I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
When I was only six or seven years old, my father bought me a bicycle. It was used, of course, but he put a fresh coat of paint on it. I was overjoyed.
A major’s son came over and scratched up all the paint, because even a used bicycle was too fine for an enlisted man’s son if it had fresh paint. Nothing happened to him, that was the way of the world and the dividing line between the classes on an Air Force Base.
Even now, I’m aware of class lines and distinctions that apply to me. I grew up in trailer parks with severe attention deficit disorder. I’ve often been at the bottom of such dividing lines.
I have seen a lot of ugliness. I’ve been on the board of a child advocacy center. I served on the board of a rape crisis center. I did a fair amount of pro bono work for victims of domestic violence.
I’ve buried three children. I’ve sat by helpless unable to do anything for a child with PTSD. My youngest child has Tourette’s Syndrome. I’ve had dreams stolen from me.
I’ve no illusions.
But I take joy in life.
Too often I hear people claim that they’ve seen reality and that they cannot unsee it. That they’ve earned their anger, their self-righteousness, their rage, their judgment on the world.
I first thought about it when a friend of mine, a Black Justice of the Peace who had to run with a white man’s name (because if she hadn’t, she would not have been able to get re-elected in a district that was dominated by whites), commented on the terrible disservice that had been done to children she knew who faced the world through a lens of anger and betrayal.
She knew the world was sexist, racist and terribly unfair. But that did not mean we had to be sexist, racist and unfair creatures that mirrored the world.
I’m not Pollyanna. But I also know that I eat better food than the Sun King ate when he was considered as the king of France to have the most luxurious standard of living in the world.
I sleep in a better bed. My central heat and air conditioning work better than his did. I have far fewer bed bugs or lice than he lived with. I can expect to live longer, with better health.
I can choose to take joy in things, to treasure my living children and love them. To watch them overcome and make progress. To find joy in my life and to look towards the future and to Christ forgiving me of my sins and the wrongs I’ve done others.
I take the following passage of scripture very seriously:
9 Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
Is there a point to this essay?
Yes.
Bad things can happen to us, but we do not need to become what has happened to us.
The world is filled with both great ugliness and great beauty, and we do not have to choose to reflect the ugliness.
That does not mean that we give in (I would never have volunteered in the places I have volunteered if I thought that). Nor does it mean that we need to rage against the dying of the light.
Instead I think it means that we can seek charity, the true love of Christ, to love without envy or vaunting, to care and to know joy and hope. That I can see the truth that is in God and God’s love for the world.
That is the wheat I seek these days among the Tares.
Wheat & Tares 
Thank you so much for saying this. I’ve seen ugliness no one should ever have to go through, and it almost killed me. I know that regulars here have gone through even worse things, and that tears me apart.
On the other hand, I’ve seen good things in my life, too, and that’s what I choose to reflect in my life. All we can hope is to make the world a little better for the people around us.
Stephen, you speak from deep and personal experience. Yes, we should seek charity and kindness despite the difficulties and ugliness of the world. Maybe we should hurry to do that. Like the songwriter sings, I’ve got this feeling that it’s later than it seems.
So beautiful. Thank you.
Not just seeing the truth, but finding the beauty, that is the trick to surviving the ugly.
There was a time in my life when stepping off a 13th floor balcony was a bit too easy and a bit too tempting. Ya’all don’t need the long list of crap that led up to that, because that is not what you need to look for in life. I called up a friend and it helps to have friends who are psychologists who love you enough to listen and know you well enough to know how to help. He told me to find one beautiful thing each day and to write them down and send him the list. I have to mention here that calling cost about $5 per minute after the $20 to even make the connection “state side” from Germany, so phone calls back to the US were a minor fortune. But then Germany is pretty easy to find beautiful things. So, I started actively looking for the beautiful things. The castle ruins on the nearby hillside. An old battered copper pot. (I bought the pot and still have it. The German house frau watering her red flowers in the window box. The bumble bees attracted to the sunshine on the white stucco wall.
I think Victor Frankl pointed out that he survived the Concentration Camp by finding the few beautiful things that still existed inside the death camp. He saw the love of one starving person sharing their crust of bread with another who was sick. He found the beauty of a sunset. He watched as those who got caught up in the unfairness and ugliness let the anger and bitterness eat their insides and they were some of the first to die. Victor Frankl said that circumstances can take every freedom away from you except your choice to decide how you will respond. You can decide to respond with love and you can always find the things that are still beautiful. Even if there are only small moments of beauty, look for them.
it’s comments and threads like this that keep me coming back
Sometimes when bad things happen, they end up being good.
Nicely said, Stephen. And, I think, it’s helpful to perceive that every human being (for the most part) will ultimately see – and experience – their own share of ugliness and goodness; and each must chose their own response to it. I suppose this is what we’ve always called “The Human Condition”. For even Nature herself….is very, very cruel.
This is a principle in art, but what makes things stand out is simple contrast. Some of us can readily identify beauty and truth because we have experienced enough of their opposites to know the really good stuff when we experience it.
Some of us lack that ability and it can be due to a lack of experience, or even the training or sophistication to identify what is truly sublime and glorious. We can be like untrained pigs rooting about for truffles.
Anna – I am very glad you are still here! Your comment above is beautiful, thank you.
Thanks for sharing your story. Really, really well-written. I deeply appreciated it. Good to know the people beyond the blogposts.
Yeah. Yes this. This is what hope is.