Sadly, I'm Going to do Absolutely Nothing!

"Mommy."

"Yes Papa." I call him papa even though he's my son. It's a hispanic thing.

"You know the neighborhood our church is in?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"There's a lot of ugly houses there."

"Why do you say that?"

 "They don't mow their lawns." There was a long pause.

"Well, why do you think they don't mow their lawns?"

"I don't know....They must be lazy."

"Did you ever think they might not be lazy but have trouble keeping up their properties? You know Eldest, it takes a lot of time and money to keep up the outside and inside of a house. A lot of these people don't have the money to buy fancy lawn mowers or pretty flowers to plant in the ground." I know this because I'm ready to pull my hair out over all the upkeep (money and labor-wise) that it has taken to make our rental house a home. Another long pause.

"Mommy."

"Yes Papa." It's not odd for me to call him papa. But I do realize to some of my whiter friends, it's foreign enough that their children have adopted saying it when I'm not around to each other; like a novelty word. It's cute.

"Well, can we help them? Can we get the church together and help them mow their lawns?" Another long pause.

"Yes we can. That would be a good idea."

"Yes! We can take the lawn mower and the one we borrowed and everyone else who has a lawnmower can get theirs and mow their lawns."

"We could."

Tending to a lawn/garden is no joke. Even if you're dong
it on a dime, it's still expensive and a lot of sweat equity! 

I said those last words knowing I wasn't going to try to put this into action or mention it to anyone at church who could help make it happen. I gave that open answer to protect him from church politics and paperwork and endless email threads "ironing out" the logistics of it all.I lied to preserve the un-jadedness of my seven year old. I lied to allow him to keep thinking that he can do anything; that anything is possible. I love his innocent ambition; the way he can want to save a neighborhood through mowing lawns and then sneakily hit his brother out of anger over of all things, a paper airplane.

In this way, I'm very American. I find myself listening to news radio or watching T.V. and being outraged or heartbroken about the things I hear and see. If I'm close to, or on my period, my hormones may just muster up some fat, juicy tears. There is a little activist that lives in me but it's been smited by comfort, familial responsibility, logic, fear, and reason. I could blog about it or comment on on a thousand articles, but if I have no action to back it up, I am nothing more than a clanging gong. I've yet to find a cause that has propelled me to jump from my couch and shake my fist at or sing protest songs about. But when I do, watch out!

I'd love to make a difference but that means putting my neck on the line, being uncomfortable, and possibly putting myself in danger. Who wants to be endangered? We have a whole bunch of cuddly animals in zoos because we're trying to make them not "endangered" so I would think my human life is more valuable than that of a koala or lioness.

Today a Malaysian commercial plane carrying nearly 300 people was shot down while flying across Ukrainian airspace. I was fixed on this story. I was tempted to write something on Facebook- "Please keep all involved in this horrible tragedy in your prayers." or "Heartbroken for all those involved in the Malaysia Air plane crash." But for what? Why bother to post some heartfelt sentiment? I'm going to do absolutely nothing about my feeling.

I camped out at CNN for a while to see if there were going to be any more "breaking developments". But then my attention waned and I glanced at my Mac to check Facebook, and watched a video about how to turn an orange into an 8-hour candle. I can say with a tremendous amount of confidence, that if I'm ever in a position where I would need emergency light, I probably would not be able to MacGyver an orange into a candle! Don't they tell you not to open your refrigerator when the power goes out as not to allow your food to spoil?!? There are almost 300 people dead on the ground, in pieces, burning up in real time in Ukraine and I'm watching rudimentary candle-making tutorials! God in Heaven what is wrong with me?!?????

I feel ashamed as I write this. I know there are other good-hearted couch potato activists out there with lots of ideas and opinions and ideals about what's going on in our world but will never do a damned thing about anything. I eat, drink, and am merry while others right now as we speak live in constant fear of losing EVERYTHING- their dignity, lives; or worse, the lives of their children. I unassumingly write when some girls can't. And if they dare to speak up, they might be shot in the face. But yet I sit and wait for absolutely nothing to happen. The last time I felt an iota of fear was Sept. 12, 2001. That lasted about a week. Then I went back to business as usual.

Today, my son's simple request has shamed me. Shame on me. I need to talk to myself and let me know that I can still do anything. I can help. My voice is good for something. My hands can be vessels of change. I have to remind myself my God is bigger than me and my pessimism and jadedness and utter indifference to what's going on. I want to be used by God for something awesome. I don't want the rest of my life to be a pretty little comfortable picturesque waste.  Gandhi started out as a vegetarian before he took on imperialism in India. There still is hope for me! Baby steps I guess is the way to go. Maybe mowing lawns near our church is what I need to do.....I don't know. We'll see.