What a S*%t World!?!?

Hormones.  I was up until nearly two in the morning because I was hot and crampy.  So, I spent this time reading about current events, the life of James Foley*, and his inspiring body of work as a journalist.  A handsome, intelligent, forty-years young man loved dearly by his family, friends, and coworkers. . .

His death is an abomination; senseless; unconscionable.  Really, there are no words to properly describe this.  I have to think the man responsible for Foley’s exit from this earth, on some level, is ashamed of his actions, or else why would he be hiding behind clothing if he truly thought his actions were just?  If one were truly proud of his actions, would he disguise himself?  I kept thinking to myself as I was reading, “Who are the parents of a man who thinks taking another life is justifiable?”  At one point in life, as we all are, this veiled man was a child, a gift from God, full of potential.  As an adult, this man is responsible for his own actions, but who molded this man into what he is today?

The slaughter of Foley along with the events in Ferguson, MO, along with the suicide of Robin Williams along with . . . is a lot to comprehend and sort out when there seems no rational way to do so.  These happenings in our world cause me to question the safety of my own children.  Will they be able to follow their own dreams someday without the threat of others or the overwhelming heartbreak of this existence?  How can people make a change in the here and now for the better?

Walking at Watershed Nature Center this morning, I was thinking of all of the above while encountering the beauty of nature.  Sweating profusely in the heat minus a bra (perk of breast cancer) and adjusting my fitness belt which is meant to make my life easier when hauling keys and a phone for musical purposes, I spotted a field of beautiful white flowers.  I believe these are a type of hibiscus, but a horticulturist I am not.  Fiddling with my phone, I accidentally caught a bee taking nectar from a flower.  Truly amazing . . .  I thought to myself, “Such beauty in our surroundings if we take the time to look . . ..”  Then, I rounded the corner.

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What I saw in front me on the ground was graffiti on the walking trail of this nature preserve, letters which probably have meaning and a symmetrical skull.  What a perfect juxtaposition of the perfection of nature intermingled with the intrusion of man (or woman).  Walking further on, I found more graffiti which at first reminded me of my honeymoon in Hawaii because, at first glance, I thought it was a recreation of a pineapple.  Of course, on closer inspection, I saw it was marijuana.  Hey, I’m forty-three.

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Again, I thought to myself, “Where are the parents of the person who is defacing a nature preserve?”  I am not saying the crime was committed by a teen.  For all I know, it was a forty-three-year-old woman unleashing on the sidewalk. I just wonder why a person would think this is okay to do.  Did he/she not learn from his/her caregivers to respect other people’s property?

At my age I do not graffiti, nor have I ever, but I did try and think back to what I have done to other people’s property.  I tee-peed a friend’s house and a teacher’s house while in high school.  I, along with other female eighth-grade friends used to wet paper towels in the girls’ bathroom, wad them into balls, and then throw them up at the ceiling so that they would stick.  I have no idea why, but this still brings a smile to my face.  I stood watch while a loved one had diarrhea behind a dumpster at Little Caesar’s and again, on another occasion, had diarrhea over a vent opening of a house which was in the process of being built.  This was in no way malicious, though.  She truly had some bad reactions to some less than desirable food choices.

Returning to my car a sweaty hot mess and feeling icky about the world in general, I thought there must be a way to be an agent of change at even this miniscule level, but how?  On a global scale, how can anyone change the thought processes of angry irrational human beings?  I don’t know, but I wish I did.  I felt like what I am, a tiny tadpole in a 6XL pond.

Sorting through the mail when I returned home, I opened a letter with a personal note of “Thank you” written on the back of the envelope.  Intrigued, I tore through the envelope.  Inside was a handwritten note saying woman blessing Christin had nominated me for a Pay It Forward contest, and I won a one-hour massage.

Tears flowed down my face.  I had no idea I had affected anyone in a positive manner.  As a teacher, I hear a lot of groaning about the amount of work instead of what I long to hear, gratitude at the amount of learning.  As a volunteer, people often complain rather than realize, “I am utilizing my own time and resources in an attempt to improve the world by helping guide your child.”

Anywho, I have never had a professional massage in my lifetime, and I am more than overjoyed to knock this off of my bucket list.  In the meantime, I am going to e-mail and see what I can do to aid in the removal of the graffiti.  More than anything, I wish I knew who was responsible so that I could ask him/her to lead our Girl Scouts in a positive way through an art lesson after he/she assists in the clean-up of the trails.

*For the family of James Foley, I am praying for your healing, and I am honored to have read through his writings.

 

 

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