A poem: Palm up in offering

Note: I've been rather quiet on this space lately. I'm still struggling to figure out how to process recent events, especially the recent executive order banning refugees from seven countries. So, to help me process, I wrote a poem. It's not polished or even share-worthy, but it is honest. Maybe you're also reeling during these difficult times; if so, take good care of yourself. Try reading or writing poetry or take a walk or eat a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies or cook a meal for a friend. Do all the self-care things, so you can take care of others. Also: Thanks to my fellow writer, Lisa Leshaw, for the title suggestion for this poem!

Palm up in offering

One week after President Trump's 
executive order on immigration, 
I let fear propel me to action and sent an email to a

refugee resettlement office checking in on the families

set to arrive in my town this spring.

My family was hoping to welcome a family from Somalia.

I had been looking forward to doing my part.

I imagined sharing a meal with this new family--

cambuulo and tacos, shushumow and apple pie

dotting the new farmhouse table my dad made for me--

the table that I prayed would be used as a bridge

during these difficult and divided times.

Our kids, naive to cultural differences,

would play together

even though they don’t share the same language.

Within minutes, I received a response: 
Due to the recent executive order,
we are halting all resettlements.
Thank you for your willingness to help.

I set out for a run in the freshly fallen snow

and turned on a podcast, thinking

of the families who were turned away.

Sara Kate Levey, an American Jew living in Los Angeles

spoke about her connection to the Holocaust:

Her father in-law was a teenager.

The tattoo of his number still remains

on his arm.

A living testimony to the last time

our country turned away refugees.

Our government stuck out its hand,

not a hand outstretched--

but an open palm in halt formation.

Fearing Nazi spies would surely slip in

among these 900 Jewish refugees,

our government pointed the boat back home.

Upon their arrival home,

they were not welcomed with parades and balloons

and children waving those patriotic mini flags.

No.

The last time we turned refugees away,

more than 250 of these 900 were slaughtered.

Levey, an American Jew, said: 
We feel the fear Muslim-Americans feel right now.
It’s in our bones.

Fear is in my bones, now, too.

It’s in the bones of many Americans,

pulsing through our bodies,

breathed out in different ways.

A friend told me the other night to let go of that fear.

I don’t think I want to because

this isn’t a paralyzing fear--the kind that catches me

unaware at two in the morning,

breathless and rigid.

This is a holy fear.

The kind that shows us what the world is capable of, and

I want this fear to move me forward,

to spur me on towards love

Instead of holding me back from love.

I want this fear to move me forward

to open my home,

to open my hand,

palm up in offering.

The morning after

The election is over, and many of us are approaching today differently based on our own set of personal beliefs. I've said quite a bit about the election over the past year, so it's no surprise that I have something to say today. 

To my kids--J, who cried this morning and whispered that he was scared; K, who meekly asked me if we'd ever have a woman for a president:  

Some of your classmates will be scared today. Comfort them and be kind to them today. Look for ways to be kind--that's how you can fight hatred. Try not to worry or be scared; it's okay to feel this way, but remember--we serve a God who is bigger than our government. There will probably be lots of talk on the playground or at lunch today about our new president. I don't want you to talk politics with your friends. I want you to be a kid and do kid things today. And don't forget to always be kind even when others aren't.

To my former students: 

Remember all the social justice work and talk we did in class? This moment is what you've been training for. Don't forget Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s four steps for non-violent direct action (par. 6). Don't forget about the Anti-Defamation League's Pyramid of Hate and Pyramid of Alliance.

The Appeal of D. Trump

Perhaps this statement applies to you: Before this election, I never really followed politics. It certainly rings true for me. I reached legal voting age in 2004, a few months before my first year of college; it was also an election season. Incidentally, I was assigned to read a lot about the election in a few of my classes, but I didn't rush to join a Young Democrats/Republicans club or anything. I participated from a distance and casted my vote (albeit, an uneducated one) on election day. I became a bit more civically minded after that when I took a required Political Science class. As a weekly assignment, we had to pick a news media outlet to follow, choose an article a week, and write a brief reflection on that piece and the coverage provided. I chose NPR, which sparked a long love affair with its programming. It was the first time I had ever followed current events so closely. NPR became a part of my daily routine. It's no surprise, then, that the 2008 and 2012 elections were different for me (as they were for many folks). I just knew more about the candidates' platforms thanks to NPR.

Now it's 2016, and we're on the brink of another election...a weird, mind-numbing election. An election that strikes fear in many. An election that has torn the country apart more than any in my lifetime. An election that has forced us all to be a little more involved.

I'm interrupting this post with cute animals because cute animals help lower our blood pressure

For the first time ever, I'm consuming news from multiple media outlets: NPR, The New York Times, The BBC, The Atlantic...and Fox News. Yes...Fox News---but only when I'm at my parents' house ;) I've learned a lot about the world from this election, and I've learned even more that there are some things that I just don't understand...like caucuses and the electoral college. 

The appeal of the Republican nominee used to be on the list of things I don't understand, but after nearly four months of hard thinking and seriously sleepless nights, I think I finally get why people are voting for him: 

He appeals to the disenfranchised. 

I knew this, but I didn't get it until I read the article, 3 Reasons People Joined ISIS (And Why You And I Would Have, Too). The irony here is not lost on me....In the article, Matt Willingham (of the Preemptive Love Coalition) writes: 

"Few things are more important to us earthlings than the need to not feel alien—the need to belong. When a person feels disadvantaged, drowned out, or desperate, one of the most common options (among the few available to them) is to get loud, angry, and, in some cases, violent."

This article helps me understand why we have so many people supporting a candidate who is xenophobic, predatory, inflammatory, etc.

We have swaths of people in our country who feel "disadvantaged, drowned out, or desperate." A person could come up with 100 reasons why so many feel this way. While I have a tendency to think these feelings sometimes stem from our own selfishness, I know the origins of these feelings is something bigger and more complicated than narcissism. There is likely a series of factors (partisan politics, poverty, racial tension, etc.) that is causing a significant population to feel like outsiders. I will never support our Republican nominee, not even if he is elected into office, but I am starting to understand his appeal.

I know I'm supposed to wrap up this piece with some sort of nice, call-to-action statement (that's the trend in blogging now), but I've written and rewritten this paragraph at least seven times because honestly, I don't know how to end this. I don't know what to do with this revelation. It is, however, causing me to look at Trump supporters now with a bit more compassion and empathy, and maybe that's enough.