The Rules of Grief

Recently I made a quick trip to South Dakota to attend my best friend’s father’s funeral. I lost my father 13 years ago, and as could be expected, this has brought many of those memories and feelings to the surface. At Christmas I visited his grave and was shocked that the minute I stepped out of the car, tears started flowing like he had died that day. Grief never truly dies down, we just learn to live with it like background noise.

My friend is learning some of the same things I learned 13 years ago. If you’ve never lost someone close, you are simply not prepared for how grief works and it brings shocks and surprised with each moment. There is confusion over how to react, and what the rules are. Here is the rule I learned from losing my dad.

Grief has no rules

Despite this one rule, there are still things to keep in mind when you, or someone you love, is in grief.

Every person grieves differently. Some hold it in. Some let it out. Some lash out. Some retreat into a shell of themselves. Some will move through the intense pain quickly and move back into life almost immediately. Some go for months or years, slow to let the loss go.

There is no right or wrong way to grieve. Grief is a combination of who you are, your relationship with the person who is gone, the circumstances in which they died, and your beliefs about life and death. Don’t judge yourself because you aren’t grieving the way others grieve, or get angry that someone else is doing it wrong. It is what it is, and to quote one of my favorite quotes from Tootsie, “I’m going to feel this way until I don’t feel this way anymore.”

Which brings me to the next thing to remember as you grieve – you are going to feel every emotion possible, one right after another. I think most who’ve never been through it assume someone who is grieving is sad for a long time, and then eventually they aren’t as sad anymore. Instead, a person who is grieving finds that one moment they are devastated. Then they feel they’ve worked through it and life is going no to be okay, and then in the next moment they are angry that the person left, and then moments later they are back to acceptance, then back to denial, then sadness, etc. Those 7 steps of grief never flow smoothly from one to another. You are all over the place like a tap-dancer on stairs. Don’t ever let yourself fall into the trap that you have closure, and have worked through the grief. It’s always waiting…

In amongst all the steps of grief, you are also going to experience joy, silliness, and laughter. This is almost immediately followed by guilt. How dare you have a moment of joy when someone you love is dead?!?! However, this too is completely natural and very human. We all have coping mechanisms and humor is one of them. A good screenwriter will sprinkle humor throughout a thriller, a drama, or even a bloody horror movie. The human mind needs moments of levity to break up horrible things, it’s just the way we are wired. Besides, the person you lost also loved you, and just as you wouldn’t want them to be sad, they wouldn’t want you to be sad. Grasp onto those light moments and let them carry you through the dark moments. Laugh with friends and loved ones, and celebrate the good memories you share.

Also, be forgiving – both to others and to yourself. When I lost my dad I kept thinking, “I don’t know what to do, I’ve never lost my dad before.” None of you have likely ever coped with the loss you are all experiencing. Things will come out of your mouth you will wish you could take back. You won’t feel certain as to what to do or say. It’s safe to say those around you feel the same way. Forgive mistakes quickly. Let it go and love those close to you.

There are probably other things to remember, but that is what came to mind during the trip. Hang on during a wild ride, don’t judge, share joy without guilt, and forgive quickly.miss someone

Get With it, Grandma

Let me start by saying, just so I don’t worry her, the title isn’t about you, mom. I’m saying this to myself.

Right now, I am my own worst enemy. I know I’m a good writer. I know I’m reasonably intellgent. With just those two traits, I could be making money writing on the internet, and yet, in the past year, I have not even attempted this feat.

Why?

Because I don’t want to write the way I need to write if I’m going to write for the internet. In other words, I’m being stubborn.

Here’s the problem. With dating and writing, you get two conflicting sets of advice. The most common advice the single person and writer gets is: Be yourself. However, this is then followed with a hundred gazillion rules you should follow if you want to be successful. So what is it? Follow these rules, or be myself?

A couple of years ago I entered a flash fiction contest. We had 750 words to tell a story, The excercise was inspiring, and I felt I turned in a very creative and fun story. Then I read the winner’s entries. It was so confusing. They didn’t tell a coherent story. They didn’t even really follow some of the rules of the contest. It was like they picked the one with the most bizarre content. I didn’t enter another one, because I figured I was completely out of step with current trends.

It’s true for internet writing as well. The current trend is to fill your writing with SEO (Searh Engine Optimization) words. In other words, fill your page with words that will be found when someone is searching the internet. That’s how you get hits. That’s how you get readers.

It’s also necessary to keep it short for today’s short-attention-span reader. I wrote an article about meditation and gave it to a friend who is big in social media to read. Her response, “That might be the best article I’ve ever read on meditation, now cut it in half and put in a list.”

Aaaaaaahhhhhh! I do not want to be a part of the dumbing down of America.

So what do I do? If I write with my voice and if I’m myself, I will continue to write blogs like this one – not optimized for searching, not filled with cute lists that people can scan quickly, and probably getting very few readers.

The Yahoo Style guide sits on my shelf – a book that would teach me all I probably need to know about writing for the internet. I read it once, and despite a 4.0 in college, I didn’t grasp it, probably because I didn’t want to grasp it. I want to write how I write.

Is that so wrong? I mean, writers spend years finding their voice? Why bother when we’re just going to have to write in another voice?

Would it make more sense for me to continue to write in my style, perhaps drawing other readers who are sick of the style the internet has imposed on us, but likely drawing none because they never find me? I don’t know. Probably I just need to “get with it, grandma,” and learn to write like the kids these days want to read.

Tell me your thoughts. Are you a skimming list reader? Or do you prefer to put in a little effort and read some well-constructed prose from time to time?

I guess I will face my stubborness and pull out the style guide. Hopefully this old dog can learn a new trick.

 

 

Homeless

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about home. The other night I was driving “home” to a house I rent in a town where I was a stranger a year ago. The road to and from work has already become familiar enough that I can mindlessly drive it, but put me on a road just a few blocks away, and I would be in completely unfamiliar territory. In fact, most of the city is still a mystery. How can I call that home? Do I have a home?

According to Mirriam-Webster, home is a place where one lives. Simple. If that’s the case, then yes, my home is the rented house in a new town. However, the word ‘home’ is filled with so much more meaning in our culture than that simple definition. Sanctuary, refuge, a safe place where you can be yourself – that is all tied into the word ‘home.’

Then there’s “home is where the heart is.” That’s a lovely sentiment, but without my own family or spouse, it still leaves me drifting. It leads right back to asking myself, “What is home, and do I have one?”

Is home the farm where I grew up? That one was easy. No. In fact, I felt so out of place in my community, school, and even family that from the moment I knew I could go somewhere else, I started dreaming of my escape.

At 17 I made that escape to college, and never looked back. I felt I belonged in my college community, and reveled in the friendships I made there that have lasted a lifetime. It’s good to visit those friends, and there is a sense of coming home to people who know me, but it’s still not home.

Perhaps my home is Los Angeles, where I lived longer than any other place. However, in a city of millions, I was no one’s priority, and when I needed help I was usually on my own. Life there felt like a 25 year walk on a tightrope without a net. There was no place of refuge – no soft place to land. When I think of going home, LA definitely does not come to mind.

Which brings me here. Is Missouri home? For the moment it is. It’s where my bed is. It’s where my stuff is. I feel accepted and supported. If I were to fall, there are people who would try to catch me. It’s where my rented house actually provides me security and a safe place to be. But is it home? I’m not sure.

Looking back over my life, I realize that my early experiences of not fitting in have sent me on a lifelong quest to find home. Perhaps it is one of those journeys where I will realize one day that I was always home. The only thing I know for sure is that If I were Dorothy, and clicked my heels while repeating, “there’s no place like home” I have no idea where I would wake up. For now, Missouri will do, and with time perhaps it will become home.

Where is your home? What makes it home to you? What wisdom can you share about finding home?

Wading Through

Well, we did it. We muddled through the holidays and made it to the other side. Thank goodness we don’t have to do that again for another year.

Sometimes lessons seem to come in clumps, and lately the clump I’ve been dealing with is wading through the muck. Just keep moving forward and eventually you make it through to solid, and usually better ground.

The first noticed lesson on this subject was when I went back to college at 48 years of age. In some ways it was incredibly easy because I was finally studying a subject I loved. In another way it was incredibly difficult because I hadn’t read critically or written an essay in almost 30 years. Week after week I would face an assignment, tell myself I just couldn’t do it, and contemplate dropping out of the class and trying it again later. Week after week I would realize that would set me back from my desired graduation date and I would give it another try. Week after week I waded through the muck and felt proud of the papers I turned in. It became obvious that if I was willing to wade, there wasn’t much I couldn’t accomplish.

When I decided to pick up and move, I knew there would be a lot to coordinate to make that happen. It was overwhelming. It was scary. So many decisions to make. So much hard work ahead. So much upheaval to go through. I just knew I wanted what was on the other side of that upheaval more than I wanted to continue where I was. So I made one decision at a time, dealt with one unpleasant task after another, and surfed the waves of upheaval. I slogged through the muck, and somehow made it all happen, and pretty smoothly, too.

Most recently I discovered the power of the wade in my writing. Here’s how it goes for me with story inspiration — the idea hits. There’s a brain high that goes with that. The mind starts playing out the story. It seems fresh, original, exciting, and I can’t wait to tell this story. Then, as the high fades, reality sets in. Some of those ideas I had under the influence of an idea are ridiculous and won’t work. When I find enough that does work, I can start. However, once it becomes a daily slog through the muck, it becomes more like work. The excitement fades. It’s just trying to add more to the word count every day.

A couple of months ago, as often happens at this low point in story telling, I got hit with another idea for a book. That idea high kicked in. I wanted to jump ship on the boring slog, and start working right away on the new idea. Thankfully I have enough experience under my belt to know that would be foolish. I’d hit the slog soon enough with the new idea.

So I waded through. Day after day, step by step. Not to say I didn’t do a little research on the side for the new idea, but I didn’t stop working on the old idea. Miracle of miracles, there was an end to the muck, and I didn’t have to wait to finish writing the book.

No, right in the middle of the muck I hit solid ground. I got to the point where I can’t wait to write, because I can’t wait to hear the next bit of the story. With screenwriting I had become a slave to a pre-planned, intricately outlined story to assure I hit all the right beats. Stephen King’s book, “On Writing” took me in another direction, one where you let the story tell itself. I think I’m beginning to master that process, because I’m really and truly excited to know what happens next. Such an exhilarating feeling. Last weekend I discovered a character that I’d included… for what reason, I had no idea. I often considered cutting him… this character was vital to the story, and would have a major character arc. Who knew? The power of organic story-telling is heady.

I think I’m finally getting it. No matter how hard the road ahead seems. No matter how much you want to just give up and crawl in bed and cry, if what you want is across the muck, it’s totally worth it. Put on your hip waders, take one step at a time, over and over and over and over. The goal is always attainable, if you’re just willing to wade through.

Happy New Year’s Eve Every Day

Today is the day we Earthlings have arbitrarily decided is the end of one period and the start of a new one. It would probably make more sense to choose the Winter Solstice. That is the day the earth begins to turn it’s northern hemisphere, where we live, back to the sun. However, the pre-Christian Romans chose this day to honor Janus, the God of new beginnings. Then when Pope Gregory XIII came along, he took over that day to remember the naming and circumcision of Jesus, despite the fact that it probably didn’t happen on that day at all. So here we are, celebrating a day as the end of one year and the start of a new year, and pretending somehow that tomorrow will be so very different than today because we use 2016 at the end of the date.

Many people use this arbitrary day to start over, set goals, and make resolutions for what they want to accomplish. It’s a noble endeavor, other than the fact that most of us never really start over, our goals fall away, and those resolutions get broken almost immediately. We just keep doing more of the same, over and over.

I went into 2015 knowing that wouldn’t be the case for me. I had known for some time that our show was ending. I knew there might be a possibility of continuing there, but I also knew that would mean the end of who I truly was. I would be lost forever. Because I had time to make other plans, I was able to set a new course. Looking back, I can see how it all came off as planned, but of course last year at this time, I had no idea if it would work out. I planned to sell my house, but you never know if that will work out. I planned to move across the country, but had no idea if I would really like it in Missouri. I worried that I had been so unhappy for so long that it had become a part of me. I looked forward to 2015 with excitement and some fear.

Now looking back over the past 365 days, the job did end, the house did sell, I did love Missouri, and most thankfully of all, the unhappiness fell away almost instantly and I recovered my true happy, optimistic nature with ease.

Looking forward, I hope the next 365 days brings a cessation of sugar eating, better water intake, less fast food, more exercise and generally better health. I also plan to finish my novel and begin the process of publishing it.

There is no magic about tomorrow. I could have been, and have been, starting those goals now… Well, not the no-sugar thing, but I admit I am weak when it comes to traditional family-made Christmas treats. And the cold weather while visiting family in the frozen tundra didn’t help with exercising. I don’t do frigid cold, which is a big part of why I didn’t move closer to home.

At the end of this arbitrary period, we all look back on the past year and reflect on what we did with the time. It’s over. We can’t change it. We can only accept and learn from it. Yet today, and every day from here on out, we will be creating our year. Our goals and resolutions are long term, but we must not forget that these grand goals are only accomplished day by day. What will you look back on? What will you do? Who will you be? Each choice you make will create the New Year’s Eve you have next year. As stated in the song Unwritten – “Today is where your book begins, The rest is still unwritten.” Write your book well.

So happy new year’s day today and every day. It’s where your next New Year’s Eve reflections will come from. Make it one you’ll be happy with.

Let it Begin With Me

The holidays are stressful. No doubt about it. Money flowing out. Time running short. Obligatory gatherings to attend. Food to be made. Charities asking for donations. Dealing with others who explode with stress. Crowds. Rushing. Traffic. On top of that is the pressure to appear full of holiday spirit or be labelled a Scrooge. It’s enough to make anyone want to utter a few choice swear words, crawl in a hole, and perhaps emerge about the time Punxsutawney Phil comes out. Bah humbug.

Whille I’m generally less stressed than I have been other years, I can also feel the gathering holiday storm. The general atmosphere in the country isn’t helping my mood. The ignorance, fear, hatred, and racism that is bubbling to the surface of this nation is alarming. Has it been there all along? I know I’m exacerbating my horror by reading comments of online articles, but is it better to not be aware of what my fellow citizens are thinking?

Last week, Brian D. McLaren posted an open letter addressing guns and Christianity. He spoke with the voice of Christianity that I remembered as a child. You know, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.” (Matthew 5:9) And just 30 verses later, “But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” Or another 5 verses after that, “You have heard that it was said, ‘YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR and hate your enemy.’ 44“But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven;”

This is the Christianity I was raised with and the article gave me hope… until I made the mistake of reading the comments. With few exceptions, there was nothing but anger returned to the author. Luke 22:36 was the most quoted verse, “He said to them, “But now if you have a purse, take it, and also a bag; and if you don’t have a sword, sell your cloak and buy one.” All I can say is, “Oy vey.”

Years ago a niece asked me for help with a debate on the death penalty. One piece of advice I gave was not to use the Bible to argue her position, because people can warp and twist the Bible to find just about any meaning they want within its pages. That is exactly what has been done with this one verse – the only one in the entire book they can find to defend their position, I might add. There is not one serious scholar who has read the original text and put it within context of the story who would say that Jesus is advocating for violent defense of oneself.

One of the most disheartening and revealing comments came from someone who said something like, “This author isn’t living in the real world. When the terrorists come for his family, he’ll wish he had a gun.” I see. I didn’t realize that Christ’s message wasn’t for the real world. I actually was foolish enough to think that’s exactly what his message was for – A radical message of peace and love for a chaotic and violent world.

The message I’m getting from the conservative wing of modern American Christianity is – follow Christ and his teachings until it conflicts with the “real” world, then follow your fear. What kind of faith is that? To them, nothing is more important than physical self-preservation even though this also goes against Matthew 10:28 – “Don’t be afraid of those who want to kill your body; they cannot touch your soul.” It seems to me, people who feel assured of the rewards of heaven, would be willing to lay down their lives to live their beliefs, rather than put that reward at risk by betraying them.

When I was a kid, our pastor told us a modern parable: In the middle of church, two masked men came in with rifles and held the congregation hostage. They demanded that all those who were born-again Christians line up at the front of the church, and everybody else should leave. About 3/4 of the people left, and once they were gone, the gunmen took off their masks, put down their guns, and said, “Okay, brothers and sisters, now let’s worship for real.” They were weeding out the true believers from the pew-sitters by finding those who were willing to lay down their lives for their beliefs. Those people had found a peace that passes all understanding. They had faith in something greater than their physical lives. They were living the radical message of Jesus.

One of my favorite Christmas songs is “Let There be Peace on Earth.” It follows that wish with personal responsibility, “and let it begin with me.” It’s not, “let it begin with my enemies surrendering,” or “let it begin with the death of terrorists,” or “let it begin after I kill those who threaten me.”

No, it’s “let it begin with me.”

In this season celebrating peace, the only wish I have is that people begin to take to heart the lyrics they’re singing. Since I can’t change them, I’ll take my own advice – I choose peace.

The Joy of Writing

It seems my posts have been a little heavy lately, so I will change things up a bit and talk about the joy of writing. Quite often I’ll read an interview with a successful writer, and am amazed when they talk about how much they hate writing. They complain about what a painful process it is, and describe their misery. James Joyce said, “Writing in English is the most ingenious torture ever devised for sins committed in previous lives.” I always want to ask writers who hate writing why they do it if it’s so painful. Seriously, isn’t there something out there they enjoy doing more? Why don’t they do that? Just because you’re good at something, doesn’t mean you have to do it. Thank goodness, or I’d still be a teleprompter operator.

Now, I’ll admit that writing isn’t always easy. It requires a great deal of discipline, and that’s something I struggle with. There are times that inspiration seems as rare as tolerance at a Tea Party gathering, and that’s when the mental struggles begin. Am I a fraud? Am I fooling myself? Should I find a new passion? A new dream? Is there any point to this? Yes, that is painful, but that has to do with doubts, not writing.

And honestly, that’s about as unpleasant as writing gets for me. Thankfully the joys are much more numerous. First, there’s the initial jolt of a great story dropping into your brain. For me it has come while watching a TV commercial, an interview about politics, a news article, or from an offhand comment I overhear at a table next to me. When it hits, it’s overwhelming. Conversations, reading, TV, and all thoughts of anything else are brought to a grinding halt. The brain wants to do nothing more than roll that story idea around. It’s play time!

That kernel of an idea leads to the glorious question, “What if…” What ifs are fantastic! They’re exhilirating. For someone who loves stories it’s like a kid walking into a toy store and being told they can have anything and everything they want. The mind starts running down aisles and grabbing things off the shelf. Sometimes when you get something into the cart, you realize it isn’t what you want, and it goes back on the shelf, but all the possibilities are what fill those moments with utter joy.

Eventually the cart is full of all the right things and I sit down in front of the computer. This is where the work comes in. Translating that glorious idea into words that others will enjoy is hard. There are so many things to keep in mind. What voice? Whose story? Building conflict. Changing values. Character arcs. Layers of meaning. Story structure. A satisfying conclusion. You have to juggle all the elements of a story while not losing that initial spark and inspiration of the original idea.

Hard work? Yes. As painful as enhanced interrogations? Not even close, I would imagine.

The other day I’d reached a point in the story where I really wasn’t sure what came next. I hadn’t had adequate daydreaming time to figure out exactly how the villain was going to proceed with his plans. There have been times that means I just don’t write. After all, if I don’t know what to write, what is there to write? But this day I forced myself to sit and write anyway. Granted, I did my best to procrastinate a bit, but eventually I just sat and stared at the page on the screen. I put myself into the character’s place, and imagined what I might do if I were them. Suddenly, as if dropped like a gift from the sky, it was all so obvious. Not only did it make sense to move the story forward, but I discovered an entire layer of deeper meaning to add to the theme of the book. I happily spent the next few hours putting those ideas on the page and watching them come to life. Utter joy!

Yes, it was a struggle to get there, but the joy that followed from breaking through made it seem like a minor anoyance. Perhaps that’s how women who give birth feel. Perhaps there wouldn’t be that joy if there weren’t that struggle. The joy is so much greater than the pain, and I don’t understand talented writers who say otherwise. Maybe that means I’m not as talented as they are. All I know is that I’m grateful that I have a talent and passion for something that makes me happy.

Hearing the story first is a priceless gift, transcribing it for others is a fantastic adventure. Being allowed to pursue this career – all joy.

Write on!

 

Full of Thanks

A year ago for Christmas, a friend of mine gave me a gratitude jar. Every time I was grateful I was to write my gratitude on a slip of paper and put it in the jar. At the end of the year, I could look back over everything for which I was grateful. I’m sorry to say that jar stands on my bookshelf empty. (Sorry, Tana.) However, it is not because I was not grateful. If I’d actually followed through, the jar I was given couldn’t possibly have held all the paper slips I would have put into it. A gallon jar, maybe.

I am so very thankful. Lately I find myself thankful for the most basic things. We’ve had some rain, and it made me so grateful that I can afford a warm and dry home. This is not a “yada yada yada, I need to try to be grateful” thought. I am sincerely thankful for the financial resources to have rented a decent house. That has not always been the case. There was a house in LA that I loved simply because it was a house with a yard and I’d been living in apartments. House is being generous. It was a shack. The roof leaked. There was missing siding, and that, combined with the cracked drywall, meant that there was a breeze in my bedroom. No central air or heat. No insulation. Threadbare carpet. Mold under the curling linoleum. I lived that way for 15 years because it was the only way I could afford to live in a house in LA. Now I appreciate a home with a solid roof and walls, and the ability to pay for it more than I ever would have if I’d never lived in that shack.

I am thankful for the people here who welcomed me as if I was a friend who’d been away for a few years and had come home. Uprooting 25 years of life and starting over is absolutely terrifying. They made it seem effortless. I am grateful for each and every person who has graced my life with their friendship and made me feel instantly at home.

There is immense thanksgiving for a job I love. Six months ago I was struggling to learn the names of our clients and put them together with faces. Now I know the names and faces, and enjoy seeing them whenever they come in to work out. Work is a constant flow of friendly faces sharing stories, jokes, and laughs.

Even more, I am thankful work provides variety and outlets for creativity. Years ago I was watching an episode of the Daily Show where they were saying goodbye to a producer who was moving on to another show. Jon Stewart described how he started at the bottom, was really good at what he did, and they thought, “Huh, I wonder if he’d be good at this, too. And he was.” And that happened over and over again until he was producing. As he told that story, I literally started to sob. That was the experience I thought I would have at CBS. I thought when I got to a national network, and people saw me as hard working, responsible, and pleasant, they’d think, “Huh, yeah, she’s good at prompting, but I bet she’d be good at this, too.” And up, up, up and away I’d go. Instead what I experienced was, “She’s really good at this thing and other people aren’t always so good. She’s dependable. She does whatever we ask. Since it makes our lives easier if she keeps prompting, let’s make sure she keeps doing that.” It felt like such a betrayal, though I’ve since learned that’s standard operating procedure there. Why, I have no idea. Seems very short sighted. Anyway, I am now in a situation much closer to the Daily Show.  Yes, some of my duties include taking out the trash, invoicing clients, collecting money, and answering the phone. However, I know on any given day I might be asked to write a press release, or design a flyer, or take on a task that my boss believes I can handle even though I’ve never done it before. Shoot, they even got me to be on camera in a comedy sketch. Work is challenging. There are possibilities. Having been without it for 20 years, I am so thankful for that!

The list could go on and on and on and on and I could probably do a paragraph on each thing I’m thankful for. I’ve come to realize that the things I’ve listed here, and many others, are all the sweeter because I have been without them. So, the very final slip of paper I’d put in this year’s gallon jar of gratitude is for those periods of lack. It’s not something I could have done at the time, but now I see that they have given me much of my joy today.

So, today I am full of thanks… and pumpkin pie… but mostly thanks. May you be as well.

And Tana, next year, I promise… I’ll start actually filling the jar.

Happy Unholy Days

Wading into religious controversy is a foolish thing to do, and not good for building blog readership. I guess I am a fool.

Just like the Christmas decorations being put out earlier and earlier, the supposed war on Christmas is starting earlier and earlier. Ironic, isn’t it? This year’s target is Starbucks for having the audacity to choose a simple red cup for the holiday season. Oh my! How diabolical! This ruins everything! I mean, taking the reindeer, snowmen, and snowflakes off from last year’s cup is such a slap in the face to Christians everywhere. Right?

An oft repeated phrase is, “Today’s Republican party is not my father’s Republican party.” Well, there’s a new one to add to that list. Today’s Christian church is not my father’s Christian church. The evangicals have hijacked it, along with the Republican party. There are plenty of very good Christian people trying very hard to live the example of Christ, but just like moderate Muslims, their voice is often drowned out by the attention seeking evangelicals.

Remember when Bing Crosby sang, “Happy Holiday” and nobody batted an eye? Today they would be boycotting Bing, which perhaps they should have done all those years ago, but for completely different reasons. And the movie “Holiday Inn”… well, until Irving Berlin changed it to “Christmas Inn” no evangelical would have dared pay the price of entry to see it.

I know it’s an uncomfortable truth for evangelicals, but not everyone on the planet is a Christian and not everyone celebrates Christmas. If you do, and you want to say Merry Christmas to everyone, go for it. And if you’re Jewish and want to wish everyone a Happy Hanukkah, go for it. And if you are someone who wants to include all people in your greeting and simply say, Happy Holy Day (where holiday comes from) then say to your heart’s content. A kind greeting to a fellow human being should be our top priority, in whatever form it takes.

One of the arguments from the man who started the Starbucks kerfuffle is that today’s overly PC world, Starbucks is trying to hard not to offend people, which he thinks is dumb. BUT, by doing that they’re offending Christians, which he links to persecution. Okay, so offending others… fine. Offending Christians… persecution. Everyone thinks that the thing they’re offended by should be changed, but when someone else is offended, they should just get over it. Um… yeah… that’s just stupid. Sorry if I’ve offended you. Not. His response that Christians should go to Starbucks, but they should open carry weapons… yeah, because that’s what Christmas and Christ is all about. Weaponry. Sorry, I’ll take the red cup as my Christmas symbol over a weapon designed to kill.

Remember playing with that one kid who insisted all the toys were theirs and if they didn’t get their way all the time they threw a tantrum? I think they all grew up to be evangelicals.

Next year I think Starbucks should choose a Hanukkah blue cup. I highly doubt the Jewish community would complain that the words “Happy Hanukkah” weren’t printed on the cup. There would be an attitude of gratitude that their Holy Day was acknowledged and celebrated.

A faith’s best witness is the behavior of it’s followers. In a season that is supposed to celebrate peace, love, salvation, and compassion, if you’re upset about how someone chooses to greet others, or how multi-national companies attempt to include everyone in the joy and celebration, perhaps the reason for the season hasn’t gone very deep into your heart.

 

OMG, did you hear about…

Such a common phrase. We hear it, and immediately we’re all ears. What juicy gossip is about to be shared? How exciting!

Gossip. We all do it. In fact, that’s the excuse used when someone is busted for gossiping. “Well, everyone does it. What’s the big deal?”

Recently I’ve been contemplating gossip and the role of reality TV in the habit. Back before DVRs, when TV was watched mostly live, reality shows provided an excellent outlet for gossip. We could sit around at work and talk about these ridiculous people and their ridiculous behavior. We could hash out what they did, what we think they should have done, and what we imagine we would have done, without consequences. It was as if there was an invisible contract. They were paid a lot of money, and now we get to gossip about them.

However, once people began recording to watch later, those conversations came to an end. You might excitedly start out with, “Hey, did you hear about what X did on X?” and someone would immediately stick their fingers in their ears and say, “La la la la! I haven’t watched it yet.” “Safe gossiping” all but came to an end. Suddenly we were looking at these people we work with and realized we no longer had much to talk about. After all, we were all there because we had a common job, not because we had common interests. So what did we do? If your workplace was like my last one, we fell into gossipping about each other. Reality shows did relieve workplace gossip for awhile, but it eventually made it so much easier to tolerate. It’s what we knew how to do. It’s what we had in common.

To the gossipper, it seems so innocuous. Actually, it’s better than that. It seems great. You’ve got an audience eating up every word. You’re the star. You’re showing how “in” you are by showing how “out” they are. Even the listeners feel better about themselves because after all, they are not being talked about. They’re included in the “can you believe this” group, which means the gossiper thinks they’re cool. And then, if they can add a bit of gossip themself, they become the star and the “in” person.

The incentives to gossip are plentiful and we all fall into the trap. I was as guilty as the next person for all the reasons listed above. There was a sense of power when I was the person who had information to share. I felt safe as long as I was included in the gossipping, because that meant they weren’t talking about me… until I left the room and they were. It was then that I understood the damage we were doing to each other. I stopped taking part, which left me completley out of the circle. I sat back and watched my coworkers cannibalize each other. Everyone would be in the room laughing and getting along, one person would leave, and suddenly the gossip would start about them. Then when they walked back in the room, the conversation turned light and fluffy again. It doesn’t take many brain cells to realize that you might be safe in the circle for the moment, but the minute you left, you would be fodder for their entertainment.

In that situation, trust evaporates. It doesn’t feel safe to say or do anything. You look at every person wondering what they’ve been saying about you and what they will say about you. In some cases, what they are saying gets back to you, and then… friendships die. When no one even tries to verify the truth, and immediately accept the gossip as gospel, the wounds go even deeper. They didn’t even question it? Really? That’s how little they think of me? As it says in Proverbs 16:28 “A perverse man spreads strife, And a slanderer separates intimate friends.”

How many times have we seen a news reporter, who is trained to ask “what, when, why, where, and how” as well as research the facts, get it wrong. They don’t consider an angle or understand all the motivations in the situation. Then we hear the whole story and suddenly we think, “Oh, now that makes sense!” Coworkers and friends don’t do that kind of work in their information gathering, yet people assume they’ve got all the facts. For instance: “Did you hear he blew through his mother’s inheritance in a year? How stupid could he be.” Then you find out the person spent the money to help a sick friend, and rather than being stupid, the man was a saint. The gossipper generally doesn’t have all the facts, but we like to believe they do, so we can judge someone else and feel superior.

Would we want our story represented like that… only sharing the negative and not looking at all the facts – or someone not taking into account all the motivations that led to the behavior? Of course not, so we need to stop doing it to each other. Gossip is an infection that does nothing but destroy. Since we spend so much time at work talking with coworkers, there will always be some discussion about each other. Sometimes there are issues that need to be discussed and sorted out. How do we avoid the pitfalls of gossip? How do we know when we’ve left the realm of discussing work and entered into the destructive habit of gossip? In an article worth reading titled “The Danger of Workplace Gossip,” Mary Abbajay states, “If the discussion is hurtful or damaging or negative, then yes, it is gossip… …If the story is told with negativity and without good will, then it’s gossip.”

Next time you start talking about someone, there are 3 simple questions to ask youself before you speak – Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind? If the answer to any of those is “no,” keep it to yourself. I’m working on that, but still have a long way to go. It’s a tough standard to live up to, but our workplaces and friendships would be better off for the attempt.

 

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