Two Years

Two years ago my hometown was underwater for days. Several friends, family members, acquaintances, and strangers lost their belongings and homes to this water. It was the greatest natural disaster that I had seen or heard of without warning.
Hurricanes are predicted. People evacuate their homes with a slight idea of what could happen.
Middle Tennessee woke up one morning to rain. The rain didn't stop. No one knew what was happening.

I could write for days about the flood. I could write about the damage, or the inconveniences, or every other negative aspect of your entire town being underwater, but the thing that stood out the most about this storm was the story of unity, community, and kindness that followed.

Every other natural disaster I've heard stories of has been followed with stories of looting, lack of aid, and desperation. As soon as the water began to rise in Tennessee, all I saw was hope. Before the water even receded, strangers took their boats out to save people from their flooded homes. People were waiting anxiously for the water to recede, not for themselves but so that they could begin helping others.  Strangers showed up ready to contribute in any way possible. There was too much help in many neighborhoods. There was hope. There was community. There was kindness.

Two years ago, my friends and family were homeless. Two years and they have recovered and grown. Two years and Nashville has maintained this kindness and community that it established long before the flood and reaffirmed during the flood.
Two years. And I haven't seen a kindness like this in two years.

I'm always proud of my hometown, but especially in the past two years, and especially in May.

The Song of Kindness

I'm listening to a song right now by The Head and The Heart, and I absolutely adore it.  I can't stop tapping my feet, nodding my head, and adding in harmonies.  Naturally, I'm waiting for my roommate to get out of class so that we can pull out some instruments and try to cover this song together.

That's all well and good, but what does this have to do with kindness?  Well, anyone who plays an instrument will understand.  What do you do when you hear a song that really fits your style?  You look up the chords, or you let your ear study the sounds, and you try to imitate what you hear.  Sometimes you even try to improve the song by adding your own sound to it.  You want to create something similar to what the artists you admire have created. And so it is this way with Christianity.

Jesus was kind.  Jesus loved.  Maybe he wasn't a songwriter, but he wrote the song of kindness, and all I want to do is pick up an instrument and cover those sweet, sweet sounds.


This weekend I was at a retreat for the Junior High at the church where I intern, and one of the Senior High speakers told a story of a man named Tony. From what I remember, Tony was a preacher who had traveled to Honolulu to speak at a conference.  Tony woke up around 3 AM the first morning in Honolulu due to jet lag, and he decided to go ahead and find a place to eat breakfast.  He ended up at a diner in the shadier part of Honolulu and was chatting with the owner/waiter/somekindofemployee at the diner when a group of prostitutes came in for breakfast.  The owner/waiter/employee told Tony that these girls came in every morning after they finished "work" to eat breakfast and unwind.  Tony overheard one of the girls tell the others that it was her birthday the next day, and the others made a sarcastic comment about "did you want us to make you a cake or something" or something like that.  The girl shrugged it off and said she didn't expect it to be like any other birthday, and Tony realized that this girl had never had a birthday party.  Tony turned to the owner/waiter/employee and said "what do you think about throwing this girl a party." And they agreed upon it.

The next day, Tony spent the whole day inviting people to the diner for the party, picking up decorations and cake, and when 4 AM rolled around there were tons of people just waiting to wish this stranger a happy birthday.  The prostitutes walked in to this surprise, and the girl was taken aback.  No one had ever thrown her such a party.  No one had made her a cake.  She even asked if they could not eat the cake just so she could look at it longer.  It appeared to be the best birthday ever.
When the party was over and the crowd had cleared, Tony said he had better get to the conference he was scheduled to speak at.  Remembering that Tony was a preacher, the owner/waiter/employee asked in an awe-struck manner what church he was with.  Tony responded calmly, "I'm from the church of throwing prostitutes birthday parties at 4 AM."


Tony understood that the Church is all about love and kindness.  Jesus befriended the prostitutes, lepers, and tax collectors.  He loved the hated.  He loved everyone.  And that is what this is all about.

He wrote the song of love and kindness, and we are all here to pick up our instruments and cover His song.

hate

I’ve never understood this word.  I’ve never understood exactly what it means or how it works, so naturally I looked it up in the dictionary: 

“To dislike extremely or passionately; to feel extreme aversion for or hostility toward; to detest.”

Okay, so what does that mean? I mean, milk feels pretty hostile toward my stomach, but does that mean that milk hates me? I guess that’s a bad example because milk can’t feel.  But in high contact sports like hockey or football, does every player on one team hate everyone on every other team? They have to be hostile toward each other in order to win the game, but do they hate each other? I highly doubt they’ve reached that level of hostility.

So I continued my search for the meaning of “hate” on the trusty urbandictionary.com  and this is what I found:

“A special kind of love given to people who suck.”  Maybe that’s kind of funny, and it’s true in the sense that occasionally I might tell my friend that I hate them because they made a joke about my religion, but generally I’m laughing in that kind of situation.  There’s no hostility or aversion about this.  So this couldn’t be what I’m looking for.

“When you dislike someone so much that if you and the other person were in an empty room with a knife in the middle, one or both of you would be dead.”  That’s extreme hostility. That’s extreme aversion.  This is what I’m looking for.  Hate is a feeling so strong that it could lead someone to make rash decisions forever altering their lives, such as murder, or maybe just a really underhanded comment causing permanent emotional scars, but I like murder better for this example.

Last one: “(noun). Calculated and/or intentional intense dislike; an intensified and elevated level of anger; an unnatural emotion (i.e. hate is something that is derived from natural emotions such as anger or fear); learned dislike or loathing of another person, group, or thing.

Ex. Hate is the root of much of the world's suffering.”           

Now that we have the definition covered, I still have questions.  How can someone feel so strongly about another person that they would hate them.  Yeah, I’ve used the word hate a fair share of times in my brief existence, but I don’t think that I can honestly say that I’ve ever truly hated someone.  I think that, as our last definition states, hate is the root of much of the world’s suffering.  I think that hate should be illegal.  Anyone caught hating another person should be locked up, preferably in a religious establishment that teaches love, until they could never even imagine anything less than loving their neighbor.

Come to think of it, I can’t think of a single person I could truly claim to hate.  Sure, I disliked my soccer coach in high school, but only because I so desperately sought her approval.  Yes, I couldn’t look at Sister Helen in middle school without thinking awful thoughts, but that’s because she insulted my family and my ability to dress myself in less that five seconds of meeting her.  But generally, I’ve never disliked someone until they’ve proven to me that they were incapable of loving me, and even then I reacted poorly by not showering these people with the love that they need.

I understand that people don’t get along.  I understand that if he stole your baseball glove in the sixth grade, you probably won’t be so fond of him.  Or if she called you ugly in high school, you may not jump at the opportunity to love her. But truly, that’s what these people need.  Hateful people need love. Hate requires love. Because if I were in charge of writing the dictionary, I would describe hate as a complete lack of love, and the only cure for this is drowning in love.  And how do you drown someone with love? You rain down on them with kindness and you don’t quit.

James Taylor has a song that says “Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel” but really, Shower the people you hate with love, because a world without hate would be boring, but it would be better for everyone.

It must suck to be a dad.

 I will never be a dad. Why? Well, obviously because I’m a girl, and also, because it must suck to be a dad.

Dads: Constantly having to swallow their pride because their wife is always right, or must be reassured that she is the most brilliant mind on the face of the earth.

Dads: Constantly stepping carefully around the words they say so as not to permanently damage their daughters’ self esteem. Trying so hard to save the world from another girl with “daddy issues.”

Dads: Giving up their weekends to watch their sons play sports, or act in musicals, or do whatever it is that their sons do best.

Dads: Always picking up the bill at a restaurant. Always offering to buy that last tank of gas before sending their kid back to school, or off to other cities to become just like him. Always selflessly providing for the family in the best way he sees fit, whether or we see it or not.

            The life of a dad must suck.

Or it must be the most amazing experience ever.  Seeing a person the size of a football grow to be more that 5 feet tall, fully functioning in the “real world” (I’m far from the real world, but my brother and friends are starting to get there) and to see that this person has his hair, or his eyes, or his nose, or his impeccable sense of humor, or his questionable taste in beer.
And as I get over the annoying fact that I have a couple missed calls, a voicemail, and a text message from my dad asking if I'm okay after the storms that passed through my town, it's becoming more and more clear to me:

It’s amazing to have a dad.

           

            It must be amazing to be a dad.

Because dad’s, believe it or not, are the kindest people in the world. Take note.

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Yes, "it's the most wonderful time of the year" and I almost lost hope in the world because of that today.

The traffic in Green Hills is awful.  I can't afford any of the things I would like to get my parents for Christmas, though I know they'll understand.  I've lost communication with a lot of my friends from high school, making Nashville seem dull.  Finals took every ounce of optimism and joy (and health) out of me.  And finally, if I hear one more person fret about the appropriate use of "Merry Christmas" rather than "Happy Holidays" I might explode.

In short, I've finally understood why adults seem so stressed out around the holiday season, but it doesn't have to be that way.  I have two tips to kindness that could eliminate a lot of holiday stress.

1. Traffic: I know we can't completely eliminate the age old problem of congested roads at all hours of the day, however we can change the attitude about this traffic.  Rather than sitting in the traffic thinking of how late we're about to be, thinking about what a jerk all the other drivers are for not letting us merge or for not using their turn signal, instead of all these things - smile while sitting in traffic.  Put in your favorite CD, allow people to merge in front of you, smile at the car next to you if you accidentally make eye contact as I so often do.  To see one person being kind in holiday traffic inspires others to do the same, and if we're all being kind to each other then this traffic is more of a gift rather than a curse.  This traffic is an opportunity to spread kindness to the strangers in your community.

2. Use your words.  If you celebrate Christmas, say Merry Christmas.  If you celebrate Hanukkah, say Happy Hanukkah, if you want to include New Years in the greeting, say Happy Holidays.  Don't worry about offending someone, and don't get offended if you receive the "wrong" holiday greeting.  The fact that anyone is even giving a holiday greeting is better than them saying "I hope you experience extreme grief today, and that you step in seven puddles on your way."  And if someone else gets offended because you cared enough to wish them a Happy Holiday, then they aren't really exercising the kindness of the season anyways, so smile, brush it off, and go on your way.

Happy Hanukkah (Because that starts today, and because I went to Jewish pre-school, so I feel authorized to say this.)
Merry Christmas (Because that's this Sunday, I'm sitting in front of my family's Christmas tree, and I can't wait to go to midnight mass with my Catholic family after a Christmas Eve feast with my Baptist family)
And Happy Holidays (Because after all this Christmas family time, I can't wait to celebrate New Years with friends, and because I think it is beautiful to celebrate all the holidays, Old Testament, and New.)

Shalom

The Golden Rule

“The Golden Rule: Treat others as you would like to be treated.”  A lesson pounded into our heads as kindergarteners.  Repeated in middle school.  Written one hundred times on a piece of lined paper during recess as a punishment for fighting with the boys and ignoring all the girls. And finally, a lesson that I never learned both sides of.

I’m not in middle school anymore, so I don’t get in trouble for fighting boys and ignoring girls anymore. I consider other people’s feelings; I make eye contact, hold doors, and send kind text messages to folks who I worry about. One might think I’ve got the golden rule down; that I don’t even have to give the golden rule a second thought.

But then, I gave the golden rule a second thought:

“Treat others as you would like to be treated.” How would I like to be treated? I’d like to be treated kindly. I’d like it if no one ever said a single negative thing about me. I’d like it if everyone was proud of me, and that everyone would love me. How do I treat others? I try to treat others like they’re the most important thing in my life. I like to speak kindly of them and to let them know that I love them and that I couldn’t be prouder of the accomplishments that they’ve made.

So if I’m supposed to treat others in the same way I would like to be treated, shouldn’t I treat myself the same?  Should I not be kind to myself? When I make my to-do lists for the day, set my alarm clock for the next morning, or receive a graded paper or test, should I not think about being kind to myself before adding too many tasks to the list, or only allowing myself 6 hours of rest for the night, or putting myself down when that grade isn’t up to par? I should. Because if it were anyone else, I would tell them to reduce their tasks, increase their rest, and that one grade does not make them a failure.

This is one of the hardest lessons I’ve tried to learn this year. It was my mother that pointed out to me that our family has always been really hard on ourselves, and it’s killing us. If we want to be kind to others, and we want others to be kind to us, then we have to learn to love ourselves as much as the world around us.

Love.

Simple as that. 

Today, I was looking for some fresh jams as I was driving through the congested 5:15 Lakeshore Drive traffic and I ran across this song on an old mix CD. (I wish I were cool enough to have had it on a mix tape. Deduct 10 points from my "cool kid" scoreboard.) 

Coolness aside, this song is all about kindness. With the recurring line "Always lift him up, and never knock him down." Not, "When you're in a good mood, lift him up, and when it will make you look good, knock him down." Not "Lift him up if it's convenient" or "When you see him, share some kind words and a smile." but "ALWAYS lift him up, and NEVER knock him down."

Digging further in the history of my life, I realized where I first heard this song. I heard this song on a retreat my senior year of high school. It was the song that a friend had chosen to follow his talk about the topic of "Christian love." I've heard and read many of my friends's talks about the subject, and without fail, the person or situation that they've chosen to discuss in their talk has always been a great example of kindness. Whether it was found in the kindness of others in a time of need, or in the sense of urgency in becoming a kind and loving friend, neighbor, or stranger, or in the kindness of a merciful and loving God...Kindness was always found. And Kindness was always associated with love. And kindness was always associated with Christian love.

Be a light. Be kind. Love. Always.