesh.

The reality is (confession time, friends) that sometimes — instead of only offering a thinly-veiled, judgmental stab at why abstaining from pickles is far better for the soul — I go one step further; my hatred alone is not enough. So instead of advocating for pickle abstinence, instead of simply stating why I feel the way I do, I go after the person who feels the way I don’t. In a calm quiet, logical argument, I tear apart the pickle eater. I demonize the opposition.

Recently on the Intramuralist, we’ve found a bit of strong commonality — a thread woven into the lives of many, regardless of the perspectives from which we individually hail. Collectively, the masses seems to agree that the “I’m-mad-as-hell-and-not-going-to-take-it-any-more” rant is not an attractive articulation. In fact, it is quite possible that it has the exact opposite effect than what’s desired; instead of spewing the opinion in a way that wins friends and influences people, it only influences people in a non-positive way.

Cognizant of my very true pickle example, I’d like to go that step farther today. I believe it’s significant.

There’s another kind of articulation that is equally unattractive. It may be absent the zealous rant of our “mad-as-hell” folks. The passion may also seem dampered and enthusiasm subdued. But make no mistake about it; judgment still often drives the argument.

As opposed to that list of things that are universally considered right and wrong (note: there are at least 10 of them, starting with having no other self-created gods), why is articulating our own opinion not enough?

Why do so many spend so much energy tearing into another instead?

Does our opinion not stand alone?

Will another poke holes in our argument, so much so that we cannot substantiate it via reason and compassion?

And why do we have trouble resisting judgmental stabs at another?

My sense is that too often we attempt to make ourselves look better, sound wiser, and be of increased influence by demonizing the perspective of others as opposed to engaging in healthy, interactive, respectful dialogue. An added few, semi-random points: no rant will ever qualify as dialogue; no unwillingness to listen will ever gain full respect; and demonizing of opposition rarely equates to wisdom.

This is a hard one, friends.

Off now for a snack. For the record, it may be me in front of you in line who respectfully requests that they withhold the briny green relish. But I’m working on not adding the word “hate” or “slimy” to my order. I’m also working on remembering that such is based solely on my own perspective and experience.

Respectfully…
AR

04/17/201604/17/2016

the problem with social media

Call me a realist, but I find myself continually questioning the merits of social media. On one hand, it has allowed us to connect in a way we would otherwise not… Friends from grade school, high school, college, past jobs, towns, hometowns, etc. It has allowed me to converse at least sometimes with friends I would otherwise miss. It has allowed me to get to know people in ways I wonder if I would otherwise know… how we think, what we’re up to, and what is important to each of us.

I value knowing what is important to you. I am thankful for the insights into one another’s lives — knowing, no less, that what’s most important to each of us is different.

Thank God.

What concerns me about social media isn’t the inundation of semi-spectacular selfies. You know the ones… Here I am with my best friend’s neighbor’s mother’s dog, and we are having the most fabulous time!… Yes, I, too, love the “fabulous times.”

What concerns me about social media is the judgment of our differences.

There are too many “this is how I feel, damn it’s.” You know those, too. They typically fall along the lines of, “I’ve been ticked off enough, mad enough, unheard long enough, that I’m finally going to tell the rest of the wold how I feel!” (… or at least tell my Facebook friend group — which has an increased probability of being reduced after the “this is how I feel” moment. Just sayin’.)

(Notice, also, who the subject of the above sentences is.)

A tangent but related FYI… Every time I think I’ve waited long enough, been silent long enough, or I just have a strong sense that I shouldn’t have to be this patient any more, I think of the ancient Israelites roaming in the desert. I think of their less than ideal conditions. Shockingly, they had no iPhones, iPads, earbuds or iTunes to speak of. They barely had a clean change of clothes. There was also no Walmart, healthcare, or any local grocery or restaurant in existence. And yet, they wandered. Fo 40 years.

If I had to go even 4 days without my iPhone or iPad, I guarantee my grumbling would be near evident to all.

Back to my concern, of course… we are a judgmental people.

Every rant… every refusal to wait… every insistence that another hear me…

Why?

Who is the subject of my sentence?

Is it not me?

Have we somehow evolved to a point where we believe that the best way to win friends and influence people is to shout at them and not put up with their differing opinion any more? Have we somehow justified that loving others well means spewing our own opinion louder instead of listening and asking why another feels the way they do?

What if the next time you met a Donald Trump supporter (because yes, they probably live next door to you), you asked them why they feel that way — as opposed to simply mentally categorizing them as somehow advocating bigotry?

What if the next time you met a Bernie Sanders supporter, you invited them into a healthy dialogue — as opposed to immediately dismissing them as economically ignorant?

What if?

What if we approached social media differently?

… as opposed to, yes, falling prey to being so judgmental?

Such judgment rarely wins friends or influences people… at least in a good way.

Respectfully…