I talk too much.
At least used to. I still have moments.
I sat with masking tape on my mouth almost every day of 1st grade.
(It was embarrassing, but not cruel, I promise. I loved that teacher, but couldn't keep my mouth shut.)
In my journey toward peace, I've found that quiet is a gift, and I treasure it.
I don't have to say everything that's on my mind any more.
I don't have to be the loudest voice in the political discussion.
I don't have to be the funniest person in the room. I still am, but I don't feel like I have to be.
At this point in my journey, I find myself speaking up when confronted with injustice, intolerance or just simple stupidity.
I've written the mayor, the governor and I write a lot of letters to my congressmen. (Email has made this so much easier!)
Today I need to write a letter. A letter of support for a dear friend. A letter outlining the injustice that was forced upon my friend.
This letter is going to piss a lot of people off.
It will probably change a lot of things in my life.
It will probably make me lose some friends.
And it could turn a place I love into a place that I'm not comfortable visiting any longer.
What I could say is nothing.
What I could do is nothing.
That would be easiest, wouldn't it?
But it would also be wrong.
My friend, Jesus, wasn't afraid to speak out when he saw injustice. He did it in peaceful, parable-laden ways. (Well, except for when he knocked over those money changers' tables in front of the temple. That wasn't so peaceful. But folks got his point.)
And people loved him for it. Except for when they crucified him.
I won't get crucified, even in a figurative way. Almost everyone I know agrees with what I am about to send out there.
It's the slings and arrows of the few that I am fearing.
Searching for a little peace. And just the right words.
I'll keep you posted.