I am a listener and a synthesizer — a “P” in Myers Briggs terms. This means I like to hear all sides of the story, get all the data, and take my time processing and making decisions. I’ve been trying to listen to people on all “sides” of the debate raging now in America: Straight conservative Christians, gay conservative Christians, progressive Christians, agnostics, the politically conservative and the politically liberal. I’ve been trying to resist the temptation to let my own leanings prevent me from really hearing people who I disagree with. It’s hard. There are a lot of hurting people in this debate. There has been a lot of collateral damage. I think Jen Hatmaker summed it up really well in her recent post, Where I Stand:

As I lay in bed, it was instantly and perfectly clear that the gay community has been spiritually beaten, stripped of dignity, robbed of humanity, and left for dead by much of the church. You need only look at the suicide rates, prevalence of self-harm, and the devastating pleas from ostracized gay people and those who love them to see what has plainly transpired.

Laying next to them, bloodied and bruised, are believers whose theology affirms homosexuality and allows them to stand alongside their gay friends. (Again, you don’t have to agree with this, but there are tens of thousands of thinking, studied people who hold this conviction.) The spiritual gutting of these brothers and sisters is nothing short of shameful. The mockery and dismissal and vitriol leveled at these folks is disgraceful.

Also wounded on the side of the road are Christians who sincerely love God and people and believe homosexuality is a sin, but they’ve been lumped in with the Big Loud Mean Voices unfairly. Painted as hateful intolerants, they are actually kind and loving and are simply trying to be faithful. The paintbrush is too wide, the indictments unfounded.

Jen is drawing, of course, on the parable of the Good Samaritan. In the parable, a group of robbers fell upon a traveler and beat him. Two respectable, religious men walked by on the other side of the road, ignoring the injured traveler. It was a Samaritan, an outcast and spiritual heretic who came along and helped him. I would suggest that the three groups above: the gay community, progressive Christians, and conservative Christians are not only the wounded travelers in the parable: We are also those called upon to help each other.

It’s hard when you yourself have been a victim of brutality, to realize that you actually have another role in the story. It’s hard to reach over from your place of pain to offer succor to the broken person next to you. It’s especially hard when he’s wearing the same clothes as the men who who beat you. But, here’s the thing: You’re wearing the same clothes as the men who beat him.

For what it’s worth, I just wanted to take this little post on my little blog to say: I hear you. All of you. Within all three of those groups listed above, I have friends and acquaintances who are sincere and loving and feeling brutalized. I feel it myself. I don’t quite know how to reach over and offer comfort yet, but I will do what I can for now, what I know how to do, and that is to listen. Thanks for reading.

A Friday ritual.

A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. Inspired by SouleMama and Daniela. If you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

The work weeks feel long and tiring lately. I have to drive to work now, whereas my last job I could walk to. It’s only a ten minute drive, but I hate it. I hate driving in the city. Especially when everyone else is driving to or from work, too, and half of us are running late. There are actually many moments of generosity and kindness, people letting other people cut in. I am always grateful for that, and try to be generous myself. But there are also many moments of rudeness, of pressure, of having to decide whether to jump out in traffic or to make all the people waiting behind you mad.

Basically it’s all the problems we people have getting along with each other, without the ability to communicate beyond honks and waves (and other gestures) and with the addition of loud, metallic, and potentially lethal encasings. If you are an introvert, which I am, and if you do not like making people angry (I don’t) or being treated unfairly (that neither), then driving to work in Boston may not be for you.

So it’s been a long week of work which I love but which is tiring, each day bookmarked by the aforementioned barreling around having dozens of stressful mini-interactions. But then I come home and it is Friday evening. Friday evening looks like this:

This the view *from* my chair. I am too tired to get up and take a picture of my actual chair.

Ah, quiet. Solitude. Well, not exactly, my housemate is a couple of rooms away. But he’s an introvert, too, so it works out well. We meet a few times an evening coming and going, and chat, and then go back to our respective corners.

One more picture before I sink even deeper into the relaxation of my Friday evening. A little bit of work that I don’t mind having followed me home: A cupcake tattoo, applied by six year old M. Happy weekending, everyone!

Pussy willows 2012

I took the baby to the Boston Nature Center today to check on the pussy willows. Yes, they are budding! This picture is from two years and one day ago. They are much taller now, and not quite as far along. Wish I’d had my camera with me.

We also saw: chickadees, woodpeckers, robins, tree swallows, red-winged blackbirds, Canada geese, mourning doves, and wild turkeys. The turkeys got scared of us and flew into a tree, which made the baby laugh.

The whiteboard at the office said that a merlin had been seen there last week. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one! I’d like to very much.