We're All in This Together

The other day I was at the grocery store. The woman at the till greeted me in Sesotho (Le kae?) then looked up at me, only to discover that I'm white. She immediately switched to Afrikaans and greeted me again (Goeie môre). I smiled and answered her in Sesotho (Ke teng, wena? Le kae?). She smiled, and then we both laughed.

When I left, I thanked her in Sesotho (Ke a leboga), and she responded in kind. We both smiled even bigger, and I left the store feeling somehow more... human. But why?

Here in South Africa - especially here in South Africa - one is constantly in contact with different cultures, different levels of class, education, society, political affiliation, worldview... you name it. It is easy to be distrustful of others, as nearly everyone has been hurt or offended in some way. The walls go up without us even noticing, and we live in isolation despite being surrounded by such diversity. But that day at the store - there were no walls. We were as different as could be in nearly every regard, but we had one thing in common which overrode everything else: we were both human, and that was something we could celebrate together.

 

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Tip Toe Through the Traffic

This is going to make you laugh and think I'm really odd, but I don't mind:

This morning I had an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my big toes.

I should backtrack a bit and set the scene for you. Imagine having to leave the house at 6:20 every morning to take your daughter to school. Imagine being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic the whole way, while driving a manual transmission (gearbox). Imagine that trip taking over an hour each morning, and imagine that you are not a morning person!

I keep trying to find ways to be positive so I can teach my daughter to look for the good in challenging situations (although I think she teaches me more than I teach her). We play games in the car, sync our iPod playlists, sing together, talk, laugh, and then pray before she gets out of the car.

This morning, as I was calculating that half of my commute is spent in first gear, inching along, I suddenly realised how impossible that would be without my big toe! Suddenly, the ability to hop in a car and drive my daughter to school - despite the traffic - felt like such an overlooked privilege and blessing (imagine having to depend on someone else to get your children to school each day). I started to giggle. My daughter asked me what was so funny, and all I could say was, "I'm just really happy to have big toes!"

The little things in life can make all the difference in the world.

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The Little Things in Life

The other day my oldest daughter mentioned that she takes delight in the things that no one else seems to notice. She's been taking photos of clouds, sunrises, and sunsets lately. I stopped to admire and affirm her, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder: how many things do I miss because I am too busy worrying, planning, feeling anxious, frustrated or just plain overwhelmed?

What if we all just stopped for a minute, breathed deeply, and fostered an awareness of the present? Would we notice anything? Would we be surprised?

Maybe the little things in life aren't so little after all.

 

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A Journey With Injustice: The Finale

It's been two weeks since school started, and the shock of the Grade 8 initiation is fading to memory. We are a little older, a little wiser, and a little more experienced in South African culture. The wound has faded to a bright pink scar, and in time, even that will fade.

The other day my family and I were having a conversation around the dinner table. My oldest daughter asked, "When or where do you see God most?" Two people said they see God in nature. I said that I see God in the creativity with which different cultures use spices to season food and the creativity among nations in cooking. One person said she sees God in the little things that everyone else takes for granted. And then everyone looked at my daughter - my Grade 8 daughter - wondering what she might say, knowing that she's had a rough two weeks.

She paused in silence and then said, "This is going to sound strange, but where I see God the most is in suffering. I try to imagine where God is in that moment, and think about the good things that occur that might not have happened otherwise. Like when you got your purse stolen, Mommy. We went shopping to replace the things that were lost, and we had a really good conversation that day. And last week at school, you hugged me a lot and encouraged me. If those bad things hadn't happened, the good things wouldn't have happened, either."

We all sat there, speechless. So much wisdom from such a young person, and I take no credit for that. There is a sensitivity and depth to her spirit that transcends her age, that transcends my understanding. And I can only weep and marvel and thank God for this gift of my daughter, and try to follow in her footsteps.

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Living vs. Existing

Oscar Wilde is known for being a hedonist - not something I personally respect - but he said some pretty amazing things at times. Here's one of my favourites:

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."

What would it look like for you to truly live?

 

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A Journey With Injustice, Part V

"If you do not transform your pain, you will surely transmit it to those around you." 

- Richard Rohr

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A Journey With Injustice, Part IV

I still feel like a terrible mother, sending my little lamb off to be slaughtered every morning when I take her to school (all the while trying to encourage her that "If it must be done, then do it with style, hold your head high and rock it!"). I keep waffling between wanting to teach her to "bear it with fortitude" and wanting to protect her from the unpleasantries of life.

The fact is, however, that life IS unpleasant at times - unjust, even - and I would be doing my daughter a greater disservice by protecting her from every distasteful situation rather than teaching her to work through those difficulties. To be even more vulnerable, I sometimes wonder if we Americans are overprotective of our children. After all, you can't learn conflict resolution skills without a conflict. You can't learn perseverance without some sort of difficulty. And you can't learn forgiveness and grace unless you have been wronged or treated unjustly.

Have you ever thought about what makes the inspirational people of the world so inspirational? Why do we love Mother Theresa, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi, or Viktor Frankl (just to name a few)? Is it not for characteristics like humility, generosity, overcoming, forgiveness, and compassion? Those characteristics, perhaps, cannot be learned except through hardship.

If what I have said is true, then this Grade 8 initiation becomes a launching pad for some incredible lessons and values to emerge. It's not fun - and it's quite painful - but isn't that how growing goes?

 

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