I have a tiny following of wonderful souls who travel with me in my musings, and it’s always insightful to see what grabs their attention enough to warrant a comment or a question. My last post, Indivisible, seemed to be one of those that prompted a response. A collective nodding of heads. A shared recognition of the importance of, and the challenge of, maintaining our connection to one another through the thicks and thins of life’s ebbs and flows. To stay connected, come what may, because somewhere deep inside we know that if we allow ourselves to be separated from one another, what may come is something none of us wants.
The challenge of staying connected to those we love, to those with whom we share a life, an apartment, a friendship, a work project, a neighborhood, a classroom, a community, matters. And yet in this time of political upheaval, chaos, and growing division, doing that is hard work. Maybe some of the hardest work we’ll ever endeavor to do. But endeavor to do so we must if we as a country are to survive, much less thrive.
As is often true, the most important work usually begins close to home. It’s where we have the most to gain, and the most to lose. Which is why it matters so much. I can’t tell you how to do that in your own little corner of the world. I can only tell you that in mine it means choosing to show up and stick around. It means pulling up a chair and staying awhile, and inviting them to do the same. It means sharing a meal, offering to help, pitching in, finding the good and camping on that. It’s sending a text, a card, or an unexpected gift. It means finding common ground, and cultivating it so that understanding, beauty and goodness may grow. It means listening to them with a curious ear and not a suspicious one, knowing that none of us has it all right, and none of us has it all wrong. It’s taking steps, no matter how small, towards and not away from. It means staying quiet when to speak would throw fuel on a destructive fire. It’s opting out of the conversation when to stay in would do more harm than good. It means praying for them and playing with them, crying with them and for God’s sake, laughing with them. It means remembering shared histories, shared stories, and shared memories, and making more of them. It means daring to go first, to show them yours in the hopes that they’ll show you theirs.
Civil servants are front and center these days, and everyone seems to have an opinion about the value they add, or don’t, the good they do, or don’t, the contributions they make or the waste they create. But in America, aren’t we all civil servants? Aren’t we the people meant to serve one another, to be devoted and helpful supporters of the common good, and to do so in a civil and respectful manner? This is not just the work of our government. It’s our work too. The America I want to build will require the collective opening our hearts and ears and homes, setting longer tables and setting up wider tents, building bridges instead of walls, rolling up our patriotic sleeves and digging in and digging deep into American soil upon which we all stand and live and have our being. And it means that we will not, no matter what, allow ourselves to be torn asunder by hatred, fear, power or blame.
We. too, are America’s Civil Service, the essential workers needed to preserve, protect, and further our democracy. And no one can fire us, furlough us, or force our resignation.
Written with love, gratitude and deep respect for all those helping us stick together.
