Bloom

“Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming who you need to be to be accepted. Belonging…doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.” —Brené Brown

***

Have you heard the phrase “Bloom where you’re planted”? I first encountered it on a t-shirt in a catalogue filled with an eclectic collection of jewelry, magnets, books, cards, and coffee cups. Above the words was the image of a bright yellow flower pushing through a thin crack in a cement sidewalk. The message was clear: when you find yourself somewhere less than ideal, don’t despair. Push through the obstacles, look for the light, find a way through. You can do it!

Bloom where you’re planted can be good advice. Let’s call it Plan A, which can be rich with opportunities to grow in awareness of what we are capable of as little else can. It’s important, however, not to use that possibility to rationalize or justify staying in an abusive, toxic, or otherwise dangerous situation. In those instances, it’s imperative to plant yourself elsewhere as quickly as you safely can do so. For many, however, hanging in there when the going gets tough has much to teach us.

My Plan A was to return to paid work after many years at home raising children. Unfortunately, blooming in my new surrounds proved harder than anticipated. Because even when I enjoyed the people I worked with, full-time employment, combined with the “hustle culture” that was part of every organization I worked for, wore me out. It also left me no time for other things—and people—I loved more.

Even so, I helped raise millions of dollars for scholarships, buildings, housing, ministry, and more. That’s what blooming looks like, right? For some, perhaps, but not for me. Demanding donors, untrained leaders, and unrealistic fundraising goals took away everything I loved about my work. Differences of opinion on a steady stream of ethical issues added to my weary discontent.

To cope, I took time off almost as fast as I earned it. But that meant I rarely spent more than a few days away from work, which was never enough time to rest and regroup. Whoever said “self-sabotage is your soul speaking” was talking to me. Regrettably, I wasn’t listening. Yes, we needed the money, and we also needed the health insurance, so part-time work wasn’t an option. My self-employed husband’s business was thriving, but the Affordable Care Act had not yet become law. When it did, we made too much money to qualify for a subsidy. So, I soldiered on, miserable, burned out, and angry.

When I reflected on my work experience, I recognized other realities that frustrated my efforts to bloom where I was planted. First, I am a morning person, and fundraising often involves after-hour commitments several times a month. I also am more introverted than extroverted. So too much time surrounded by people drains me. When this happens, I start to feel left out even when, in fact, I am welcome and appreciated.

Those insights were helpful, but nevertheless my Plan A wasn’t working. They did, however, help me recognize that blooming where we’re planted can be as much about who we are as where we are. When we’re forced to choose between those, it pays to have a Plan B.

Thankfully, Nick’s business had continued to grow. So while the price of private health insurance remained ridiculously high, leaving the workplace entirely for a while became a viable Plan B. So at age 60, I resigned. It was supposed to be a temporary break to reevaluate my professional goals. But a few months in, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and never returned to paid work.

It’s been almost five years since that cancer diagnosis. Since then, I’ve learned that whether it’s a job, school, city, place of worship, social club, relationship, or something else, I may need a Plan B, and Plan B equals change.

Plan B change may be small. For some it might mean going to bed earlier, getting household help, learning to meditate, spending more or less time alone, or taking daily walks. Someone else may need a check-up, medication, a therapist, or a candid conversation—with herself or someone else. For others, the best or only way forward might be a divorce, reconciliation, a new job, a move, surgery, or another big change.

Be that as it may, some find themselves planted in places and circumstances in which little, if anything, can be changed, at least not quickly or easily. Just ask someone struggling to create a new life without a loved one who has passed away, sometimes unexpectedly. Or the caregiver without financial or other resources to get even the smallest break in a sometimes lonely or repetitive routine of care for someone they love. By middle age, many of us have experienced a time when physical illness or mental health challenges made it hard just to get out of bed in the morning. For some, these challenges may not be temporary; they are the daily reality of life and, barring a miracle, tomorrow will be no different.

Blooming under such conditions happens all the time. However, only those who experience the hardship associated with such challenges know what blooming looks and feels like at any given time. My workplace woes feel superficial and silly in light of the resilience and fortitude many demonstrate day after day in far more difficult situations. They are my heroes.

One of those heroes is a young woman I sat near in a small chemotherapy room while the Covid-19 pandemic ravaged the world around us. We both had the same red liquid infusing into our veins through a port surgically implanted in our chests. But apart from our age, there was another big difference between us—she was pregnant. Alarmed and concerned, I looked up from her large belly directly into her eyes. She returned my gaze with a fierce look of defiance, determination, and hope that still inspire and humble me whenever I think about it. I pray that today she and her baby are healthy and strong.

No matter the circumstance, giving ourselves permission to change and bloom is challenging. Loving ourselves well means asking for the help and support we need to change what is—or how we perceive what is, or better manage it if we can. Help and support rarely show up on their own.

There are no guarantees, of course. That’s what makes the change from Plan A to Plan B so scary. The rewards, however, can be worth the risk. “Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage,” said essayist Anaїs Nin. Looking back, I regret not having the courage to honestly evaluate the toll my work was taking on me in many ways. Nor did I honor the natural pulse and rhythm of my life or the balance and flexibility I need to avoid feeling trapped. If I had, maybe the changes I needed to make, a completely different line of work, for example, might have been easier to undertake.

The upside is that now, in the words of Brené Brown, “I belong everywhere I go, no matter where it is or who I’m with, as long as I never betray myself.” That bright yellow flower pushing its way up through the crack in the cement? That finally feels like me at my blooming best—grateful, wiser, happier.

Questions

1.      What might interfere with “blooming where you’re planted”?

2.      Is there an area of your life where you need to make a change?

3.      Why is “blooming” in one or more areas of our lives important? Or is it?

Loving Well With Wild Woman (Part Two)

Note: this post is about abortion. Please proceed only if you are comfortable with controversial an/or potentially sensitive topics.

“The secret is to gang up on the problem, rather than each other.” –Thomas Stallkamp 

***

As some readers may recall, last month’s post was part one of a two-part discussion about abortion. It began with the introduction of Wild Woman, who author Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D. wrote about in her book, Women Who Run With The Wolves. Estes defines Wild Woman as the instinctive and intuitive feminine psyche. She is “ally, leader, model, teacher.” Without her, “women lose the sureness of their soul-footing.” I contend in part one that Wild Woman’s wise and loving counsel can help us move beyond the painful polarization around abortion policy in the U.S. for more than 50 years.

The question is how, and loving well’s answer is humility. As Lawrence H. Tribe points out in Abortion: The Clash of Tribes, “Each side can benefit from recognizing the strengths of the other’s arguments and the weaknesses of its own.” This is important because blind spots and biases exist on both sides. For example, some states with the highest rates of infant mortality and child poverty have enacted some of the most restrictive laws to limit or even ban abortion. If those states don’t have the money or other resources to care for the children already born, how do they justify taking more babies under their care? Conversely, it’s not unreasonable to ask why someone with no heartbeat or brain activity is declared legally dead, but an embryo with a heartbeat and brain activity shouldn’t be declared legally alive.

One podcaster, for example, boldly claimed that abortion regret is “not a thing.” Another talked for an hour about her abortion and the regret she has felt every day since. A few women expressed regret about not having an abortion. Another example of bias and blind spots is the woman who felt strongly that the life growing inside her was not yet a baby. When she miscarried, she found herself seriously questioning what she thought she believed. Others expected to feel guilty after their abortion, but instead felt relieved and ready to get on with their lives.

Beyond Right and Wrong

“Humility,” says Daniel Taylor In The Myth of Certainty, “is not synonymous with passivity or indecisiveness.” He continues:

One can hold beliefs passionately yet with humility…Humility also helps one recognize that the errors or wickedness of one’s “enemies,” no matter how grievous, do not ensure one’s own correctness or righteousness. How often opposing sides pillory, mock, and caricature the deficiencies of the other as though that alone established their own validity.

As stated in part one, an impasse that has gone on as long and as ferociously as the abortion issue has, begs us to consider the words of physicist Niels Bohr when he said, “the oppositive of a small truth is a falsehood; the opposite of a great truth is another great truth.” One of my favorite theologians, Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, OMI, acknowledges yet embraces the tension of Bohr’s statement. He is not speaking about abortion, but of wisdom in general when he states that:

Too often…we let profound truths cancel each other out, as if they were mathematical statements, rather than holding them together in paradox and in all the tension this brings…to let go of either pole of a paradox, to reduce the tension, is to fall from wisdom. Hence, as we struggle theologically and spiritually with certain key questions, we must be careful to always hold two, seemingly contradictory, truths together. The larger picture, the full answer, demands both.

When two great truths are in play, both deserve recognition and respect. As Taylor says, “No system of thought, almost no single influential idea, is totally devoid of truth. By ignoring or distorting that truth for the sake of winning arguments, we diminish our own cause.”

It seems to me that both sides of the abortion debate are diminished by allowing the far end of each to control the narrative. That narrative is often combative, condescending, and contemptuous—the perfect recipe for accomplishing little, if anything, related to abortion or anything else. Having said that, however, a quote by C.S. Lewis seems particularly relevant: “I sat with my anger long enough, until she told me her real name was grief.”

The grief on each side of the abortion debate is as intense and instinctive as yanking your hand away from a hot fire mere seconds before your flesh begins to burn. One side is grieving the never-ending attack on their bodily autonomy in one of the most personal and private areas of their lives.The other is grieving what they believe is the loss of millions of innocent lives. In between are essential questions about power, control, viability, and even fetal pain. If only each side could fully experience, even for a moment, the depth of the other’s grief in all its outraged, desperate, and complicated glory. If they even tried, some gains might be made. Perhaps they might even recognize that the tension between great truths is a feature, not a bug. When it is honored and invited into the conversation, empathy and cooperation are recognized as strengths rather than weaknesses.

What Estes calls the “over-culture” also plays a role. In an article entitled “A Better Abortion Debate is Possible. Here’s Where We Can Start,” writer Leah Libresco makes an interesting observation about those who believe in the right to choose:

People’s biggest fear is that there is not enough care to go around. Pregnancy makes babies dependent on their mothers and mothers dependent on everyone around them. A culture that takes autonomy as the norm will neglect both mother and child. Thus, it can feel like any care for a child comes at the mother’s expense since we do not trust each other or our policymakers to respond justly to her need.

What if we looked for what Taylor calls “that higher ground between legalism and license?” We might start by acknowledging that the first great truth of the abortion debate is described by bell hooks in Feminism for Everybody: “If sex education, preventative health care, and easy access to contraception are offered to every female, fewer of us will have unwanted pregnancies.”

In The Clash of Absolutes, author Lawrence H. Tribe adds:

The most obvious thing all of this suggests…is that we must reduce the number of situations in which women are pregnant but do not want to be…but the truth is that we in the United States have never tried…Affordable postnatal health care and mandatory maternity and paternity leaves would be a beginning. The provision of other postnatal services—especially good childcare and flexible time arrangements in the workplace—might go a long way toward reducing the crushing financial burden that a child can impose, particularly in an age when families need two incomes just to get by.

Be that as it may, the counter great truth is equally simple and straightforward: life is life. As such, the end of a pregnancy at any stage, by abortion or miscarriage, is a death. Such deaths always leave a psychic scar, says Estes, which “may be the result of naïve choices, from being entrapped, as well as from right choices.” Sadly, in the United States, women who have an abortion or a miscarriage are often without even the most rudimentary public rituals of healing and hope accorded to every other kind of death we experience. Such rituals offer the closure and support that those who need or want that deserve. Others feel no need for such resolution, and that too should be honored and respected.

Imagine what might be possible if these two great truths were the unassailable and inseparable starting points for abortion policy throughout the U.S.—sex education, preventative health care, and easy access to contraception plus “life is life.” From there, a diverse, thoughtful Village of experienced leaders in education, social work, healthcare, insurance, ministry, housing, government, and human rights could create the comprehensive, compassionate policies needed. The late Rachel Held Evans said it best:

Every child deserves to live in a home and in a culture that welcomes them and can meet their basic needs. Every mother deserves the chance to thrive. Forcing millions of women to have children they can’t support or driving them to Gosnell-style black market clinics, will not do. We have to work together…to create a culture of life that celebrates families and makes it easier to have and raise kids.

That likely comes as close to Estes’ concept of “holy pragmatism” as humanly possible, perhaps with the addition of forgiveness. Forgiving each other, for example, for being human and therefore fallible in our passion and determination to have our deeply held convictions acknowledged and understood by others. We also may need to forgive ourselves for not making loving well our highest priority in our interactions with those who disagree.

Can you hear Wild Woman, the “voice of inner reason, inner knowing, and inner consciousness,” cheering us on? Indeed, I have learned she can show up anytime and anywhere, including in a child such as my niece, Sarah.

A Circle of Love

Sarah was four years old when my sister-in-law, Elizabeth, asked me to be present for the arrival of baby number two. When the big day came, I arrived shortly after Elizabeth’s contractions began. Walking up the sidewalk to the house I met Valerie, the midwife who had been seeing Elizabeth regularly for the last several months.

As we entered the house, Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled a contented greeting. Then she closed them again and continued to rock in the chair where for now she was most comfortable. The new white cotton gown she had bought to labor in contrasted sharply with the dark shiny hair cascading down around her shoulders. She looked beautiful, as women about to give birth often do. Slowly and quietly, she rocked back and forth preparing herself in every way possible for the enormous effort ahead.

This is what I loved best about home births; the peaceful, unhurried anticipation, often combined with the presence of children. My young niece, Sarah, would soon depend on that serene environment to help measure and contain her excitement as she waited bravely and patiently for the baby to arrive.

Elizabeth finally abandoned the rocking chair for her double bed. As her sighs turned to moans that increased in volume and intensity, Sarah and I took over the rocker. We rocked and dozed, rocked and sang, rocked and prayed, until my brother David called us into the bedroom. There between his wife’s pale, shaking thighs was the breathtaking bulge of a dark and wet curly-haired scalp.

“Here he comes!” Sarah shouted. “Here comes my brother!”

The room was filled with a stunned silence. There was an awesome certainty to Sarah’s declaration, which came just seconds before David III presented himself most primitively to the eager eyes and arms of his family. As he deeply inhaled his very first breath, Sarah moved toward him quickly and confidently to offer sisterly strokes of welcome.

How did she know? I thought to myself. There had been no ultrasound, x-ray, or other technology to determine the baby’s gender at any point in her mother’s pregnancy. How did Sarah know it was a boy?

Wild Woman told her.

Questions:

My hope is that the questions below might help each side of this difficult debate open their hearts more fully to the other, even as they may continue to disagree.

1.    Many believe there is a worldwide precedent of dehumanizing others when there are emotional, economic, or other advantages to doing so—for example, Jews during the Holocaust or African-American slaves before the Civil War. Does the pro-choice side sometimes dehumanize the unborn in this way? Does the pro-life side sometimes dehumanize pregnant women?

2.    Today in the U.S., families are getting smaller, with some choosing not to have children at all. For some, a critical aspect of that is economic: children grow up to be the labor force through which a country generates the tax base and other revenue it needs to function. What role, if any, should economic factors play in abortion policy throughout the U.S.?

3.    Is there a difference between being pro-life and pro-birth? Pro-choice and pro-abortion? How are these terms used to influence the ongoing debate about abortion?

4.    Do you agree that a government that restricts or eliminates abortion can, perhaps for reasons related to population or disease control, also mandate abortion? What are the implications of that?

5.    Some state legislatures have enacted laws to punish doctors who perform abortions with fines or even jail time. In a few instances, women themselves have been charged with a crime for a miscarriage, stillbirth, or other complication of pregnancy. What is the effect of these laws on women, families, the healthcare system, and the general public? What unintended consequences might result?

Loving Well With Wild Woman (Part One)

(Note: this post is about abortion. Please proceed only if you are comfortable with controversial and/or potentially sensitive topics.)

“I had friends on both sides of the abortion divide, and it was surreal to be in a position where we all thought the other side was complicit in grave evil.” —Leah Libresco

***

I first heard of Wild Woman many years ago when I read Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D. Though I had met Wild Woman before, I did not know her name until I read Estes’ book about the wild feminine. Wild is not used here in a dismissive or condescendng sense, which often means out of control. But in its original sense, which means “to live a natural life…with innate integrity and healthy boundaries.” I read the book again hoping Wild Woman might help me express my thoughts about an issue that grows more contentious by the day—the issue of abortion.

Many tough questions emerged as I immersed myself in the huge body of information about abortion. Yet some of the most thought-provoking aspects seemed rarely, if ever, part of the larger conversation by either the pro-life or pro-choice camp.

For example, some studies show a definitive link between the U.S. abortion rate and the country’s crime rate over the last several decades. Also, that as many as one-third of mammals in the wild kill their own offspring immediately after birth if they sense that the resources in the surrounding environment, including food, water, or lack of care, are not sufficient to sustain them. Illness and power can play a role as well. I also learned that Christians, Muslims, Jews, and other people of faith often hold different ideas, even among themselves, about what personhood looks like in the unborn. That makes it difficult to form policy around U.S. Constitutional protections about religious freedom.

Loving well plays a key role in the ongoing stalemate about abortion. Even so, I struggled with how to articulate it. Then I stumbled upon a book by the late feminist author and icon, bell hooks. It was The New York Times bestseller All About Love. Seattle Weekly called it “a refreshing spiritual treatise that steps outside the confines of the intellect and into the wilds of the heart.”

The “wilds of the heart” are where loving well lives and breathes. “When we love we can let our hearts speak,” hooks said.

A recent Kelly Corrigan Wonders podcast episode, part of a series called Rupture + Repair, also inspired me. In it, Kelly, a self-described pro-choice liberal, speaks with April Lawson, a pro-life conservative. Their hope is that their dialogue might “serve as a model for hard but productive conversations around tender topics.” My hope is that they succeed beyond their wildest dreams in this regard.

The podcast affirmed my belief that better conversations about abortion are not only possible, they are essential. I think Estes would agree that such exchanges offer a way through some of the messiest and most intractable issues life has to offer. In a Sounds True interview with host Tami Simon, Estes says:

Different people are different. Different people have different ideas and I think we can listen when a woman or man together are pregnant. We can listen to all their ideas. Theirs. Not the over-culture’s—theirs. And then we can see from there: What is the holy way to proceed? What is the pragmatic way to proceed? What is the holy pragmatic way to proceed?

Better Together

For the record, I believe that a fertilized human egg is intrinsically holy and worthy of protection. Unfortunately, when some people hear that they instantly drop me into a traditional pro-life box where I don’t belong. Why? Because I also believe that by divine design those precious cells are entrusted to a fully formed female body whose decision about whether to carry them to term is hers to make. If God was not prepared to risk all that human potential, God had a million less precarious options for populating the planet. Could it be that God trusts pregnant women to make the best choices they can at a particular moment in time?

That view, of course, routinely gets me reassigned to a traditional pro-choice box where I also don’t belong. Why? Because that pre-born bundle of cells miraculously divides and swells into something more distinctly alive in the usual sense, most notably something with a heartbeat. Just a few weeks later, brain activity can be measured. It’s here I begin to perceive the profound wisdom of Nobel Prize winner and Danish physicist, Niels Bohr. “The opposite of a small truth is a falsehood,” he said. “The opposite of a great truth is another great truth.” 

Take “My body, my choice,” for example. I believe at the core of my being that it’s true. But I wrestled with whether I considered it a small truth (fact) or a great truth, the latter of which, by Bohr’s definition, instantly invokes yet another great truth. 

After heartfelt prayer and deep listening, I landed firmly in favor of “My body, my choice” as a great truth. One that prioritizes, without apology, a strong, smart, self-sufficient independence (I) for which Americans are especially well known. In Habits of the Heart, author Robert N. Bellah states that:

Individualism lies at the very core of American culture…Anything that would violate our right to think for ourselves, judge for ourselves, make our own decisions, live our lives as we see fit, is not only morally wrong, it is sacrilegious.  

American women continue to work fervently to expand that independence for themselves, their daughters, and granddaughters. This work must continue. However, an unplanned pregnancy can interrupt and even reverse many of the financial and other forms of independence achieved by many women. Some never recover from the setback. For others, an unplanned pregnancy can facilitate independence. Either way, the physical and physiological changes that a woman’s body undergoes during this time can render her emotionally, spiritually, and mentally vulnerable. Not irrational, not hysterical—but deeply vulnerable, sometimes in ways she may not understand or even be aware.

Such vulnerability, I believe, is best experienced in community, which helped me identify the competing great truth about “My body, My Choice” as “It Takes A Village.” The Village (V) prioritizes, also without apology, a trustworthy and judicious interdependence that invites and embraces the collective, loving, and generous wisdom of what the Bible refers to as “many counselors.” Bellah calls it “a form of individualism fulfilled in community rather than against it.”

V may be small, comprised only of one or two diverse, discerning, and discreet others who care as much about the pregnant woman as they do the precious cargo she carries. Ideally, however, it also includes partners, parents, friends, healthcare workers, faith leaders, or others. Big or small,V’s purpose is to lovingly, yet fearlessly challenge and support I as she makes her decision, whatever that decision may be. For even in community, I always has the last word. Free will is her God-given right, difficult as that can be for others to accept.

It's tempting to assume that I is all about rights and V is all about responsibilities. But that’s not the case. At their best, I and V both flee from rigid, rebellious, coercive, or self-righteous attention to abortion rights without responsibilities and vice versa. That’s what makes I and V together so beautifully balanced. Like a mobius strip, they dip and dive in and around one another in a cosmic configuration that defies easy explanations. True reproductive justice includes both rights and responsibilities. “When love is present,” says hooks, “the desire to dominate and exercise power cannot rule the day.”

Some intelligent, caring people will pronounce the above unscientific, unproveable, oppressive, silly, or even subversive. That’s okay. Our life experiences, sensibilities, influences, and other ways of forming opinions likely are different. That inevitably can lead to a different, but no less holy and in Corrigan’s words, no less protective, viewpoint. I don’t need their approval or permission to believe what I believe, and they don’t need mine. But neither of us has the right to force the other to discard our personal, often hard-won values and views when loving well takes a form we do not—or will not—recognize. “Wild Woman shows up in many sizes, shapes, colors, and conditions,” says Estes. “Stay awake so you can recognize the wild soul in all its many guises.”

Holy Pragmatism

Be that as it may, if it’s a theocracy rather than a democracy we want, there is no need for introspection or collaboration. The parameters are fixed; our sacred texts and religious institutions will tell us—and everyone else—how and what to think about abortion. Even so, many feel strongly that the peace, wisdom, and joy of such surrender is the best and most holy expression of a life lived for God. I know that is true for some people; when I see it lived out with loving well at the forefront, I marvel at its power to make a difference. My friend, “Jan” offers a great example.

Jan was the board president at her local crisis pregnancy center. She was mature in her Christian faith as well as a skilled, effective, and gracious leader. When a branch of Planned Parenthood (PP) opened down the street, Jan, along with the pregnancy center’s director, “Robin,” reached out to the PP director who was also the doctor who performed their abortions. The three met for lunch. There Jan asked the doctor if he would consider sending any woman who expressed hesitation about ending her pregnancy, over to the crisis pregnancy center to see what they had to offer.

Many may be surprised that the doctor agreed to consider Jan’s request. PP has a reputation among the pro-life crowd that does not allow for much that is good, let alone holy. (Conversely, some in the pro-choice crowd don’t think much of pregnancy help centers either.) Wild Woman, however, does not cater to the political, religious, or media-driven agendas of which we humans are so fond. Her focus is loving well so that the highest and best outcome possible at any given time can come to pass.

The more I pondered all this, the clearer it seemed that Roe vs. Wade was loving well’s best first attempt to create sane, sensitive abortion policy in the U.S. There’s more work to be done, and no one is asking anyone to become so open-minded that their brains fall out, as the saying goes. But a willingness to suspend the notion that there is nothing important to learn from each other is paramount. It won’t be easy. But as author and podcaster, Glennon Doyle, says, “We can do hard things.”

The question is how—how can we do this hard thing? I’ll explore that question further in part two, but here’s a hint: “Wild Woman,” says Estes, “is a combination of common sense and soul sense.” That means getting past the angry and accusatory nature of moral vs. immoral and us vs. them to something more complementary and transcendent—loving well.

Questions:

My hope is that the questions below might help each side of this difficult debate open their hearts more fully to the other, even as they may continue to disagree. For those who are interested, I have linked some questions to at least one source that may be useful in exploring that question further:

1.    Many feel that rape and incest are acceptable, even mandatory, exceptions to any restriction on abortion. Others believe both are too hard to prove in a consistent and credible way. Still others empathize with victims of rape and incest, but do not believe abortion is the proper response. What do you think?

2.    Complications of pregnancy that threaten the life, health, or future fertility of the mother, or medical testing that reveals serious fetal abnormalities, are a small percentage of abortions in the U.S. Why does such a small number of circumstances often dominate the discussion about abortion?

3.    Approximately 40% of abortions in the U.S. are repeat abortions. What would you say to those who cite that statistic to support their belief that for many, abortion appears to be a form of birth control?

4.    Statistics show that most women in the U.S. who seek an abortion are under 25 years old, poor, and black- or brown-skinned. That is not a racist statement, it’s a fact. But racism is part of the equation, as is poverty, education, and access to birth control. If we put our best efforts toward addressing the needs of this group, abortion rates overall would drop dramatically. So, why don’t we do it?

5. Some feel that adoption is the most loving and responsible way for a pregnant woman who does not want a child to move forward with her life. Others believe that adoption and abortion are different options that are needed or wanted for different reasons and that both should be affordable and accessible. How do you feel about this issue?

Quirk

“Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel.” –G.K. Chesterton

Recently, I came across an old issue of The Oprah Magazine about owning our “quirks.” Essay titles included “Guess What? Everybody’s a Little Odd,” “The Power of Quirk,” and “Awe of Flaws.” There was even a “Quirkbook” to help recognize and embrace the “quintessentially quirky, fabulously fascinating, outstanding original, sensationally singular, utterly unique qualities that make you who you are.”

I chuckled my way through the assortment of essays collectively entitled “In Praise of You.” When I finished reading, I couldn’t decide which quirky stories were the most hilarious. Was it the almost 40-year-old woman who still carried around a security blanket named “Scrap”? Or the Nintendo video race car addict whose favorite game character made a “brip-brap” sound she heard everywhere, especially in the bark of sea otters for which she had an “inexplicable kinship” that caused her to break into “wracking sobs” every time she heard it?

Other “quirks” mentioned in the essays included the physical—moles, freckles, scars, and more, as well as compulsions or superstitions. Knocking on a door a certain number of times, for example. Or refusing to step on a sidewalk crack or carrying a lucky charm. Together, they reminded me that loving well means loving our own and each other’s peculiar habits and eccentricities too. Our quirks can be celebrated and enjoyed as one of many things that makes us interesting and original. 

For example, one friend regularly measures the distance on each side of the family dining table to ensure an equal number of inches from each wall. Another wraps (and wraps and wraps) leftover meals in Saran Wrap to create an impenetrable “second skin” to maintain freshness for as long as possible. Given the environmental concerns, I offered to buy him some even more impenetrable glass containers with well-fitting lids. He thanked me for the offer, but politely declined.

After finishing the essays, I naturally felt led to reflect on my personal peculiarities. These turned out to be more numerous than I first realized. For example, I never left my kids’ new dorm rooms or apartments without making their beds, often after buying new sheets, blankets, or pillows. It made me feel better about leaving them to face the challenges of a new year at college or a new job. A comfortable, cozy bed was my way of saying “With a good night’s sleep you can handle whatever comes your way!” I also secretly hoped they would see it and think, “Wow—look how nice my room looks with the bed made up like that. Maybe I will try to make it every day.” Be that as it may, I’m pretty sure this never happened.

Here are some of my other quirks. I can only imagine what friends and family might add to the list:

1.     I catch bumble bees inside the house and let them go outside. I am getting better about doing this with spiders, too. I use a large, plastic bowl or glass jar and a strong piece of cardboard so neither of us gets hurt. I hide this equipment in a closet and if anyone asked me, I would probably lie about what it is for. However, I am not yet compelled to offer the same care and concern to house flies; they get whacked without a second thought and flung carelessly into the garbage. Mosquitoes, too—if they land on me or someone near me, they die.

2.     I love helping get projects off to a good start. Mary Poppins’ “Well begun is half done” should be engraved on my tombstone. Because once things are up and running smoothly, I start looking around for the right person to take it from there.

3.     I call myself a “middle monger.” I am a middle-class person who lives in the Midwest. I am politically Independent. I live on the line between introvert and extrovert. I love the Buddhist concept of The Middle Way. I’m not fat or thin, good or bad, attractive or unattractive. I once even worked in Middleton, Wisconsin! But no, I’m not a middle child—I’m the oldest of four.

4.     I am prevention-oriented and could have had a successful career with OSHA, the government agency that helps businesses reduce the number of workplace injuries, illness, and death. Indeed, next to “Well begun is half done” my tombstone should include “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” This quirkiness, comes in many forms. I will, for example, ask way too many times if you are keeping your live Christmas tree well-watered. I may have secretly disposed of the frayed cord on the cell phone charger you have spent the last 20 minutes trying to find.

5.     I reuse tea bags, tin foil, and dryer sheets whenever possible. I am told some find this quirky.

“We’re all a little weird and life’s a little weird,” said Dr. Suess. “When we find someone whose weirdness is compatible to ours, we join up with them and fall into mutual weirdness and call it love.” I like that. And remember when Mr. Rogers told us that he liked us just the way we are? Both men were quirky in their own way, and that quirkiness was one of their greatest strengths. So, friend, you do you. And I’ll do me, too. It’s a fun, easy way to love ourselves and each other well every day.

Questions:

1.     Do you have any quirks?

2.     Where do quirks come from? Are they inherited or learned behaviors?

3.     Who is the quirkiest person you know? How does their quirk (or quirks) make them more interesting?

New Reflections On Loving Well

“What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.” —Oliver Wendell Holmes

Ah, February, the love month, which Hallmark has dubbed “Loveuary.” It’s also the one-year anniversary of Be That as It May: Adventures in Loving Well. Many thanks to all who have offered such helpful support and feedback on the topics I wrote about in 2023. While I did not post as often as I hoped to last year, I look forward to doing so more often in the months ahead.

“Loveuary” is a good time for an annual review of the concept of Loving Well. It’s simple in some ways—baking a pie to welcome new neighbors; bringing a child’s lunch to school—or not bringing it—depending on how many times it’s been forgotten. It may be adding something new to a bag of hand-me-downs, or volunteering at a local soup kitchen. For some, saving the rain forest is loving well. For others, it’s saving themselves for marriage. Loving well may be learning to say “no,” “I don’t know,” or “I’m sorry.” Or committing to a higher level of hospitality, punctuality, or confidentiality.

Less simply, loving well might be donating the organs of a deceased loved one. It could be forgiving an unfaithful partner—or forgiving yourself for not yet being able to do so. Putting down a beloved but suffering pet is loving well. Few of us will ever save someone’s life or win a Nobel Peace Prize. However, within the ordinary context of our daily lives there are many opportunities to offer ourselves and others clear messages of appreciation and respect.

Loving well often costs us little or nothing—a supportive smile and encouraging word, for example, offered to an exhausted young parent whose tired toddler is in meltdown mode. Or the rush to help, as my husband once did, an elderly woman who tripped on an absurdly steep curb on her way into a roadside restaurant.

More emotionally costly is a eulogy that a woman delivered recently at the funeral of her ex-husband. Though his addiction problems had torn their family apart, she reminded those who gathered that in a single year he had lost his mother, his father, and a brother. Even so, she believed that despite the risks of a family history of substance abuse, he chose drugs and alcohol to deal with his grief. Those choices changed him and took him far away from all who loved him as he struggled to cope with such terrible pain. She did not minimize the suffering and chaos involved in being his former wife and the mother of his children. Many who heard her speak were deeply moved by her candid but compassionate commitment to loving well.

The most challenging part of my personal journey toward loving well, however, is the ambivalence of knowing that, in some respects, I’m writing from what author and theologian Richard Foster calls, “the edge of unlived truth.” Committed as I seek to be, there are times when I do not do a good job of loving well.  

One of the earliest of these experiences came in 1980. I was 21 years old and living with my husband about 30 miles west of Chicago. Shortly after moving in, I got a job at a local bank where I met “Diane.”

Diane and I worked well together and soon began enjoying time away from work too. She used words such as “veranda” and “davenport,” which always made me smile. Her yellow ranch with white trim was clean and comfortable, tastefully decorated but not fancy. Her backyard garden teemed with tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, radishes, and rhubarb. I spent many evenings and weekends in Diane’s home, baking cookies and learning to sew. I grew quite fond of her three freckle-faced, school-age children.

When I told Diane I was pregnant with our first child, she threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. As the months went on, we chatted endlessly about labor and delivery, babies and feeding, diapers, pediatricians, and more. Thanks to Diane’s caring counsel, my confidence as a mother-to-be grew right along with my ever-expanding belly.

Then one day, Diane didn’t show up for work. She didn’t come the next day, or the day after that. Shortly before I went into labor, Diane called to tell me her husband had left her.

I still remember the faded red vinyl seats and chipped brown Formica tables at the diner where we met the next day for lunch. I knew Diane had not eaten or slept for days. Even so, I was unprepared for the drastic change in the appearance of the woman who came to meet me. Diane’s chalky white face was tightly drawn. She had clearly lost weight and somehow seemed to have shrunk in height as well. Her agonized expression of sadness and hurt contrasted violently with the woman I knew. Her hands shook as she raised a cup of coffee to her lips and confessed that anxiety about the future and anger at her husband had paralyzed her. She looked to me for reassurance and support.

I did my best to encourage Diane with much empathy, deep concern, and a listening ear. Yet it felt like a short-term boost at best. I wanted to fix what was wrong, make her pain go away, which I could not do. At the same time, part of me resisted allowing her anguish to intrude upon my naïve notions about what marriage and motherhood could entail. This inner conflict confused and distracted me for weeks as Diane continued to flounder like the frightened, infuriated women she was. 

Soon enough, an unexpected cesarean, a colicky infant, postpartum depression, and the financial challenges of living on one income absorbed every ounce of my time and attention. I lost touch with Diane and have no idea how she and her family navigated the upheaval they experienced during that time. I take comfort in the fact that she was strong and smart, which leads me to hope she survived the shock and grief and found a way forward. I have tried to find Diane to apologize for possibly making a painful period of her life even harder by being so overwhelmed and unavailable. Unfortunately, I have never been able to find her despite the technology that makes that easier to do now than ever before.

Though it’s been more than 40 years, questions linger and closure remains elusive. Did Diane reunite with her husband and live happily ever after? Or remarry and change her name, which might make her harder to find? Perhaps she is perfectly content, partnered or single, and living her best life? Could she possibly have passed away by now? If so, I hope she might greet me in heaven someday with the same elated embrace she offered when I told her I was pregnant.

What I learned from Diane is that it’s not always easy to know, let alone give, what loving well might demand. Also, that circumstances, for better or worse, can play a role. Perhaps most importantly, I learned that not loving well can come at a cost, just as loving well can. In this instance, the cost has been heartfelt regret about the abrupt end of a promising friendship that could well have lasted many years.

Be that as it may, I agree with Thoreau that “nothing can be more useful to a man than a determination not to be hurried.” What I know for sure about loving well is that there are no shortcuts or express lanes on the road that leads to the joy and satisfaction it can add to our lives.

The road, however, is a winding one that includes potholes, sharp turns, detours—and possibly a crash or two—along the way. It’s relational holy ground, where humility, self-reflection, and patience help me stay focused on loving well when the road gets rough. “Loveuary” will always be a good time to remember that. So onward through the year I go, loving well as best I can.

Questions:

1.     Do you agree that loving well can take time to learn? Why or why not?

2.     Have you paid a price of some kind for loving or not loving well?

3.     If you were to make loving well a goal for this year, where would you begin? 

Digital Dis-ease

“In the Fifties, television destroyed radio, and many of those stars who themselves were survivors of the death of vaudeville persisted through radio and into film…Now the new technology has again upset the applecart. Streaming has forever disrupted the old means of distribution….” --David Mamet, Pulitzer Prize winner, playwright and filmmaker

“The human brain, as it turns out, reacts similarly to the ding of a text message or the wail of a siren as it would to the growl of a bear behind us in the woods—as a threat, demanding a constant state of alertness.” – Lyanda Lynn Haupt, Rooted: Life at the Crossroads of Science, Nature, and Spirit

The Digital Age of computers and other technologies is well underway. Like a runaway train, it thunders forward with a stunning momentum that seems unstoppable. As someone who endlessly seeks to understand the bigger picture, it’s been helpful to consider what that bigger technology picture might be, even if I can’t do anything about it.

For me, it began innocently enough with the ATM machine. I could get cash at my bank, and other places, too, just by entering my pin number. Then came word processors—so much better than a typewriter. Now I could write, erase, change, and save content quickly and easily. No more carbon copies, no more White Out! About the same time, cordless phones appeared, followed by Blackberrys and Skype, a forerunner of Zoom. Where would it end?

It wouldn’t end. In record time, the Internet, email, and cell phones took over my life and everybody else’s. Issues related to cyber security and data collection were yet to be fully recognized, let alone managed. So, the convenience and novelty seemed well worth whatever abstract, ill-defined dangers might be looming in the background. The perils (more sophisticated and dangerous weaponry, deep fake images) and possibilities (medical diagnosis, disaster management) of artificial intelligence (AI)? These were not even on the radar screen, at least not for the general public.

I know, I know… technology makes communication and management of everything from budgeting to travel super-efficient. Even so, when the technology doesn’t work as it should, it’s maddening. For example, I recently tried to download a program to my computer, which was the only way I could request that some medical images be sent from one hospital system to another. It took hours to figure out why the download wouldn’t work. When I finally succeeded and tried to sign in, the newly configured system I just installed did not recognize my email address—the same email address it used to invite me to consider this electronic option in the first place. My frustration with the entire process, combined with much anxiety about transferring the files in a timely manner, left me feeling agitated, exhausted, and inept. Ultimately, I had to settle for a written radiology report rather than an actual image. The compromise left me feeling as if I had been given a consolation prize for a contest I didn’t know I had entered.

That’s just one of numerous examples of the irritation and exhaustion that permeate so many interactions with technology in one form or another. Just yesterday, I waited on hold for almost an hour with a nationwide pharmacy chain. “Four people ahead of you,” the recording informed me.” Then, “three people ahead of you,” then, “two people ahead of you.” This information, I concede, was helpful. I could even press * to shut off the awful music played between updates. When my turn finally arrived, I explained to the pharmacist why I was calling. He said, “hold on a minute while I check.” Moments later, we were disconnected.

Different day, different facility, same insanity:

Press 1 to make an appointment

Press 2 for directions

Press 3 for hours of operation

Press 4 for billing

For all other calls, press 5

I press 5. The recorded response is: This is not a valid option. Press 6 to return to the main menu.

Situations like these leave me knowing without a doubt that I am fully capable of murder under the right circumstances.

Still, I wonder: are these experiences connected to a larger reality, a bigger picture? One that might also explain the more general state of disquiet that characterizes life today on so many fronts?

Perhaps I was just desperate for answers to such questions when I heard a radio interview with policy expert and political strategist Doug Sosnick. Doug explained that as the world transitions from the Industrial Age to the Information Age, there are winners and losers. The same was true when the world moved from the Agricultural Age to the Industrial Age. Back then, farmers were freed to pursue other livelihoods. However, some farmers, often older, floundered amidst the new, large scale, machine-driven efficiencies that led to the demise of many small family farms. Big cities sprung up overnight as rural citizens flocked to newly created factory jobs, leading to housing shortages and disease.

Hmmm…technology winners and losers. Who are they?

First, some losers--Kodak all but disappeared with the introduction of sophisticated digital cameras that did not require film. More recently, auto workers went on strike to ensure their financial futures in an industry barreling headlong from gas-powered to electric vehicles, which will require fewer human workers. And what about the affects of the Information Age on our bodies? “So many of us spend our days plugged into our devices…,” says tech journalist Manoush Zomorodi, host of a new Ted Radio Hour podcast called The Body Electric. “We have tech neck, achy backs, dry eyes…We feel agitated after spending our days on Zoom. And at night, we rest our butts down yet again, to stream and scroll some more…a vicious cycle of type, tap, collapse…In the last 20 years, the rate of young people with Type 2 diabetes has doubled. It’s predicted that by 2050, half the world’s population will be nearsighted.”

More losers: those who are low-income and can’t afford to participate in the digital revolution. Or some elderly and others who may be confused by a simple trip to the grocery store, which now involves fewer human cashiers and more electronic self check-out stations. Shopping anywhere often dictates downloading an app on a smartphone to avoid paying a higher price for one item or another. What if I don’t have a smartphone or don’t know how to download an app? Then too bad for me. I’ll have to pay more.

I recall standing in line at a drugstore at the height of the Covid pandemic, waiting to get a vaccine. An elderly man, clearly upset and confused, shuffled through the glass doors and asked where to get a shot. At the time, there were no walk-in options and getting an appointment online was difficult, even for those who knew how to do it. To his credit, the store employee used his own cell phone to help the man set up an appointment, then walked him over to the line where the rest of us stood waiting.

The employee’s kindness and professionalism reminded me of that cheery, but misleading notion that “We’re all in this together.” My favorite response goes something like, “No, we’re all in the same storm, but we’re not all in the same boat.” Some of us are in yachts, ocean liners and the like, protected in ways big and small. Others are in speed boats and sailboats, navigating reasonably well so long as we don’t run out of gas or wind. But too many are on flimsy rafts, barely held together by spit and a prayer, our survival highly dependent on who, if anyone, comes along beside us to help.

So, who are the winners? Well, many businesses, big and small. “Overall, the digital age has been a huge benefit for businesses. It has allowed them to reach more customers and clients, start and grow with less overhead cost, and use a variety of online tools to manage their operations…it has created a more level playing field for entrepreneurs and innovators, with less barriers to entry, and more opportunities to reach a global audience….”

Not all, but many workers benefit too—remote work makes work-life balance easier for many to achieve. In an emergency, a patient’s health history can be transmitted anywhere in the world in seconds. Facebook, LinkedIn, and other social media keep millions of us in close touch with former classmates, colleagues, family, and friends. Backup cameras in our cars save lives; GPS helps us navigate our way quickly and easily through highways, byways or even on foot, all over the world. Telehealth tools help bridge the healthcare gap, especially in rural areas. Squarespace makes this blog possible.

Yet according to Sosnick, we are now only midway through moving from a 20th century, top-down manufacturing industrial economy to a 21st century digital and global one. “So as a country,” he says, “we’re divided…with more people feeling the pain than getting benefits….”

Transitions of any kind can be unpredictable and overwhelming. Even smaller transitions, such as adolescence, changing jobs, having a baby, or retirement often include periods of uncertainty and stress until new patterns are established, new skills learned, and a new normal emerges. Like most people, I find the disruption unsettling. I want to move through the inherent disequilibrium as quickly as possible.

Be that as it may, placing the social, economic, and political tumult of our collective lives today in the context of a huge transition from the Industrial era to the Digital era is interesting, but inadequate. Surely, climate change, a worldwide pandemic, gun safety, and other big, scary issues contribute to the uneasiness many of us feel almost daily. We’re intuitively waiting for the other shoe to drop, and sensing that it’s just a matter of time. As author Bruce Feiler says in Life Is In The Transitions, “The smartest minds today…have come to understand that the world no longer adheres to predictable, linear mandates. Instead, life is filled with chaos and complexity, periods of order and disorder, linearity and nonlinearity. In place of steady lines, observers now see hoops, spirals, wobbles, fractals, twists, tangles, and turnabouts.”

Loving myself and others well during this time means unplugging from technology regularly. I can be more disciplined about using Auto-Reply, Do Not Disturb, Notifications, and Unsubscribe. These tools can help me better manage the avalanche of electronic communication that sucks so much time out of an average day and distracts me from more worthwhile pursuits. I can commit to being curious and open-minded, yet discerning about learning how new technologies work, daunting as that sometimes can be. I also can help those around me whose access to or understanding of technology is less than my own, limited as mine may be compared to some.

There will be less time for scrolling if I focus more on gathering with loved ones, eating mindfully, exercising regularly, and getting more sleep. An abundance of patience when technological “efficiencies” turn out to be anything but efficient also can make this transition time easier.

Perhaps most helpful is simply accepting the fact that the technology train has left the station. And like it or not, there is no going back.

Questions

1. How do you feel about the steady march of technology in and through your life? Would you stop it if you could?

2. What role, if any, does age play in our ability to adapt to change, especially big change, such as a global transition from one era to another?

3. Has technology helped or hindered your personal or professional relationships with others? How?

You’ve Got A Friend

“On the one hand, it’s exactly what you hoped would happen…they grow up and they leave. On the other hand, there’s the definitive end to a period of your life that is not coming back.” –Kelly Corrigan, Getting Real About the Empty Nest

Mother’s Day. How hard could it be, I thought, to write about being a mother? I have, after all, been one for more than 40 years. Yet reflecting on my personal experience of mothering, I realized anew how complex and layered the subject can be.

Considering all the courage and fortitude that motherhood can entail, I feel like a lightweight. I never experienced, for example, the challenges of being a single mother. Or mothering a child through serious illness or injury. Even my cancer diagnosis came long after my children had “grown and flown,” as the saying goes. So I never had to worry about how I would care for them while undergoing treatment—or whether I would live to see them grow up. At age 85, my own mother is alive and well after her own cancer diagnosis two years ago. So celebrating Mother’s Day while missing one’s own mother, or perhaps grieving a beloved child who has passed, are things I know about only second-hand. As an old Haitian proverb says, “The rocks in the water don’t know how the rocks in the sun feel.”

Be that as it may, a difficult postpartum followed my son’s unexpected cesarean birth three weeks before his due date, and his first year exhausted me in ways I never knew were possible. Also, tempers could be short and the days long while raising my children. As a one-income household for many years, squeezing a dollar until it screamed once meant selling a coffee table to buy groceries. And mothering teens? Meaningful as much of that was, once was enough, thank you!

Overall, however, I enjoyed a level of support from my family, friends, and community that made mothering easier. With their help, I survived the ups and downs, sharp curves, and white-knuckled grip on the safety bar that the roller coaster ride called parenting sometimes entails. Even so, I wasn’t prepared for stepping off that roller coaster only to see the cars moving forward again, my children still seated and eagerly focused on more trips around the track without me. Indeed, they did not even seem to notice I was no longer on the ride.

Fortunately, many smaller leave takings took place throughout the course of raising my children—from starting school to sending them off on an airplane to visit their grandmother in Pittsburgh. However, the Big One came, as such transitions often do, when first Mike, then Melissa, left for college. While both were just an hour away, their departures officially moved our family to a new life chapter. Having given birth to Mike at age 21, I looked forward to giving some neglected and less familiar parts of me some much-needed time and attention.

For example, after years of feeling torn between home and work, I finally felt free to “lean-in” to a career in fundraising. I also read more, exercised more, travelled a lot, and relished the independence that often comes with an empty nest. This lasted just long enough to justify the time and money spent earning first a bachelor’s then a master’s degree before the kids finished high school. At some point, however, I realized I was a homebody and homemaker at heart. This led me to explore other ways to derive the sense of purpose and satisfaction that mothering once provided. So, I learned to quilt, took piano lessons, and started a blog. Lately, more of my energy is devoted to my parents, from whom I continue to learn much about living and loving well after age 80.

Truth be told, my daughter Melissa had been trying to get rid of me for a while. She was four years old when she asked if she could walk to preschool by herself. Logistically, she was perfectly capable of doing this as the park district program was practically in our back yard. Even so, there was no way I was going to let her walk there alone. “Okay, then,” she said when I made this clear. “Walk way behind me so it looks like I am walking by myself.”

Amused, I complied. Upon arriving at class, she pointed to a large, white pillar, which I understood I was to hide behind to continue the charade. Again, I complied, more reluctantly now, and feeling ridiculous. So, when another mom, looking around, asked, “Melissa, are you here alone?” I casually moved out from behind the pillar to ensure that everyone within earshot knew she was not alone. Exasperated, Melissa kept her back to me and walked proudly into class, never once looking back to wave goodbye.

Melissa’s older brother, Mike, as often happens in families, was a different child—quieter than his sister, and more sensitive. I recall the day he sat solemnly at the kitchen table, his sweet face filled with concern. “What’s the matter, bud? I asked.

“I’m worried that I won’t be ready to go to high school,” he answered. Given that he was in fourth grade at the time, he caught me off guard.

“Well,” I explained, “remember how everything you learned in kindergarten got you ready for first grade? And how all you learned in first grade got you ready for second grade?”

Mike brightened. “And second grade got me ready for third grade, and third grade got me ready for fourth grade!”

“You got it,” I replied. “And that will keep happening until you go to high school. So, when the time comes, you’ll be ready, I promise.” Relieved, he leapt from the chair, gave me a hug, and ran outside to play.

Millions of Mom-moments later, they were gone. Not really gone, of course, but gone in the sense that their daily lives no longer included their parents. Then, suddenly it seemed, they were graduating, then working full-time. Even so, they were never too far away, either physically or emotionally. Soon Mike met Kim and Melissa met Paul. Big, beautiful weddings took place, homes were bought, then one, two, three, and eventually four beautiful grandchildren appeared on the scene.

I feel supremely blessed by all of it. They all live nearby, so my husband, Nick, and I see them often. Between visits, we talk, email, text. But parent is no longer our primary role in the lives of our children. Nor should it be. However, amidst the comings and goings of their late teens and early twenties, I can still recall the exact moment in the lives of each of my children when the world claimed them in a new way forever.

The younger of the two, Melissa, went first. That independent four-year-old who wanted to walk alone to preschool? She continued to practice escaping her mother’s watchful eye for years to come. At age seven, she insisted that I sit several rows behind her and her friends at the movie theater. At 16, she asked if she could accompany her boyfriend, Matt, and his mother to the East Coast, where Matt’s family would celebrate Christmas. I hated the idea, and so did Nick. However, our calculation that being away from her own family at Christmastime, grown up as it made her feel, would ultimately ensure she never did it again. Good call…that’s exactly what happened.

So, I should not have been surprised when following her freshman year at college, Melissa announced she was getting an apartment with a friend with no plans to come home again ever, not to live anyway. She had a secure, well-paying part-time job and would be ramping up the hours all summer to pay the rent. True to her word, apart from a few weeks after college graduation, Melissa never did live at home again.Those weeks, however, were some of the most delightful days my husband and I had ever spent with our daughter. We will treasure them forever, and hope she will as well.

Mike’s big moment of leaving the nest came later—for me if not for him. As a college student he came home a lot and always seemed energized and renewed by getting away from college life for a long weekend or holiday break. Even when a new girlfriend, Kim, came into the picture, the two of them visited regularly.

A year or so after college, Mike and Kim began planning their wedding. Several weeks later at a summer picnic at Kim’s parents’ home, I was relaxing in a lawn chair. Soon I noticed Mike walking from the house out to the back yard. I started to call out for him to join me when suddenly, two young boys I had never seen before playfully raced after Mike. One jumped on his back, threw his little arms around Mike’s neck, and wrapped his legs around Mike’s waist like a baby monkey might wrap itself around its mother to hitch a ride. The other boy dove down to grab Mike’s ankles. Startled by the unexpected assault, Mike quickly regrouped. Laughing, he continued to walk, dragging the second’s boy’s body through the soft, green grass until both boys dissolved into loud, helpless giggles at his feet.

Who were these boys? I asked myself. And how did they know my son well enough to fling themselves at him with such wild and lively abandon? Seconds later, I realized they were young relatives from Kim’s family who clearly had interacted with Mike many times before. Another second later, it hit me: Mike’s upcoming marriage to Kim would not only give him a wife, it would give him a large and entirely new family—one I would hopefully come to know well in some ways, but would never truly be part of in others.

This reality had not, until that moment, moved fully from my brain to my heart. Was I losing a son or gaining a daughter, as the old saying goes? I hoped and prayed it would be the latter. Almost 20 years later, I am happy to report that our wise, wonderful daughter-in-law is as much a part of our family as Mike is a part of hers. Our son-in-law, Paul, too, means more to us than he will ever know.

The relationship with my children has grown and changed through the years in many ways. However, I recently was struck by an insight that somehow eluded me before. It followed a phone conversation with each. The call with Melissa included funny stories about her children, the sharing of advice on both sides, an exciting promotion at work, summer plans, babysitting dates, and more. The call with Mike lasted almost an hour, my husband and I both on the line. The focus was a career decision filled with significant, yet possibly unintended consequences that were difficult to foresee.

The tone and tenor of these conversations moved seamlessly from serious to silly and everything in between, as the subject matter required. Shortly thereafter, it occurred to me that my children were now more than just my children, more than my adult children, and more than the parents of my beautiful grandchildren. I don’t know exactly when the shift occurred, but I realized that my children had become two of my best friends. The realization washed over me slowly at first, then more quickly, as the full measure and meaning of it sunk in.

In a blog post entitled Motherhood—When You Work Yourself Out of the Job, Katie Mae summarized my entire experience perfectly:

You were the healing balm that provided nights of comfort when they were sick or scared…You were their biggest fan, as you spent hours sitting through extreme heat and bitter cold at games, competitions, and concerts. You were the taxi driver, referee, chef, janitor, bodyguard, seamstress, event coordinator, storyteller, and a hundred other things. And whether you realized it or not, from the moment you held your baby, your heart began preparing you for the day your role in life would change. Because deep down, each one of us knows these beautiful creatures were never ours to keep.

Ours to keep, no. But ours to love and enjoy, yes—in different ways through the years, as long and as well as we can.

Questions:

1. Media messages, expectations, and activities that traditionally surround Mother’s Day can be painful, complicated, or otherwise difficult for some. Does anyone you know come to mind when you consider this? How might you make the day easier for that person?

2. Many young people are drawn to an adult woman who becomes “a second mother.” These women include stepmothers, grandmothers, foster mothers, teachers, aunts, sisters, neighbors, or others who love, guide, protect, nurture, or in other ways serve as a substitute or additional mother. Do you have “a second mother?” What is/was that experience like for you?

3. Mother’s Day is celebrated on different days and in different ways all over the world. What do mothers everywhere have in common? How might their experiences vary? 

No Silver Bullet

“The last decade has filled so many of us with a growing sense of unreality. Even before the pandemic arrived, we were trapped in a grind of constant change without ever getting the chance to integrate it. Those rolling new cycles, the chatter on social media, the way that our families split along partisan lines, it feels as if we’ve undergone a halving, then a quartering, and now we are some kind of social rubble. If there were a spirit of this age it would look a lot like fear.”  —Katherine May

“Something is dying inside the soul of this nation.”      —U.S. Senator Chris Murphy 

***** 

The current stalemate in the U.S. about gun safety scares me. It's tempting to cite statistics about what gun violence is doing to the bodies, minds, and hearts of Americans, especially our children. However, if statistics could help, they would have done so by now. That reality makes me feel not just scared, but also angry, frustrated, and yes, sometimes hopeless. These strong emotions have changed how I think, feel, and move through the hours, days, and weeks of my life.

For example, I never used to think twice about walking into a grocery, big box, or other retail store. I never worried about going to a movie, mall, or parade. The safety of my grown children at work or my grandchildren at school never crossed my mind. I’m not a particularly anxious or fearful person. Yet all these things now give me pause, much as someone living with an abusive spouse or parent might carefully weigh what they say and do to avoid being hurt.

When a six-year-old shoots his teacher in class, something is wrong. When the American Academy of Pediatrics reports that gun violence has been the number one killer of children and teens since 2020, something is terribly wrong. An expert on children and gun safety, Dr. Lois Lee from Boston Children’s Hospital, says it better:

The problem of gun safety and children is not only not going away, it’s getting worse. Each year, over 10,000 U.S. children and teens are killed from firearms, and those are just the deaths. That is a school bus driving off a cliff every three days. If there was a school bus of children driving off a cliff every three days, the community would be outraged. We would rally around and figure out how to make the situation safer. How do you put in guard rails, how do you protect the bus, how do you protect the children? Right now, we’re not doing that. We are literally letting those children drive off the cliff every three days.

A recently retired schoolteacher told me that “stay safe” drills, once practiced in relation to a tornado, fire or an unsafe stranger in the building must now, by district mandate, be called “active shooter” drills. This creates anxiety and fear in her students that “stay safe” drills rarely did. That anxiety invariably leads to more absences, the need for more comfort “stuffies,” more disruptive behavior, more trips to the school counselor.

Other symptoms of emotional distress in her students include questions such as: “What if I am in the bathroom when the shooter comes? What if the door our class is supposed to exit from is the one where the shooter is waiting? What if the shooter kills you—who will protect us?” Learning is undermined repeatedly in this and other ways, not the least of which is a mandated video that follows the drill. “Someone needs to evaluate the opportunity costs of what we are doing and how we are doing it,” this teacher told me. “Our children are being traumatized. It will take years to fully realize the mental and emotional fallout of what is happening today. Drills and No Guns Allowed Signs on every door are not a plan.”

(Sadly, as I write this, several more shootings have taken place around the country—more shootings than there are days in the year so far. It seems I can’t write fast enough to get ahead of them…).

I know others feel differently. They fear having their guns taken away, government overreach, of not being able to protect themselves, their families, or their property. Few seem willing or able to consider that some of their valid and important concerns about issues such as border security and crime are being exploited and manipulated to serve a larger political agenda they may not fully understand or support.

I also listen carefully to arguments about “good guys with guns” and look for data to support the notion that more good guys with guns will make Americans safer from gun violence. I learned that while I would be relieved and grateful if a properly trained good guy with a gun intervened to protect me or someone else from harm, such instances are rare. AP News reported last summer that, according to the Advanced Law Enforcement Rapid Response Training Center (ALERRT) at Texas State University “from 2000 to 2021, fewer than 3% of 433 active attacks in the U.S. ended with a civilian firing back.”

On April 12, 2023, the Las Vegas Sun News reported that:

…three times as many mass shooters have been stopped by unarmed civilians as have been stopped by armed ‘good guys with guns.’ And bad guys with guns are almost nine times as likely to shoot themselves as they are to be shot by an armed civilian or good Samaritan.

“Guns don’t kill people, people kill people” is technically true. That’s why safety measures such as universal, loophole-free background checks, well-crafted red flag laws, waiting periods, minimum age purchase requirements, and gun safety and storage training are proposed for people who own guns—not for the guns themselves. “Guns are simple, reliable tools for killing. A man with a gun and plenty of ammunition can kill more people, more quickly and with far less physical effort that he can with a knife, a blunt object, or his bare hands” (The Economist). Although we can’t always do something about every weapon a person might use—a bomb, for example, or people driving a vehicle into a crowd (called truck or car ramming)—experts around the country believe there are numerous ways to prevent many instances of gun violence without violating the Second Amendment.

“Criminals don’t follow the law,” so more laws are not the answer some claim. However, when Everytown for Gun Safety scored every state on the strength of its gun laws and compared it with the rate of gun violence in that state, it was clear that “in states where elected officials have taken action to pass gun safety laws, fewer people die by gun violence.”

Then there are Permitless Carry laws, now legal in some form in 26 states. Proponents prefer the term “Constitutional Carry,” which is misleading: the Constitution clearly includes the words “well-regulated.” Permitless Carry is an attempt to convince Americans that increasing the number of people with guns, regardless of the ability to use them responsibly, is the answer to the issue of gun violence. This completely sidesteps the pivotal issue of too easy access to guns. As New York Times columnist, Nicholas Kristof, explained: “…just as some kids will always sneak cigarettes or people will inevitably drive drunk, some criminals will get firearms…we can’t eliminate a dangerous product, [but] we can reduce the toll by regulating who gets access to it.”

I grew up with guns, safely stored, for protection as well as hunting, target practice, or skeet shooting. But something changed since then. In an episode on the podcast Pulling the Thread with Elise Loehnen about the book Gun Fight, author Ryan Busse said:

The NRA and gun owners once signified camaraderie, responsibility, and safety—a bygone Campbell’s soup kind of Americana. I don’t ever remember seeing or hearing about the impending demise of the republic, or how evil every Democrat was, or how we should hate our neighbors or how we should arm ourselves for Civil War or insurrection. That was never part of my upbringing.

There is much speculation about what shifted an entire culture away from guns used for defense and sport toward guns used to defy, intimidate, and control.

Inspired by observations by people such as radio and television host Michael Smerconish about the roots of hyper partisanship in the U.S, the thoughts below emerged. They are less a list of stand-alone possibilities than a series of events and experiences that led me to conclude that collectively, they so alarmed and terrified Americans that we lost our capacity for a reasoned, effective response to a completely different issue: gun violence. In many of these instances, gun sales increased significantly for reasons related to fear of attack or fear of new restrictions on gun purchases, including the possibility of outright bans:

1. The attacks of September 11, 2001, traumatized the collective psyche of Americans in ways we never acknowledged or perhaps even understood. The shock and fear I and so many others experienced that day is believed by thought leaders such as author and professor Brené Brown to have ushered in a profound and painful panic about our country’s place in the world, our vulnerability, and our future as a nation. “Terrorism is time-released fear,” Brown said.

2. The Boston Globe’s expose of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church elicited a heartfelt crisis of faith for millions of people. The aftermath, which included widespread revelations of similar abuse in many denominations, created a deeply unsettling and pervasive sense that our country’s most trusted institutions were breaking down in ways that threatened the fabric of life in the U.S.

3. Cable TV and Radio, newly unhindered by law, unleashed a 24/7 torrent of views that attracted millions of Americans who felt vindicated and understood in ways they hadn’t before. The lucrative ad revenue and popularity of some of its most combative and controversial hosts ensured it a permanent place in the programming lineup. New phrases such as “outrage culture” and “anger-tainment” emerged.

4. The election of the first black president, Barack Obama. Racism is believed to play a role. However, the president’s position on gun control, before and especially after the killing of 20 children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT, created a rush to quickly purchase guns and ammunition before any new restrictions could be put in place.

5. Social Media exploded into the daily life and work of people all over the world. It quickly revealed itself to be an extraordinary influence, both for good and for stoking resentment, hostility, and fear already brewing in the hearts and minds of many Americans.

6. Covid-19. The global pandemic changed and challenged people all over the world in ways never experienced before.This included overwhelming anxiety related to contracting the virus and possibly dying, exposing loved ones, losing jobs, fears about the safety of getting or not getting the vaccine, confusing mask and other health mandates, and more. Fear-based conspiracy theories skyrocketed.

Consider that between and among all the above are the ongoing, seemingly intractable issues related to climate change, war, drugs, the shrinking middle class, bullying, violent video games, the national debt, child abuse, domestic violence, anti-Semitism, race and class disparities, food insecurity, the future of Social Security and Medicare, and the rising cost of health care, housing, and college tuition. In the last few weeks, several train derailments have taken place, and Chinese spy balloons were caught flying over the U.S. collecting intelligence information. More recently, I watched a television interview with two engineers who specialize in Artificial Intelligence (AI). Apparently, AI may not only replace many of us on the job, it also has the potential to destroy the entire human race within just a few years!

Americans can never buy, beg, or steal enough guns to make us strong enough to counteract the weakness of a country whose leaders prefer arguing about or ignoring issues instead of fixing them. One bright spot is the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act gun safety bill, signed by President Joe Biden in June 2022. “This bill will not end the epidemic of gun violence overnight,” said Senator Chris Murphy, who led the negotiations between Republicans and Democrats. “But it is substantial, it is significant. It will save lives, and it will provide us the momentum to be able to make further changes.”

I wasn’t surprised when a new report from Mental Health America entitled The State of Mental Health in America 2023 revealed disturbing truths about the current state of mental health, addiction, and access to treatment in the U.S. But to better understand the relationship, if any, between mental health and gun violence, I went to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) website. In a statement on gun violence from 60 national organizations, I learned that:

Attempts to connect mental illness to mass shootings….perpetuates a false narrative that encourages stigmatization and discrimination against the millions of Americans living with mental health conditions who are more likely to be victims of gun violence than perpetrators of it…While mental health conditions are common in countries across the globe, the United States is the only country where mass shootings have become disturbingly commonplace…Not coincidentally, the U.S. is also alone in making firearms widely available with few restrictions.

The statement goes on to call gun violence a public health crisis, a call I read again and again as I dove deeper into the issue. I learned that the American Academy of Family Physicians, the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, and the American Psychiatric Association have for years advocated for a public health approach. A recent article in the Orlando Sentinel by journalist Caroline Catherman included their joint statement:

Gun violence should be considered a public health issue, not a political one—an epidemic that needs to be addressed with research and evidence-based strategies that can reduce morbidity and mortality.

Advocates for a public health approach to gun violence, says Catherman, often cite the decades-long public health campaign to reduce motor vehicle deaths in the U.S. as a model. That campaign decreased deaths nearly 80% from 1967 to 2017.

And this by Megan L. Ranney, M.D., MPH, Professor of Emergency Medicine and Associate Dean of the School of Public Health, Brown University:

Each firearm-related injury and death leaves a trail of destruction, contagion, post-traumatic stress, future injury, and lost wages behind. We must meet this challenge by approaching firearm injury as a public health epidemic, rather than a debate about gun rights or control.

All this research led me to consider that if some of us are hard wired to assuage fear and anxiety by shopping, overeating, drinking, smoking, gambling, or any number of other ways, perhaps others are compelled to buy or steal—and perhaps stockpile—guns, especially big guns, which I imagine provide an illusion of safety and control that our regular lives no longer seem to offer. It feels like the “fight” part of what psychologist’s call a “fight, flight, or freeze” response when we sense a significant threat, real or imagined, to our physical, mental, or emotional health.

What, I wondered, is the firearm industry doing to help address gun violence today in the U.S.? In terms of safety, the Firearm Industry Trade Association website states:

We are the firearm industry, and we know firearm safety better than anyone. We also know it’s our job, our responsibility, as the leading authority on gun safety, to pass that knowledge on to others. From infographics and safety kits to videos, literature, and suicide prevention resources, NSSF has the tools every industry can use to spread the word.

NSSF goes on to state that in 2022, the industry created, directly or indirectly, more than 375,000 jobs that generated more than $21 billion in wages for a total economic impact of more than $70 billion. They go on to note that:

The broader economic impact flows throughout the economy, generating business for firms seemingly unrelated to firearms…industries as varied as banking, retail, accounting, metal working, even printing, all depend on the firearm and ammunition industry for their livelihood.

However, the role of funding and oversight cannot be ignored. “The Gun Industry in America: The Overlooked Player in a National Crisis,” on the Center for American Progress website explains:

…largely absent from the conversation about gun violence is any mention of the industry responsible for putting guns into our communities in the first place…The gun industry in the United States is effectively unregulated. The federal agency charged with oversight of the industry—the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF)—has been historically underfunded and politically vulnerable, making it nearly impossible for the agency to conduct consistent, effective regulatory oversight activities….Efforts to reduce gun violence…ignore the role of the gun industry—manufacturers, importers, wholesalers, and retail gun dealers—in manufacturing and distributing the guns that are the instruments of this violence. [They] make decisions that affect the kinds of guns and ammunitions that are made and sold, the safety features included on those guns, the commercial channels in which they are sold, and the safeguards in place at the point of sale to prevent gun trafficking and theft.

So, what does loving well look like in the face of a nationwide impasse as dire and deadly as gun violence? How can I make a difference?

First, I can pray. As someone once said, “You can often do more than pray, but never until you’ve prayed.” While thoughts and prayers alone may not be enough to reduce gun violence in the U.S., prayer, for me, is the most solid and trustworthy foundation on which to build all that might follow.

Second, I can contact my local, state, and federal representatives and express my concerns and the changes I want to see regarding gun safety. Local representatives can be found on most county and state websites. Federal representatives are listed at congress.gov. To reach the U.S. Capital switchboard, call (202)-224-3121.

Third, I can vote. Emotionally intelligent, responsible leadership is critical to ensuring that the world I leave my children and grandchildren is one where they are as safe as possible. I have never been a single-issue voter. However, a candidate’s position, priorities, and plans regarding gun violence now must align with my own to get my vote. If there is no such candidate on the ballot, I will write in the name of the person I believe is best suited for the position. Even if that person stands no chance of winning, I will, in the words of Mother Teresa of Calcutta, “Do it anyway.” As such, I will have voted my conscience and taken a stand for a process that, imperfect as it may be, is a hallmark of the Democracy that fellow Americans died to support, protect, and defend.

Finally, as Mr. Fred Rogers instructed confused, upset children (and adults) in the chaos following 9/11, I can look for the helpers and share the information that I find. I did, and I feel more hopeful. Their passion and perseverance are often borne of devastating personal experience with gun violence. They are what leadership consultant Margaret Wheatley might call islands of sanity— “leaders who use their power and influence, their insight and compassion, to lead people back to an understanding of who we are as human beings….” 

The national organizations below are working diligently to change the alarming trajectory of gun violence in the U.S. Many have state or local chapters. Together, they eventually will succeed in making America safer from gun violence.

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

American Public Health Foundation

Brady United

Everytown for Gun Safety

Giffords Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence 

Guns Down America  

March For Our Lives 

March Fourth 

Moms Demand Action

National Alliance on Mental Illness  

National Network to End Domestic Violence  

Newtown Action Alliance  

Sandy Hook Promise  

States United to Prevent Gun Violence  

The 97 Percent  

Violence Policy Center  

Whatever else it may be, America’s gun safety stalemate feels first and foremost like a crisis of spirit, vision, identity, and meaning. I would argue that we must acknowledge that the rapid-fire and seismic events of the last twenty plus years led to an unprecedented and cumulative level of fear and mistrust that may yet destroy the U.S. from within. As Buddhist teacher Chogyam Trungpa once said, “We cannot change the way the world is, but by opening to the world as it is we may discover that gentleness, decency, and bravery are available not only to us, but to all human beings.”

I am still afraid, and many others are, too. Be that as it may, I believe that every right, Constitutional and otherwise, comes with a responsibility to exercise it with accountable, respectful attention to the health, safety, and well-being of others. The Second Amendment is no exception. Regulation of guns that limit terrorizing, injuring, and killing more than 300 people each day is critical to ending the barrage of senseless gun violence in the U.S.

Loving well requires nothing less.

Questions

1. Advocates on both sides use slogans such as “Your gun, your crime” or “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people” to summarize their position as quickly, succinctly, and persuasively as possible. How effective are these slogans? Do they help or hinder efforts to move the conversation forward?

2. What are the implications of other language used to talk about gun violence—gun “safety” vs gun “control,” for example?

3. Many gun advocates point out that much of the violence involving guns can be prevented with inexpensive and easily available gun safety locks combined with proper storage. Where should personal accountability end and government intervention begin?

Loving Well

“Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

- Elizabeth Cady Stanton

“A purpose of life is to expand the boundaries of our love, to widen the circle of our concern, to open up rather than shut down, and to expand rather than contract.”

- Arianna Huffington

Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s the perfect day to introduce my new blog—Be That As It May: Adventures in Loving Well.

I try to synthesize what I learn to challenge and clarify my thoughts and opinions on a variety of subjects. The phrase “Be that as it may” captures my penchant for gathering and integrating information from many different sources, the more diverse and contradictory the better. I find the whole process exhausting, but exhilarating.

My adventure of loving well began years ago when a college professor at DePaul University encouraged students to create a personal mission statement. Her invitation happened about the same time I was preparing to apologize to a friend whose feelings I had unintentionally hurt with a careless comment a few days before. My friend’s gracious acceptance of my apology led to a humbling glimpse of insight into the power of loving well. I decided right then that my mission statement would be, “To love all people well to the best of my ability, so help me God.”

Pretty lofty, right? And pretty hard to do much of the time, too. That’s why the “so help me God” part is essential; I don’t have a prayer of living up to my own expectations of loving well without lots of help from heaven. But loving well is a worthy goal, and I enjoy looking for new ways to practice. That’s why I later expanded the statement to include loving “all creation well to the best of my ability, so help me God.”

That means catching indoor insects and spiders (note: exceptions abound but I’m working on it) and releasing them outdoors where they belong. Or helping a friend research drought-resistant plants to support the many pollinators living on and passing through his 84-acre ranch in Colorado.

Loving well is more than being polite, or even kind, which can be obligatory, habitual, or self-serving. However, genuine expressions of service, respect, and goodwill cross seamlessly into the realm of loving well. Even when they don’t quite make it, the effort is worthwhile—and a great place to begin.

Loving well can be hard. Ask my husband, Nick, who solemnly shaved my head, bent awkwardly over a smelly garbage can in the garage (my idea, not his), to relieve the tingly pain of losing my hair shortly after I began cancer treatment a few years ago. He rescued me from what I knew would be an emotional and otherwise difficult trip to the local hair salon. For that, I will always be grateful.

Other examples of loving well inspire me, too. A friend’s son, I’ll call him Jay, comes to mind. Jay subsidizes the cost of a house he rents to a struggling family to ensure they have a safe and affordable place to live. Cousin Melanie donated part of her liver to an uncle whose life was at serious risk without a transplant. People like Jay and Melanie help me believe that alongside true hardship and pain there is much good in the world.

The list of ways to love well is endless. Composting and coupon-cutting can be loving well. Buying life insurance qualifies. So does planting a tree or adopting a pet. My own latest attempt to love well is a New Year’s resolution to keep my cell phone charged in case of an emergency—and to stop misplacing it for the same reason.

In a memoir by James Grissom, I discovered a quote by the late actor Marlon Brando. His elegant, insightful description of loving well at its generative best touched me deeply:

I always had a tender spot for frail women—emotionally frail women—who wandered about, always looking surprised. These women reminded me of my mother, and so I felt compelled to look after them. I felt tender toward them, in a way I didn’t with others. Then I began to feel tender toward all people who looked a little frail and a little lost. And then I reached an age when everyone—I mean everyone—looked a little frail and a little lost, and then I was able to feel tender—to feel some love and respect—toward all people. The flawed, wonderful person who was my mother is, I guess, inside all people, and so we need to be tender toward all people. It is good for them, and it is good for us. It should not have taken me this long to feel that way.

Be that as it may, it’s important to talk about what loving well is not. I’ve learned that sacrifice in some form often plays a part. However, loving well does not always mean putting the needs of others ahead of my own. There are seasons of life that require that, of course, such as caring for a new baby or for someone who is injured or ill. More often, I’m called upon to “take one for the team” or “turn the other cheek.” I recall, for example, a young co-worker named “Donna.” Overwhelmed by the fast pace of updates coming her way, Donna somehow deleted an entire database of names, reservations, and other data needed to manage a huge fundraising event just one week away.

Fortunately, I had a backup spreadsheet that contained some of the missing information. The rest had to be pieced together attendee by attendee, sponsor by sponsor, sometimes by memory alone. Crazy busy as we were with our own event responsibilities, our team worked together tirelessly to complete this tedious task. When we finished, programs, nametags, and seating charts went quickly to print, and the event was a great success. All’s well that ends well? In this case, yes!

Even so, the greatest act of loving well can be one I extend to myself in the form of a kind, but firm “no,” which writer Anne Lamott calls “a complete sentence.” More often I find myself saying,“Let me get back to you about that.” This response creates space for careful consideration of my time, energy and genuine interest, which makes loving myself and others well easier and more satisfying.

Then there is social media, which exposes and exploits the negativity and cynicism that has always been in and around us. Outright lies are commonplace. Yet social media can also promote positivity and civility. Unfortunately, experts say that vitriol goes viral many times faster than does virtue. So, what do we do?

Perhaps one woman’s response to a nasty comment on Facebook can be as instructive to others as it was to me. Indeed, I no longer remember the comment itself, only her response, which was something like, “I’m sorry to hear you say that. I feel like maybe you are hurting a lot inside, which makes you say hurtful things to others. I hope you have someone to talk to about why you might be feeling so angry, sad, or scared.”

I know I am not the only one worried about the dangerous state of caring connections with one another—and the consequences if we don’t actively counteract the forces that thrive on the weakening of those ties. Politicians, faith and civic leaders, business people, educators, and others play a pivotal role. However, I cannot rely solely on others to turn the tide. Whoever said, “we are the leaders we’ve been waiting for” was talking about people like you and me. Loving well is something everyone can do.

I once wondered if my mission of loving well was too simple a concept to make a difference. But I now see it as:

• a fierce first principle to help move my own heart and the hearts of others toward a more hopeful relationship with ourselves, each other, and the world.

• an underrated antidote to a culture that seems determined at times to shove its better angels aside to satisfy its own hurtful agenda.

• a firm foundation for those who want to explore loving well in their own lives in ways big and small.

In future blog posts, I hope to convey the valuable role that loving well can play in everything from beekeeping to border security, gardening to gun safety. Can loving well change the world? Yes, I believe it can—one purposeful and positive interaction at a time.

Questions:

1. Are you someone to whom loving well comes naturally or is it a struggle?

2. Have you ever been loved especially well by others? What did that look and feel like?

3. Has loving well been especially challenging for you at some point? What made it so difficult?