Daily Life – Page 10 – intramuralist ™

07/26/201607/26/2016

all figured out

We think we know everything there is to know about a person. We think we totally get them. Once we’ve seen them act a certain way, treat others a certain way, or especially speak a certain way, that’s the box we put them into… as if they act, treat others, and speak to all people, always the same. We then base our so-called “boxes” on our often, unknown-to-be-limited perspective.

I get it. Sometimes people act that way more than once — maybe three, four, even five or six times. So by then, of course, as for me, I’ve got them all figured out. I know what makes them tick.

Let’s not even start on this year’s election and those running for president. I confess: many days I would tell you, even in hopeful humility, that I feel like I have them all figured out. I know why they say what they say — so calculated, strategic, and all with some hidden motive in mind. And when they say something that doesn’t fit with my creatively crafted narrative, I can give you a reason why they were not as they seem — why reality is wrong — and my perception is most accurate.

I’ll confess: I’m no huge fan of any left who are running for president nor all the justified demonization — but much of that has to do with the fact that I — and they — think we’ve got them all figured out.

So I must ask myself — extending this pondering past any polarized, election choice — where else do we do this? I’ll ask just for me: how much of my own perception becomes my reality for everyone else? … how much do I assume I know what other people mean and exactly what motivates them?

How much do I feel like I have them and their motives all figured out — negatively or positively — when my response is based more on incomplete perception than on confirmed reality?

Perhaps that’s easy to do with those we only see on TV, read about on-line, or have zero in-depth relationship with. Yet the thought became more poignant to me over the weekend, since it came from one I know well…

As has been proudly referenced here multiple times, one of my greatest privileges in life is being blessed to be the parent of each of my boys — one being young master Joshua. Let’s be clear: Josh teaches me things I never would have known without him.

Josh is now 14, a freshman to be, and budding with the wisdom and zeal to always embrace what’s next. (“Livin’ the dream,” as he likes to say it. “It’s what I do.”) As known to most, Josh also has Down syndrome. That is not a negative; that is merely one part of the way Josh was remarkably and wonderfully made.

Sometimes, though, Josh and I struggle a bit to communicate effectively (which, I will add, seems relevant with most teenagers at some point in time). One example arose this past weekend.

Enjoying his newfound fluency on social media, Josh updated his Facebook status with a brief, simple statement. He wrote: “My don’t like my own face.”

I knew he meant “I don’t like” it, but I didn’t understand the motive for his statement. Like many, I assumed he was a little down on himself. Granted, he’s not one that stays down for long — one of the many things he does far better than me. But I would later go to him with the clear intent to console. Note: I assumed I had what he said all figured out.

My attempt was greeted with an immediate “you don’t understand.” But then very calmly and quietly, he meticulously pointed out to me in all seriousness, “Mom, too many people have figured out that I’m a superhero. I have to change that.”

Shhhh… don’t tell him I told you. It’s a bit of a secret between us. Besides, he’ll think you have him all figured out.

Respectfully…
AR

07/24/201607/24/2016

the gift of baseball

Everything I learned, I learned from baseball. Ok, not really. But baseball has given us much, especially in how we can apply it to today’s culture. Full disclosure notice: I will not do the topic justice today; the topic is perhaps too big and broad. Alas, no less, we shall offer a small glimpse, highlighting a bit of what we’ve learned…

Two opposing teams, each trying to win… Each, hopefully, playing their best…

There are rules. They are clear; there is a definite right and a definite wrong.

There is no such thing as moral relativity. Granted, an element of subjectivity does enter every playing field. The authority on the diamond, the umpire crew, is where the subjectivity surfaces, as umpires don’t always see things the same way as coaches. They often disagree with each other (sometimes vehemently), interpreting reality differently… especially that so-called strike that’s a little low and outside.

What’s ironic about the umpires is that they are actually paid for by the tournament hosts, hosts who receive their monies from the participating teams. Therefore, the on-field authority serves at the request of the players and teams. Checks and balances are everywhere. And checks and balances are good.

What’s also so attractive in this centuries old pastime is the boy who plays with everything he’s got… whether that be the focus or the hustle or his head in the game. It’s the giving of 110% all the time — the one who never “takes a play off.” While we each are often enamored with incredible talent, absent the focus, hustle, and head in the game, talent alone typically doesn’t spur on the greatest amounts of enthusiastic cheer.

Let me speak briefly to that cheer. Yes, there are two teams playing in direct competition with one another. Only one can win. But regardless of the score, regardless the impact on one’s own standing, most cheer for an excellent play. Most cheer, too, for an exiting pitcher. And most cheer still when the injured arise to their feet. Some things are bigger than baseball. And most know that.

Perhaps what’s best about young adult baseball is the end of the game. As the dirt’s finally settling with dust still in the air — not to mention that not-so-faint breeze of oh-so-sweaty sweat — the young men end the day by shaking hands and wishing their opponent well. “Good game,” is the frequent refrain. Perhaps there are times when those boys are totally gritting their teeth, unable to mean what they say in all sincerity. But they are young men — soon to be adults. They are training for what God has in store for them next. What’s next for each of them is that they will sometimes have to do what’s right even when they don’t feel like it. (Welcome to adulthood.)

This past Saturday, after 15 summers (and springs and falls) sitting in the stands with multiple sons utilizing their varied, solid skill sets, we finished what will probably be our last son’s last game of highly competitive baseball. “If these stands could speak,” I often wonder. I wonder all that they would utter, having witnessed arguably our best and our worst — and having been host to the building of some wonderful friendships. One of the best things about baseball is the brotherhood on the field — and the sweet, resulting camaraderie in the stands. In this game it truly does not matter if you are black, white, Christian, Jewish, etc. etc. There’s a clear realization that we’re all in this together.

After my son walked across the field, shaking those hands a final time, disappointed to have exited this tournament a game or two too soon, we were quickly able to be thankful for all we’ve learned. We packed up our stuff, pausing for hugs, high-fives, and warm wishes to many.

The last game. Of the last season. No doubt there’s something good in store for him next.

As we strolled to the car, I noticed his infectious, quiet smile that never totally left. We both knew the gift the years and the game had given.

Respectfully…
AR

06/28/201606/28/2016

enough

Today was one of those days when I had a post penned and panned out, wrestling with some of our ongoing wondering in the world. I was putting the final edits on some thoughts, scanning the most current issues…

Evaluating the weekend’s Brexit… recognizing there’s still so much to learn… recognizing too many either seem to know it all or act as inciters of fear…

Examining the day’s Supreme Court decisions… striking down Texas abortion restrictions… overturning former Virginia Gov. Bob McDonnell’s corruption convictions… and okaying a gun ban for domestic abusers…

Or… assessing the current race for the White House… Trump criticizing Clinton… Clinton criticizing Trump… and each supporting said surrogates, encouraging them to be equally vicious or vilify…

And just as today’s post was set to be formatted for publishing, a young man…

13 years old…

Passed away.

I can’t help but think about how we sit here and write and talk and debate and dialogue all these current issues, as referenced above. I actually think via the Intramuralist, you guys do an incredible, excellent, and respectful job. But I unfortunately don’t believe all are truly committed to respecting their fellow man; too many say something along the lines of “I accept everyone”… but then they refuse to accept the person who feels differently than they. More so, I’m fearful that most are committed to respecting only some of “their fellow man.”

Days like today make me pause. They make me stop — thank God. Someone so loved dies far too early. It makes no sense.

And so for me, I need to put away the evaluations, examinations, and assessments for one day… and then I say what I so often say in our household…

I don’t know why some things happen. I don’t fully understand.

But I trust in a God who knows more.

That’s enough for me.

Respectfully… always…
AR

06/23/2016

agreeing on what’s bad

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:

No other gods, only me.
No carved gods of any size, shape, or form of anything whatever.
No using the name of God, your God, in curses or silly banter.
Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.
Honor your father and mother.
No murder.
No adultery.
No stealing.
No lies about your neighbor.
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

06/16/2016

wrestling with the truth

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

06/07/201606/07/2016

authenticity

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

06/05/201606/05/2016

something new

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

Voted for a Republican.
Voted for a Democrat.
Ran for elected office.
Whitewater rafted on class V-VI rapids.
Flew to France by myself.
Ate a pickle.
Got thrown out of a Major League Baseball game.
Sang with a top 40 band in a nightclub.
Hung out with Derek and Julianne Hough.
Shook a sitting president’s hand.
Lost my temper.
Got caught under a sinking sailboat.
Witnessed a boy hit on his bike.
Was on radio and TV.
Sat on the edge of the Rhein and the Thames.
Jumped off a cliff.
Emceed a hermit crab race.
Gave a speech.
Conducted a mediation.
Taught a class.
Wrestled a free t-shirt away from a group of ten year old boys.
Won at the blackjack table.
Cried.
Was judgmental.
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

06/02/2016

grateful for every step

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

05/29/201605/29/2016

note to the graduate ’16

[I wrote this a year ago, when my oldest was graduating from high school. I felt it was worthy of revisiting now…]

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.

As we pen a final post to those now formally entering adulthood, allow us to address a few more brief truths as you take these next few, albeit humongous steps…

First, there is a time for everything — every activity under heaven, every season under the sun. Hear me now: you will not enjoy nor desire each of these times. Every activity will not be wonderful nor every season incredibly joyous and fun. Don’t let me discourage you; that’s not my intent. My intent is to wrestle with reality.

Remember that enjoying and embracing are not the same thing. As you face life’s next chapters, the truth is that there will be seasons and chapters that stretch you beyond your wildest imagination — beyond where you ever thought you’d go or perhaps ever wanted. You have a choice in how to react. When the time comes to tear down or turn away, embrace the time; when the time comes to speak, speak — or be quiet, be quiet. Enjoying the season is less important than learning from the experience. The wise man learns and grows from the seasons that are hard.

Second — and don’t let me shock you — but contrary to perhaps your long-held belief (or some printed fictional, parenting mantra) — you cannot be whatever you want to be. I’m sorry; remember… we are wrestling with reality. Similar to the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and that jolly old St. Nicholas, there are a few things we’ve told you that aren’t actually true.

It is true that you cannot be whatever or whoever you want to be (… just ask all those who are running for President). You can, however, be all that God created you to be. Embrace your gifts. Utilize the unique wiring within you — the wiring that makes you distinctly and beautifully, uniquely you! Don’t compare yourself to another, falling prey to society’s hollow teaching that another person’s wiring or set up is somehow better or worse than yours. Simply embrace your own strengths and grow from your own weaknesses. Seek God first; seek his intention for your life. Then be who he created you to be, and do what he created you to do. Don’t compare your calling to any other.

And third (because this proud, reflective parent still has seemingly much to say), let me offer a brief rapid fire of final encouragement…

Love deeply. Offer grace generously. Never view grace and truth as opposites, as each can be applied in full measure. Wash your sheets. Don’t be selfish. Resist being quick to anger. Be fast to forgive. Be humble. Forgive again. And again. Pursue wisdom. Consider coffee. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. Separate the reds from the whites. Be charitable. Save some; spend some; and give some away. Don’t be afraid of sorrow. Turn off the XBOX. Chew with your mouth closed. Don’t think of equality with God as something to be grasped. Listen to the elderly; invest in the young. Bow and curtsy when appropriate. Show respect — in what you say and how you think. Remember that respect does not mean accepting as equally good and true. Remember that all things are not equally good and true. Know when to say that; know when to not. Open doors for other people. Look another in the eye. Use your napkin. Be discerning. Be aware that just because something feels good, it might not be wise. Be prayerful. Figure the faith thing out. And embrace each and every season shared above… embracing the time to laugh… the time to cry… the time to grieve… and yes, the time to dance.

There is a time for everything. God has made everything beautiful for its own time. Graduates, without a doubt, now is your time to dance. Enjoy… how beautiful…

With a special salute to those grads…
AR

05/22/201605/22/2016

working out the right way

“Vengeance is mine.” It has been written.

The question is the meaning of “mine.” (Note: pronouns indeed make a difference.)

Let’s be honest; we aren’t all that good at allowing vengeance or revenge or any sense of justice be in the hands of someone else; we aren’t all that good at allowing at-first-unfair circumstances to simply play themselves out. My sense is such stems from three reasons. One, that means we would have to be patient, waiting for another judicial order to act on a timetable which they deem appropriate; two, justice in unfair circumstances may be perceived to never come; and three, different people have different perceptions of what justice actually looks like. What’s just to one may not be just to another. The specifics of appropriate restitution look different to different people.

And so, we are tempted to take justice into our own hands.

It’s the motive behind multiple movements. You know the ones… the “I’m-mad-as-hell-and-not-going-to-take-it-any-more” ones… the ones that cheer when perceived opposition finally gets their due… the ones that declare any other outcome as bad, wrong, foolish, evil, you-name-it.

“Well, it’s about time,” we like to say… “It’s about time this all worked out in the right way.”

Yes, it’s true; we aren’t very good at allowing justice to be any other than “mine.” (Pronouns make a difference.)

A little over a year ago, my second son, who had become a legal, teenage driver, welcomed a summer day long anticipated. You see, at his high school there are a limited number of student parking spots. In fact, there are not enough spots for all who desire to drive (as opposed to a respected upperclassman being spotted on the dreaded school bus… egad…).

The existing process, therefore, in regard to parking pass distribution, is that on a designated morning, the week prior to the onset of the new year, student classes individually line up with their $100 checks in order to participate in a random drawing. Be sure to take note of the word “random.” When the morning drawing commences, each class member blindly draws their specified spot from a so-called hat.

My eager teen, finally a junior, had long desired this day. “Finally,” he must have thought. And so on said morning, he was in line two hours earlier than the start time… all for a random drawing.

Much to his glee, JT was one of the first students in line. He paid his $100. Then he drew.

JT drew the second farthest away spot in the entire parking lot. Only one car would park farther away for the rest of the year.

When JT arrived back home that morning, I could tell it was one of those teenage issues that we wouldn’t be immediately discussing. He was mad — livid, arguably. Here was this day he had longed for, planned, arrived at early, and his efforts were not rewarded in any way, shape or form… how unfair!

That’s it. When a circumstance is perceived to be unfair, we lose all patience. I remember many days this past year (especially those rainy, cold ones) when JT could be heard grumbling about that stupid, unfair spot.

It’s a year later, though, and now JT is set to be a senior. This year’s graduating class has left the building, and all fun, memory-making festivities are in full swing. Last weekend, in fact, was the junior/senior prom.

Funny thing happened there, by the way… Amid all the joy and fancy dresses and dances, there are also all sorts of prizes and creative give-aways. Young JT won one thing…

A free parking pass for his senior year. “Pick Your Spot,” read the certificate.

One year later, it is his.

Respectfully…
AR