9-11

Memorial for the Breezy Point, New York, residents who died on September 11, 2001

Today is not a day for me to spout my opinions. Today is a day for prayer. Today I pray for peace, for healing, for hope... for everyone.

Don't Shoot the Messengers

I will never understand the myth of redemptive violence. I just read this article about the jurors in the Casey Anthony trial, which says that the judge is not releasing their names out of fear for their safety.There are worries about Casey Anthony's safety too.

I can understand why people are upset about the verdict; they feel that Anthony got away with murder and will now be free to live her life while her daughter lies in her grave. What I don't understand is how committing bodily injury upon Anthony or the members of the jury would revive baby Caylee. How would rewarding suspected violence with violence rectify anything?

I also don't understand why people are so furious with the jury.

Sign hanging in a Florida restaurant

It was easy for the public to come to a strong opinion about this case after the media bombarded us with coverage, but the jury could not take any of that into consideration. They could only consider what is presented in court, and even then they were not able to simply rule based on their gut opinions. They could only give a guilty verdict where they felt that the prosecution proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that a crime was committed in they manner they described.

I served on a jury for a felony murder trial last year. It only lasted for one week and was emotionally exhausting. I cannot imagine what the jurors of this case must be feeling, especially when Juror #3 expressed that their ruling made them feel "sick to their stomachs," and Juror #2 said, "I wish we had more evidence to put her away. I truly do. But it wasn't there." The conflict must be devastating. 

They served, taken away from their families, jobs, and lives. They ruled, as the law requires, based on what was presented in the courtroom. Why do we want to harm them, not thank them for their service and pray for their emotional healing?


Post script:

Hope Not Despair

I'm sure you've heard about the terrible shooting that took place in Arizona on Saturday. And you've probably heard the different political pundits pointing fingers saying that it happened because of the political climate caused by one side or the other. These accusations break my heart - that people would use a tragedy to propegate their political agenda and derogate the other side.

Last night on The Daily Show, Jon Stewart reflected on this in a seldom seen serious moment. He said that political pundits "find the tidbit or two that will exonerate their side from blame or implicate the other...watching that is as predictable as it is dispiriting." As much as Stewart thinks that there are serious problems with the political system and the way political pundits act, he doesn't blame the system for the shooting. "Boy wouldn't that be nice?" he said, "if we just stop this [insert political problem here] the horrors will end." It would be nice to have a scapegoat, something specific to fix to ensure that a tragedy like this will never happen again, even better if that something is a thing that we strongly disagree with anyway. That would be nice, but it isn't true. There isn't one thing to fix. The situation is terribly disheartening, but Stewart said, "I refuse to give in to this feeling of despair."

I too refuse to give in to this feeling of despair. My heart breaks for the people who were hurt or lost their lives and for all of the friends and family. My heart breaks, but it will not despair. I cannot let go of hope for something better, or what is the point of this life? I agree with Jon Stewart that we need to take this tragedy as an inspiration to make our world better.

If you read my husband's blog you've read this news story related to the shooting. (I will note, that I found and was planning on blogging about this story before I read Jason's blog. Great minds think alike?) There is a group of people who call themselves a church who are planning to protest the funeral of Christina Green, the nine-year-old girl who was shot and killed, because she was Catholic and these people believe that God hates Catholics. I can't express the sorrow and rage that filled me when I read this. How easily could I have despaired? But I kept reading the article. There is another group of people who have planned an "angel action" in response. They are going to wear large angel wings and silently surround the outside of the church where the funeral will be held. This will surround the mourners in a protective shield from the protesters. The angel action participants are not planning a counter protest; they are simply allowing those affected to grieve in peace. What a beautiful, simple action coming from a horrible action!

I am not a Pollyanna, only looking at the good things and ignoring the bad. I see the bad, and I feel these things deeply. But I also see hope. I look for hope. Sometimes I have to desperately seek for it. But it is always there. And we are always able to create it. Which brings me back to one of my very favorite quotes, and a description of how I try to live my life:

"We need to be the change we wish to see in the world.” -- Mohondas Ghandi

Jury Duty

I drove by the jail the other day, and as often happens, was flooded with memories...

I think Pennsylvania's judicial system likes me. I'm only 25, but I've been called for jury duty three times, not counting several deferrals when I was in college. The first time I was called I sat in the basement of the Greensburg Courthouse for half a day and was sent home. The second time my number wasn't picked the night before so I didn't have to go. The third time was this spring.

I live in Allegheny County now, so I went downtown and was filed into a large room in the courthouse that was packed with people. We had to fill out a form answering questions about our views on things like drugs and the police and if those views would impact our ability to be on a jury. We waited for a bit and then they started breaking us in to groups to be interviewed for cases. I was picked for the second group, which was very large. So, I waited there for a while until it was time to be interviewed.

As I was sitting there, two people next to me were talking about how this is a waste of their time, they hope they aren't picked, that they should have lied on their form and said that they have many biases. I was quite surprised when they then started talking about conservative politics and both claimed to be strong patriots. My political views are often labeled as liberal, and as many people now see "liberal" and "patriotic" as complete opposites, I don't usually claim to be patriotic. But in that moment, I realized that I am strongly patriotic. I wasn't happy to spend my day sitting in a room crowded with strangers. I wasn't happy to lose pay for both of my part-time jobs. But, I believe in the right to trial by jury, and that means I must be willing to serve on a jury. Sometimes I get strong feelings about what is going to happen, and in that moment, I knew I was going to be picked for a jury. And I felt proud to be able to serve my country.

Eventually I was called up to be interviewed. The prosecutor, the defense attorney, and the defendant sat at the table. The two attorneys asked me questions, mainly about my job and my husband's line of work. The defense attorney seemed to like that I had a background in social work and that my husband and I both worked at a church. It only took a few minutes, and I returned to my seat to wait some more. Eventually they called the names of those chosen for the jury. I was juror number nine.

The defendant was charged with murder and robbery. He and another man were in an altercation about drug money that lead to the defendant stabbing the victim, removing heroin from his person, and running away. (From here on out, I'll refer to the defendant as D and the victim as V). D claimed that he knew that V was violent, and D was scared. D claimed that V started a fight, and D grabbed a kitchen knife to scare V away. V continued the fight, which lead to D accidentally stabbing V. D knew that V was injured, but was afraid of being arrested, so he decided to run away. D knew that V would be searched when the police or ambulance came, so took the heroin so that V wouldn't get in trouble for it. The prosecution's claim was that there was an altercation where D stabbed V, stole the drugs, and ran away. There was no question that D stabbed V, and there was no question about premeditation.

The trail took two days. It wasn't as glamorous as you see on TV. The courtroom was old and drab and the desks were covered with papers. The jury was ushered in and out after everyone else was in place. We walked by D each time, and I tried not to make eye contact. I tried not to look at him, his family, or V's family because I didn't want my emotions to sway me. As it was a short trail, we were not allowed to take notes, so I tried to be as alert as possible and pay close attention. We heard witnesses, police officers, and medical experts. We were shown the bloody knife and bloody clothes along with photos of the scene. D did not take the stand, though an audio recording that he made was played. He had been caught the same day as the stabbing, and said that he used the heroin because he was so upset. The recording was made soon after he was caught. He was crying and said that he admitted to stabbing V, but said that he didn't mean to do it. This tape was actually played by the prosecution, which surprised me because hearing how emotional D was lead me to believe him. Though I tried not to make eye contact with D during the trail, I did glance at him, and he showed no emotion. He just sat there each day except for the short time when his girlfriend was on the stand when he did seem to be quite agitated.

We deliberated for two days. Before the trial started, the jury was asked to pick a foreperson. We sat in the small jury room and silently stared at each other for a moment before I spoke up. I was the third youngest person in the room and often doubt my leadership abilities because of my age. I said that if no one else wanted to do it, I would do it. I didn't think about it, really. It was something that needed to be done, and since no one else spoke up, I did. No one objected to my age, so I became the foreperson. I don't think I knew what I was getting myself in to.

The first day of deliberations was terrible. The group was split. Some believed he meant to do it, some did not. Some believed that anyone involved with drugs was terrible. People became worked up, and emotionally involved. There was yelling and cursing. People were not listening to each other. They were talking over each other. And I was in charge of controlling the room. I felt sheepish telling people who were more than twice my age that they needed to be quiet. Who was I, some young girl, to tell her elders what to do? I tried to keep the peace, but that was a terribly hard day.

I prayed constantly during this experience. I prayed that I would keep an open mind and truly believe that D was innocent unless the evidence could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was guilty. I tend to be opinionated and can sometimes make snap judgments, and am convinced that without God's help, I would not have been able to keep an open mind. At the end of the first day of deliberations, I believed D's testimony. I also prayed for peace for our group and for strength as a leader. I wanted to let everyone's voice be heard. I wanted everyone to feel that their opinions were respected.

The second day of deliberations got off to a better start than the first. I think a fresh day and coffee and bagels helped. I said that I knew that we all had strong opinions, but asked everyone to please try to keep their emotions and past experiences out of the conversation, and to please try to look objectively at the facts. I said that I wanted everyone's voice to be heard and so I asked for people to raise their hands and I would call on them to talk. I couldn't believe my gumption, but I felt that something had to be done. It went alright. I had to cut some people off as they went into personal ranting, but the room was more respectful than the day before.

We had to decide between Manslaughter, Murder 3, and Murder 2, and also between two kinds of Robbery. Oh, that was a process. We were allowed to ask the judge questions, though he wasn't allowed to answer all of them. When we wanted to ask a question, we had to get our tipstaff, a man who was an officer of the court and served as intermediate between us and the judge. He gave me a form on which to write the questions, he gave it to the judge, the judge wrote on it, gave it back to our tipstaff, who gave it to us. We could also write requests for evidence. We requested all of the photographs and went over them in great detail, trying to compare them to the different testimonies we had heard. We were finding holes in the stories.
We requested the knife and clothing that D and V were wearing, and were given rubber gloves to use while handling them.

I am actually thankful that I grew up with a father who loved Murder, She Wrote and Matlock and am married to a man who loves CSI and Law and Order. I think that while those shows were on in my home, parts of them must have gotten in to my brain subconsciously. Somehow I decided that to determine if D's story was true, we needed to act it out. We had been told the height of both men, so I found two people in the room who matched those heights. We had requested the medical examiner's images of the wound trajectories, so I had the two members see if the wounds could have been inflicted in the accidental manner that D claimed. It didn't seem possible.

We also wondered if D was crying on his taped confession because he was truly upset or because he was crashing after using the heroin. We had a nurse on the jury who knew the symptoms and timing of heroin withdrawal, so after figuring out when he used the heroin and when the recording was made determined that he would have been crashing hard at the point. So, maybe he wasn't as upset about it as I first thought.

During the trail and deliberation, we were only allowed to talk about the trail if all 12 jury members were in the room. If someone stepped out to go to the bathroom, I had to stop the conversation. When we went home, we weren't allowed to talk about it. This was awful for me. I work through my thoughts by talking. I get out stressful emotions by talking. At the end of every day, my husband asks how my day was because he is interested I am sure, but also because he knows that it is good for me to talk about it. For this week, I couldn't talk about it. I talked around it as much as I could, and I did tell him that it was a murder trial, though I shouldn't have. Every night I came home and cried. I cannot tell you the last time I felt so emotionally drained. One man was dead, the other had killed him. Though I tried not to look at both families, I saw them, and they were torn apart, crying. I had a room of eleven emotional strangers, among whom it was my role to keep the peace. And we were deciding the fate of D's life, we could help justice be served, for D or V. This was a terrible responsibility. I don't think I would have understood how emotionally draining the process was  if I hadn't lived it.

As we wear nearing the end of our second day of deliberation, we were getting closer to deciding on a verdict. We had requested detailed explanations of the different charges, and after reading the explanations and applying some simple logic I realized that Manslaughter could fit with the one type of Robbery and Murder 2 could fit with the other form of Robbery. Those were the only logical options. It took a little while for me to explain this to the group, but as others got it, they helped me to explain it again. This knowledge made things a bit easier because now we only had to pick between two options instead of piecing together between five different things. At this point I had changed my mind from Manslaughter (D killed V accidentally in a struggle) to Murder 2 (D knowingly stabbed V with the intent of stealing the heroin). It was a difficult decision, but I prayed about it and asked friends and family to pray for me to make the right decision (though I couldn't give them details), and when I came to the decision, I felt peace with it. I felt terribly emotional about the process, but knew that God had lead me to the correct decision. Slowly, others in the group who had been for Manslaughter changed their minds to Murder 2. We all felt stressed and worn. Many people cried. God helped me to hold myself together.

It was strange to be in such an emotional situation with people I had just met that week. It was also very strange for me to not speak about God throughout this process. There was enough tension in our discussions, I didn't want to upset anyone by bringing religion in to it. But, after we had made our decision and our tipstaff had taken my written verdict to the judge, I decided to chance mentioning God. I told the group that I didn't know what their beliefs were, but that I personally had been praying, and had friends and family praying for us, as we made this difficult decision. Several others said that they too had been praying. No one was offended.

Our tipstaff returned and took us back to the courtroom. I was shaking as I walked by the defendant, holding a copy of our written verdict. I had asked the tipstaff for direction in giving the verdict, and he said the judge would guide me. The judge didn't. He just asked the foreperson to stand and give the verdict. Again, I'm glad I had men in my life who watched courtroom shows! I stood, knees shaking, but spoke in a strong voice as I read through each charge. "On the count of Murder in the Second Degree, the jury finds the defendant guilty." I just about fell into my chair when I was done, my knees had been shaking so much. The judge polled the jury, and we all agreed with our finding. V's family cried. D's family cried. D sat staring. D waved his right to an appeal and was sentenced right there. I didn't know but Murder 2 comes with a mandatory life sentence without the chance of parole. The judge sentenced D while he was put into handcuffs and leg shackles. Then he was lead from the courtroom. Then the jury was dismissed. I didn't hear it because I was trying to hold myself together and look strait ahead, but another jury member said that V's family thanked us. As soon as I got out of the courtroom I started to cry. I didn't let myself cry for long, but I just couldn't hold it in any more. I had just sent a man to prison for the rest of his life. He was only 24 years old.

The night after the verdict, I somewhat obsessively Googled D and V and all of the news stories about the case. They both had criminal  records, mainly for drug dealing and possession. I think that if V had been standing near the kitchen knife, the role of victim and defendant would have been reversed. They both had issues with heroin. And now, V is dead, and D has lost his freedom.

I felt emotionally shaky for the next few days. I wasn't ready to talk about the case just yet. But time passed. I talked about it. I began to heal. I still think about V and D sometimes, almost every time I drive by the jail. During the trial, I referred to V and D as Mr. So-and-so, but I've found myself thinking of them by their first names now. I pray for V's soul. I pray that D is filled with the love of God and can share that with the other inmates. I pray for both of the families. And I pray for all of the people affected by drugs and violence.

In many ways jury duty was a terrible experience, and I admit that I hope I am not called again any time soon, if ever. Some members of the jury said that if they are called again, they will say something to get themselves out of it. As much as I don't want to go through an experience like this again, if I am called to serve, I will. I will even volunteer to be the foreperson again. Trial by jury is an American right, and I am proud that I was able to serve.

My Voting Conundrum

When I first started this blog I decided not to write about anything controversial because I didn't want to offend anyone. Obviously I've strayed from that decision, and any hope of clinging to it is about to go out the window. I still aim to not offend anyone, but straying from any issue that could be controversial would make this a very boring blog. So, let's talk politics.

It is political ad season, and I've noticed that the theme of many ads for Democratic candidates is, look how much like a Republican I can be! As a disclaimer, I don't consider myself to be a Democrat or a Republican. I am aligned with the Green Party, whose candidates, I realize, will probably never have a chance of being elected. But, they often represent my beliefs. Seeing as there are rarely Green candidates on the ballot, I often support Democrats. This creates a conundrum for me next Tuesday because I feel like almost none of the candidates represent my views. I am a huge proponent of voting, and making an informed decision not just voting for a strait party ticket without knowing the candidates or picking a name because you saw it on a sign on the side of the road. So, what do I do when none of the candidates espouse the values I believe in? I vote anyway, because I am proud to have that right as an American, but I pick the candidate I dislike the least, which is disappointing. I know I can be an idealist, and there may rarely be a candidate I can really get excited about, but I've had this quote from (what else?) The West Wing swimming around my head.

"Because I am tired of working for candidates who make me think I should be embarrassed to believe what I believe, Sam. I'm tired of getting them elected. We all need some therapy, because someone came along and said that liberal means "soft on crime." Soft on drugs. Soft on communism. Soft on defense. And we're gonna tax you back to the stone age because people shouldn't have to go to work if they don't want to. And instead of saying, 'Well, excuse me, you right-wing, reactionary xenophobic, homophobic, anti-education, anti-choice, pro-gun, Leave-it-to-Beaver-trip-back-to-the-fifties!' we cowered in the corner and said, 'Please. Don't. Hurt. Me.' No more. I really don't care who's right, who's wrong. We're both right, we're both wrong."

We're both right. We're both wrong. Wouldn't it be amazing to have a true civil dialog between candidates who are firm in their beliefs instead of saying what they think people want to hear so that they can be elected? As I said, I'm an idealist, but at least that means I can always dream and always have hope for a better day.

My all-time favorite commercial, from 2000.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

*Please wear purple tomorrow, October 20, for Spirit Day. Show your support for gay teens, and remember the tragic loss gay teens to suicide.*

I was glad to read that a bit of progress has been made in overturning Don't Ask, Don't Tell. The Pentagon told military recruiters to accept openly gay applicants if they meet all of the other requirements. There is still a chance of this being overturned, but I have hope.

I can't understand why we would want to turn people away from serving the country simply because of their sexual orientation. I am not going to address my views on war or the military in general in this post, but I will say that I sure as heck don't want to serve in the military. If there are people who feel that calling, please let them. I understand that it would be a change. In those close quarters, it could be difficult to work next to someone who might be attracted to you in a way that you do not return. But don't men and women serve together? Surely there must be some unrequited feelings among heterosexuals in the military. The West Wing (my all-time favorite show, as you have probably figured out if you've read some of my other posts) also makes a good point through Admiral Fitzwallace. The quality of the video below is poor, so I also listed the text of what I think is the most important part.

MAJOR TATE

Sir, we’re not prejudiced toward homosexuals.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

You just don’t want to see them serving in the Armed Forces?

MAJOR TATE

No sir, I don’t.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

‘Cause they oppose a threat to unit discipline and cohesion.

MAJOR TATE

Yes sir.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

That’s what I think too. I also think the military wasn’t designed to be an instrument of social change.

MAJOR TATE

Yes sir.

ADMIRAL FITZWALLACE

The problem with that is that what they were saying to me 50 years ago. Blacks shouldn’t serve with Whites. It would disrupt the unit. You know what? It did disrupt the unit. The unit got over it. The unit changed. I’m an admiral in the U.S. Navy and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff...Beat that with a stick.

I don't pretend to know a lot about the military. But I do know that all people deserve to be treated with honor and respect.

No Hate

My heart broke when I heard about Tyler Clement (this article explains), and I agree with Ellen. The bullying needs to stop. The hate needs to stop. I personally do not believe that being gay is a choice or a sin. Even if that is your view, I think we can both agree that every person deserves to be treated with respect and dignity, regardless of sexual orientation. In the articled linked above, Tyler Clementi's parents said that they hope their son's death "will serve as a call for compassion, empathy, and human dignity." I pray that it will be. 

To take a small step to help end the hate, you can add your name to this letter that will be sent to Secretary of Education Arne Duncan asking that gender identity and sexual orientation be included in anti-bullying programs. And check out the NOH8 Campaign because that is what we need - no hate.

Small Things

I just read an article and then saw a segment on the NBC Nightly News about poverty rates in the US. They didn't surprise me, but they still broke my heart. Poverty rates in the US are up, the highest they've been in over 50 years. 43.6 million Americans are considered by the government to be living in poverty, though in reality this number is much higher because of the outdated method of calculating the poverty line (from the article, "The US government considers an annual income of $21,756 to be the poverty line for a family of four").

I wish I was writing because I had a fantastic idea about how to work on a large level to eradicate poverty, in the US and worldwide. Unfortunately, this isn't the case, but I felt I had to write something. All I know to do are little things. Make donations of money, food, and clothing, no matter how small. Volunteer at a local shelter or food pantry. Pray. Love. As Mother Teresa said, "We can do no great things, only small things with great love."

Love Our Neighbors

I wrote a short post last month about interfaith harmony, but recently read an article titled "Fellow Americans' Suspicions Frustrate US Muslims" and want to share some of it. 

Nine years of denouncing terrorism, of praying side-by-side with Jews and Christians, of insisting "I'm American, too." None of it could stop a season of hate against Muslims that made for an especially fraught Sept. 11. Now, Muslims are asking why their efforts to be accepted in the United States have been so easily thwarted. ... U.S. Muslim condemnations of terrorism have failed to persuade other Americans.

 Some Americans are protesting Park51, threatening to burn the Qur'an, and vandalizing and shooting at US mosques. Why aren't we loving our neighbors?

...ignorance about what Islam teaches is widespread. More than half of respondents in a recent poll by the Pew Forum for Religion and Public Life said they knew little or nothing about the Muslim faith.

"I think that part of the reason the general American public is not listening is the common human impulse to fear and mistrust what we don't know or understand," said Abdullahi An-Na'im, an expert in Islam and human rights at Emory University School of Law.

We fear what we don't understand. And we protect ourselves from feeling fear by emitting hate. It's a tragic tale that has happened countless times before in history. 

But, we can fix it. If hate comes from fear and fear comes from lack of understanding, then let's increase our understanding. Take a class, read a book or website, or have a conversation with a practicing Muslim. Islam is a peaceful religion, and Muslims are our neighbors. Let's show them some love.

Interfaith Harmony

Both my husband and a good friend blogged about this recently, so I won't say much, but I've been planning to blog something about the hoopla surrounding the proposed mosque (which is actually a cultural center) at Ground Zero (though it is actually two blocks away). I read this Q & A to better inform myself. The name for the center was to be the Cordoba House, after a medieval Spanish town where Jews, Muslims, and Christians lived together in a harmonious interfaith community. The name was changed to Park51 (after the location) following criticism of the name Cordoba House. I don't understand why anyone would object to a name, or a center, that encourages interfaith harmony. It deeply saddens me that misunderstanding about Islam leads people to believe that all Muslims are hateful and violent, when that is far from the truth. This analogy about Islamic extremism seems shocking, but it is truthful and important to remember:

Islamic Extremism is to Islam as The KKK is to Christianity.

One of the founders of the center said, "we want to provide a counter momentum against extremism. We want peace, and we want it where it matters most. This is where it matters most." How can we argue with that?

Homophobia Is Gay

Last week Proposition 8 was overturned in California. Prop 8 was a ballot proposition, which amended the California Constitution to outlaw gay marriage (more info here). Depending on the outcome of the appeals process, the Prop 8 situation may go to the Supreme Court. If that happens, I hope that its unconstitutionality is upheld, setting a standard for our other 49 states. I just don't understand what the big deal is about gay people getting married.

I've heard that gay marriage is going to ruin families in America (and many other claims as seen in this video from 2008 after same-sex marriage was made legal in Massachusetts). This argument doesn't make sense to me. It might if gay people were inherently bad parents, but this study and knowing caring, competant gay people tell me that this isn't true.

And then the Bible is used as an argument against not just gay marriage, but gays in general. The verse typically cited is Leviticus 18:22, which says, "Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable." This verse doesn't address sexual orientation. It says that men should not have sex with other men. But... This verse comes from a section of the Bible with many rules that seem to no longer be applicable, as seen in the examples in this speech from The West Wing:

President Josiah Bartlet: I like your show. I like how you call homosexuality an abomination. 
Dr. Jenna Jacobs: I don't say homosexuality is an abomination, Mr. President. The Bible does.
President Josiah Bartlet: Yes, it does. Leviticus. 
Dr. Jenna Jacobs: 18:22. 
President Josiah Bartlet: Chapter and verse. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions while I had you here. I'm interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She's a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be? While thinking about that, can I ask another? My Chief of Staff Leo McGarry insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or is it okay to call the police? Here's one that's really important 'cause we've got a lot of sports fans in this town: Touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point? Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side? Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you? 

It saddens me that some Christians cling to Leviticus 18:22 and let themselves be filled with hate for people who are gay. When Jesus is asked which commandment is greatest (Matthew 22:37-39), he responded by saying, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself." The second most important thing we are to do in our lives is to love our neighbors as our selves. All of our neighbors. Including our gay neighbors.

Haiti

48,000 people live in this tent city in Port-au-Prince, Haiti

I don't think my brain can comprehend that. Forty-eight thousand people live in that tent city. Though, according to the article, most people don't actually have tents. There are only 114 latrines for all 48,000 people. Can you imagine? In all honesty, I cannot. 

I have been blessed beyond belief in my life in so many ways. I have always had a house in a safe area to call home. I've always had plumbing and electricity. I've always had clean water and healthy food to eat. I even had my own bathroom at my parents' house. It took me some time to get used to sharing the bathroom with my husband when we got married. I can't begin to comprehend sharing it with 422 people. Four hundred twenty-two people! And because of the lack of sanitation, disease runs rampant. I won't get started (at least not now) on my views about the healthcare system in the United States, but it is worlds beyond what is available in Haiti.

In a bit over a week, I'm going to start grad school. This is after I went to a four-year college for undergrad, which was after Kindergarten through twelfth grade in a very good school district. In the tent city in Haiti, it is estimated that 250 children out of 13,000 are able to attend school.

All of this breaks my heart. I don't understand it. And I don't understand how I constantly forget how blessed I am - how I take so much for granted. I don't want to forget Haiti. It isn't on the news 24-7 anymore (not that I watch any of the 24 hour news networks - another topic I won't get in to now), but that doesn't mean that Haiti isn't still suffering from extreme devastation.

I have two friends who went to Haiti at the beginning of this year. One was there during the earthquake and the other went a bit after it happened. Both shared photos, videos, and stories with me. My husband was supposed to go to Haiti in February to help at LaCroix Haiti New Testament Mission, but his trip was canceled due to the earthquake. We hope to go together sometime in the next year. There is so much work that needs to be done, so much love to be given. I hope that I can give at least a little bit. And until then, I pray for Haiti, and I rejoice in the many blessings in my life. In the words of Jane Austen, I want to "feel the importance of every day, and every hour as it passes."