As I cry over watching KONY2012, I think, where are the beautiful things? Where is the difference people like me want to make? "Humanity's greatest desire is to belong and to connect."But how are we connecting? How are we making a difference in the lives of those around us?
I love to hear people's stories. I love to learn from people's experience, to live vicariously through them... to me, hearing other people's stories is life itself. I am a writer, I am a story teller. I was put on this planet to hear, to learn, to tell. It is my calling. But it is all of our calling.
We complain because we have to pay high prices for gas. We complain because the traffic is diverted on Loop 820 and we have to sit in a line for 20 extra minutes in our air conditioned (or heated) cars. We cry because our husbands aren't loving us the "right"way.
Then one day, you pull into a gas station. A lady stands there, with her two-year-old clinging to her knees. She asks you, eyes filled with shame, if you have a couple dollars to spare for gas. She beckons at her car. You are buying cigarettes, only making a quick stop, not even getting gas yourself today because it's Thursday and everyone knows that Thursday is a bad day to buy gas. You always buy on Tuesday because the prices are lower. But her shame speaks to you. It calls to your own shame, and you feel a tug in your belly, not entirely comfortable. You ask what pump she's on. "Pump 6,"she says. You smile. I'll put gas in your car, you say, and with 3 packs of cigarettes, you buy $10 worth of gas for a lonely mother with a little child born into poverty.
Maybe I should have spent all the money on gas and kicked the cigarette habit.
Maybe I should have brought her and her daughter home with me, given them a shower and clean sheets and a hot nutritious meal.
But she was there and I was there, and I did what was in front of me. I helped who was in front of me.
Today I start a movement. I should say, I continue a movement. As I watched Kony2012, I was sad because I couldn't help those children, so far away, so untouchable by mother's arms who want to hold them an give them ice cream and let them be kids... but I can do what is here, what is in front of me.
I can hear an old man tell me about his life, his wife who passed away, his love for music and for sports. I can listen to a homeless lady who's community is stuffed bears she takes to waffle house tell me that her life wasn't always this way, and I can believe her. Today I start a journey. I will pray. I will pray that every day God brings someone to me who needs my love, my money, or my time. And I will give it. Because I can. Because I'm American, and we have our problems, but I have running water and electricity and a little more than enough to pay my bills and buy shoes. Today I will help someone, and tomorrow, too, and I will pray that God brings people to me who need me.
Will you join me?
I love to hear people's stories. I love to learn from people's experience, to live vicariously through them... to me, hearing other people's stories is life itself. I am a writer, I am a story teller. I was put on this planet to hear, to learn, to tell. It is my calling. But it is all of our calling.
We complain because we have to pay high prices for gas. We complain because the traffic is diverted on Loop 820 and we have to sit in a line for 20 extra minutes in our air conditioned (or heated) cars. We cry because our husbands aren't loving us the "right"way.
Then one day, you pull into a gas station. A lady stands there, with her two-year-old clinging to her knees. She asks you, eyes filled with shame, if you have a couple dollars to spare for gas. She beckons at her car. You are buying cigarettes, only making a quick stop, not even getting gas yourself today because it's Thursday and everyone knows that Thursday is a bad day to buy gas. You always buy on Tuesday because the prices are lower. But her shame speaks to you. It calls to your own shame, and you feel a tug in your belly, not entirely comfortable. You ask what pump she's on. "Pump 6,"she says. You smile. I'll put gas in your car, you say, and with 3 packs of cigarettes, you buy $10 worth of gas for a lonely mother with a little child born into poverty.
Maybe I should have spent all the money on gas and kicked the cigarette habit.
Maybe I should have brought her and her daughter home with me, given them a shower and clean sheets and a hot nutritious meal.
But she was there and I was there, and I did what was in front of me. I helped who was in front of me.
Today I start a movement. I should say, I continue a movement. As I watched Kony2012, I was sad because I couldn't help those children, so far away, so untouchable by mother's arms who want to hold them an give them ice cream and let them be kids... but I can do what is here, what is in front of me.
I can hear an old man tell me about his life, his wife who passed away, his love for music and for sports. I can listen to a homeless lady who's community is stuffed bears she takes to waffle house tell me that her life wasn't always this way, and I can believe her. Today I start a journey. I will pray. I will pray that every day God brings someone to me who needs my love, my money, or my time. And I will give it. Because I can. Because I'm American, and we have our problems, but I have running water and electricity and a little more than enough to pay my bills and buy shoes. Today I will help someone, and tomorrow, too, and I will pray that God brings people to me who need me.
Will you join me?
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