The Uglier Side Of Life . . .

and trying to not get sucked into the hatred.

I had an evil thought today.  Not that it is my first mind you, but I am generally a positive and compassionate person, give people the benefit of the doubt and try to see the good in people.  But today is one of those days where my capacity to endure other people’s hatred, especially racism, is hanging by a thread.

The following article, http://edition.cnn.com/2013/07/28/world/europe/italy-politics-racism/index.html?iref=allsearch, had my hackles up, (if I actually had any), as far as they would go.  And then the evil thought . . . I wished all racists would slip on a banana peel and be gone forever . . . and then the repentant heart of someone who doesn’t like to wish evil things on others . . . and then I cried.

Idealism is a natural trait of mine.  When I was in eighth grade, I actually believed that by the time I reached adulthood there would be no racism and nobody would be smoking cigarettes.  Yes laugh at me, I do, but I really naively thought this could be so.

I have had personal experiences with racism.  I am a melting pot of ethnicity to say the least.  On my father’s side, I am mostly Danish, German and Cherokee Indian.  On my mother’s side, I am Spanish, French and Chinese.  In addition, I am adopted with my dad being English and Native American and my late mother being Japanese.  Most of my Caucasian friends assumed I was Japanese American.  When my mother’s Japanese friends looked at me, they knew I was not Japanese.  A lot of people thought I was Coastal Indian when I lived in the Pacific Northwest.  When I was in Hawaii, I was thought to be a native islander.  Now that I live in Oklahoma, many people ask me to which tribe of Indian I belong.  In the past, I have been called “j-p”, slant eyes and had people talk to me like I didn’t understand English.  I was born in San Francisco, California folks!  Fortunately, I was raised the child of a military man and lived other places in the world and experienced other cultures so I didn’t grow up so intolerant.

Although I don’t consider myself racist or prejudiced in any way by the true definition of the terms, I won’t be so pious as to deny that I have ever judged anyone based on their ethnicity, what they were wearing, what and how they eat . . . the list is vast of ways in which we size up people but I am intelligent and rational enough to realize that I am not superior in any way to my fellow human being.  I believe God created us all and I believe God loves us all and He gave His life for us all!

The hostility of one race toward another, one culture toward another, one religion toward another, one social class toward another is nothing but pure hatred.  There are countless reasons people hate, but hate is usually born out of fear.  We don’t live in a perfect world and we are not perfect people.

So the tears have been shed and I ask myself, what will I do to make a difference?  How will I be a part of the change I want to see in the world?  I focus on the fact that there are many loving and accepting people in the world.  I focus on being a loving and accepting person myself.  I don’t know much about Cecile Kyenge or her politics, I just know she is another human being.  I pray for the hurts to be forgiven and for people like her to keep rising above the ignorance and hatred, to keep on working for good things for all people.

I know there are practical considerations to ridding our world of all its ills.  However, I still believe that by being guided by my ideals, I will be a better part of the change.

Have you ever been the victim of racism or close to someone who has?  How did it make you feel?  How do you feel we can make things better for now and the generations to come?

Tornadoes and Things . . .

Breaking down the last stronghold in my attachment to “things”.

Material well-being is not my focus, especially not the way it was in my past. My early adult years were spent desiring and accumulating trendsetting fashion, the head turning car, the awe-inspiring home with the manicured lawn and all the nice touches that made me feel like I was living a successful life.  Having children and growing wiser spiritually and emotionally lent itself to diminishing my desire for things and appreciating people more.  I have spent the last few years eager to purge myself of the excesses I have accumulated over time.  I still value a lot of my belongings for sentimental reasons, but the malevolent side of nature has made an indelible impression on me and taken me one step further in severing my attachment to my possessions.

A significant tornado outbreak affected parts of the Midwest from May 19-31, 2013.  The heaviest destruction was in Moore, Oklahoma ~ just 1.2 miles south of my home.  My family and I spent a hot, sweaty hour in our underground storm shelter during one of the more violent tornadoes.  Huddled together, we listened to the winds rage outside and above, sure that even if our house was not plucked from its foundation that we would emerge from our steel box to find an unrecognizable mess surrounding our home.  Much to our surprise and relief, there was very little damage and very little debris.

Our neighbors just a few miles away were not to make the same discovery.  Homes, businesses and cars were decimated.  Whole neighborhoods unrecognizable as their structures lay like matchsticks on the ground.  An earthquake can reduce a house to rubble, but a tornado can suck up all in its path and disgorge it miles away.

The National Weather Service and our local weather stations do an outstanding job of letting us know when a weather event is imminent.  No storm is completely predictable, but they do a good job of narrowing down the time frame so we citizens can be “weather aware”.  While we must stay glued to the news, it is surreal to watch a tornado as it travels knowing full well the damage and fear the storm is inflicting.  I quietly pray, thanking God that we have a storm shelter and our lives will be spared then look around knowing that my home may be another obstacle to be consumed by a hellish vortex.  What about the picture of my Dad as a 15 year old?  What about the beautiful ceramic vase I made back in high school?  What about the collage I just lovingly completed of the first road trip I took with my husband?  I momentarily consider how I can save these mementoes, but I know I cannot take it all with me.

So I say goodbye to the things ~ well not really ~ but quietly acknowledging that it is okay, because they are just “things” and thank God again for the safety of my family.