Wednesday, August 3, 2016

I Should Have Said Something

While I do not enjoy confrontation, I do prefer to speak my mind if something is on my heart.

This has been an evolution for me, really, because in my family, we try very hard to be careful not to hurt someone's feelings, but what often ends up happening is that someone will get upset and then tell everyone (except the perceived transgressor) and then stew about it and hold a grudge. It is just what we do and maybe that is because I grew up in a family of mostly girls- drama! Emotions! The plus side is, we are very sensitive to the ramifications of our actions and rather careful in choosing when to make a big deal out of something. Unless we run out of chocolate.

My husband's family is quite different. When they have a problem with one another, they get it all out in the open right away and everyone moves on. When I first met David, I thought he and his parents had a strained relationship, because they were so very frank with each other. I asked David about it and he said, "What? We aren't fighting. This is just how we solve the problems!"

I had a lot of respect for that approach, so I have tried to grow (painfully slow) in dealing with hurts right away instead of stewing about them and then once the issue is solved I work toward moving on. Still, I maintain my own history of really, really trying to discern whether or not it is worth making a big deal.

There are three times, however, that have stuck with me, where I would give anything to go back and have the courage or opportunity to SAY something.

1) When I was in 8th grade, I needed service hours for Confirmation. I chose to volunteer at the Jewish Community Center in Memphis at their camp for special needs kids and young adults. I was assigned to a nonverbal autistic girl, but there were many special needs represented from kids with cerebral palsy to more severe forms of autism. There was a girl, 18, who, for whatever reason, the employees did not seem to like. I can imagine it was hard for them to work with her in many ways. They had to change her clothes frequently and she had to wear an adult diaper. She wore a bib for drooling. But she was so sweet. She always said hi to everyone and while she could occasionally be argumentative or stubborn when asked to do something, I thought she was a sweetheart.

One day, the employees were arguing over who had to change this girl's diaper. They yelled at her to go to the changing room and they changed her pretty quickly, but not without a lot of yelling. To be clear, I never saw any signs of physical abuse whatsoever. Just a lot, a LOT, of yelling and frustration. When the girl's mom came to pick her up that day, the mom asked how her daughter did at camp. One of the employees who had been yelling earlier said, "She was terrible. She would not do anything we said and I do not know if we are going to be able to let her come if she continues this behavior." I remember looking at the mom and seeing her heartbroken expression as she took her daughter's hand and led her out of the building. I wanted to grab the mom and say, "Please, don't worry! Your daughter was very good! Some employees were just impatient, but she was good!!!"

But I didn't. I said to myself... you don't want to undermine the employees. Don't worry about it. You are just a kid volunteer.


2) When I was in college, I was student teaching in inner city Memphis. It was a TOUGH assignment, but I totally got control over that classroom by the end of my time there. My first week was spent not teaching at all - just breaking up fights. I read every inner city teacher memoir I could find those nights and started an affirmation board where I spent my lunch handwriting every kid a note every day, telling them something I appreciated or noticed about their actions that day. They loved them and then wanted to do well! It was amazing.

I had to speak with parents at parent teacher conferences and out of my 20 plus students, only one mom AND dad came. Only two other moms came besides that set of parents. This mom and dad loved their little girl and were clearly highly invested in her education. She outperformed all the other kids, was respectful, and was one of the few who showed up in clean clothes every day. My cooperating teacher, for some reason, did not seem to like this particular girl. She told her parents that this little girl was not paying attention in class, was causing fights with other kids, and being sassy. At first, I was so confused -- are we talking about the same girl?! Yes, she was. The parents looked a little stunned, too, and said they would definitely talk to their daughter. As they left, I wanted to go up to them and say that my cooperating teacher was mistaken -- their daughter was doing great, but would probably benefit with a different teacher or school.

But I didn't. I told myself that it was not my place.

3) Last year, David, the kids, and I were at a Target in Wichita. After shopping, David took two kids to the car and I took two kids to the family restroom. As I was coming out, I saw a man wearing sunglasses (odd, given we were inside) and a woman who very much looked like she stepped out of an adult film - gobs of makeup and platinum blonde hair and clothes that left very little to the imagination-- standing outside of the restroom. I put the kids in the cart and the couple stood there watching me. I felt uneasy and started to walk away, but then looked back and saw both of them go into the family restroom and shut the door.

I wanted to knock on the door and make sure the woman was okay.

But I didn't. I told myself, they are two adults and maybe they are in a relationship or maybe it wouldn't be safe for her or me to interrupt.


In each of these three cases, I neglected to say something where the purpose would have been GOOD. It would have been LOVING. It would have been out of CONCERN. It would have ACKNOWLEDGED THE DIGNITY of someone whose dignity was not respected.

Why is it that we are courageous in saying things out of anger or self-righteousness, but when it comes to saying something out of love, we are silent? Why is it we can point out what someone is doing wrong, but when it comes to verbally recognizing their gifts or defending someone being persecuted or bullied, we feel it is not our place?

In our silence, we allow hate to speak. To isolate. To destroy.

Our loving words and our loving courage could begin the healing that so many of us need who are isolated, or being condemned, or believing the lies that other people tell about us, or feel our dignity is directly tied to what others say/think.

Don't miss the opportunity to care or to tell someone they are good.

Be courageous.

"I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made."
I wish I would have said something.

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