How Well Have We Loved?

 “…So sudden loss causes us to look backward - but it also forces us to look forward, to reflect on the present and the future, on the manner in which we live our lives and nurture our relationships with those who are still with us. We may ask ourselves if we've shown enough kindness and generosity and compassion to the people in our lives. Perhaps we question whether we are doing right by our children, or our community, and whether our priorities are in order. We recognize our own mortality, and are reminded that in the fleeting time we have on this earth, what matters is not wealth, or status, or power, or fame - but rather, how well we have loved, and what small part we have played in bettering the lives of others.”  

President Barack Obama, January 12, 2011

When I’m sick and run-down, I cry even more readily than usual.

Last night, I flipped on the tube while James was eating his supper. His parents were out, so he was dining at the Munchkin Manor.

I don’t know if it’s because brain trauma issues are too close to home, or what… but I was drawn in by President Obama’s words at the Tucson memorial in a very intense way.

I have an idea of what Gabby Giffords’ husband is going through right now. (And what Joanne Heim's family is going through right now. See the most recent prayer request on Margery.)

Anyway…

it all hit me in an unexpected way. As something not removed from me. Not just another terrible thing on the news that doesn’t affect me.

I took it personally.

By the time President Obama got to these words about the little girl who lost her life:

“That's what I believe, in part because that's what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed. Imagine: here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that someday she too might play a part in shaping her nation's future. She had been elected to her student council; she saw public service as something exciting, something hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted.

I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as she imagined it. All

of us - we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children's

expectations.”…

I was sobbing.

Crocodile tears,

and lots of them.

I tried to be quiet about it, but James kept looking at me from the table.

He tried all of his usual tricks to cheer me up.

I put on a fake smile. “I’m okay,” I told him.

But when they flashed the murdered little girl’s picture up again, I started (as quietly as possible) wailing.

He got down from the table and came up to me. He put his arms around me, and said, “Mimi, it’ll be okay.”

“I know,” I sniffled.

Then he put the full weight of his little self into my left shoulder.

“I love you, Mimi.”

To my knowledge, it was the first time that he has ever said that to anyone without a prompt.

Without an “I love you, James,” first.

Without a “Tell Mimi or Big B (or Mommy or Daddy or Honey or Poppy…) that you love him/her.”

He said it first.

And that was incredibly huge.

I want to tell you something.

Something that I think is very, very, very important:

LOVE HEALS.

It really does.

***************

Dear Father,

Please pour out your unconditional love on us. Forgive us for all the ways in which we hurt you and each other. 

Heal our land, and heal our stubborn, hardened, self-righteous hearts.

Amen.

***************

It doesn’t matter what your politics are. If you are an American, you owe it to yourself (and the rest of us) to see this.