If you are not ___________ (fill in the blank) you are not paying attention.
Frustrated.
Angry.
Disheartened.
Pissed.
Exasperated.
Outraged.
Infuriated.
Worn out.
Used up.
Exhausted.
All that stuff out there is all those things.
At least to me.
And, all that stuff out there matters.
And makes a difference.
And demands our attention even if and when we are all of the above.
But today, I also offer this reminder.
Somewhere someone provided food for someone who was hungry.
Somewhere someone went the extra mile to help a stranger.
Somewhere someone called on someone who was sick.
Or alone.
Or afraid.
Or forgotten.
Somewhere someone spent the day helping to make a home safer.
Somewhere someone stopped what they were doing to listen.
Somewhere someone looked another person in the eye.
Somewhere someone said Thank you and meant it.
Somewhere someone promised to love another.
Somewhere someone rocked a baby who was crying.
Somewhere someone read a book to a child.
Somewhere someone took a step towards their dream.
Somewhere someone got back up off the ground.
Somewhere someone spoke up for what is right.
Somewhere someone stood up for what is right.
Somewhere someone broke their silence.
Somewhere someone overcame their fear.
Somewhere someone….
Maybe it was you.
And that matters.
And makes a difference.
And world of difference.
The Silence of Our Friends…
Here is a deeply unsettling article.
What bothers me most is not the racist tweets or even that the original tweets were retweeted or favorited. What bothers me most is what caused Kevin Downes to resign. That the school in which he taught and coached and the community in which he lived was silent until, as he says, the tweets made the news. Maybe if what happened in Mahopac was an isolated incident we could say too bad and then move on.
But it is not an isolated incident.
It happens here.
In my own backyard.
In our neighborhood schools.
On the streets where I walk and in the stores where I shop.
Comments are made.
Disapproving looks are exchanged or eyes are turned away.
Questions are asked or concerns are expressed is such a way which only slightly veil the real intent. And, what REALLY makes me swallow hard is the realization that here is just like there.
We are silent.
I am silent.
And our silence…
Our unwillingness to face and to talk about or to challenge what is said or done gives tacit permission for it all to continue.
