The hardest flight of my life was from Oklahoma City to my hometown back in 2004. At age 18, I had just learned that my brother, at age 21, was dead. When I hung up the phone from the call no one ever wants to receive, I screamed. Wailed. Sobbed. Punched the pillows that were absorbing my fear, anger, and sadness.
About 10 hours later, when I made it to my mother’s bedside, I saw what losing a child looks like. Her face was unrecognizable from the swelling; her knuckles were white from clinching a framed photo of my brother, her son, as she silently sobbed into the shock of losing the first love of her life.
49 people experienced this on Sunday. 49 mama’s lost their babies. Countless brothers, sisters, friends, co-workers, neighbors are forever left with a loss that can never, ever be filled. They will officially enter the maddening cycle of grief and experience the shock, the anger, the bone-deep sadness, the disgust, the mental game of trying to be strong in a time when no one would judge them for falling apart.
My. God.
What is happening?
As we all absorbed this now-too-familiar shock, we turned to social media to try to process this terrorist act against humanity. We projected our opinions about Islam, mental illness, gun control, gun rights, homophobia, gay rights, Christianity, politics, and anything else we could throw temporary blame onto in order to express this anger that masks the bone-deep sadness.
And we perpetuated the very judgment that has contributed to the righteous anger that leads to destruction.
Many people believe that hate is the opposite of love. I don’t think it is. I think judgment is the polarity for love, because as we’ve discovered- love is an action verb.
Love looks like acceptance, compassion, tolerance, forgiveness, patience. It looks like allowing people to be who they need to be without telling them they are wrong. It looks like acknowledging the tragedy that 49 innocent people celebrating their lives were killed by a stranger who did not agree with how those people lived. Love asks us to sit with that and to hold space for the communities rocked to the core by this hate crime.
But we don’t.
We regurgitate phrases like “temporary ban on immigration” and get into political debates that showcase how very, very broken and divided we are.
49 mamas. Crying into their pillows. Not eating. Questioning. Internalizing. Falling apart.
And the best we can do is type 150 characters in condemnation of sexuality, religion, belief?
No. We can do better. We must do better. We are searing in pain and devastated beyond understanding, but we can do better.
Being a human is hard, messy work. Being a woke human is even harder. Yet the world is colored with countless examples of resilience, teamwork, beauty, love, compassion, and dig-deep understanding. We have shown that not only do we unite in times of tragedy, but we also further the love in our day-to-day interactions.
We smile at strangers. We get brave and say things like, “I don’t know how it feels to be you, but I’m willing to listen and try to understand.” We pay it forward and buy coffee for each other. We do things every single day that showcase our attempts to say, “I see you. I hear you. And you are important.”
Yes, I believe this world is filled with far more love, compassion, and beauty than judgment, fear, and hate. And right now, we have to keep believing in that. We have to keep what we have in common at the forefront of our discussions and work from a place of love to generate solutions to stop these senseless slayings. We need everyone to dig deep, swallow their righteousness, and come together in the only force strong enough to drive out darkness: love. Will you join?
xojf
Beautifully said.