Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

spiritual practices

What do we do now?

The morning after the election, I’m tired for a lot of reasons, although while watching the results roll in on Election Night, I could honestly say I was less anxious than at the same time two years prior. So many of the 2018 election results gave me hope.

But I’m sitting with some serious disappointment about our local race for the U.S. House seat. Fear-based politics won again and I had such hope that the vision presented by the challenger would be enough to draw people out of their political strongholds. I can’t say for sure that people vote out of fear but I know that fear drives more decisions than it should and sometimes how a person votes is one of those decisions.

Photo by Parker Johnson via Unsplash

The day after an election, no matter the outcome but particularly when it doesn’t go the way I hoped, leaves me asking the question, “Now what?” I have come to understand, especially in the last two years, that whatever happens at the government level does not absolve me from responsibility in my own life and community. No matter who is in office, I still have obligations.

I confess that I have not been as engaged publicly in justice and advocacy in the last year as I was right after the 2016 election. I feel like my part-time day job has elements of both justice and advocacy and is a good use of my time. Still, I cannot leave everything completely to others.

What now?

Maybe you’re asking yourself the same question. And if you aren’t, that’s okay, too. Maybe you can’t think about it right now. Maybe you don’t see any need to concern yourself further with politics. I’m not here to tell you what to do.

But I will invite you to participate in what I feel is the best way forward. At least, it is for me.

Now that the election is over, here is what I plan to do:

1. Reinstate spiritual practices into my life. I have a complicated relationship with church and Christians sometimes, but I could never give up on Jesus. For me, if I am to do the work I feel is required of me as a human, I need to be connected to a Source that is unlimited and beyond me. That Source for me is Jesus and the Holy Spirit. The first thing I thought of when I was considering this question of “what now?” was the phrase “against such things there is no law.” I looked it up to be sure I knew where it was found in the Bible, and it follows the listing of the fruit of the Spirit found in Galatians.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”

The fruit of the Spirit cannot be cherry-picked or forced. It is a result of deep connection and being tended by the Gardener. There is no law against love, joy, peace, kindness, etc., and if I want those to be words that describe my life, attributes that flow out of me naturally, then I need to start with the Spirit.

2. Regularly contact my elected officials. I was in the habit of doing this after the 2016 election. For the first time in my life, I made phone calls to my representatives and sent emails and tweeted at them (to them?) a lot. Then I sort of stopped. I think in part I was discouraged. I’m not good at repetition without result, and I’m deeply averse to conflict so calling to make my dissenting voice heard felt like constant conflict.

But that’s no excuse. There are email options. And I can call from time to time. I need to use my voice to defend the values I’m passionate about. On the morning of the election, I read in the Book of Common Prayer, a prayer for an election, and it begins with “Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges …”

In the last two years, I have become more aware of the powers and privileges I have as a white woman living in the United States. I must give an account to God for what I did with that power and privilege and it is my desire to use it on behalf of those who have none or less. In Proverbs 31, before the wife of noble character is introduced, are these words: “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.”

I need to speak up more.

3. Listen and learn. When I’m not speaking up, I need to be listening and learning from those who have different life experiences, different heritages, different points of view than I have.  This includes reading, of course, which is not hard to do but also in-person listening and learning whenever possible.

Photo by Sandrachile via Unsplash

4. Scatter kindness. Related to no. 1, when I am rooted in the practices of my faith tradition, kindness and love toward others overflow. I’m not a naturally optimistic or bubbly person but I find that I can’t keep these things–kindness and love–to myself when I am full in my spirit. I hold doors open and smile and talk to strangers. I give compliments away like candy at a parade, and I’m more free with charitable giving. (I love that Lancaster’s Extra Give is only 10 days after the election. Giving money to organizations I support and watching the amount given overall in one day is healing work when I think the world is hopeless.) I write letters and thank you notes and check in on friends. These may be small acts but they are just as necessary as the big ones. Maybe more so.

Photo by Nathan Lemon on Unsplash

5. Pay attention. Some of us (myself included) are glued to our screens for news and analysis and entertainment. There is a place for all of this, but we can’t forget that there is an IRL (in-real-life) world around us. Every day there are people passing through our sphere. Every day there are needs and chances to do good. Yesterday, I missed a chance to help a woman whose first language wasn’t English fill out a medical form at the dentist. I didn’t want to offend her, even though she looked like she needed help. I didn’t want to make a scene in the waiting room. (I always have excuses.) Seeing the needs and chances to help are just one part of the equation. Acting on them is another.

What would you add to this list? How do you move forward when you are disappointed and frustrated with election results? What is next for you?

And if you aren’t disappointed and frustrated with election results, what does the work ahead look like for you?

A work of heart

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

I was biting into an Indian veggie patty in the few minutes I had before picking up the van from the parking garage and heading to the kids’ school. I looked up to see a woman in front of the bench where I sat.

“Do you have some change so I can get something to eat?”

I swallowed my bite and didn’t think twice about the words that came out of my mouth.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have any change.”

The truth was that I had cash on me, which almost never happens. But because she asked for change, I took her request literally and didn’t have to lie. In that exact moment, I could have given her more than change. As she walked away, I felt it–guilt pricked my heart. I was tired and anxious and overwhelmed from helping others. These are the excuses I told myself.

I could have helped. I chose not to.

—

Nina Strehl via Unsplash

Two weeks ago, our neighbor suffered a heart attack and spent almost that entire time in the hospital. He is an older man and his wife doesn’t drive at all and they are the ones whose dogs bark at everything. We have been politely neighborly from a distance, but suddenly we were smack dab in the middle of their lives. The woman asked me to take her to their once-a-month food bank appointment, and I said yes. That day, I carried bags and boxes of food into their house, a place in which I had never set foot though we’ve lived next door for more than four years.

A few days later, when the husband was unexpectedly released from the hospital, our neighbor walked over and asked if I could take her to the pharmacy. Purse in hand, she was ready to go. The kids were off school and we were close to leaving for a family adventure, but she needed her husband’s medicine. I said yes. An hour later—longer than either of us expected—I was back at home and our family adventure was delayed but not postponed.

A few hours before the woman downtown asked me for change, my neighbor was on my doorstep asking if I could take the two of them to her husband’s doctor appointment in a couple of days. I hemmed and hawed and eventually said yes even though the whole thing is getting uncomfortable. The day they need a ride my husband needs to go to work, and they offered their vehicle, but now I am wondering how much is too much here. When she left I researched transportation options for low-income seniors. One reply to an e-mail gave me some hope that I would not have to bear this entire burden alone.

—

So, this was my state of mind when the woman asked me for change to get some food. Half a minute after she walked away, I realized my veggie patty was frozen in the middle and I would enjoy it more if I took it home and warmed it up. I pulled a dollar out of my bag when I realized the woman and her male companion had headed in the direction I needed to go. I wanted to apologize and give her the dollar, but she walked away from where I stood at the crosswalk waiting for the light to change. Maybe the sight of me and my purchased lunch disgusted her. Maybe she couldn’t handle another rejection. Maybe she didn’t even see me.

The man who was with her stood his ground on the sidewalk and spoke up.

“I don’t mean no disrespect,” he said, “but I’m just trying to get some food. Do you have anything that could help? I missed all the mission lunches today.”

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

I looked him in the eye and said, “I have a dollar. Would that help?” I handed it over.

His eyes brightened and he said, “I could get a slice of pizza. Thank you.”

“Enjoy your pizza,” I said. Later, I thought I should have asked him what he liked on his pizza because you can tell a lot about a person by what they put on their pizza. Maybe next time. I also should have given him more than a dollar. I had two more in my purse.

I crossed the street, still stewing a little, still tired from all the helping. I ran through my usual list of reasons why no one should be asking me for help.

We barely get by month to month ourselves.

We have one beat-up van we’re nursing along to 200,000 miles.

We don’t have extravagant things.

We are probably only one or two disasters from being out on the street ourselves. (I say this a bit dramatically, although many of us are closer than we think to being in a devastating circumstance.)

A group of men in suits walked by as the man and I were talking. “Ask them!” I wanted to say, but I rarely see the suits hand out money. If I was downtown every day, dressed for work, would I get tired of being asked? I’m already tired of being asked.

Maybe they ask me because I look like someone who says “yes.” Maybe that makes me an easy mark. Or maybe it’s the divine spark in them being drawn to the divine spark in me.

—

Don’t tell me my heart is in the right place. I know better than anyone that it isn’t. At least, not always.

Last month a woman asked my friend and me for help as we cut through the park on our way back to the car. She had a black eye (real or fake, I still don’t know) and a story about a boyfriend beating her up and taking her tip money. She needed help. She had nothing. We had just eaten a free lunch and learned about having productive conversations about race and injustice. We gave her money and then talked about whether we should have or not afterward. We are both Christian women who care deeply about social issues and justice. Still, we wondered if we had done the right thing. And maybe being together meant that we did what we would not have done if we were by ourselves.

Photo by Jamez Picard on Unsplash

This is how I know my heart is not always in the right place. I still second guess myself in doing the right thing. I want to punch my “doing good” time clock and be done for the day, the week, the month. I don’t want to be responsible for months of appointments especially not for people I barely know who aren’t refugees and aren’t the nicest of people.

Maybe giving money to someone is the wrong thing. But when I think of Jesus and his words about serving Him through serving the least, I think I’d rather be wrong, just in case Jesus is there. (Spoiler alert: I’m pretty sure He’s always there whether I see Him or not.)

—

I’m in the third week of teaching a course on spiritual practices at church. One of the traditions we’ll be looking at this week is “holiness,” which if I’m honest, sometimes leaves a bad taste in my mouth. But as I’m learning about the true nature of this tradition, that it isn’t legalism or rules or perfectionism, the more I understand how necessary it is.

Holiness is a work of the heart, an inner transformation that makes these outward actions of love not only possible but repeatable. Most of us can do the right thing one time. But what about the next time? Or the time after that?

Only a heart that has been oriented and re-oriented will point us in the right direction consistently. This is what I’m learning about holiness and its effect not only on me but on the world in which I live.

To seek a holy life is not to seek an otherness that separates. It is to seek a way of life that works for the betterment of others. Quaker mystic and spiritual disciplines author Richard Foster says “a holy life is a life that works.” Could anyone say that they don’t want their life to “work”?

My heart may not always be in the right place. But it is getting there. And that is the best I can hope for. When I fail to act because of a misplaced heart, I can reset the course and try again.

As many times as necessary.