Long ago when I was still a student at Mt. Carmel High School a priest took a group of us outside on a pleasant spring day. As we sat on a set of bleachers he spoke of a native American idiom, “Walk a mile in my shoes.” He wanted us to consider the other person’s point of view before drawing conclusions and judging. He hoped to develop a sense of empathy in us by setting forth various scenarios and asking us how we thought we would react if confronted with similar situations. What we learned on that day is that we each view life just a bit differently depending on our backgrounds and personalities. Still we share certain commonalities as humans regardless of where we may live. Every human being seeks love, understanding, security, and comfort. We may not have much in common with people from other cultures but when stripped of our economic and superficial differences we all experience hunger, pain, and fear.
We come into this world so pure and innocent. We are like blank slates just waiting to be molded and educated in the ways of the world. If we are particularly lucky, as I have been, we will be surrounded from our first days by love and encouragement. We will enjoy the freedom and opportunity to become whomever we so choose to be. Not everyone is so blessed and therein lie the differences that make it sometimes difficult to understand one another. Over time we are the sum total of our genetics and our experiences. By the simple accident of being born in the United States of America we have a very good chance of living a far more comfortable life than many of our brothers and sisters who share this planet with us. From day to day we may grumble about our bad luck but in the still of the night most of us have to admit that ours is a pretty good life after all. Continue reading “Walk a Mile in My Shoes”
There has been a great deal of talk here in the United States regarding immigration for decades despite Donald Trump’s claim that he introduced the topic when he decided to run for President. What few citizens truly understand is the changing nature of immigration rules and patterns over time and the efforts to improve policies to meet the most current needs of the country. The discussions of immigration reform tend to center on false rhetoric and emotions rather than facts and the law.
There are no words for this. All the language that I know is inadequate for what I want to express, but for Darren I will try. I can’t describe him with cliches and platitudes – I need to do better than that. He deserves better than that.
I believe in miracles and the power of prayer for I have seen wondrous things. Just last week I smiled at photos of a little boy named Holden in his football uniform and at his kitchen table preparing for the beginning of the school year. It wasn’t that long ago that hundreds of us were storming the heavens on behalf of Holden and his family. When he was only an infant he was diagnosed with leukemia. He spent much of his early life undergoing tests and treatments in Texas Children’s Hospital. His milestones were marked by chemotherapy and painful procedures. Somehow he kept a delightful smile on his face and his family maintained a remarkable strength and faith that in spite of all of their trials, everything would one day turn out well. His grandmother called him Holdie Pants and often declared that she loved him to the moon and back. His first friends were other very sick children, some of whom did not make it. Weeks and months and years went by and the hope for Holden continued unabated. One glorious day the doctors declared that his leukemia was in remission. A reminder of just how sick he was surfaces each time he must regularly undergo tests to determine if his cancer has returned. So far he has done well. Now he appears to be just a very normal little boy but those of us who know him realize that he is a heavenly miracle standing in front of us. 
I simply can’t resist weighing in on Donald Trump one more time even though I risk hurting the feelings of some of my favorite people. I have been amused, baffled, and even angered by his supposed popularity among certain segments of the population. I’m an informal student of human nature and so I have taken it upon myself to attempt to make some sense of the Trump phenomenon. I’ve forced myself to watch his press conferences and his rallies even though it nauseates me to do so. In the process I believe that I have determined just what makes his campaign tick.
