The More Things Change…

planet earth
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

In October, 1967, Louis Armstrong recorded his Grammy award-winning song, “What a Wonderful World.” The song has enjoyed regular air-time since then, and it piqued another generation’s interest when it was included in the movie, Good Morning, Vietnam in 1987.  I have heard it played at weddings and funerals. Oddly, as the song floats out over the air waves in the movie, we view huge explosions and terrified, fleeing people as gunfire and helicopters threaten to drown out the singer’s voice.

The imagery of the lyrics paints a picture of an idyllic society of mutual love and respect, of appreciation and care for the natural world. Fifty-two years after the release of “What a Wonderful World,” it is hard to believe, looking at the news or following social media, that anyone could ever even conceive of the world pictured in that sweet song. War, terrorism, corruption, torture, exploitation, human trafficking, poverty, slavery, ignorance, hatred, disease, division, lack of care, respect, understanding or even desire to seek justice and insist on freedom for all people – that is the reality of the world that surrounds us and threatens to engulf us. It is easy to become discouraged, to lose hope, to feel unease rather than peace and to see more darkness than light.

1987 was also my junior year of college, and to this day I am grateful to a Sociology professor who assigned a research project in the university library micro-fiche records. Since there was no internet yet, I spent hours poring over pictures of newspapers from the last two centuries. It was astounding! War, terrorism, corruption, torture, exploitation, murder, robbery, poverty, slavery, epidemics, ignorance, division, lack of care, respect, understanding, justice – change the dates and the newspapers told the same stories. That assignment encouraged us that there never were any “good old days,” no special golden time that had come and gone before we got here. Mankind seems to suffer the same ills throughout history. No matter which century we are in though, despite the problems, people are still marrying, still creating businesses, still starting families, still studying and learning and striving for a better life, still composing music, writing great literature, cooking delicious meals, looking up to the stars, planting gardens and vineyards, creating art, building homes, going fishing, laughing with friends, inventing, reflecting, singing, and living, every hour of every day.

Our technology may look a little different, but people are still just people, and the cliche still rings true. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

Be encouraged friends. We have not passed some great golden age, with our best days behind us. Do you wish for joy? Bring a smile to someone else’s face. Is your hope draining away? Count how many mornings you have awakened, how many steps you have taken, how many breaths you have drawn, and give thanks in anticipation of yet another, and another. Do you long for peace? Give up a grudge, extend or receive forgiveness, make a stranger your friend. Does the light elude you? Perhaps you are looking in the wrong direction, eclipsing the brightness before you. Turn your eyes to the blessings of the present, with gratitude for the past, and expectation for the next shining moment.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

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The Unexpected Stop

This past Saturday I attended a memorial service for a former student who took his life one week into the New Year. His mother told me he had Facetimed her the day before and they shared a three-hour conversation that basically boiled down to, “If I happened to die angry at God will I go to Hell?” She gave him all the comfort she could, explaining that God can handle our anger and He loves us no matter what we do or say or feel and that he could still go to Heaven just the same, no matter how he died and no matter how he was feeling at the time. He thanked her, closed the conversation with all the usuals, and ended the call.

The next morning he got up, washed and dried his laundry, rolled up all his clothes and tucked them neatly into drawers, took his father’s gun, went out in the woods behind his father’s house, sat down, and pulled the trigger. In the note he left his mom he explained that he was happy and that nothing anyone said would have changed the decision he had made, that he loved her and she had helped him have peace in his heart.

And for the rest of her life, she will hold onto those words of encouragement, cherishing them as a final gift from a broken son, who sought refuge in the thoughts and views of his now-broken-hearted mother. She, and he, are why I am starting 52 to a Brighter View.

Behavioral research scientists tell us we can break, or establish, a habit in thirty consecutive days of effort. I don’t know what habits this young man had. I have not seen him in five years. I know he enjoyed music, skateboarding and time with friends. To all appearances he seemed to be enjoying a ride many sixteen-year-olds would envy. I know a new habit his mom will have, and for many more than thirty days. She will question herself and her own choices in ways she never has, and reflect on her relationship with her two sons, with both ecstasy and agony.

I have to reflect too. When he was a student in my Social Studies class in sixth grade was there anything I said that put despair in his heart? Was there anything I said that caused him to lose hope? Did I encourage him in any way? Perhaps he hung on longer than he would have if we had never met. Just maybe I said something that lightened his load even briefly. Or maybe something I said was one of the proverbial straws that drove him to call out, “Stop!” before he reached his destination. There’s no way to know. He got off before I could find out. But I do know this. Words have power, and I want to use my words to encourage.

So. I hope you and I have thirty days in which to establish a habit of encouragement. I hope we have thirty weeks, maybe even thirty years. Let’s start with this year. Fifty-two weeks, each one the opportunity for a fresh start. I’ve lived long enough to know that they won’t all be happy or cheery or delightful. No rose-colored shades here. But I’ve also lived enough to know that we can feel joy as tears stream down our faces. We can experience hope in the midst of devastation. We can make peace when the world seems to be burning down around us. And we can find light in endless, darkest night.

Please join me each week, in pursuit of joy, hope, peace and light, as we encourage each other to A Brighter View in 52.