Love in Disagreement

We can’t make the mistake of thinking that agreement is a sign of acceptance. It’s not. You can accept someone, and not agree with them on everything.

Likewise, we can’t think that because a friend voted for a politician, liked a celebrity or befriended another person that they agree 100% with everything that politician, celebrity or friend espouse. That’s ridiculous.

If we only loved people with whom we 100% agreed, we’d be alone

Such thinking is a false trap that keeps us isolated…and silent.

I posted this article on a social media platform. Basically, it says that one cannot be a Christian and a Wiccan at the same time. Something that I believe.

Later, I posted this article about the VA allowing Bibles back into their chapels (IKR?). I believe freedom of religion is noble.

I stated: ” Our own beliefs or lack of beliefs should never stop others from their own personal worship! Do I wish everyone chose the Bible? Yes. But, supporting religious freedom means allowing other people their personal space to practice the religion of their choice, or not practice any religion at all.”

A friend of mine commented on this post, stating: “I am sorry Cat, but you recently posted an article that was highly critical and VERY inaccurate about my religion and I can’t see how that was supporting religious freedom, but rather spreading fear and hatred of a religion.

She’s right that I posted it, but she’s wrong that I didn’t support her freedom of religion. The article I posted was written FOR Christians, espousing the belief that you cannot be a Wiccan and a Christian.

All religions eschew other religions, because you can’t simultaneously be one AND another. I believe with all my heart that you are FREE to practice whatever religion suits you and you are free to talk to others about it. But, I am ALSO free to talk to people about my religion and what I believe. I can support your FREEDOM to choose a religion, but that does not mean I must support your religion, in fact, I cannot support it based on the tenets of my own religion.

Allowing someone their freedom does not mean condoning their choices.

Christian pastor Rick Warren said it best: “Our culture has accepted two huge lies. The first is that if you disagree with someone’s lifestyle, you must fear or hate them. The second is that to love someone means you agree with everything they believe or do. Both are nonsense. You don’t have to compromise convictions to be compassionate.”

Hope Inside Me

I was on bedrest, lying on the couch. I had kissed hubby off to work, and my baby was kicking inside of me as I turned on the TV, which happened upon the WB. The screen showed a plane hitting the twin towers, and I thought, “What a stupid movie, that can’t happen in real life.” So, I switched stations. The same footage appeared on another channel, and another, and another…

We were on the West Coast. While we’d slept, the world had changed as we knew it, and we were waking up to the nightmare. Hope living inside me, in the form of a new life, while horror struck the nation.

We connected, because there was nothing else we could do, and we needed to hear our loved ones’ voices.  As thousands that day would never hear again.

Statue of Liberty and Twin Towers, World Trade Center at Sunset, New York City, New Jersey, New York

Phone calls to my sister, a few towns over. Updates from my husband in Silicon Valley. Word of my brother-in-law in San Francisco’s Union Square. Everyone told to go home. My dad in Iowa and mom in Arizona. Friends close by, and those scattered across the nation. We just needed to hear the voices. We needed to feel close.

Flights were landing with people stranded everywhere, and unimaginable death and pain in NYC, PA, and DC. Shock waves rippled through the states.

On the West Coast, we thought we were next. Who’s going to get it–Philadelphia, Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles, San Francisco…? We didn’t know. It was the unknown that kept us on edge. The military scrambled fighter jets.

And, later, silence. No more traffic on the roads, no more planes in the air. It was eerily quiet.

That evening, the comforting words of our President, sitting in the Oval Office, speaking to the nation brought us calm and a reminder of our own resilience as a nation. We were raw, we were spent, and we were in disbelief. We grieved, but somehow, we knew we’d prevail.  We knew we were made of tougher stuff.

And, today? We’re softer. And, we’re angrier. And we’re divided into a thousand factions, like pieces of glass from a vase slipped onto a tile floor. No more vase. No more unity.

I think of those flag-lined streets and I grieve for a time when having pride in American principles was a good thing. I grieve for a people who hugged others more tightly that day; who spoke to their neighbors more willingly; who didn’t take your prayers as a slam against their atheism and let you pray.

I yearn for a people who didn’t barricade themselves inside social media prisons and feed on trumped up anger and resentment toward others. I ache for people who didn’t decimate the honor of strangers in 40-characters-or-less under the guise of activism and righteousness. I long for a people who fact-checked and didn’t propagate lies or half-truths for their own benefit. I miss a people who didn’t easily jump on board with hit-pieces designed to inflict pain and suffering on others.

And, while I see the fury boiling over today, and I see the gasoline people pour on it, I pray for people to stop. To lay down their keyboards of destruction. To seek out peace not war. To build bridges, to find common ground, and harvest love and forgiveness.

And, I think of those flags, waving proudly in the front of houses down my street in San Jose, California, and I wonder what happened to us as a nation? How did we go from the phoenix rising from the ashes of the World Trade Center and communing with our neighbors, to calling our neighbors horrific names using abhorrent language?

Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” And, I think, people must hate themselves in the way they treat others.

But, I hold out hope. There is always hope.

Seven days after 9/11, my hope was born. She came pink and screaming into the world. And, maybe that’s how we’ll find our way back to each other: through the babies’ cries and hope for their future.

And, while my baby turns 17 years old this year, I still have hope inside me.

“’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” ~ Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)