A few months ago my spouse and I decided to try growing some vegetables in a garden for the summer. At the time we had no real plans for the summer and had plenty of time on our hands.
It didn’t take long for the radishes we had planted to sprout and begin to grow, but the in-between period, right after they had sprouted and the waiting period before they could be harvested felt like it dragged on forever! In previous posts, I have mentioned that I’m not always the most patient person.
The whole process of waiting, watering and tending our plants, and waiting some more felt a bit underwhelming and uncertain. It wasn’t until I could finally see the change – the product of our patience and hard work – that I realized just how damn hard and exhausting growth and change can be! Nevertheless, the beauty, even small moments of it, is found within the process itself.
All of this work gardening has made me think more about the growth process involved with being human, too. I’ve come to the conclusion that change is never easy, especially when it involves belief systems that we may have held and internalized our entire lives. Like a plant’s complex root systems, our own egos cling to the safety of the soil we’ve grown up in.
Transformation is hard work. It does not happen overnight; it happens each day, through the choices we make.
It takes time. It takes patience, and more patience.
It takes a willingness to surrender to the process of growth and an acceptance that you don’t know what things will look like on the other side.
It takes courage.
I’ve never been exceptionally great at listening. I was on the phone talking about this with a good friend of mine recently, reflecting on our struggles throughout our lives to not interrupt. Maybe interjecting into conversations has always been our tendency as the younger siblings in our families, to ensure our voices are being heard, and not drowned out by our older siblings!
At the same time, I have to wonder if our tendency to feel like we have to get our word in isn’t also influenced by our upbringing and our race, too.
The past 2 months I have been reflecting on what it means to be white in America and what it means to have power, entitlement, and privilege and to not even be aware of the power you hold or when or how it is wielded.
I’ve been taking some time to try to be a better listener. If you, like me, find yourself in a position of listening right now, I invite you to join me. It would be naive of me to say that simply listening to a podcast or watching a video is going to solve America’s problems, but I think listening and learning is a good place to start.
Here’s what I’ve been listening to, in no particular order:
“How Running’s White Origins led to the Dangers of ‘Running While Black'” – Code Switch
We Are in the Future – This American Life
The Moth Radio Hour – Chelsea Shorte
Resmaa Menakem – OnBeing with Krista Tippett
Eve EwingYou can also visit her personal website here
Lastly, I’ll leave you with this essay from the late Congressman John Lewis that was written shortly before he passed away.
Together, You Can Redeem The Soul of our Nation – Congressman John Lewis
While my time here has now come to an end, I want you to know that in the last days and hours of my life you inspired me. You filled me with hope about the next chapter of the great American story when you used your power to make a difference in our society. Millions of people motivated simply by human compassion laid down the burdens of division. Around the country and the world you set aside race, class, age, language and nationality to demand respect for human dignity.
That is why I had to visit Black Lives Matter Plaza in Washington, though I was admitted to the hospital the following day. I just had to see and feel it for myself that, after many years of silent witness, the truth is still marching on.
Emmett Till was my George Floyd. He was my Rayshard Brooks, Sandra Bland and Breonna Taylor. He was 14 when he was killed, and I was only 15 years old at the time. I will never ever forget the moment when it became so clear that he could easily have been me. In those days, fear constrained us like an imaginary prison, and troubling thoughts of potential brutality committed for no understandable reason were the bars.
Though I was surrounded by two loving parents, plenty of brothers, sisters and cousins, their love could not protect me from the unholy oppression waiting just outside that family circle. Unchecked, unrestrained violence and government-sanctioned terror had the power to turn a simple stroll to the store for some Skittles or an innocent morning jog down a lonesome country road into a nightmare. If we are to survive as one unified nation, we must discover what so readily takes root in our hearts that could rob Mother Emanuel Church in South Carolina of her brightest and best, shoot unwitting concertgoers in Las Vegas and choke to death the hopes and dreams of a gifted violinist like Elijah McClain.
Like so many young people today, I was searching for a way out, or some might say a way in, and then I heard the voice of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on an old radio. He was talking about the philosophy and discipline of nonviolence. He said we are all complicit when we tolerate injustice. He said it is not enough to say it will get better by and by. He said each of us has a moral obligation to stand up, speak up and speak out. When you see something that is not right, you must say something. You must do something. Democracy is not a state. It is an act, and each generation must do its part to help build what we called the Beloved Community, a nation and world society at peace with itself.
Ordinary people with extraordinary vision can redeem the soul of America by getting in what I call good trouble, necessary trouble. Voting and participating in the democratic process are key. The vote is the most powerful nonviolent change agent you have in a democratic society. You must use it because it is not guaranteed. You can lose it.
You must also study and learn the lessons of history because humanity has been involved in this soul-wrenching, existential struggle for a very long time. People on every continent have stood in your shoes, through decades and centuries before you. The truth does not change, and that is why the answers worked out long ago can help you find solutions to the challenges of our time. Continue to build union between movements stretching across the globe because we must put away our willingness to profit from the exploitation of others.
Though I may not be here with you, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you truly believe. In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace, the way of love and nonviolence is the more excellent way. Now it is your turn to let freedom ring.
When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century, let them say that it was your generation who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war. So I say to you, walk with the wind, brothers and sisters, and let the spirit of peace and the power of everlasting love be your guide.
When I think of change, of true transformation, there is always an outward manifestation of that inner work. I have been grappling with what I can do to take action for racial justice right where I am, and one first simple step was to sign a petition. It takes little time or effort, but it still requires purpose and action. If you feel compelled, I invite you to join me in signing these two petition below (if you have not already) to demand justice for Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor .
You can also find direct ways to get involved in the fight for racial justice locally through the NAACP or SURJ (Showing Up For Racial Justice) chapters near you.
Be brave, be well, and keep growing.
Author’s Note: This was written from my perspective as a white, cisgender woman living in the U.S. All thoughts, opinions and reflections are my own.
Seeds of Hope 