Last Updated on: 19th May 2022, 07:36 am
Gill is feeling sad and angry about the state of the world. It’s hard to blame her when you’re staring into the face of mass killings that are so completely and utterly senseless.
I often take humorous looks at the things that quite frankly boil my potatoes, but this week’s episode is far more serious and hit me in a way I don’t like to think about.
Imagine that, simply because of the way you look, you are targeted. How is it even close to reasonable for people to not feel safe at gathering places? How is it normal to hate?
Internal Hot Angry Tears
On Monday night I signed on to do my regular shift on my church’s prayer line. I was given a prayer assignment, and as I began my heart felt like it shattered once more. These were not the cold sad tears of a child whose friend has moved to another town or is mourning a loved, lost pet. These tears on my heart were hot, blistering and angry. Here’s a sample of the prayer I spoke:
“Charlottesville, Pittsburgh, Christ Church, San Antonio! God, please, stop this hate! My heart breaks far too much! Break our hearts for what breaks yours!”
Yesterday I logged on to my other prayer line, and some of the members suggested fighting hate with violence. No. I had always been taught to use my words to solve any issue.
I also flashed back to the innocence of childhood when I thought that all problems could and would be solved at a place I called “Idea House”, where the chocolate chip cookies were freshly baked and the milk was always cold. In my then 5-year-old mindset I thought if people just sat down over the above mentioned items problems, hate and war would not exist, and people would visit each other’s homes as friends and neighbours. 42-year-old me knows that it takes a lot of prayer, tears, and healing to come close to the kind of world 5-year-old me dreamed of.
How would you set up “Idea House”, and how in your own way would you start to make change?
Gill decided to send in a little more about her Idea House.
One spring morning in 1985, my mom took me to visit my great-aunt in another town about half an hour away. My great-aunt offered me some chocolate milk, and I gladly drank it. My mom and great-aunt were talking about some distant conflict somewhere I didn’t know or understand. I, being 5-years-old at the time, got bored, and decided to play. Something clicked inside that morning as I walked up and down the front hallway of my great-aunt’s home. What if people had a problem with one another and it was snack or lunchtime? I thought about it for a moment, and with all the innocence that only a 5-year-old could have, came up with “Idea House”. A place where people could sit down and solve problems with either a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches and a bowl of tomato soup, or if it was snack time a plate full of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a glass of cold milk.
I’m 42-years-old now, and still sometimes travel to those thoughts. When I heard of the racially motivated shooting at the supermarket in Buffalo, I suddenly rolled back the years to a time when I didn’t know what prejudices were and only knew that words could solve issues.
What would it be and look like now? Well, of course people could come in, sit down, and talk. Food would also be an option, and there would be a no weapons or hate policy. It would also be a place of comfort and healing. We could all use some comfort and healing.