Tolerance

"Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one's own beliefs. Rather it condemns the oppression or persecution of others." - John Fitzgerald Kennedy

Things have become somewhat heated in my neck of the woods lately.  As a border state, Texas has become a hotbed of debate over "The Children."  The influx of thousands of unaccompanied illegal immigrant children has folks stirred up.  It is a complicated, complex situation that likely cannot be addressed quickly or easily.  There are notable differences in beliefs and strongly vocal opinions about what should be done.  That is not what I am concerned with in this entry.

My concern lies with the apparent lack of tolerance for these differing beliefs and opinions.  There has been a spewing, volcanic plethora of mud-slinging, name-calling, and downright ranting over differences in beliefs and opinions.  Far too many people are freely and righteously affording themselves the opportunity to express their stance on the issue without extending the same courtesy to others.  Tolerance is, at its heart, one of the concepts upon which the United States of America was founded, yet it seems to be quickly disappearing as far as this issue is concerned.

Yes, this is a situation that needs to be addressed.  Can we not approach resolution with compassion?  Can we not freely discuss this issue in an effort to find solutions rather than irrationally and rudely shutting down any opinion other than one's own?   Can we not afford to include common courtesy in the expression of opinion?  Can we not fairly represent varying opinions in their entirety without resorting to sensational sound bites?  Can we not behave like adults rather than immature children?  Can we not seek to find common ground without oppression?  If we cannot, then we are, in effect, not seeking solutions but creating more problems.  Opinions become meaningless if no action is taken to resolve differences with grace, dignity, compassion, and yes - tolerance.  

In Hospital

I love the way the British put it it when you're going to be in the hospital.  They say, "I'm in hospital" -has such a lovely lilt to it, like "I'm on vacation," or "I'm in a State of Zen."  Almost as if it's something to look forward to.  Not so here in the U.S. Of A.  We say "I'm in the hospital," or "I'm in a hospital."  Quite the difference, rather reminiscent of. "I'm in the hoosegow," or "I'm in a state of panic."

I don't mean to knock hospitals.  Some are better than others (far better), but all in all,  if you're in one, you probably need to be, and the people that work in them do their best to do what is in your best interest, often while understaffed, underpaid, and overworked.  It's just that in my ponderings, between being poked, choked and of course, now broke, I find it funny how a simple turn of phrasing can influence one's visions of what might be.

On that note, may I express my deepest gratitude to those that show up to hospitals on a daily basis in the spirit of service and compassion.  That, and I'm damned glad to be home...

Candles

Candles.  Whether in Mason jars or crystal candlesticks, I find them evocative.  The scents bring memories, both good and bad, joyous and sad.  They serve many purposes, from setting the atmospheric mood to saving one's soul.  Lord knows, my Irish Catholic grandmother lit many in hopes that I might find the road I was destined to follow and not the devilish one I'd strayed down for a time in young ( and yes, admittedly stupid) adulthood.

Candles that are lit to guide the way can just as easily be snuffed out by poor choices.  They can be lit in remembrance and hope.  Hypnotic in their warm glow, they can be a small refuge in our messy world; a symbol of serenity in the midst of chaos.

Light bulbs come in a poor second, to my view.  I've had some adventurous moments as far as candles are concerned-setting my bedroom window shades on fire as a teenager (that resulted in the lock being immediately removed from my door, nosy little brother or not), watching my sister's hair sizzle and smoke as she flicked her long locks too near a piano candlelabra (fortunately doused by my quick-thinking boyfriend), and last but not least, using a voodoo candle purchased from a shady New Orleans shop that I used to wickedly place a curse on a world-class jerk (and yes, it worked-at least temporarily...).

Take a moment to light a candle this evening-just because-and wait to see what happens before you snuff it out.  I'll be lighting one in remembrance of the one-of-a kind Evelyn to mourn her passing and celebrate her life.