Being Colorblind

I used to say it. I used to think it. I never EVER ONCE, in all my growing-up years and even into adulthood, considered that I might be part of a mindset that unknowingly promotes racism. But I was. And I said it, and thought it.

What did I say? I said that I was colorblind. I said that I didn't see color.

But of course I did. I'd have to be blind not to see color. And what I thought and said about NOT seeing it only further alienated me from the very people I thought I was allying myself with. Because guess what... THEY see it. They see it when they get up in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror. They see it when they try to wait for a bus, reflected in the eyes of those who notice them standing there. They see it when they are outside taking a walk and decide to stand in a building's overhang and wait for a friend to come out.

And for me to say that I don't see color ... discounts and dismisses their experience of the world. It makes them invisible, and let's face it - everyone wants to be seen, to be acknowledged for their existence. The color of their skin is just as much a part of them as having fingers and toes. And their skin color dictates how the world treats them, what kinds of choices they make about everyday things, how they feel about their society, and how they interact with people who are outside of their circle. It is like an insult to them when I say I don't see color.

Photo courtesy of
Alec White at Pixabay

I have learned instead to say, "I see you." I have learned to say, "Teach me about your experience of your culture." I have learned to honestly ask people what it is like to BE them. I have learned to honor the existence and the history of those who are different from me, and to be curious about it, and to celebrate what is different and unique about each individual. I have learned not to assume that just because a person has a particular skin color, that all people who have that skin color feel this or that way, or think this or that way, or act this or that way. They don't. They don't in the same way that not all white people have similar beliefs or lifestyles or political leanings. It does a disservice to everyone to pigeon-hole people based on anything they might hold in common.

While it is true that we all bleed red, that we are all the same underneath, that every life matters, the reality of our society is that people of color are treated and viewed by so many in society as less-than. The reality is that racism is rampant and it runs amok in our world. The fact of the matter is that white people, like myself, have a societal privilege in our western culture that people of color do not. And it is for this reason that I join with thousands and millions of others in saying, "Black Lives Matter."  I don't say "All Lives Matter" because that silences those whose lives don't matter in today's society.

I saw an illustration of equality versus equity a few years ago that has stuck with me. It is a three-part cartoon depicting three people: a tall person, an average-sized person, and a little person, who are trying to watch a ball game from behind a five-foot wall. In the first illustration, the tall person can easily see over the wall. The average person can see but just barely. And the little person cannot see at all. Then there were two illustrations under that one. The one on the left put an equal-sized box under each person. In this illustration, the little person could just barely see over the fence, and the taller ones had an even better view from equally higher-up. This one was labelled "Equality." On the right, in the illustration labelled "Equity," the tall person who did not need a box, was not given one. The average-sized person was given a box tall enough so that he could reach the same height as the tall person, and the little person was also given an even taller box so he could enjoy the game from the same height of the tall person. In this way, each of them could enjoy the game to the same degree.

This is a wonderful illustration of why I believe that those in the dominant culture do not need to be stroked and given special consideration. They already have the privilege of seeing the world without assistance. Those who need help and recognition should get it to the degree that they have been disadvantaged. And the history of white culture has many, many examples of the oppression of other races, especially black people (and yes, this is documented!) throughout the history of our interactions with other people who don't look like us.

From the time I was a little girl of ten years old, when I met a black man for the first time, I have been intrigued by people of color. But what I didn't know then, and what I still didn't know even as recently as ten years ago, was how difficult it was (and is) for those who are not white. We don't even think about the same things as people of color when we think of everyday activities that most of us take for granted. Going for a walk in a quiet neighborhood after dark ... going into a store in broad daylight ... walking the dog ... driving a car with tinted windows ... paying for an item by check ... waiting in the park for a friend ... all of these things we take for granted and never once think that we might not make it home alive. But people of color, and especially black people, do. Every. Day.

If recent events have not highlighted these facts for you, then it might be time to honestly investigate how best to honor people who are targets of racism in your city, in your province or state, in your country. Look for stories told by the actual people themselves, and not by white people telling their story for them.

Listen. And say it with me. Black Lives Matter.

#BLM #ISeeYou

The Comfort Zone

By definition, a person's "comfort zone" is that realm of living in the everyday that feels comfortable, right.  At ease.  It's a combination of social circles, circumstances, individual relationships, job duties, and other miscellaneous expectations, routines, and habits to which a person has become accustomed.  It's the place in life where one feels safe.  

That makes a major assumption.  It assumes that the person has an inner comfort zone.  Such is not always the case.

The comfort zone I mean is the one where one feels comfortable inside - at peace with one's self.  The French call it "être à l'aise dans sa peau" - or "being at ease inside one's skin" - and it involves one very difficult - but essential - relationship. 

It's the relationship with oneself. For, as I understand the two most essential commandments of the Jewish law, identified by Jesus, it is necessary to have three relationships in life - and in this particular order of importance: with God, with oneself, and with others.

LINK for this photo

I've said a lot about relationship with God on this blog, so I'll leave that one alone in this post. Besides, I think that most people would agree that it's necessary to have a friendship with the Creator.  But I've seen a lot of people skip over that relationship with the self ... thinking it's somehow selfish ... and focus on other people exclusively.  Then they wonder why their caring for other people seems difficult, or forced, or why they are continually burning out and becoming resentful of the people they are nurturing.  I did that - for years.  I still fight the tendency to do it.  There seems to be a collective / cultural guilt surrounding the idea of being a friend to oneself. Perhaps it's that whole religious thing - the idea that paying attention to the self is egotistical, arrogant, and selfish. (Absolutely not the case. Just saying.) But as I keep telling my friends, "You're the only YOU that you have. Look after YOU ... please." I guess I need to keep reminding myself of the same thing, too.  Self-care fills my emotional tank and allows me not to get burned out as quickly (if at all) when I need to show compassion and caring to someone else.

Notice I said to show caring.  That doesn't mean that I rush in without permission into someone's life and start dispensing advice or (worse yet) barking orders - something I need to keep reminding myself about because that's what I used to do --- and on a regular basis.  It means that if someone needs a little help getting their bearings, I give them a soft place to land, to rest, to get their feet under them, to believe in themselves, and to learn to fly on their own.  It doesn't mean I create in them a dependency on me, on my advice or whatever else I think they might need. If I do that, then the relationship with the other person becomes about me.  That's not healthy.

But showing compassion and caring is the end result.  It will naturally flow out of relationship with God and then relationship with the self.  Many people focus on the end result of caring for others and showing compassion to them, - give, give, and give some more - and end up frustrated over time because ... well, there are any number of reasons but they all stem from a desire to have some sort of acknowledgement from the other person for their self-sacrifice.  It's been my experience that if I am looking after myself, I don't NEED that acknowledgement (I won't turn it away or be unthankful if it happens, but that's not my motivation or my goal) because I'm operating out of a place of fulness rather than running on empty all the time. 

As a matter of fact, when I actually DO start feeling edgy or resentful of someone else, that's my warning sign that I haven't been looking after myself. That's the time for some "me time" - to look after myself and be at ease inside my own skin - to find my own "comfort zone."

But I will remember

I wrote a book about 8 or 9 years ago.  It was never published - I never quite thought that it was finished, and it just lacked ... oomph. 

It sat in a file in my old computer, actually got passed along from computer to computer.  I always knew that someday I would do something with it.  Yet something felt ... unfinished. 

When I was first writing it, the words poured out of me like a torrent.  As I got closer to the point where I left off, though, it seemed ... uncertain, hesitant. It was like there was a bad taste in my mouth - like I was spewing forth poison and someone was going to get hurt.  I didn't have the first clue how to take that out.  So it sat.  The book sat, as it were, on the shelf.  I just had this sense that it had to wait.  It had to wait until I was ready.

About two months ago, it's like I suddenly knew that it was time.  Time to go back and rework what was there, take out the poison, use my current voice, take out some parts and add others, and after that, pick up where I left off.

The hesitancy was gone.  I knew where I was going with it.  

It was to be a prequel to "Get Unwrapped!" 

Source of this photo

I don't know how long it's going to take, or when it will be ready. But I'm working on it... and the words are pouring out of me again. 

The "fever" is upon me again. I laugh and cry as I write.  I remember the things I'm writing about like they were yesterday.  

With the help of all the wall calendars I've kept stashed away through the years, the memories are taking shape, firming up.  I'm getting into the groove of telling my story, remembering how things used to be, what happened, and how I got through it - or didn't, as the case may be. Even as I write, it spurs other memories long forgotten. 

And I know it's right. The poison I felt was there in 2004? - it's being expunged and in its place, compassion and truth reign.  When I left off writing it, I felt I had arrived - and now, that's no longer true.  

A lot has changed. 

I've changed.  

So I'm looking forward to seeing this take shape, to refining it, to getting it ready for publication. 

Who knows? At the rate I'm going, it might even be ready by Christmas.

If it feels good

"If it feels good," goes the old saying from decades ago, "do it."

Hm.  I remember sermons about the evils of that saying, calling it hedonistic, condoning the love of pleasure rather than of God.  But I think it's all in how you take it.  

Perhaps it's better with a qualifier.  As long as it doesn't disrespect yourself, as long as it has a consequence that builds you up and doesn't eventually destroy you spiritually, physically, or emotionally, you might want to consider the idea that it's a good thing.  

I know people - and I am one of them a lot of times - who stay in unhealthy situations and/or relationships far too long and don't stand up for themselves or don't walk away out of fear of what the other person or people involved might think. Some of those same people are afraid to enter what could be healthy situations or relationships out of fear of being rejected, not fitting in, or just out of habit.  "It's always been this way."  

Sometimes we can get in a rut, you know?  Doing the same things, watching the same TV shows, hanging out with the same people, having the same arguments (er, um, intense discussions).  We spin our wheels and don't allow ourselves to do what feels good for us  -  some call this "novel" idea "self-care!" 

This cool photo was one I found at discoverfrance

Maybe we think that doing something for ourselves is a sign that we're selfish people (or not selfless people).  But it's been my experience that if I don't look after myself, I suffer in the long run.  I become depleted, I run on empty, I run out of emotional gas, I don't have anything left to give yet I insist on continuing to give because it's expected of me - and that's the place where resentment, bitterness, and depression breed.  I know. That's where I lived for decades.  

There's a word that's really popular in evangelical Christian circles - stewardship.  Most people think of that as taking care of the things and people with which or with whom God has entrusted you: family, friends, job, finances, time.  Interesting that "yourself" is not listed - not even thought of.  But God has also given us our selves - and not taking care of ourselves is just as irresponsible as not taking care of our loved ones.  It's like we're taking this huge untapped asset and burying it in the dirt because we're afraid of taking a risk on it.  We've undervalued it.  And someday we may be called to give an account of that.

We need to know in our innermost being that we have value.  Not to others, that's not what I mean.  So many people get their sense of worth from other people and wonder why relationships either are impossible to maintain or unattainable in the first place. It's because the focus is backward.  The primary relationship is with the self.  If we are not comfortable in our own skin, nobody else will enjoy being with us.  Enjoying our own company is the first step to healthy and fulfilling relationships with others.  We can't do that by forcing ourselves to take last place all the time and be miserable as a result.

Taking the time that it takes to nurture ourselves is going to pay off in so many other ways.  Taking risks, learning something new, growing in some way that enhances our selves, this is time well spent and will pay dividends we never imagined.  

What's stopping us from taking those risks?  Today is a great day to start.  If it feels good, if it will build us up and not hurt us in the long run, then let's do it!

Prayer

PRAYER
--------

PRAYER is a bloody battleground

PRAYER Satan trembles at the sound

PRAYER is where victories are won

PRAYER talking with God's precious Son

PRAYER a place where God exposes sin

PRAYER His Spirit dwelling sweet within

PRAYER where we lay our burdens down

PRAYER where God's blessings will abound

PRAYER praising God's own Holy name

PRAYER thanking Him who took our shame

PRAYER seeking guidance from above

PRAYER weeping for the ones we love

PRAYER asking for His cleansing power

PRAYER gives us grace for every hour

PRAYER lifts our spirits from despair

PRAYER sends us soaring in the air

- - - - - written by Skip
- - - - - born December 30, 1950 ----> died June 7, 2010

Blessed assurance

Some wise person suggested earlier today that I have my own blog. Hm. I love to write. So why not??

Today is a rather sad day but yet - there is peace and joy in it as well. My oldest brother, aged 59, passed away yesterday in hospital, five days after he had a fairly major heart attack.

Husband, father of five: Melody (29), Heidi (27), Marcy (25), Emily (23), and Cory (21). A walking miracle by all accounts, he had kidney failure over 15 years ago and the search for a donor revealed nobody that was a match ... Until his wife Sandy offered to be tested. Lo and behold, a match ! The doctors said it was because they’d had 5 children together. “Acquired compatibility.” If that isn’t marriage I don’t know what is!! The operation took place in Halifax in 1997. Husband and wife, on operating tables at the same time, each taking a huge risk in both offering and accepting the gift of life.

But the anti-rejection drugs Skip took, combined with the lowered kidney function (he only had one working kidney: Sandy’s!) and high blood pressure meant a recipe for diabetes, which he developed about 5 years ago or thereabouts.

Sometime in the last year, he injured his left hand and lost the use of two fingers. An excellent guitar player, - actually he could play anything with strings, acoustic or electric, including piano and violin – this was a very significant loss. It took away his reason for being, his enjoyment of everyday life. He consoled himself with his only other hobby: cooking. He often ended up eating his own “experiments” though, and his weight increased, not good for someone with diabetes and kidney trouble.

His pastor, however, tells that in that same time his relationship with the Lord deepened, and Jesus became ever more and more precious to him.

His heart attack this past Wednesday threw his wife and kids into a tailspin. His youngest daughter, Emily, was to be married this coming Saturday. She and her fiancé Rick went to the hospital a few hours before Skip died. They went with the minister to be married right there, so that Skip could give his daughter away – he knew that one way or the other, he was not going to be available for the ceremony on Saturday, so they moved up the wedding and had a private ceremony right there in the hospital room – something for Emily to hold on to and remember, for years to come. They took a video. They’ll probably show it at the funeral. On Saturday, they’ll have a reception at the church because the wedding already took place – they’ll definitely show the video then.

Skip had a deep peace settle on him the whole time he was in hospital. He had a chance to speak to Cory, who is away from the Lord, at one point during those few days. Skip knew he was going Home.

That’s where he is now. I can imagine him talking to Dad, who died in ‘93. I can see in my mind our niece Beth, 25 when she died in 2004, greeting him and showing him around. I can just picture him jammin’ with King David. But all of this ... after he’s through clinging to Jesus’ feet of course (which might take a few millennia). Completely healed, inside and out, in an instant. Whole and strong. Happier than he ever imagined. Knowing the answers to all the questions he’s ever had about anything – and finding out that he didn’t need to know. Just to know Him as deeply as Jesus has always known him – that’s more than enough.

I’ve caught myself a couple of times talking about Skip in the present tense and have corrected myself to change to the past. But in reality, only his body, his shell is dead. The real person, who he is, is eternal. So I can say with assurance that the very best of the Skip I know and love is still a man of deeply held convictions, of great passion, of amazing integrity and yet humility before God. He still has the same love, the same intense desire to be close to the Master – now fulfilled, perfected, and on the “hallelujah side”. He has joined that great cloud of witnesses who are cheering us all on, encouraging us to keep trusting, keep pressing in to Jesus, keep loving and forgiving each other, keep going “Beyond the Walls” with the good news, and keep looking for the Day.

His life for and service to the King began in a little country church when he was 18. It will never end.