Nagini & Election Results

Confession (a somewhat embarrassing one)...I am afraid of snakes. Not the real, found in nature snakes...but like the imaginary, demonic, larger than life snakes you see in fantasy movies, horror movies, etc. It started when I was a teenager and I had recurring nightmares about these snakes coming after me. They were so real that even today, after all this time, I can conjure up images from the dreams. I went to my pastor and told him about the dream and he told me it was Satan after me. So, I was scared before...and scared shitless after. Now logically I know and my kids know that these fears are unfounded and silly...but my kids are still going to hold my hand every time Nagini comes on the screen. They love me so they understand and do what they can.

For those confused about who Nagini is...

I've been hearing a lot of talk after the elections about how the fears of POC, the LGBTQ community etc aren't valid. People blame the media or panic or political correctness or whatever. They dismiss the fears and tell people "get over it" But that isn't helpful. First of all, there are valid reasons for fears. There is a historic precedence that "Make America Great" means trouble for POC. Cornel West says any time a white man says "Make America great again" they are coming for the black man. You may disagree but I'd encourage you to research Nixon's "War On Drugs" and the effect of Reaganomics before you disagree too vehemently. However, just for the sake of argument...let's say you are right. Let's say the fears are unfounded...

What exactly does it help for you to dismiss those fears?

Regardless of whether they are founded on fact are not, they are real fears. And you telling someone to get over them doesn't help. In fact, since they are afraid that they are going to be unheard or unnoticed, you are actually compounding their fears. Their feelings are just as important as yours and if you want to be heard, so do they...so instead of turning your back, try taking their hand.

I promise you if Trey told me Nagini wasn't real, it wouldn't help. I'd still jump. My adrenaline would still rush. I'd still have to close my eyes. He doesn't tell me that. He takes my hand. He may chuckle at me but he is still with me and for me and that is what makes the difference.

I suspect that if you do that...if you symbolically or actually take the hand of someone for whom the election results have caused some very real fears, your perspective will actually change. If you sit and listen to them in a posture of being with and for them, you will hear things that will make you uncomfortable and probably change your worldview. Would that change your vote? I don't know. But it will change your heart. And it may make them less afraid.

Show Me (a story of coming to faith)

I didn't come to Christ (what a churchy term ya'll!) exactly willingly. I didn't come to Him with a smile on my face. I wasn't like C.S. Lewis or Lee Strobel who looked at it both intelligently and emotionally and-after a search-came to accept Him as real and Savior.

I was sort of dragged a certain distance and then crawled the rest of the way in desperation.

Glennon Doyle Melton said in her book Carry On Warrior, that people who need help often look a lot like people who don't need help. My 16 year old self was very much like that. People knew as much or as little about me as I wanted them to...at some points I had been prone to lie but the problem with lying is I suck at it. For example, when I moved back to live with my mother and made new friends who didn't know anything about me, I told them my father had died rather than tell them he was in prison for vehicular homicide and that we didn't have a relationship. One day two of them came over to my house, where-as soon as we walked in the door-my mother told me I had a letter from my Dad. It was one of two that he would write me while he was in prison (I didn't answer either). I wasn't even aware that he had my address and I was pretty much more focused on the fact he had ratted me out to my friends than wondering at how he had managed it. So I learned, rather than making things up, just to hide them. There were friends who knew...one because I trusted her and others who were smart enough to know that a girl who had mood swings like I did wasn't quite as together as she pretended. But I had friends, got really good grades, my teachers loved me, I was involved in after school activities that would have looked great on my college resume had I actually gotten to go. (I did go...just not when you normally do...after high school. I was a Mom before I was a college student. Which might be a good thing...no time for keg parties.)

But the truth was, at 16, I was a mess. I had been through physical, emotional and sexual abuse. I was the child of addicts. My Grandma, who provided love and stability (though I didn't exactly appreciate it at the time) had died of cancer. I was angry and depressed and hurt and...sometimes I was all the emotions at once and sometimes I just had crazy mood swings (to be fair, I was also a teenager...mood swings come with the territory). I was angry at a lot of people, but I was mostly angry at God. Not only had He seriously shafted me on the childhood thing, He'd also broken our "deal".

Several years before that, when my Grandma was sick, I had started attending church at Elam Baptist Church...I can't remember exactly why I went the first time. I was living with my aunt and uncle by then because my Grandma's cancer had progressed to the point where taking care of me was difficult (Let's be real, taking care of me had been difficult before then. When she got sick, it was intolerable) I remember a van picked us up, that my cousin had started going with some of his friends...and I might have decided to go just to annoy them. But somewhere in the message I heard, I came to understand that God made everything better. That if you were a good Christian, life was good. I am not sure if that was the message that was preached or that is the message I heard. I am smarter these days and listen better and sometimes that is still the message so either is possible. Anyway, it sounded good. I made a deal with God. I became a "good Christian" and He cured my Grandma. After everything else I'd heard He had done, curing cancer in one woman sounded pretty easy.

He didn't do it. He didn't cure her. She died. I remember one of my family members saying God had to bring her to Heaven because He needed someone who could cook biscuits. (Note: never try to explain death to a young person by telling them God needed a cook.) That further sealed the deal that God was both selfish and uninterested and-because He'd broken our deal, not to be trusted.

So, at 16, broken and hurt...I didn't lean on God or anyone else for that matter except my best friend from time to time...and then we moved. We moved closer to my maternal grandparents. My Mom had not been doing well and needed a change and a better support system. We'd been living in Sandersville for a couple of months when my uncle convinced my Mom to go to church. Next thing I know, she was going a lot...to a "revival". I wasn't sure what was being revived but I was pretty ticked. My Mom had taken the 96 Rock tag off the car and was living this whole new life. My Mom had her issues but she was cool. And now...but she was happier. I'd have probably been happier for her but somehow, someone decided that if I didn't want to go to this "revival" then I could babysit my cousins and sister. Three days of that and I decided I'd rather go to church.

It was a Pentecostal church. And the only seats available for all of us were in the front row. I was beyond surly. I'm pretty sure the black cloud hanging over me was obvious to everyone. We took our seats. I rolled my eyes (backwards to the stone age...I was full of attitude). The musicians started singing. I felt... I felt... I fe...

Okay, time to get churchy again because what I felt was the presence of the Holy Spirit even though I wasn't exactly aware of it. I knew God was close. Which wasn't cool because I'd basically come to believe (or profess to believe which is not always the same thing) that God was not real and if He was, I didn't want anything to do with Him. And yet, here we were. The service wasn't even to the preaching part...in fact, it was probably like the third song...and I was having a confrontation with God. It wasn't until later that I would read the stories of Job, Jacob and David wrestling with God, but I understood the concept. I didn't cry out "Lord" like Paul...I issued a challenge.

"God, if you are real, show me."

I don't know what I was expecting...angels or natural disasters or what. I got, tears. I started crying. My evidence of God was a rush of emotion...mourning, anger, joy. And He was in all of it. I cried the entire time. I didn't hear the altar call but my uncle asked me if I wanted to go and I nodded my head and I stayed down there so long they had to pick me up and help my legs unbend. It wasn't just a feeling of emotion but also of a letting go. It was the most unexpected thing but also exactly what I needed.

I was thinking about that today. As I wrote in my prayer journal. As I told God that the hole I currently found myself in still feels incredibly deep but not insurmountable. I spent time thinking through all the times that God had shown me His realness, not always in the way I expect...not always in the way I want (seriously God, can I somehow just win the lottery...or someone win the lottery and share with me since I don't actually play???) but always in the way I need.

Last Tuesday I thought the answer to what I view as a threat to our nation was Hillary Clinton becoming President but that didn't happen. A few weeks before that I thought divine intervention would somehow stop me from becoming homeless, but that didn't happen either. But God is still real and He is still showing me. I don't challenge Him to prove it anymore. I don't have to. I don't tend to make deals with Him either (though the temptation is there). He took a 16 year old hurting girl's prayer to "show me" as it honestly was...not a challenge but a cry for help.

So these days, I'm smarter and I just ask Him for help. It might benefit me to be a little smarter and ask others for help but that's a whole different issue for another post.

The thing is, I think we think there are certain ways to come to God. Certain words to say whether we are saying "You are Savior" or "My world is on fire and I need rescuing". But there aren't. The Bible says when we don't know how to pray, the Holy Spirit translates our groans. If you need God to show you, then ask...be like Hannah, so desperate you look drunk. Be like Job and demand justice. Be like David and cry out "DO YOU SEE ME?"

Or be like me and demand "Show me."

He is not the God of deals but He is God. He is here. He is present. I don't pretend to understand why things suck. As I write this, I am homeless. But as I write this someone has paid for me and my son's dog to stay in a motel for three more nights. I don't know why. I just know I'm not alone. He's been showing me that for almost thirty years now.

Racism, Fears, and our President-Elect

I am going to attempt something, rather nervously. I don't think I am the most qualified but I attended a rather timely performance last week that talked about unity and compassion and stepping into spaces, so I'm going to step in it. Having been mansplained and "educated" over the last two days, I'm also a little worried about how my tone will be taken so please understand that I am "saying" this in a tone that simply hopes to convey information and hopefully provide understanding.
I am seeing a number of "I'm not racist" posts as well as posts that dismiss the fears of POC rather than understanding them on social media. I am hoping I can provide some insight, not from my own experience but from what I've learned from others so that the hurt, anger and fear we are seeing can be addressed. And so we will not only remind people who are scared that God is on the throne but that we stand with them.
1) David Duke called Trump's win "the greatest day of his life" and exalted in the part the KKK had in his election. Perhaps you don't believe Trump is racist (I'll address that in a moment) but you cannot deny that his election has empowered racist groups. And that should concern everyone. Take a look in the news to see stories of men wearing "Put The White Back In The White House" t-shirts intimidating voters at polling places in Florida, racist slurs that have been painted on LGBTQ and Muslim student associations in colleges, Middle Schoolers chanting "Build that wall", hijabs being pulled off on trains and in Wal Mart...the list goes on. We saw a similar effect in Britain after Brexit.

2) When Trump talks of minorities, he always speaks of the lowest common denominator: Mexicans are rapists, Muslims are terrorists and African Americans all live in gang ridden inner city neighborhoods smoking crack and shooting each other. He advocates for "stop and frisk" (which has been found to be unconstitutionally biased) and his language on crime is reminiscent of Nixon's "tough on crime" stance.

Highly recommend this book in learning how politics and policies created division and systemic injustice

3) The slogan "Make America Great Again" is implicitly racist. There is a bias there that most white, heterosexual, Christian Americans don't get. It hearkens back to the times of the 40's and 50's when life seemed simpler and the American Dream more attainable but it leaves out the injustice and horror that POC were living in during that time. We are longing for days linked with Jim Crow laws, lynching, prejudiced housing policies that were to blame for the creation of ghettos. While I understand that isn't what is meant, that's a perception issue and gets into white privilege (which a lot of people don't even want to admit exists). If we were to include all Americans, a better slogan would be "Make America Great".

You can disagree with these things but you are basing your disagreement on your experience while the POC are basing it on theirs. Telling them their perceptions are wrong dismissed their feelings and the reality of the history of this country. This is not the media's fault even though they get to share some of them blame, as do both political parties. The truth is, the divide existed before, the election just pointed it out. Instead of dismissing it, understand and empathize. Try to bridge the divide. Stop saying things like "people have spoken" because the people spoke, the electoral college won. And that is fine. It is our system. But both the 2000 election and the 2016 election seem to prove that the electoral college favors Republicans which has a number of people frustrated as well.

Having been in a space of learning about systemic injustice and racial reconciliation, I believe the fears of the POC in this country to be well founded (It would take a separate post to discuss the fears of the LGBTQ community but those are real as well). I could talk further about the dismantling of the VRA and the voter suppression that happened in several states, including North Carolina but I don't mean this to be exhaustive rather than the beginnings of an understanding.

Donald Trump is our next president. I look forward to the next four years with trepidation. Our best hope is to reach out to the "others" and try to find some common ground. At the event I attended last week, Propaganda said "We've mistaken power for progress. Power elevates a select few at the expense of others. Compassion lays down power so that everyone can be elevated." It's time for compassion.

Child Of Mine

You guys!!! The Feels runneth over and I absolutely cannot contain myself!

A fun Labor Day weekend...several years ago. How does time move so fast?

I think all parents do this but since I don't pretend to be all parents or know all parents, I'll just tell you I did it...from the moment my sweet little ones were laid in my arms. From the moment the obstetrician or nurses said "congratulations, it's a girl/boy" I knew and wondered...I knew they were mine for only a little while and I wondered what they would become. What their dreams would be, what their hopes for the world would become, who they would fall in love with, where life would take them....

I have cherished adventures, road trips, milestones. I have worried over, cried over, fumed over and rejoiced over so many moments. I have been an imperfect parent but the one things my kids will always tell you is I loved them...fiercely. And I think the love trumps the parenting missteps if my kids are any evidence. Because you guys need to know, my kids are awesome!



North Carolina, October 2015. Right before Trey left to join the fleet.
 

They are in this new stage now. This stage I've been looking for and dreading since their first cry. Last May we waved as Trey pulled out of the parking lot on his way to Parris Island. Since that day we've seen him less than a month but we talk or text almost daily. It's hard but he absolutely loves the Marine Corps and has said he can't imagine doing anything else right now. I struggle with the missing him and the absolutely joy that he is happy. I've learned a lot about being a military family, particularly a Marine family, this year and I've become one of those people who will quickly correct you if you call my Marine a soldier. I texted Trey a couple of weeks ago...after I'd corrected someone who had referred to swim qualifications as "water training"...that he had ruined me. LOL

Getting ready for a 15 mile hike...no big deal, right?

This May (why is it always May you guys???!!!), I will "give" my daughter away to the man of her dreams. This guy, he isn't anything like what I thought 'the one' would be for Embree and at the same time he is absolutely perfect for her. This has become more and more obvious in the last few weeks as they found out that their long term plans had suddenly become short term plans...as in, Embree is going to have a baby! I've watched the both of them come to terms with this unexpected turn of events and watched as he has loved her, valued her, and calmed her. The night they told me they were unsure of what my reaction would be but he wouldn't let her face it on her own. He was by her side every minute. (You'll be pleased to know, my reaction was what it should have been. Love and acceptance. And, because I am me, a to do list.) They decided together that they did want to get married before the baby was born...and that they wanted to get married while Trey was home because it was important to them both that he was there. So we are in the midst of wedding planning. Which as every Mom who has ever planned a wedding with and for her daughter knows...gives you all the freaking feels all the time!!! Seriously, oh my word. I now put wedding planners on the same level as trauma therapists and ER nurses. God bless you all. And if we could afford you, I would hire you and cherish you all of my days. But since we can't, we'll get it done. (This is a good time to give a shout out to Embree's friend and maid of honor, Virginia. She is awesome at all the things we are not and is also gifted in calming the bride. So, she is basically perfect.)

The about to be Mr & Mrs Grable.

In addition to wedding planning is baby planning. My one request was that I get to buy the rocking chair and Baby's first book. So, as a break from wedding planning, Embree and I headed to Barnes & Noble to pick out the first book. Anyone who knows us, knows we took this decision very seriously!

In case you are wondering, the winner was Pokey Little Puppy. All for sentimental reasons.

You would think a book store would be relatively safe from the Feels...but you would be wrong. I'm pretty sure people were evacuating the children's section and whispering to the staff about us. We cried over books I'd read to Embree and Trey. We cried over a book called "You Made Me A Mommy" and then we cried over a book called "Grandma Loves You". We cried remembering how much Trey loved the Captain Underpants books and then we cried when Embree looked at a section of books about Daddy and children and realized that she would read those books to her babies instead of skipping over them the way we did. But it was all joyous tears. Bittersweet tears...but joyous.

2015 MAT awards. One of my proudest moments.

So I am watching my children "launch" as they call it...going off to make their dreams come true. This is a new season for me and I am relishing it. There is a part of me that wonders "what now?" but I don't think that I will actually have time to think on that until June or July...because it's going to take me at least a month to recover from the whole wedding thing! But mostly there is a sweetness and a joy and a pride. I have raised them well. And when I didn't, their own character and personality made up for it. I am so proud and happy and...seriously, I may explode. I know that there are lots of Moms and Dads going through the same thing...graduation season is upon us, wedding season is upon us...Spring brings new life to the earth and new adventures for those we love. We'll get through it. One cup of coffee, one breath, one tear, one laugh at a time.

From one of my favorite artists of all time...Carole King. The song is called "Child of Mine" Embree and Trey, I love you more than I will ever be able to say.



Takeaways from The Voices Project

This Monday a friend of mine and I attended The VoicesProject in Atlanta. Technically it wasn’t for us but Amena Brown Owen was there and she had told us it was okay, so we did. It was a profound experience on several levels.

I am thoroughly convinced that in the work of racial reconciliation and bridge building white people need to be quiet and listen to people of color. And that doesn’t mean interrupting them to whitesplain, clear up our guilt or try to diminish their feelings. Whether you agree with their perception or not, you can not diminish their pain because you don’t understand their experiences.

Apologies...not the best picture but that is from l. to r.: Rudy Rasmus, Leroy Barber, Amena Brown Owen, Lisa Sharon Harper and Jonathan Brooks. As Katie said, I could have sat and listened to them talk forever

 

I-unfortunately-cannot remember who said it but near the beginning of the panel, one of the speakers talked about the disciples. He said they were writing scriptures with their everyday lives and linked that to the stories we are writing in our everyday lives.  Because of the musical Hamilton (I’m obsessed ya’ll), I have been reading biographies on the Founding Fathers lately and I was struck how all of them were aware they were making history.

While we may never end up in a history book (and certainly not the Bible), collectively we need to be aware that our actions create history. We shape not only the now but the future. And because we refuse to be uncomfortable, because we would rather be the teacher than the learner, because we hate to be wrong…we are screwing this up.

Pastor Jonathan Brooks (aka Pastor J) answered a question regarding the place of forgiveness in racial reconciliation by saying that the problem isn’t with forgiveness…it’s a refusal to lament. As Christians, forgiveness is not actually a choice, we are called to forgive those who hurt us, who oppress us. But there must also be a time of lamentation. Pastor J described what that looked like as an acknowledgement of what has happened, asking for forgiveness when it is appropriate, and a time of sitting beside someone grieving with them. I was reminded of the Jewish custom of covering oneself in ashes and sitting beside someone as they mourn. As Pastor J said “It is a journey. Not something to be swept under the rug.”

My father died four years ago. The anniversary of his death is coming up. These days I don’t mourn as often but this time frame always makes me sad. I have never had someone say “It’s been four years, get over it.” If they think it, they don’t say it out loud. My friends recognize the complexity of the relationship I had with my father and even if they don’t understand it, they are there for me. And yet, I can’t tell you how many times I have heard someone tell a person of color “it was so long ago, get over it” The reality of the situation is that slavery didn’t end with the end of the Civil War and that the systemic injustice faced by black people in this country went on far longer than that. This chart might help you understand…

Disclaimer: there are some I talk to that believe the yellow should stretch another decade and I tend to agree with them. Whoever created this ended segregation when the Supreme Court ruled against the Board of Education of Topeka therefore making school segregation illegal. But the Civil Rights and Voting Rights acts would not be signed until 1964 and 1965.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking moment of the night was when one young man stood up and asked “Why is this happening?” Leroy Barber answered “Injustice happens when we fail to honor the image of God in others.” Racism has existed through the centuries. It is true that the we did not start it but we have perpetuated the process. It is inherent at this point. And I fear, will continue to be so unless we take methodical steps to repent and restore the brokenness.  Lisa Sharon Harper said that we must believe in the power of the Cross to transform our society but that we must also break mindsets. She says that we change those by deliberately looking people in the eye and seeing them as images of God and recognizing their power of dominion. If we recognize their power of dominion, then they are not ours to subjugate. We see them as humans. We see them as equals. This, like all disciplines, is something that we must do deliberately; often reminding ourselves to do, but that comes easier with time. And like spiritual disciplines…it becomes easier, part of us, and it brings us closer to God and others.

Time To Say "Amen"

Candle Light Prayer Vigil

Yesterday the nation reeled from the news that a gun man had opened fire at a community college killing ten and wounded others. Immediately the "pray for Oregon memes" began to appear on social media. Politicians responded with "our thoughts/prayers/condolences are with the victims and their families..." One prominent evangelist responded with "Lord come quickly" as if the return of Jesus is the only thing that can stop this kind of thing from happening.

Let me be clear, I am a firm believer in prayer. And I have been praying for the community, the families, this nation. But there comes a time when we must do more than pray. There comes a time when we say "Amen" and get up and take action. According to reports, there have been 294 mass shootings in 274 days of 2015. A "mass shooting" is defined as a shooting where there are four or more victims. Another report says there has not been a week in any calendar year of Obama's second term where there has not been a mass shooting. Statistics vary on the number of school shootings because it seems no one can decide what defines a school shooting (more than one fatality, does it count if someone was just injured and no one died, if the gun was found before the shooting, etc) but let's be real...if there is one child in one school injured-or dead-from a shooting at school, it is too many.

And every time the response is the same...horror, hurt, fear, recoil...discussions about how we treat mental illness, a stab at suggesting gun control...finger pointing, shouting matches...and the NRA telling us the real trouble is we need more guns. Then it fades, the media moves on and we talk about something different. The nation collectively compartmentalizes the issue in frustration or the belief there is nothing we can do.

The reality of the issue is it is multi-faceted. We need to take a  look at all the issues because it is true that the we way we as a country and as individuals see, treat and deal with mental illness impacts those who suffer from it and those who commit horrific acts of violence. But we cannot blame mental illness for every mass shooting. While we would love to say that someone who would do such a thing has to be crazy, that simply is not the case. So, we have to look at gun control. I am not saying take every gun...but let's be real, the Founding Fathers had no clue the "right to bear arms" would ever look anything like this. And if they had, what would they have done?

From the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, Washington DC

What does it say about us that we put more effort into determining who can drive a car than who can own a gun? The reality is that the refusal to honestly look at gun control is more lobby driven (looking at you NRA) than because the public is afraid they can't hunt enough meat to feed their family for the winter, or that the British are coming, or that we need to protect our homes from burglars and invasions. Your right to bear arms is not more important than the ten lives lost yesterday. Or the hundreds of others lost in the last decade. I don't know exactly what needs to happen and I don't pretend I do...I do believe that standards should be the same in every state, I do believe that background checks should be mandatory, and-HIPPA be damned-some type of mental health evaluation should be mandatory as well. Routine safety classes, a required safe if children are in the home, and no private sales...or the same system applies in the case of private sales. Whatever it takes.

We also need to look at how the media reports the issues. Journalism has taken a sharp turn and 24 hour cable news shows tend to worry more about ratings than integrity in reporting. The shooter in Oregon (whose name I am deliberately not using) blogged about the glory that shooters receive. The shooter in Virginia who killed a reporter and her camera man filmed the act and uploaded it knowing it would make him famous. It has become a common complaint that the shooter gets more attention than the victims. And we are seeing that it has become an incitement for those who feel marginalized. It is time to change the way the media sensationalizes each and every detail of a shooter's life, personality, etc. And it is time for the public to take a hard look at ourselves to see why we are the ones demanding (or at least watching/reading) those details. 

From the shooter's blog

The problem of gun violence in this country is huge...and sometimes seems insurmountable. I am hardly an expert so please understand that my opinion is that of an extremely frustrated citizen who desperately wants to see something done. However, I am one of many extremely frustrated citizens who desperately want to see something done. It is time for those whose responsibility it is to take action to do so. It is time for us to make them. It is time to say "amen" and get to work. 

Connections

For the second summer in a row, I have failed as a blogger.

Last summer I spent time in prayer, reading, and meditation as I tried to figure out what being a "peacemaker" looked like...ironically, this summer, I spent learning what being the mother of a Marine looked like.

It's hard to blog when you are struggling to form coherent sentences. The 13 weeks of boot camp Bree and I spent mostly encircled in on ourselves like the wagon trains of old days. Focused entirely on the matrix that showed what Trey would be enduring that day, trying to ease the hurt of his going, learning an entirely new vocabulary and struggling with the fact that words like "gas chamber" and "rapel tower" were part of our every day vocabulary. We stopped pronouncing qualification like a five syllable word...it was simply "quals".  As in swim quals, firing quals, etc. We also watched a lot of Doctor Who...it was therapeutic.

The people I normally lean on, vent to, look to...they could not help. I mean they offered prayers, comfort, etc but they could not offer understanding. It is one of those things you have to go through or have gone through to understand (PSA: please don't tell a mother who is struggling with her child being a boot camp that you know how she feels because your child went to college...it isn't that we don't understand that's difficult for you, it's just it doesn't feel like the same thing at all...and we are not exactly rational at that point) So I took to Facebook to find support, I joined the Parents of Parris Island page, the Hotel Company page and the Marine Moms of GA page.

I was immediately nervous...my politics, beliefs, values, attitudes were so different than so many of these people. I was sure if they became my friend on Facebook or found my blog they would immediately cast me out. I pictured townspeople running after me with pitch forks screaming "HOW COULD YOU VOTE FOR OBAMA???!!!"

Don't judge me...we all know I am dramatic and slightly prone to exaggeration.

Here is what I have learned from these groups...it is more about what we have in common than what we consider differences. When you've gone 11 days without a letter from your recruit and your entire day revolves around getting to the mailbox and there is a group of people who understand, you don't talk about the Republican candidates for president. When you are sitting in a church with a group of other MoMs (Mother of Marine), watching a mother bury her 21 year old son a week after he was killed by a terrorist in Chattanooga, politics have no place. When you are two days away from seeing your new Marine for the first time and you are surrounded by these women as they cheer your child and help keep you sane because after 13 weeks, the last 48 hours almost kills you, there is no thought to the differences among you...you are just ridiculously glad to have them in your lives.

Every issue is so divisive these days. When someone says "black lives matter" then someone decides what they are saying is black lives matter more so they scream "all lives matter" and then someone decides cops are being attacked and they scream "police lives matter" and everyone is focused on what divides us instead of what brings us together...a common belief that life is precious. And we do this in every area. We pick sides and focus on our differences and we are so determined to die on our platform rather than see the other side as human. Rather than focus on the things that would bring us together, we only see the things that tear us to pieces.

In Day of The Doctor, the 50th anniversary episode of Doctor Who, the Doctor forces the Humans and Zygons to negotiate by using his sonic screwdriver and a device that wipes memory to make them all temporarily forget who is Human and who is Zygon. Therefore, they are forced to focus on what they have in common, what is best for both of them, and what they both want.

What kind of issues could we solve in our time if we did the same? What kind of reconciliation would be wrought? What kind of wrongs would be righted? How many hungry, homeless, hurting people would be helped?

Connections, relationships...they are forged by what we have in common. And when we make those connections, we find that the things that make us different aren't quite as important. As we find ourselves more willing to listen, we even find ourselves learning through the differences (and sometimes changing our mind).

We can die on our platforms or we can get down and get to know each other.