Monday, March 21, 2011

an interesting drive....

zakk brought it up weeks ago.
we were just talking about things we wanted to do together.
and zakk throws in a rally.
a rally to protest the treatment of the guy who
is accused of handing the leak stuff over to wikileaks.

i hadn't been paying attention.
so many things get by me.

i looked into it after he talked about it.
and sure enough, it was stuff that weighs heavy on your heart.
and the fact that he was the age of my sons added to it all.

it's a hard subject as there's so many strings to it all.
but if you just boil it down to how a human being should be
treated, the subject seems way clear.

we decided to go.

we did go....but not exactly as planned.

we piled into the car.
it had all been weighing heavy on my mind.
i asked the guys if we could talk about it and i told
them that i really needed to TALK and not have any rants,
or anything that would send me over the edge. i warned
them that i would 'burst into tears' if the talk was
callous or know it all or ranting. that this was hard for
me and i needed to hear their thoughts and feelings and just
talk.

and so we did.

we so so did.

we got stuck in a traffic jam on the highway.
and we talked.
we got stuck in a traffic jam in the town.
and we talked.
we got stuck, and stuck and stuck.
and we talked and talked and talked.

and we never got out of the car.
we drove by the rally in bumper to bumper traffic.
we saw where we were trying to get to.
and just couldn't seem to make it.

there was so many cops it was unreal.
blockades, full parking lots, and more cars than
could fit in that tiny town...

zakk was driving, got frustrated with it all and
voted to just keep on headin' outta town as we had
pretty much already missed most of it anyway.

i got teary. i wanted to stand up for this young man.
but knew that it just wasn't working out. and nodded
okay.

by the time we pulled back into our driveway, it had been
over three hours that we had been in the car.

i was bummed we didn't make it like we had wanted to.
at the same time, i realized we had hours and hours of
conversation about the world, about humanity, about justice,
about so much. japan, libya, egypt, the united states,
war, the military, africa, cultures, prejudice - so many
topics.

and because of what we were doing, the mood was serious and
from the heart. for hours.

i got teary as we pulled outta town. i thought of that young
man who was so close to where we were and i wasn't doing anything
to help him....

at the same time tho...i was talking with my sons in a way that
we really never have before. and i saw them as young men who were
looking at their world and what was going on with it. the respect
we had for each other, the listening and thinking out loud and
considering the other person's thoughts was amazing. it was an
honor to be with them.

it was quite a rally we never made it to.

the mistreatment goes on.
i know that.
all over the world.

i close my eyes and try to hold that...and pray for compassion
inside me. inside all of us.

1 comment:

Cathy Hall Stengel said...

Dear Terri, you did what you could with what you have and where you are. More was changed in that "windshield time" with your sons than standing in that crush of people. You are holding all of that suffering and mistreatment in your heart, that's what that young man your sons age needs more than ever. So many people just jump on the judgment jet and fly in for the missile shot without knowing what they are even speaking of.

The world is a better place because of you, your time with your sons, your ability to frame it in conversation, heart sharing, rather than political rants was so critical to the wellbeing of your heart.

All of us who have sons who could at any moment be caught in a firestorm of judgment and persecution, need to know that someone, somewhere...might feel some tenderness for them, whether they are caught in a "witch hunt" or imprisoned by addiction or emotional brokenness. Thank you for having the courage to go, and for speaking across the pages on his behalf. You have cared for him and stood as a witness to his life further than you can imagine. Thank you for being so tender, and so brave.