Today, much will be written on the historic event that took place in Washington, DC. Many will write better words than me. Yet here I am, trying to jot down my thoughts.
I feel hopeful.
I feel proud of the American nation for it’s capacity for change. 40 short years from MLK to Obama. It is surely no coincidence that MLK Day & Obama’s Inauguration fell one after the other.
I feel a part of something bigger than myself.
I feel excited by the voices who spoke today.
“What if the mightiest word is love?”
“… our willingness to turn to each other, not on each other.”
I came across this letter President Obama wrote to his daughters recently. It spoke to me of the man’s hopes for his own children, of what has driven them as a family over the last 2 years.
Dear Malia and Sasha,
I know that you’ve both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn’t have let you have. But I also know that it hasn’t always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn’t make up for all the time we’ve been apart. I know how much I’ve missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.
When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I’d make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn’t seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn’t count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that’s why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.
I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren’t rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.
I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you’ll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.
Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.
That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.
She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It’s a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.
I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you’ve had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.
These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That’s why I’ve taken our family on this great adventure.
I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.
Last weekend I got to spend some time in my favourite place on the planet, Portstewart. I’ve spent a lot of time in Portstewart over the last few years; it’s a place that fills me with peace, that allows me grace to slow down, to slow, slow.
Slow. Wendy wrote recently that maybe this will be the year of slow.
Maybe it will be.
I came across this video on Anne Jacksons blog today, and it fits with so much of what I’ve been thinking about over the last week or so…
So what does it all mean? That’s the question posed at the end of the video.
I’ve been thinking a lot about influence, about who has influence, about how we use our influence. The clip above gives us a sense of how fast the world is changing, how much our ability to impact a large group of people has mushroomed in recent years. Over the last week or so I’ve been given glimpses into the influence I have, whether through conversations with authors and musicians, or blogging friends, or neighbors…
I discovered a new coffee shop near my flat, and lots of my friends have started frequenting it.
I was talking about a band I love recently and realising how many people in Glasgow I’ve introduced to their music.
I had a conversation with an author who told me someone introduced themselves to him as knowing me.
A friend shared how our collaborative project doubled the hits on her blog.
One way to define influence is ‘to determine; to shape; to give direction to’. What am I shaping? Which direction am I pointing you in?
If influence is currency, what am I spending it on?
I talk on this blog a lot about injustice, about forgiveness, about hope, about love, about community. Are those the things you see when you read my blog? Are they the things you see when you look at my life?
And what do I see when I look at your life? You are having an influence on me, too. Maybe you don’t even realise it, maybe you don’t see the myriad of ways you impact and change me. Those words you wrote that prompted me to go and read that Bible passage. The youtube video you blogged that made me go and find out about TOMS. The question you twittered that made me reevaluate something. Meeting me for coffee and taking me somewhere thats entirely Fairtrade.
Every decision you make causes ripples.
Every decision I make causes ripples.
What kind of ripples are we leaving in our wake?
I wanted to leave you with a glimpse of what one of my favourite organisations is up to again…
Yesterday I shoot a little photo project with kirstymac, “Written All Over You”.
Adjectives. Nouns. I don’t know what you read on my face when you meet me. You know, the saying, it’s written all over your face? I think sometimes it’s a nice little adjective -mysterious, oftentimes it will be truth, other occasions though you won’t know the truth because it’s hiding behind my smiley face.
Adjectives. Nouns. You don’t know what I read on your face when I met you. It was like the saying ‘it’s written all over your face’. Oftentimes it will be truth, other occasions though I wonder about you… I won’t know the truth because it’s hidden. Sometimes I read you like a book, sometimes I think you are that expression written on your face. But today, I wonder what it is you are willing to tell…
You can read a bit about the context here and here on Kirsty’s blog…
… and you can see a few posts from the series here and here.
Keep an eye on her blog for more. The photo’s will be on my flickr.
There are these meta-narratives in my life: words, ideas, concepts that swirl around constantly looking for something to grab hold of, to have flesh put on them.
Words like
love,
hope,
community.
I can talk the talk, but do I walk the walk?
The past few weeks have been up and down for me, whether due to work, personal, or relational issues. Yet I go to work and put on a mask. I go to church and put on my mask. I go out with friends and put on the mask.
Time to take the masks off.
We live in a society that tells us we should be self-sufficient, that we don’t need anything or anyone else. Independence is held up as the ultimate goal.
The truth? It’s all lies.
We were made to live in community.
We are meant to be interdependent. In the beginning of the Bible, a man asks the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?”. So often we ask this question incredulously, as if to say, of course not! The very next verse challenges us: “Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” We are our brother’s keeper. We are meant to live in community. To ask the difficult questions of each other. To wrestle and struggle and laugh and cry and celebrate and mourn and play alongside each other.
We are a broken people, and it is only when we honestly, courageously, and often painfully, face our junk head-on that we can begin to live into all that we were made to be.
“You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you’re part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters.”
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