Saturday, July 25, 2015

Normal, Richard, and Cymbals.

I read books by Anne Lamott, Donald Miller, Malcolm Gladwell, Rachel Held Evans, Shane Claiborne, and Rob Bell.  

I get my news from NPR, John Stewart, John Oliver, and Vice.

Documentaries are my primary form of entertainment.  

I am a conscience consumer that buys fair trade and locally as much as is within my power.

This is my world.

You can piece together my politics and worldview for yourself.

Most of my life reinforces this normalcy for me.  Unconsciously, I surround myself with people that share these ideals.  

The occasional Facebook newsfeed reminds me that there are, in fact, other types of people in the world.  Sometimes my social media outlets jolt me into the realty that my insulated world isn't the reality for everyone.  

Typically, when I travel I find people that share my foundational beliefs about how the world works and how we are meant to operate within it.  It's safe to say that volunteers traveling to destitute villages, mountains, and deserts are there for the same reason.  Whether for the arts, for agriculture, for education, or for politics, we have common connecting points. Conversations are filled with language of empowerment, justice, ethics, and education. 

It's my normal all over the world. 

Then I met Richard. 

Richard is, well, a confusing character for me. 

(Photo credit - Summer Anderson)


I knew before meeting him that he would be one of the most interesting students in the camp.  I mean, he's 73 years old and no one else is much beyond thirty.  So I knew he would add a different perspective from before day one.

I had no idea just how different we would be.

It didn't take long. He made it clear from the first session that he wasn't a part of my normal.  I would give specific details on what exactly he said that day, and every day since, but I don't feel comfortable typing it.  It's bad.  It's really bad.  It's worse than Fox News bad. 

There are moments that my jaw drops, my face lands in my palm, and I can do nothing but shake my head. 

Richard is not my normal.  And I can't scroll past him to a more palatable opinion.  He is a part of my daily life and is unavoidable. 

But let me tell you something,  I don't want to avoid him. Richard has become a kind of a hero to me.  He is teaching me as much, if not more, than my like-minded friends.  

The man is the epitome of love. It overflows from his spirit.

He he gentle and compassionate and authentic and humble. He cares about every living thing around him. He listens to everyone's perspective and engages in thoughtful dialogue. He is willing to change his stance in the middle of a heated conversation. 

There are times, sometimes on a daily basis, that he is surrounded by young left-winged feminist that are angrily attacking him and his position.  He listens with attentive ears, taking it all in, never reacting to the emotion.  Just listening. 

He responds in gentleness.  Always. 

Sometimes he says, "I think you're wrong."
Sometimes he says, "I don't know what I think about that."
Sometimes he says, "I had never looked at it from that perspective before."
Sometimes he says, "I need to research that before I come to an opinion."

Meanwhile, my blood level is rising at an unhealthy rate, my face is bright red, and I'm nearly yelling.  

I don't get like this often, if ever.  It takes a certain type of right-winged conservative to bring it out of me.  It takes a reminder of the politics of my childhood to strike a certain chord within me.  

It's why I live in New York City and not the Midwest. 

It's easier to live in a cultural center where I am surrounded by my normal. 

I don't get this mad in my normal. 

But Richard is shattering my normal. 

I can't put him in a box. I can't fit him into my stereotype. 

I actually want to be around him. 

I want him to sit with me while I brew coffee on the fire. I want him to fill buckets of dirt with me while we work on the herb spiral in the garden. I want him to do dishes next to me after dinner every night. 

I want to be around him because I want to be like him.

He is the model of a loving servant. The very definition of how I want to be defined. 

He tells us stories about growing up in New Zealand and Australia.  He tells us about his mistakes and successes, he is open and unashamed about his life.  

He is the first one to offer his services, give of his time, open a door, give up his seat, listen to a story about your life, ask about your family, show interest in who you are, and relate to you on a purely human level.

He is the only one in this camp that stands on his side of the line and he is the first one to love everyone on the opposing side.

I want to be like that. 

I want to handle opposing viewpoints with grace.  I want to be the first to serve those that disagree with all that I stand for. 

I want to be someone that other people, especially people that are diametrically opposed to my core values, would choose to spend time with.

I want to be like Richard.

He is teaching me what I have always known - Love Wins.

It doesn't matter what I think about anything in this world.  If I don't love the way Richard loves, all of my acts of service will be no more than a clanging symbol.

I want loving like Richard to be my normal. 




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