Only two weeks have passed since my wheelchair was delivered, and I started to learn how to use it. FDX-MCG is not an intuitive, or catchy name. So, for now I will call my chair Zoomer.
Mind you, I have NEVER driven any vehicle in my 51 years. OK, OK, I have driven countless people crazy without even trying:) That is second nature to me:) But, this, this whole driving business is brand new to me. Intellectually, I knew that there would be a learning curve, but, I couldn't imagine what that learning curve would be.
Today I set out intent on going to the grocery store. That is familiar territory. Then, I thought I would board my Zoomer, and head down to the Y to go swimming. Those are simple tasks that require no thought to do in your life, right? Well...
People ARE very willing to help. I was very apprehensive that people would be standoffish and condescending. I do try to warn people that I am just learning, so they do not endanger their lives while they are helping me. I have not experienced any standoffishness, or condescension.
This learning experience makes me wonder how long it takes to learn how to drive. I have enormous respect for how well so many people I know drive. I have not appreciated it fully until now. As deep as my appreciation is, I will never forget riding with my uncle during the wintertime in Minnesota. My uncle did not turn around a curve wide enough. The result? We took part of a snow bank with us. No one was hurt. My uncle was not at all ruffled by what he had done:) But, most people I know, and have ridden with are excellent drivers.
Driving is a privilege. It is allowing me to get out to live a fuller life than I have lived recently. How fast do we ZOOM to get to our destination? Do we appreciate its privilege? Do we see what we pass along our journey? May we see the sights along the way. May we mark those places along the way to return to, in order to live more fully--breathe more deeply. May we take home with us--make resident in our beings--the people, sights, and experiences on our journey.
Showing posts with label privilege. Show all posts
Showing posts with label privilege. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Life Changes...A Changing Life...
On April 26, 2011, I will turn 51. Had you told me two years ago that I would be living as I am now, I would have laughed at you. Yet, in 2011, here I am. This is the life I am called to live.
When I left the paid work world, I was not at all sure what my life was supposed to be, much less than what I wanted it to be. I was not retiring, yet, I did not know what to call my new life stage. Retired, as I had witnessed it in my life, did not describe what I was entering. In closest terms for me to describe, I was on disability. But, what did that mean?
My transition from full-time employment to on disability was abrupt. Most people left their place of employment on a long-anticipated, established date. Coworkers, and supervisors knew the date, and there was time to say thank you, to reconcile any short-term or long-term differences. There were no conversations regarding, "What are you going to do, once you do not have to go to work each day," and "If I were leaving work, I would...." There was no time to prepare for such a drastic change in living. Retirees returned to work, and said, "I don't miss the work, I miss the people." That was inconceivable to me. How could 24 years of my life be erased from my memory? Yet, that is what I would say now. I do not miss all of the people I worked with for more than 24 years. I do miss some of those people. I am in touch with some people. I do not miss the pressures of work. I do miss the treasure hunt for information that I traveled with those who had questions, and needed answers. That treasure hunt was not a daily journey, yet, when I loved that journey, and I am guilty of infecting many.
When I tried to conceive what my life on long-term disability would be, I had no model to consult. I felt guilty. My conception of long-term disability was someone who was completely unable to leave their home. Perhaps, the person's life circumstances were more drastic than that. I had no idea. As much as I told former colleagues that I would be "The next chapter will be to strengthen myself physically as much as is possible....I must discover opportunities that call upon my mind, rather than tax my physical abilities." I had no idea what the words I had been given to express meant. I had no idea.
The physical weakening that led to my exit from the work world defined my life for the next year and a half. I needed to embrace the Serenity Prayer.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
I sought the courage to identify what I could not change about my new old self. I needed to learn how to accommodate to my weakening body--my right ankle--and my capacity to stand up from the ground. For a lifetime, I had resisted fiercely anyone who dared to say that I could not do a task that I was undertaking. After all, I had never lived with the capacity to use both hands. From birth, my right leg had been shorter than my life. I did not undertake tasks that required a perfect balance. OK, I dressed up as a little ballerina. But, the balance beam was not narrow, by any stretch of the imagination. I never was a gambler in any casinos. The only challenge I undertook was that of a response to, "Do you think you can do that?" As much as I resented the comment--the lack of faith in me, all I could say was, "Do you want to make a bet?"
Oddly, the suggestion that I consider going on long-term disability was made in Las Vegas. In my mind, it was a long shot--the biggest gamble I had ever made. The stakes were high--my future. What was I getting myself into? This gamble flew in the face of all that I had been taught. "You will learn to live independently."
Courage to change the things I can.
This entailed identifying what, how much, and how I could restore my compromised right ankle, my weakening left hand--I could not lose her strength, I just couldn't--and my capacity to stand up from the ground. Accepting the things I could not change was more elusive for me to identify. Yet, the things of courage were more concrete to identify. Though identified more concretely, the things of courage were much more difficult to change. Bending from my knees to the ground were not a part of my things of courage. I knew better than to squander any courage I might be given on a youth's capacity that I had relinquished to an accommodating life. My things of courage calling for attention were my right ankle--she was on her last leg--and my left hand--she was my sole source by which I could squeeze everything out of my life.
How much?
To what degree could I hope to be restored? Before I could accept my compromised health, I needed to identify what my restored self would look like life--what would she feel like. What was I praying to be restored was essential. What was I not praying to be restored in my body?
What did a resurrected body look like to me? Others' conceptions--even those closest to me mattered little, if I did not have a strong sense of it in my own life. I am not saying that my vision would be perfect, or what a resurrected body would look like--would be in my life. But, if I was to have any hope than I better change resurrected body from a it--a thing--to an intimate in my life.
I could not jump to the step of addressing the how before I understood the how much. Though not fully understood by some who loved, and love me, by the grace of God, I knew that the answer to how could change on the basis of how much, my right ankle could be restored to her younger self. My right ankle, my left hand, my left hip, each and every body part of my body is not an it. They are my intimates. They are she, they are her. Only when I call them by their given names am I worthy to make decisions in their best interests--decisions in our best interests for a full life together.
My vehicle to understanding how much was ankle surgery. That action would reveal to me an answer to how much.
How?
This question frightened me. To some, the concrete form of how--a scooter, or a wheelchair--seemed clear. Yet, I had not arrived at the concrete foundation I needed in order to wheel forward. Others' attitudes, physical boundaries--navigating those physical boundaries--and my perceptions of individuals I had seen in my life were my biggest obstacles.
Wisdom to know the difference.
Before I could find solace, and embrace any wisdom, I needed to return to the matter of courage. What of courage was I not addressing? Now that I knew answers to today's things of courage was I not acting upon? Only after I answered and acted upon those questions could I hope to be granted any wisdom.
The Serenity Prayer is not a prayer to be navigated, and lived once and for all. That might be nice, but, life doesn't work that way.
On April 14, 2011, I was given a gift that I would never have imagined to be a gift--a wheelchair. With the accommodations of recent years, I need to discover where I want to go outside of my home that I put out of my mind as unrealistic destinations. With compromised stamina now restored, I may look at the outside world again, and try to get back into circulation once again.
Had you told me two years ago that I would be living the life I am, I would have laughed at you. Yet, this is the life I am called to live. Yikes!
What did a resurrected body look like to me? Others' conceptions--even those closest to me mattered little, if I did not have a strong sense of it in my own life. I am not saying that my vision would be perfect, or what a resurrected body would look like--would be in my life. But, if I was to have any hope than I better change resurrected body from an it--a thing--to an intimate in my life.
My vision is far from perfect. Intimate though my resurrected body may be, if there is any hope of my intimate being perfected--fulfilled--such intimacy must be shared--respected, and embraced.
Yikes!
When I left the paid work world, I was not at all sure what my life was supposed to be, much less than what I wanted it to be. I was not retiring, yet, I did not know what to call my new life stage. Retired, as I had witnessed it in my life, did not describe what I was entering. In closest terms for me to describe, I was on disability. But, what did that mean?
My transition from full-time employment to on disability was abrupt. Most people left their place of employment on a long-anticipated, established date. Coworkers, and supervisors knew the date, and there was time to say thank you, to reconcile any short-term or long-term differences. There were no conversations regarding, "What are you going to do, once you do not have to go to work each day," and "If I were leaving work, I would...." There was no time to prepare for such a drastic change in living. Retirees returned to work, and said, "I don't miss the work, I miss the people." That was inconceivable to me. How could 24 years of my life be erased from my memory? Yet, that is what I would say now. I do not miss all of the people I worked with for more than 24 years. I do miss some of those people. I am in touch with some people. I do not miss the pressures of work. I do miss the treasure hunt for information that I traveled with those who had questions, and needed answers. That treasure hunt was not a daily journey, yet, when I loved that journey, and I am guilty of infecting many.
When I tried to conceive what my life on long-term disability would be, I had no model to consult. I felt guilty. My conception of long-term disability was someone who was completely unable to leave their home. Perhaps, the person's life circumstances were more drastic than that. I had no idea. As much as I told former colleagues that I would be "The next chapter will be to strengthen myself physically as much as is possible....I must discover opportunities that call upon my mind, rather than tax my physical abilities." I had no idea what the words I had been given to express meant. I had no idea.
The physical weakening that led to my exit from the work world defined my life for the next year and a half. I needed to embrace the Serenity Prayer.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
I sought the courage to identify what I could not change about my new old self. I needed to learn how to accommodate to my weakening body--my right ankle--and my capacity to stand up from the ground. For a lifetime, I had resisted fiercely anyone who dared to say that I could not do a task that I was undertaking. After all, I had never lived with the capacity to use both hands. From birth, my right leg had been shorter than my life. I did not undertake tasks that required a perfect balance. OK, I dressed up as a little ballerina. But, the balance beam was not narrow, by any stretch of the imagination. I never was a gambler in any casinos. The only challenge I undertook was that of a response to, "Do you think you can do that?" As much as I resented the comment--the lack of faith in me, all I could say was, "Do you want to make a bet?"
Oddly, the suggestion that I consider going on long-term disability was made in Las Vegas. In my mind, it was a long shot--the biggest gamble I had ever made. The stakes were high--my future. What was I getting myself into? This gamble flew in the face of all that I had been taught. "You will learn to live independently."
Courage to change the things I can.
This entailed identifying what, how much, and how I could restore my compromised right ankle, my weakening left hand--I could not lose her strength, I just couldn't--and my capacity to stand up from the ground. Accepting the things I could not change was more elusive for me to identify. Yet, the things of courage were more concrete to identify. Though identified more concretely, the things of courage were much more difficult to change. Bending from my knees to the ground were not a part of my things of courage. I knew better than to squander any courage I might be given on a youth's capacity that I had relinquished to an accommodating life. My things of courage calling for attention were my right ankle--she was on her last leg--and my left hand--she was my sole source by which I could squeeze everything out of my life.
How much?
To what degree could I hope to be restored? Before I could accept my compromised health, I needed to identify what my restored self would look like life--what would she feel like. What was I praying to be restored was essential. What was I not praying to be restored in my body?
What did a resurrected body look like to me? Others' conceptions--even those closest to me mattered little, if I did not have a strong sense of it in my own life. I am not saying that my vision would be perfect, or what a resurrected body would look like--would be in my life. But, if I was to have any hope than I better change resurrected body from a it--a thing--to an intimate in my life.
I could not jump to the step of addressing the how before I understood the how much. Though not fully understood by some who loved, and love me, by the grace of God, I knew that the answer to how could change on the basis of how much, my right ankle could be restored to her younger self. My right ankle, my left hand, my left hip, each and every body part of my body is not an it. They are my intimates. They are she, they are her. Only when I call them by their given names am I worthy to make decisions in their best interests--decisions in our best interests for a full life together.
My vehicle to understanding how much was ankle surgery. That action would reveal to me an answer to how much.
How?
This question frightened me. To some, the concrete form of how--a scooter, or a wheelchair--seemed clear. Yet, I had not arrived at the concrete foundation I needed in order to wheel forward. Others' attitudes, physical boundaries--navigating those physical boundaries--and my perceptions of individuals I had seen in my life were my biggest obstacles.
Wisdom to know the difference.
Before I could find solace, and embrace any wisdom, I needed to return to the matter of courage. What of courage was I not addressing? Now that I knew answers to today's things of courage was I not acting upon? Only after I answered and acted upon those questions could I hope to be granted any wisdom.
The Serenity Prayer is not a prayer to be navigated, and lived once and for all. That might be nice, but, life doesn't work that way.
On April 14, 2011, I was given a gift that I would never have imagined to be a gift--a wheelchair. With the accommodations of recent years, I need to discover where I want to go outside of my home that I put out of my mind as unrealistic destinations. With compromised stamina now restored, I may look at the outside world again, and try to get back into circulation once again.
Had you told me two years ago that I would be living the life I am, I would have laughed at you. Yet, this is the life I am called to live. Yikes!
What did a resurrected body look like to me? Others' conceptions--even those closest to me mattered little, if I did not have a strong sense of it in my own life. I am not saying that my vision would be perfect, or what a resurrected body would look like--would be in my life. But, if I was to have any hope than I better change resurrected body from an it--a thing--to an intimate in my life.
My vision is far from perfect. Intimate though my resurrected body may be, if there is any hope of my intimate being perfected--fulfilled--such intimacy must be shared--respected, and embraced.
Yikes!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The Right Questions...Proper Fines...Rehabilitation...
I confess that I am not a huge sports fan. I listen for human profiles--human insights--within sports.
This week, National Basketball Association [NBA] player, Kobe Bryant was fined $100,000 for uttering a racial slur at a referee. NBA President David Stern imposed the fine to convey that the NBA was a family-friendly form of entertainment that would not endorse such behavior--such attitudes. Criticism has been made regarding the amount of the fine in proportion to the player's annual salary.
I pose a different question regarding the offense, and its corresponding fine. What impact would the imposition of fines have if they required community service relevant to the offense? Adjustments to the ratio of the fine to the offender's income should be implicit in sentencing standards, or fines assignments standards.
Community service seems like an easy way out--a soft sentence to impose. Yet, it does not need to be, if properly imposed--properly administered.
In the justice system, sentencing is supposed to be commensurate with the proven crime. Unanimous agreement does not exist regarding the definition of commensurate. However, that is no excuse for pursuing a definition.
What might commensurate community service be? First, it must be based on positive actions to lessen the occurrence of relevant offenses, in this case, hate speech. Second, three groups must be identified.
First, to what group, or organization is the offender accountable. Is it a sports team? Is it a professional association? Is it some other institution?
Second, who were the people incriminated? Children? Colleagues? Adults? Others?
Third, to whom is the offender a role model? Children? Parents? Pet owners? Teachers? Religious leaders? Others?
Fourth, what might some commensurate community service be for an athlete?
Speaking to fans at games at a pre-determined time within the game, and for a specified time period--once in each city played during the season? Speaking to recruits during the training season for the sport involved?
These are just two ideas. I am not beholden to them. My intent is to spur thought.
In the U.S. judicial system, there are federal sentencing guidelines, which have been established to ensure consistency, and definitions of commensurate. It seems that other organizations might take a cue from the U.S. judicial system.
Kobe Bryant is not the first, nor the last athlete to engage in hate speech. His offense can be a teaching moment for everyone--the news spotlight is on, and it is up to us to use it.
This week, National Basketball Association [NBA] player, Kobe Bryant was fined $100,000 for uttering a racial slur at a referee. NBA President David Stern imposed the fine to convey that the NBA was a family-friendly form of entertainment that would not endorse such behavior--such attitudes. Criticism has been made regarding the amount of the fine in proportion to the player's annual salary.
I pose a different question regarding the offense, and its corresponding fine. What impact would the imposition of fines have if they required community service relevant to the offense? Adjustments to the ratio of the fine to the offender's income should be implicit in sentencing standards, or fines assignments standards.
Community service seems like an easy way out--a soft sentence to impose. Yet, it does not need to be, if properly imposed--properly administered.
In the justice system, sentencing is supposed to be commensurate with the proven crime. Unanimous agreement does not exist regarding the definition of commensurate. However, that is no excuse for pursuing a definition.
What might commensurate community service be? First, it must be based on positive actions to lessen the occurrence of relevant offenses, in this case, hate speech. Second, three groups must be identified.
First, to what group, or organization is the offender accountable. Is it a sports team? Is it a professional association? Is it some other institution?
Second, who were the people incriminated? Children? Colleagues? Adults? Others?
Third, to whom is the offender a role model? Children? Parents? Pet owners? Teachers? Religious leaders? Others?
Fourth, what might some commensurate community service be for an athlete?
Speaking to fans at games at a pre-determined time within the game, and for a specified time period--once in each city played during the season? Speaking to recruits during the training season for the sport involved?
These are just two ideas. I am not beholden to them. My intent is to spur thought.
In the U.S. judicial system, there are federal sentencing guidelines, which have been established to ensure consistency, and definitions of commensurate. It seems that other organizations might take a cue from the U.S. judicial system.
Kobe Bryant is not the first, nor the last athlete to engage in hate speech. His offense can be a teaching moment for everyone--the news spotlight is on, and it is up to us to use it.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
A Cherished Life
For the most part--and you can believe this or not as you choose--I consider my life unusually privileged. How many people get to adapt themselves deliberately to their circumstances? How many get to adopt a pace that suits them--or even have a chance to puzzle what that pace might be? How many get to devote themselves fully to the pursuits that most delight them: in my case, observing, reflecting, conversing, writing? How many cherish what little they have on any given day, in the full knowledge that on some tomorrow it inevitable will be lost?
Nancy Mairs, Waist-High in the World, p. 38
Cherishing the unexpected is a true gift. A colleague died this week at a very young age. Her poignant funeral amplified how wonderful it has been--how wonderful it is--to be allowed to craft a life on my own terms. I am not free of boundaries, or limits, but, I am free of artificially-imposed boundaries and limits. My body--my geography of space--sets boundaries. But, no longer am I bound by corporate etiquette, or corporate pressures. Beyond a number of individuals, I do not think about where I worked for 24 years.
Since I have stopped working in the 9-to-5 work world, I have been given new opportunities. I followed the best advice given to me--get up every day at the same time, and get dressed as though you were going to a job at a set time. I set no alarm. My bladder takes care of that. I love words, crosswords, current events, and world affairs, as well as reading, researching, writing, and reflecting. Encouraged by friends, and family, I go to sleep each night knowing I am living by my lifelong passions.
I do not impose anxiety on myself by setting unrealistic goals. As active a volunteer as was my late colleague, her neighbor said that her vacation was doing nothing. She understood the importance of playing to living fully. Whereas many people try to fill the hours of their day meeting quotas, she understood that her work time was more productive--more enjoyable--by her rich playing, and re-creation.
My colleague faced a ravaging illness. Yet, she navigated it on her own terms. Not perfectly, but, its imperfections are hers alone to know. It is for us to know that her navigation was not worthy of heroic admiration, rather, it was her gift for us to appreciate. I abhor saying that there are always people who are less fortunate than I am. I have no intent to elevate my life experiences in the context of others. Quite to the contrary. My colleague touched deeply the individuals who helped her to navigate her dying days. She knew she was dying--her death was imminent. So, she surrounded herself with people who would celebrate her with stories, laughter, and beautiful poetry.
Nancy Mairs, and my colleagues remind me how fortunate I feel--not by their dictate, but, by my own keen ear. I work no longer, though, normally, my age prescribes it. Yet, my "work" is my life's work--crafting my time and surroundings with what brings the most joy. Reading, researching, reflection, and writing. A cherished living is not free of challenge. Cherished living must not atrophy my mind or my spirit. Atrophying of my body parts tempts my mind, and my spirit to be obedient followers.
My colleague allowed my embrace with old "partners in crime" from whom my body dictated my abrupt departure. We may or may not gather again as a group. Perhaps at the funeral of another colleague. Yet, yesterday, each of us were able to say to one another, "Life is better now. Despite the abrupt, painful circumstances surrounding our partings, life is better now."
Nancy Mairs, Waist-High in the World, p. 38
Cherishing the unexpected is a true gift. A colleague died this week at a very young age. Her poignant funeral amplified how wonderful it has been--how wonderful it is--to be allowed to craft a life on my own terms. I am not free of boundaries, or limits, but, I am free of artificially-imposed boundaries and limits. My body--my geography of space--sets boundaries. But, no longer am I bound by corporate etiquette, or corporate pressures. Beyond a number of individuals, I do not think about where I worked for 24 years.
Since I have stopped working in the 9-to-5 work world, I have been given new opportunities. I followed the best advice given to me--get up every day at the same time, and get dressed as though you were going to a job at a set time. I set no alarm. My bladder takes care of that. I love words, crosswords, current events, and world affairs, as well as reading, researching, writing, and reflecting. Encouraged by friends, and family, I go to sleep each night knowing I am living by my lifelong passions.
I do not impose anxiety on myself by setting unrealistic goals. As active a volunteer as was my late colleague, her neighbor said that her vacation was doing nothing. She understood the importance of playing to living fully. Whereas many people try to fill the hours of their day meeting quotas, she understood that her work time was more productive--more enjoyable--by her rich playing, and re-creation.
My colleague faced a ravaging illness. Yet, she navigated it on her own terms. Not perfectly, but, its imperfections are hers alone to know. It is for us to know that her navigation was not worthy of heroic admiration, rather, it was her gift for us to appreciate. I abhor saying that there are always people who are less fortunate than I am. I have no intent to elevate my life experiences in the context of others. Quite to the contrary. My colleague touched deeply the individuals who helped her to navigate her dying days. She knew she was dying--her death was imminent. So, she surrounded herself with people who would celebrate her with stories, laughter, and beautiful poetry.
Nancy Mairs, and my colleagues remind me how fortunate I feel--not by their dictate, but, by my own keen ear. I work no longer, though, normally, my age prescribes it. Yet, my "work" is my life's work--crafting my time and surroundings with what brings the most joy. Reading, researching, reflection, and writing. A cherished living is not free of challenge. Cherished living must not atrophy my mind or my spirit. Atrophying of my body parts tempts my mind, and my spirit to be obedient followers.
My colleague allowed my embrace with old "partners in crime" from whom my body dictated my abrupt departure. We may or may not gather again as a group. Perhaps at the funeral of another colleague. Yet, yesterday, each of us were able to say to one another, "Life is better now. Despite the abrupt, painful circumstances surrounding our partings, life is better now."
Monday, December 20, 2010
Care-giving...an Inheritance...
A nightly local newscast featured the need that adults in their late 40s and 50s have to care for their parents.
Upon my 88-year-old grandmother's death, my 88-year-old grandfather was welcomed to live with us. For the next seven years--from 1975 through 1982, my life was enriched by a gentle storyteller. I knew my grandfather as Ray. We all did. "I am too young to be called Grandpa," Ray said.
In younger days, he had a hot temper. I knew a man, who was filled with many prejudices. Yet, Ray was a gentle man during my lifetime of knowing him.
Until the day I die, I pray I may live up to what Ray said to me--to us.
"When I die, don't be sad.
"I have made amends with everyone I had differences with."
Ray's words--Ray's inheritance to me--has been a guiding light in my life.
If I make amends with everyone I have had differences, I will have lived fully.
Thank you, Mom and Dad. Thank you, Ray.
You planted the seedlings of care-giving in my life.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Belief, Faith, and Religion
Listening to the public discourse regarding the freedom of Muslims to worship, I have been reminded of the complexity of belief, faith, and religion.
Too often, these three terms are used as synonyms. They are interrelated, yet, they need to be distinguished. We use labels to provide a frame of reference from which to proceed in human relations.
Yet, we must not use labels as a substitute for listening to, talking with, and understanding one another.
When I started to write this blog this week, I was surprised to find myself stopped in trying to introduce myself in a way that accurately describes and reflects who I am, what my beliefs, and faith are. My problem? I wanted to describe myself fully in labels, rather than express myself fully in carefully chosen words, and in temperate voice.
In 2010, I attend a Catholic Mass in communion with individuals, who challenge me to live fully--to live with integrity. I am a practicing Catholic--I am practicing so that I may affirm life, and rid my spirit of intolerance, disrespect. I dedicate myself to be in communion with individuals with whom I am in agreement, but, much more importantly, I dedicate myself to be open to individuals with whom I do not share the same practices or beliefs. I may say that I am firmly rooted in Christian teachings--in Christian living.
But...the moment I speak or act in any way that denigrates the dignity of someone whose beliefs or actions I disagree, I contradict my beliefs, disavow my faith, and lose the privilege of celebrating my religion.
I must resist any temptation to denigrate those individuals, who oppose the rights of other individuals to exercise the freedom of religion.
I dedicate myself to learn from--to be enriched by--the diversity of beliefs, opinions, and ways of living that surround me. I pray all may share in this dedication.
Too often, these three terms are used as synonyms. They are interrelated, yet, they need to be distinguished. We use labels to provide a frame of reference from which to proceed in human relations.
Yet, we must not use labels as a substitute for listening to, talking with, and understanding one another.
When I started to write this blog this week, I was surprised to find myself stopped in trying to introduce myself in a way that accurately describes and reflects who I am, what my beliefs, and faith are. My problem? I wanted to describe myself fully in labels, rather than express myself fully in carefully chosen words, and in temperate voice.
In 2010, I attend a Catholic Mass in communion with individuals, who challenge me to live fully--to live with integrity. I am a practicing Catholic--I am practicing so that I may affirm life, and rid my spirit of intolerance, disrespect. I dedicate myself to be in communion with individuals with whom I am in agreement, but, much more importantly, I dedicate myself to be open to individuals with whom I do not share the same practices or beliefs. I may say that I am firmly rooted in Christian teachings--in Christian living.
But...the moment I speak or act in any way that denigrates the dignity of someone whose beliefs or actions I disagree, I contradict my beliefs, disavow my faith, and lose the privilege of celebrating my religion.
I must resist any temptation to denigrate those individuals, who oppose the rights of other individuals to exercise the freedom of religion.
I dedicate myself to learn from--to be enriched by--the diversity of beliefs, opinions, and ways of living that surround me. I pray all may share in this dedication.
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