Of Angst and Reconciliation

Last week, amidst the growing cacophony of opinion following the Sandy Hook school shooting, I had an interesting conversation with an attorney friend of mine.  The topic du jour was gun control, a debate given new life following not only the events in Newtown, but also a raft of gun violence across the country in recent weeks and months.

The cries for reform have grown louder in the media and on my social networks.  Facebook (my personal universe barometer) reveals a very stark contrast between the two sides.  Some voices echo strongly Charlton Heston’s famous “From my cold dead hands” statements while others argue for the confiscation of most or all the firearms currently in private hands.  These two sides seem to be at an impasse – and each time one side voices its position, the other side is whipped into a frenzy of passionate rebuttal.

It’s the same kind of rhetoric that pushed me to start this blog last month, and it’s as predictable as it is exhausting.  But that’s not what I want to talk about today.

My friend, over the course of our conversation, expressed some fairly passionate opinions on the issue and seemed to be pressing, by the end of the conversation, for some kind of action that she could take to help make change happen.  There even seemed to be a hint of challenge in her words and her tone – a suggestion that people who talk but don’t act share some measure of culpability when bad (and perhaps preventable) things happen.

This got me to thinking.  My response at the time was that I feel too far removed from the intricacies of the problem, the history of the debate, and the wheels of power to get involved in any kind of meaningful way.  As honest and real as those reasons are, they felt kind of weak in the moment.

But I’ve had time to reflect since then.  In a society as large and complex and interconnected as ours it’s easy to feel like one’s voice – let alone one’s actions – is too small to have a real impact on our society.  We live in an age where it’s easy – and almost unavoidable – to get a lot of (often highly charged) information about today’s current events and hot topics and to get all riled up about the latest crisis.  For an avid news and information consumer like me this can lead to a lot of angst.

As I’ve reflected on my role my mind keeps coming back to the many young lives I’ve been privileged to impact through coaching.  I didn’t set out to be a ballroom coach because I felt passionate about gun control, women’s rights, access to education, gay rights, government entitlement/tax/fiscal policy or any number of other pressing social or political issues.  Nevertheless, I am hard pressed to think of a more effective way that I could have made a difference in all of these areas over the last 10 years than by serving in that capacity.  As a coach I have spent countless hours in groups and in one-on-one conversations speaking with young people about the problems and opportunities in their lives.  I can point to many doors opened and many perspectives broadened due in part to the influence that I have wielded.  While it is very rare that I preach any one side of an issue in those settings, I always do my best to leave my students feeling empowered and capable of tackling hard problems.

Evaluating and accepting my role in this big society is an ongoing exercise.  It’s something that’s certain to evolve and change over time.  For now I am content to leave the larger societal issues to those who are (hopefully!) more informed and who have the power or influence to make the right thing happen.  I will continue to support their efforts and try to stay informed and involved in the democratic process.  But I’m going to spend less time worrying about all the ways that I can’t possibly matter in this big puzzle and focus more on the areas where I just might make a difference.

Of Socks and Gratitude

I’ve been watching you for a couple of months now, little white sock.  You weren’t very remarkable at first, simply the latest in a long line of your brethren who’d come before – left outside near the trampoline by your owner after she enjoyed an afternoon romp with her friends.  Little did I know how different your fate would be.  Unlike so many other forgotten socks, your abandonment would last much longer.

The seasons sometimes change abruptly up here in Washington, and this was the case when our summer ended in early October this year.  Months of constant, glorious sunshine were quelled overnight as the gray rains settled in to stay.  This put an end to the bustle in our backyard and we’ve hardly ventured back out there since.

And so you have stayed there through cold, wet days and nights waiting in vain to be retrieved.  I noticed this morning that you’ve cuddled up with a dark brown leaf, long fallen from some lofty perch and wedged between you and the patio paver upon which you lie.  Both of you standing as soggy reminders of sunnier, warmer times gone by.

I wonder what you think each morning as the dark slowly gives way to our grim December days.  Does the morning light give you hope each day?  Do you wonder with each sunrise if perhaps this is the day that your outdoor adventure will come to an end?  Do you long for a happy reunion with a little girl’s foot?

I have to admit your presence has frustrated me at times.  I have often wondered why it remains so difficult - despite so many reminders - for your owners to take better care of you.  This summer there seemed to be a constant yard sale of goods and garbage on display back there on a daily basis.

Of course, on this particular morning as I was thinking about you it didn’t take long for the frustration to give way to gratitude.  Along with every parent in America, I’ve spent the last few days holding my children a little tighter.  I feel incredibly grateful for three beautiful children with big hearts who tonight are all healthy, safe, and warm in their beds.  I am grateful today for stray socks, messy rooms, loose teeth, fights over wearing tights with their dresses, fights over eating dinner, crying fits over tic-tac-toe games, and all the other frustrations that necessarily accompany parenthood.

My hope today is that I can do a better job of keeping this perspective in the challenging days, months, and years of parenting that lie ahead.  I am grateful for you, little sock, and all the innocence and life that you represent.