Author/editor note. This post has been sitting in my drafts for roughly a month, maybe two. The moment I reopened it the ‘last edited’ date changed. I can sigh, affirm that sleep did help, but the overall concern still comes through; the main point hasn’t changed. “Do something” is too broad of a command. “Love your neighbor as yourself; Love your God”. Love casts out all fear; 20 seconds of bravery? (We Bought a Zoo) – make them count… ok. I’ll press publish. Why not?
“that’s where we as a community of faith have to say no- we don’t believe in the rape of our children for profit” – Mary Frances Bowley on Chris Fabry Live
wow. ouch! no I don’t believe children should be raped, I don’t believe children should starve. I don’t believe adults should rape and be raped and starve. I don’t think that encouraging the sweat shops is a good idea and my heart almost skips a beat when I see pictures of families trying to find clean drinking water around piles of our trash- our used discarded wires- old cell phones- open wires, polluting the water with outdated trash.
My laptop isn’t outdated yet so I’m still typing on it. It’ll die within a few years max and then it’ll end up in that pile. Polluting someone else’s water.
I’ve never met a pimp- I’ve never been asked to do something bad.
I’m weak and easily overwhelmed and would do horribly if a talk show person came to the streets, put me on the spot and asked third grade history questions. I enjoy reading the BS on Cracked.com- the crude language claiming to put into common language ridiculously misunderstood myths vs truth. History as it really was vs the tame convoluted biased story we apparently received and then promptly forgot in elementary school, leaving only the shreds of myth and little pieces and an inability to tie the broken details together into an intelligent timeline.
Yes I’m pissed- I get angry when I hear about the corruption. I get angry when I hear blasphemous misrepresentations of who I know God is. I have a hard time hearing about people whose lives are so much harder than mine- I hate America’s Funniest Home Videos almost as much as the news. I can’t stand watching people get hurt and if someone’s crying near me my eyes are wet.
I vent and then move on because my heart isn’t big enough to handle all the horror- my heart isn’t big enough to feel for everyone hurting- to cry with all those who just lost a baby, voluntarily or not, or a parent, sibling, friend. house, hope.
I’m not brave and I don’t feel dangerous.
I vent and encourage and wonder why we don’t do that infamous “something” and then I remember that even the internet is overwhelming to me- I have a handful of websites I frequent and then find myself on sites like allafrica.com/ clueless as to where to start. I won’t remember what I read so what is there to focus on. Curiosity keeps me wandering; boredom keeps me moving.
Poverty porn I’ve heard it called- the pictures of children with bloated stomachs. I really really really want to care. I do care. and then I move on.
“I want to be angry”
yeah- I want to get outside my reserved shell and just go off on someone. I really want to rant but — maybe even cuss out a few of the perpetrators- but.
Praise and cursing can’t leave from the same lips.
A friend texts (on this cell that will be outdated and polluting someone else’s water in a few short years) and recommends a documentary on sex trafficking and talks about how busy tomorrow will be. “Can I help?”
That I can do- I can chauffeur, buy gas (exploiting ___? our, my dependence on oil hurts more than one somebody while making a few others filthy rich), drive around a hunk of metal (that will end up in someone else’s water) and
try not to be bitter. I need to be satisfied in abundance, satisfied in lack? Or grateful in both. Are they one and the same? I think not.
My heart isn’t big enough or strong enough to know exactly who I’m hurting by typing on this laptop, sitting on this couch, wearing a shirt given to me but originating from Walmart. I don’t need to know who just slipped away -how many were just dragged from what was considered normal into a dark van and taken to be used.. i can’t know. but i do know- i know enough to know that to
to whom much is given much is required and then i get stuck, overwhelmed by the infinite ways we come up with to hurt each other and buried alive in guilt of my own complacency. I want to care.
i give, i volunteer, i blog i read (ish). i am not enough.
My Lord gives more abundantly than I, is more gracious, knowledgable, caring and He tells certain people which certain issues we’re supposed to care about- Harry Potter Bk 4- go after your own friend and leave the others- they’re not your responsibility. i don’t know what I believe so I’m gonna shut up now, go to bed and hope I can think clearly in the morning.
Thanks Lord for a bed. Have a good one.