You hear it all the time, "Obama is really screwing with ___________," or "The GOP Congress can't get ___________ right." Both of those statements very well may be true (or completely ridiculous, you know), but what really sort of breaks my heart is how people let those kinds of perspectives shape their outlook on life. They're soul crushing perspectives, sometimes, and as much as we want to blame evil entity x or y, it's a self-inflicted soul crushing.
An elected leader can make your life easier or more difficult. That's it. I mean, I suppose in an extreme sense they could kill you, but that's a pretty slim minority of my typical readers. The only thing a politicians can do to you or for you is make like a little easier or a little more difficult. And even that ability is dwarfed by the same ability possessed by those around you - family, neighbors, friends, coworkers, fellow commuters. No politicians can touch the ability those people have to make our lives a little tougher or a little easier.
Anything they might do to us beyond that, well, it's something we let them do.
We control how we're going to face the day, the attitude we'll have towards people and the actions we take. Yes, some people and situations are more trying than others and we're all going to fall short of our own expectations of ourselves from time to time, but in the end, our lives are our own and we don't have to give others (especially virtual strangers elected to positions far, far away) any say over those lives. No law tells us what we can or cannot do - they simply tell us the possible consequences of doing those things. It's up to us to decide whether the action is still worth doing.
I'll admit, I get entitled. I fell important and deserving of specific treatment. That's when this sort of self-inflicted harm happens easiest. We feel we have a right to something and someone else is taking that away. I'm not always good at dealing with those situations, but I'm trying and I hope I'm getting better.
For me, the bottom line is suffering. I don't like it. I'd love for the world to work in such a way that my life is as easy as it could possibly be. Of course I also sort of know that such a world would not be good for me. It would not make me into the kind of person I was created to be. Suffering sucks, but it's also really important.
Now no one should be forced to suffer, that's for sure (I think they call that torture or something), although it certainly happens everyday. At the same time, for people who attempt to follow in the way of Christ, suffering is part of the gig. Suffering comes with the territory. In fact, sometimes we're called to suffer even when we don't have to, specifically because "better us than them." I know lots of people say that the other way - better them than us - but Christian are a mixed up lot. We do things different.
If the only reason you're upset is because your life is inconvenienced - well, it's alright be upset, it really is - but we also need to work hard so that upset-ness isn't what influences our actions.
Yes, people can make our lives difficult, but our response to that matters. For followers of Christ, when faced with the choice between fighting and suffering, we chose, at least for ourselves, suffering. It's what we do.
It's not always fun, but, you know, embracing that reality actually helps you feel a little more in-control of your life, which is never a bad thing.
PS - I don't really know what that picture is, but it's kinda cool.
In hindsight (and at my wife's suggestion) I probably just should have had her help me pick them up. In the moment, I didn't think of it. I reminder her what I'd told her every day that week, "We don't play with our food. We don't throw our food." And I asked her to say "sorry" for spilling her cheerios.
She's said sorry before. She recognizes when she's done something wrong and when we ask, she's pretty good about apologizing. That morning she refused. "No!"
She's almost two. The "nos" have arrived and more are on the way. I get that.
I picked up the spilled cereal and told her she couldn't get down until she said, "Sorry, Dad." She was not happy about that. She screamed and (fake) cried for a while and just kept getting angry. I picked her up and sat her on my lap and calmed her and explained what had happened and why she needed to apologize.
My first thought was that she was too young to quite understand what had happened and I know children that age have trouble with if/then statements and consequences. So I asked her why I was upset and if she'd done something wrong. She responded pretty quickly and clearly that cheerios on the floor were her fault and it was wrong. I was surprised at her level of awareness. I asked if she would say "sorry." Again she refused.
I tried a different tactic, again asking what happened and she responded the same way. I asked if she would do it again. She got a huge smile on her face and said, "Yes!" She clearly had fun spilling the cheerios.
This is where the true parent conundrum comes in. She clearly knew what she did, that I didn't like it and she didn't care. She also knew I was holding her in my lap and she wasn't to get down until she apologized. Who gives in here?
If I believed she wasn't quite aware of what was going on, I could let it pass. Reminder her of right behavior and save the real lesson for later. But she knew. I could tell she knew. She said she knew. I could see in the mischievous eye twinkle she knew exactly what was going on.
It was a real battle of wills. And I'm pretty stubborn.
We sat on that kitchen chair for more than an hour. Every few minutes she'd ask to get down or cry and we'd go over the events of the morning again and I'd ask for an apology. "No!"
Finally, I knew this couldn't go on all day. I called my wife at work to explain. She didn't have any idea either, but she reaffirmed that we shouldn't let her get away with things she knows are wrong. She also hinted that perhaps 75 minutes of sitting was punishment enough. I put my daughter down after one more discussion and she calmly went and sat on the couch by herself for another twenty minutes and it allowed us both to recover. We had a great day overall.
It got me thinking, though, about apologies. Even a child younger than two had the urge to hold out rather than apologize for something she's not really sorry for. Where does that come from? It makes sense to me in older children or adults, people with a more developed sense of self and relationship - it's a protection, a sign of independence - but a child that young. I wondered (I still do) if it's something deeper.
In my family, after every fight, we had to say "sorry" and "I forgive you," whether we meant it or not. There were always those times when one or more of us refused and we had to sit in our rooms until we complied. Most of the time we said it just to be done with it and moved on (whether we meant it or not). I was always amazed that my parents never seemed to know (at least they never indicated they knew) that we were lying.
Of course they knew.
My parents were teaching us a whole mess of valuable lesson that I only came to appreciate much later. First, they were showing us how to finish a fight. When the arguing is done and the offenses are made, you apologize - and you forgive. That's how reconciliation happens.
What's more, they were teaching us (without us ever knowing - I was well over 20 and married before it dawned on me what I'd learned) that saying things you know deep down to be true (even when you don't feel like meaning them) helps you to internalize and live them out.
I say I'm sorry when I've hurt someone, not because I feel sorry or because I always regret saying what I said, but because I know this relationship is not one I want permanently broken. I know a fight takes two (or more people) and everyone is to blame in some measure (even if it's just a little bit), therefore an apology will be necessary unless we're ready to write off the relationship altogether.
I apologize because I know it's necessary, not because I'm sorry. And, you know what, that apology helps me be sorry. It might not happen right away, but it begins the healing process, both internally and within the relationship. The same thing applies to "I forgive you;" you don't have to feel it, just know it's necessary.
The principle applies to a lot of things. I've found it especially helpful in matters of faith or ethics. Saying, "all people are valuable" might be a lie if we're judging by our feelings and inclinations, but if it is a faith claim - something we believe deep down (even if we don't feel it), it is still true. What's more, saying it helps us feel it.
A lot of people will say this is being fake. I tend to believe that accepting your feelings as determinative of your actions is being fake. That's not really who you are, it's just how you feel in the moment. Feelings change. Our core beliefs rarely do. In fact, I'd say speaking only out of our feelings betrays a belief that our feelings define us.
Your feelings do not define you. No one wants to be judged by their weakest moment (or their strongest, really - that's a lot to live up to). We want to be taken for who we really are.
I'm not saying feelings don't matter - and speaking them aloud is quite helpful. "I don't want to be in this room right now," or "I don't like you very much at the moment," can be positive steps to resolution. But the expression of our feelings does need to be accompanied by an expression of our belief. "I don't like you very much right now," needs to come with, "I love you and that will not change."
I hope my daughter learns to apologize. I hope we can convince her that it's healthier for her and for everyone else to use those words of calm and comfort easily. I hope she can learn early that her feelings do not define her, but for now, I'll enjoy my stubborn little girl and the fact she still wants to talk to me about everything.
In the end, though, as much as everyone says she acts like me, she's very much like her mom in this way. After a few hours of cooling off, I asked her again about the cheerios and what happened in the morning. I asked if she'd say, "Sorry." She smiled and said, "sorry, Dad," and went right back to playing as if it were no big deal.
I suppose I still have a few lessons to learn about how to argue, myself.
