One who is loved…

Eyes narrowed, fists balled at her sides, mouth pursed tightly together…It didn’t take a midday consultation with Dr. Phil to know what would happen next. With a powerful swing of her arm two chairs skittered across the hard tile floor, landing in a heap with metal legs entwined. Giant crocodile tears welled in her eyes as she unfurled her tiny mouth to utter an emphatic, “No!”

It’s a scene that plays itself out repeatedly at my urban charter school:  A sad face written in a homework folder, a musical cue signaling the end of a fun recreational activity, or a purloined hair fob all instigate the wrath of a kindergartener. Shoved chairs and defiant gestures are as common as sweet tea is in the south. Yet this incident was different…

My response began as a carbon copy of every other day that week: For the fourth time in a week, I knelt down beside the tiny repeat offender to peel back the complex layers of anger and choices through conversation. And for the fourth time in a week, I wrote a note home to her parent and docked activity time. But for the first time in a week, for the first time this year, I looked deep in her eyes and told her she was special, that nothing she could do or say could make me love her less…

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My sociology-wired brain is constantly mulling over the nuances of the circumstance verses choice debate. To what extent are we a product of our environment and to what length are our lives the outcome of our choices?

My psychological musings took me to the life of Daniel. Brought to Babylon as a slave by the pagan King Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel was renamed Belteshazzar and forced into a 3 year training program in preparation for service in the King’s court. A Jewish exile living in the epicenter of pagan ritual and self-serving wealth, stripped of his culture and identity, Daniel had the crushing weight of less than ideal conditions working against him.

So how, then, did Daniel rise above the limits of his hapless circumstance to become renowned for his wisdom and understanding, to be known as “ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters” in the kingdom?

At his core, Daniel knew that he was deeply and richly loved by the God of Abraham and Jacob, by the God who would someday lead generations of Jews and Gentiles out of political and spiritual exile into a land eternally flowing with milk and honey. Daniel acted out of the confidence of one who is loved.

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Now maybe I’m simplifying things too much. But maybe the circumstance verses choice debate downplays the significance of a verbal affirmation of love that leads to steadfast assurance of being loved. Daniel rose above the constraints of his situation and allowed love, not circumstances outside his control, to define the parameters of his freedom and choices. And through his unwavering faith that he was loved, Daniel made choices that took him on a journey to the right hand of King.

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I wish I could say my pint-sized deviant turned it around to become my star student. She didn’t. Instead, she knowingly chose to continue to engage in actions that led to negative consequences. And because I love her, I needed to stick to those consequences and issue an office referral.

But on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, and on all the days of the week after that, I will kneel down beside her, look her deep in the eyes, and tell her that she is special, that nothing she says or does can make me love her less. And maybe one day long after our paths have diverged, she will act out of the confidence of one who is loved.

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Airport Lessons: “eco-apartheid”

24/216 = 1/9 = 11.1 %

Before you start tagging me as the next Albert Einstein or Sir Issac Newton, let me me explain a simple concept: I dislike math…The strategy, the equations, the formulas, all vex my sociological-tinged life lenses. But in some instances, math conveys more than murky Freudian theory can; math expresses irrefutable fact.

Fact: I spent 24 hours of the last 9 days, or 11.1%, bumming around in airports or sitting in high backed airplane seats.

As a frequent traveler, I can tell you there are some obvious downsides to air travel: Stale, bacteria laced air, greasy pieces of pizza at $7 a slice, and tipsy flight crews to name a few. But there are golden moments as well…namely people watching. I recently saw the Queen Bee, a 50-something woman dressed in a flowing fuchsia chiffon number, waltzing through the terminal. Dawdling behind her toting two over-sized pink zebra print bags was a diminutive airport employee who was probably a day shy of turning 93. Needless to say, the majestic Queen Bee and her elderly minion made me chuckle.

But perhaps the greatest benefit to air travel is the chance to read. With the exception of international flights, airplanes are excellent locations to catch up on current events or juicy novels sans distracting TV or internet. And after 8 separate flights in the past 216 hours, my cache of newly acquired information is full.

Surprisingly, the most intriguing article award goes to O magazine. I am a closet Oprah fan and the picture of Michelle Obama on the April cover completed the sale. Yet it wasn’t the interview with the President’s wife that eventually captured me (though it is worth reading).

Instead, I found myself drawn to page 157, “Green Streets: Putting two at-risk entities together- the environment and inner-city kids – activist Van Jones has come up with a plan to save both“.

Recognizing green energy as the frontier for future economic growth, Jones equips at-risk urban California teens with the skills, training, and mentored job experience needed to pioneer the rising green technology field. Pictured alongside slogans like, “Green jobs not jails“, Jones speaks out against what he calls “eco-apartheid“, or healthy, green lifestyles only for well-resourced, well-funded areas.

As a person who advocates for at-risk teen mentoring and equity in resources, and as someone who is exploring what role eco-consiousness plays in social justice, I found the idea facinating. Jones’ mission is perfectly common sense yet refreshingly innovative at the same time.

I should mention that I did put down the article slightly unsettled. In the coming decades, I hope the emphasis on training the under-resourced to be front runners in green technology isn’t limited to urban areas. When addressing the “eco-apartheid” that exists in our nation, we would be amiss to bypass the country’s massive rural population, especially areas entrenched in fossil fuels. What will rapidly expanding green energy mean for states like West Virginia, where the local economy is built on the foundation of coal? Will workers in the fossil-fuel energy field be trained and mentored in green energy techniques by men like Van Jones?

Some questions breed more further questions than answers, and I am curious to see what lies ahead of the “eco-apartheid” issue…

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Redefining everyday justice…

Recently, a friend and I embarked on a journey we’ve seen others pursue, but weren’t confident enough to attempt ourselves until now: Eating only at local restaurants. Time frame: Between now and the summer.

Our quest isn’t atypical for this area. I live in a city where food co-ops abound and the majority of people bike or bus to work…despite continual snowfalls and below-zero temperatures. As your feet hit the city pavement, your senses are bombarded with diversity of culture: Somali phrases tickle your ears, the smell of Mexican sope assaults your nose, and pungent Thai spices burn your eyes. Ethnic diversity, green living, and social awareness are the threads that hold the tapestry of this city together.

So obviously our resolution to eat local is not original. If anything, it is a leap onto a bandwagon that left the station years ago in this forward-thinking city. But for two 20-somethings raised during the height of Suburban rule, it is an epic adventure.

Quite honestly we’re bad at it. The other night we found ourselves in a Chili’s enjoying 2 for 1 drinks and honey chipotle chicken…after minutes of rationalization (… “But it’s just so cheap!”… “Well, we were already in the area to see a movie.”… “I don’t think it counts if you’re eating chicken this delicious!”…) we finally acknowledged our failure and strengthened our resolve by telling all our friends of our expedition. After all, who wants to renig in front of peers? There is power in social pressure…

Since cheating on local eateries with the afore-mentioned Suburban Chili’s, we’ve made strides toward food redemption…neighborhood coffee joints, ethnic specialties, considering regional produce over California-grown…And I enjoy it more. Dining has become an experience rather than a means to an end. There’s a heart-pounding thrill in the gamble of exploring neighborhood resturaunts.

As I travel halfway across the country this week to a state that has been raped for generations by the severe greed and self-interest  of coal companies, I myself the desiring to strive for moral justice by continuing the hunt for local meals: Choosing a diner over Applebee’s, a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop over Starbucks…Maybe, just maybe, my definition of justice has been too limited. Could it be that eating local is another link in the chain of everyday  justice?

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