May You be the Best You You can Muster

A friend of ours who lives in the eastern part of our country wrote about his fear and how hard he's finding it to process the events that occurred in Charlottesville, Virginia yesterday — the gathering of neo-Nazis and the hatred and violence that came with that.

Here is my reply:

It must be hard to be so close to do many boiling pots. You probably feel the tension around you.

I watched live video of the brawl yesterday, and it was stressful. I wondered what I would do if that action was taking place here.

I can't know that answer until it's not a hypothetical question, but the only kind actions I saw were from those who helped people who were suffering after being maced or hit. And then there were people who helped the injured after the car plowed through. Maybe if something like that happens here, I will go to help those who need it. But there would probably be others doing that, like there were yesterday, and they might not need more bodies in the craziness.

I value kindness. I don't value fear, but it comes sometimes. So I focus on what I value, and I go there. What others do is none of my business. It's my business to live in kindness. Cancer has taught me a lot about what is my business. I can't do a thing about cancer or how Michael is dealing with it. My work is to be kind, and I've seen how fear has gotten in the way of that. This racism is a cancer. It is not new, but the symptoms are more evident right now. I can't do a thing about the cancer of racism that has been here since the beginnings of this country, and I can't change how people act upon their beliefs. I can only focus on kindness.

You are a kind person. That is what we need. We don't need fear or retaliation. We don't need to lose our heads when those around us are already doing a good job of that.

Have you seen the Wavy Gravy Movie: Saint Misbehavin'?  We watched it the other night. I loved it, and recommend it. One of many things I got from it: He says this beautiful, sweet prayer, and he ends it with "and help me be the best Wavy Gravy I can muster."

May I be the best Carol I can muster. May I love, even when — especially when — it breaks my heart to do so.

Thus I end my sermon for this beautiful Sunday morning, with birdsong out my window and the sound of dog paws on wood floors outside my bedroom door.