Dorie Morgan’s Rising Up
Navigating Twenty-Something Suburban Life
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Archive of "reflecting on self" Category
In grief, it is the small things I think about
I canceled my hair appointment that I scheduled for last Friday. I justified it by saying that my roots really aren’t that bad, my layers are falling in a very cute way around my face and if I waited till closer to Thanksgiving, I’d look nicer for the holiday season.
Money has been tight in the Morgan household lately and I didn’t want to ask Brian for $100 for a cut and color when he’s been eating PB&J at lunch for the last month. If you’ve been reading along, you know that my husband is a carpenter. With the current state of the economy, people are not adding crown modeling, shadow boxes and staircases with the same enthusiasm they did three years ago. He’s still working most days now but that doesn’t mean I can keep spending the way we used to.
Canceling that hair appointment seemed like a really smart idea. It would also give me more time to think of a low key idea for my hair – red hair may make me feel bodacious but it’s a lot more work than I thought it would be. I don’t dye my hair myself because the last time I did, it turned pink. That was okay for college but this is the working world and the pharmaceutical industry is not filled with pink haired employees.
But on Thursday, a close friend of the family (Demi) died suddenly. We didn’t hear about it until today and the viewing is tomorrow.
Suddenly, my roots look like Shakira’s in the “Underneath Your Clothes” video. My cute layers are not feeling so cute. And don’t even get me started on the state of my eyebrows.
It’s a reminder that the way I present myself might be different from the way I see myself.
When things are going well, it is really easy to look in the mirror and think about how great you are/look/feel.
But when life hits you unexpectedly, it is easy to let those doubts (that are usually kept at bay) seep in.
Reality is somewhere in the middle. My hair doesn’t look as great as I thought it did last week when I canceled my appointment but it doesn’t look as bad as I think it looks today. And really, my hair has nothing to do with the world that surrounds me.
There is this fine line between taking pride in your appearance and letting your appearance take over you. You need to go to work each day, dressed with the same passion that you dressed with before your first job interview. You need to also be able to still get your hands dirty in life – whether that be making mud pies with a small child or trying something new for the first time.
Demi was a person who saw my family at their best and at their worst. She set my parents up on their first date even though neither of my parents were interested in dating. She stood by my mom when my mother was raising a small child by herself. And it was at her house where I got stuck in a tree when was five.
It is easier to fixate on my own appearance than it is to really process what happened. Because I can change myself but I can’t change what happened.
Thank you President Bush
When I was in 9th grade, our history class took a month to discover our political beliefs under the guidance of Mr. Kennedy (who would not tell us his own beliefs until the very last day of the school year but only with the promise that we would not tell the 8th graders who would follow us). We had debates. We wrote essays. We took political quizzes. All of this was to determine which party we belonged to. Are you a Democrat? Or are you a Republican? There are your options and you must know who you are.
I landed in the Republican side of things. There was only one other kid in class who was farther in than I was but it seemed like his reasons were based more on not liking anyone and not being interested in even helping his own family whereas I ranted like a lunatic about Social Security and what seemed like a crazy system (some things never change).
I stuck to my party ever since.
I voted in the 2000 election for George W. Bush but my little Republican dream was John McCain in the White House.
I voted in the 2004 election for George W. Bush – although for that I argued was a choice between inconsistency and incompetence. At least I voted for the man who was consistently incompetent. At the very least, smart people might be around him. I wasn’t happy but I took the options presented to me.
But I haven’t been happy with Bush for quite some time.
So as I wrote yesterday, I voted proudly for Bob Barr. I made a financial donation to his campaign. And for once, I didn’t feel like I had to sacrifice my beliefs for the options in front of me.
I also changed my Republican status to Libertarian. Next time, I’ll be a registered Libertarian.
It turns out there are third parties. You do have other options.
During the 2000 election, I had no idea third parties existed until I got to college. There I discovered the Green Party but every collegiate Green Party member I met appeared to be a ranting, paranoid whack job. It wasn’t exactly the best advertisement for third parties.
This time, I did my research. I learned. I explored again with the same enthusiasm I had in the 9th grade. I needed to do this.
My dissatisfaction motivated me forward. And for that, I want to thank George W. Bush. I truly believe Bush was the best thing that has happened to the United States of America.
Before you get mad, think about it. Yesterday I stood in a record breaking line at 6 in the morning because people were so dissatisfied that they had to do something. Yesterday morning, for the first time in my life, I stood in line at a polling station that wasn’t just filled with white people. Even people from the Fleetwing section of Bristol (which is known for being worse than Philly neighborhoods and is also an open air drug market) were there to vote. And while some of them scared me slightly, it was important to see that they were there. They never came before.
I wanted to be the first voter at my polling station yesterday morning but there was an African American family ahead of me. They never voted before – it seemed fitting to see them go before me.
As of six o’clock this morning, Barack Obama received over 62 million votes. And they are still counting. That’s more votes than received by any other president in US history.
It seems to me that maybe we all had to get really uncomfortable to be motivated. Bush broke our apathy. And we should thank him for that.
Cheering for the home team
I know nothing about football but for some reason, there is this very special place in my heart for high school football. Maybe it was one too many night in the stadium during my own high school days while my friends marched with the band or maybe there something about seeing all of the families in the stands. I can’t help myself. Friday nights in a stadium, hearing the drum cadence and seeing the kids on the field makes me excited.
Brian has no concept of this. One of the downfalls to homeschooling is that it leaves kids with virtually no typical rites of passage. No prom. No graduation. No football games. Just home and school which happen to take place in the same place.
Brian and I went to the big game on Friday night. My own Neshaminy Redskins versus the Pennsbury Falcons on Heartbreak Ridge. The two rivals on Senior Appreciation Night. It doesn’t get any more classic high school than this. It was a perfect game to take Brian to see.
It was nothing that I remembered. Bet you didn’t see that coming.
Sure the stadium was the same. Those giant concrete stands couldn’t change if they wanted to. The snack stand was in the same location. The Neshaminy Hall of Fame Wall was right where I saw it last. The marching band sat in the same portion of the stands as they did when I was a student.
Everything was physically exactly the same but the experience I wanted to recreate for Brian just couldn’t be done. I left that experience behind in 2000.
Because when we leave the past, we leave the past. We don’t just carry it with us to re-experience when it is convenient. It is why life is so precious.
I can’t bring Brian back in time to experience things differently, even if I think he will enjoy the experience I had.
I can take Brian to see my childhood home but I cannot recreate the experience of sitting in the family room, folding paper stars with my grandfather while my grandmother made dinner. I am the only one who had that experience and the time for that is over.
Our experiences are our own. They are not transferable. It’s a onetime deal.
The upside? I can have new experiences with my husband. And because I’m with my husband, those experiences are something that I could not have on my own.
Neshaminy won the game on Friday. And in terms of a “new” experience (ie: Brian at a high school football game), it was fun but I think next time, I’ll leave my high school memories at home.
Happy Halloween
Halloween has always been my favorite holiday.
When I was a little girl, my Halloween preparations started the day school let out in June. Yes, it took me four and a half months to get ready for the wonderfulness that is Halloween. It was very serious business. After all, Halloween only came once a year and I had to be ready when it arrived.
Halloween was to me what Christmas is to almost every other child in America. I was more concerned about who I was going to be on October 31st than what I was going to get when Santa came to town. Who cares if I was naughty or nice if I didn’t have a good costume!
So every year when school let out, I started plotting and planning my costume. Would I be a witch? Would I be a character from a book? Would I be the popular Halloween costume that every other suburban kid was that year? These were life altering questions.
I wasn’t the type of kid who could decide a week before that I wanted to be a witch. I was the type of kid who had to have the costume started in August in order to be a witch because I needed ample time to develop my back story. Why was I carrying a cauldron? Did I rely on my broomstick to get around? Was I good witch or a bad witch? What kind of spells would I be casting?
Yes, that’s right. I had a back story for being a witch when I was four years old. I made every person in my family refer to me as “Acorn the Witch”. And I was a good witch. Kind of like “Dorrie the Witch” but since I was already Dorie, I couldn’t be “Dorrie”. All of this drove my poor uncle (the single, childless adult) absolutely batty. He couldn’t figure out why I didn’t just get in my costume and get my candy like every other kid.
When I say Halloween was a really big deal, I might actually be understating its monumental importance in my life.
On this side of adulthood, Halloween is weird. Sure its fun to dress up and go out with my friends to a party but it isn’t the same. And it has nothing to do with the candy.
It has everything to do with perspective.
As adult Dorie in a Halloween costume, I’m Dorie as a witch. Or I’m Dorie as Peter Pan. Or I’m Dorie as the random stuff the kids gave me through out the year (Halloween 2006 I decorated myself with all of the stuff my nieces and nephew gave me and walked around the neighborhood with a tutu on my head). I’m still Dorie.
But child Dorie in a Halloween costume was amazing. It wasn’t Dorie as a witch but it was “Acorn the Witch”. The year I dressed up as a flight attendant, I memorized my mom’s emergency speech from her days as a flight attendant. When I dressed up as a pirate, for that one special day, I really was a pirate. I embraced what I imagined.
Halloween became the chance for me to try out different aspects of my personality without fear that they wouldn’t fit in my life. For one day, I could shed my life and try on something different.
I think that’s something all kids need. One day where they can explore different sides of themselves without fear of rejection or judgment or failure. One day where they can embrace the fabulousness that their minds create.
Halloween is really just a giant celebration of creativity and fantasy. The adult versions of us just forget it.
Brian, Dorie and Stress
I used to forget that men and women deal with stress differently. But I also think that most of us forget we deal with stress differently until we watch someone be beaten over the head violently with their own stress. Then we remember. And then we go back to the blissful state of ignorance when the poor victim of stress walks away. Life is great.
This stops working once two people decide to walk down the aisle. Then, all bets are off. I’m not trying to scare the single friends out there but it’s true.
Then you get the pleasure of living with your mate’s stress and their way of addressing their stress.
Like many women, when stress hits I give myself a pep talk and pull myself up by my bootstraps. Your house collapsed and you have nowhere to go? Great, I’ll organize a community meal schedule and prep the house for you to stay with me for a month. I’m five minutes away. Oh you need a baby sitter with ten minutes notice? Great, by the time you pick up your family, the kids will be fed, homework will be done and my house will still be immaculate. Money is tight, we got a surprise bill and you don’t know how we’re going to manage it? That’s fine, I moonlight as a miracle worker, and I’ll make it happen.
It sounds ridiculous but this is how I process everything in my head.
Brian’s approach to dealing with stress is much different. He shuts down. He ceases to function. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. He’s okay with stress to a point, and then he is not. He just stops.
I go into “Super Bitch” mode when I get to that level of stress. At that point, I’m going to get my shit done and you will not get in my way. Brian is very kind when he calls me “Cranky Face”. A little too kind perhaps. Kind to the point of lying to me.
We both get a little annoyed with the other for our respective coping mechanisms. The coping mechanisms that worked best when we were single are not necessarily the best coping mechanisms in terms of a marriage.
I talked to my friend Carmella about this. Carmella is a marriage counselor and a newlywed herself. She is also my frequent voice of reason. When I cross over into crazy land with my expectations of other people, she is the one who can say I’m being unreasonable and I know that statement from her does not come from a defensive place. It comes from the voice of someone who is pursuing a Ph.D. in Psychology.
Carmella, of course, tells me that this is normal and most couples find themselves with similar responses. Which I find hard to believe at first. Because how did we as humans manage to populate the planet if the men-folk were shutting down every time stress happened? “Uh-oh Honey, some prehistoric beast is attacking our cave! No wait; don’t hide in the corner, save our offspring!”
But while I am still contemplating the evolutionary implications of our stress reactions, Carmella tells me that the dinners I make are excessive. And she’s right. Because dinner is a massive undertaking in our house. It takes me at least an hour to make dinner every night. Maybe I’m going overboard but I want my husband to have one really good meal every day.
The night after I talk to Carmella, Brian looks at me and says “you get home every night and it’s late. And then you make dinner and it’s late. And then you clean up dinner and it’s late. And then we watch TV but you fall asleep.”
I deal with stress by trying to make a perfect meal and Brian deals with stress by wanting to watch television with a wife who is awake.
We continue the dance of figuring out what it means to be in a marriage with each other.
Craving Community
Today, I hate community. A lot.
Community is tough to deal with day in and day out. Community means you willing let the people around you be up in your business. I don’t always want the people around me to be in community with me.Sometimes, I want to be an island.
Sometimes I want to be left alone with my own self destructive devices.
The important thing to remember about community is that we always crave community. Even self declared loners crave community; they just are more vocal about only craving community on their own terms. And we all try to have community based largely on our own terms. We seek to build communities that are filled with people who are like us.
Even if you say that diversity in a community is important to you, you are still entering a community that is filled with people who are like you – people who crave diversity.
So what ends up happening is that bloggers join communities that are filled with other bloggers. Christians join communities that are filled with other Christians. Greek life alumnae join alumnae associations for their own organizations.
It is simple really.
Community is rough because ideally your community is filled with people who are going to call you out on your shit. And more importantly, people who are going to call you out on the important shit. Because it is so easy to call someone out on their shit when it is trivial. It is far easier to call me out on the fact that I never return phone calls than it is to call me out on my ability to write people off who wrong me.
I might say I want a community that calls me out but what I really want is a community where I can call other people out on their shit. Because calling other people out feels safer than it does to be on the receiving end.
But what I need to grow as a person is a community that is going to tell me, quite loudly, when I am messing up hardcore. I need a community who is going to be there for me, whether I want them there or not. I need community that both humbles me and lifts me up.This is why we crave community. We crave community to save us from ourselves.
Wanting community just isn’t enough. We have to crave it in order to venture out to seek community. We are, in fact, social creatures.
But today, I hate community. Because community also means being involved and sometimes being involved is just inconvenient. Sometimes being involved means going to things that you aren’t interested in, just because it is important to someone else. Sometimes being involved means making a meal for someone when you really want to be at home on the couch, watching bad television. Sometimes being involved means listening to someone rant like a lunatic when you really want to tell them they sound like a jackass.
Community does not equal easy.
Being a part of a community, not just lurking on the fringes of community, means that there is work involved. It is the same kind of work that goes into building a marriage. It simply doesn’t work if the parties involved don’t put in the effort.
So today, I hate community. Because I don’t really want to put the work into community. And that’s okay. My cravings for community trump my inner urges of laziness. So I keep putting the work in, even when it is not easy and even when it is not convenient.
I do it because tomorrow I’ll want to be apart again.
Guest Post: Is being a Yuppie so bad?
The first time I encountered Alex Fisher was on a blogging conference call, set up by Brazen Careerist. We get on the line for a chance to talk to Penelope Trunkwith a few other Gen Y bloggers and no one else dials in. On one hand, I was pretty annoyed - who do these people think they are to stand up Penelope Trunk and a chance to have their blogging questions answered. On the other hand, it was great - Alex and I had a great opportunity to ask lots of questions and get individualized attention (and who doesn’t love attention)!
I hope you enjoy Alex’s guest post today, Is being a Yuppie so bad? It is a fun take on an uncomfortable title.
What is a Yuppie?
I’ve heard people use the word ‘yuppie’ referring to other people, sometimes referring to me. I’ve heard it used with both negative and positive connotations, too. I set out to determine what a yuppie really is today and if I am one.
From Wikipedia: The term yuppie (short for “young urban professional” or “young upwardly-mobile professional”) refers to self-reliant, financially secure individualists, particularly from the upper-middle class.
Am I a Yuppie?
Alright, so reading the first definition I can see that perhaps describing me. I am a young upwardly-mobile professional as I have gone from being a college student living at home working part-time to living on my own working full-time and more.
Self-reliant? Totally, at least, as self-reliant as a human can realistically be in this world. I don’t have delusions that I can get by in the world alone without the help of anyone else. Friends and family are important and support me in what I do, but I realize it’s up to me to do those things that are important to get done.
Financially secure individualist? Yeah, totally. I have some student loan debt and who knows where this economy is going in the next few years, but I’ve been saving money and enjoy my old shoes and old car still. I don’t have the latest and greatest luxuries and gadgets most of the time, and I mean come on– I started a finance blog. I’m a personal finance nerd!
Upper-middle class? Well, taking opinion out of it I decided to type my salary into Global Rich List and get an idea of where I fall in line of the richest people in the world. Chances were just by being American I would rank high so I looked at where the average family making $50,000 / year is and compared myself to it. It will suffice it to say I’m at least middle class and probably close enough to upper-middle class in terms of income.
So, according to Wikipedia’s definition I fit the description of being a yuppie and have no need to ashamed of it.
What else could yuppie mean?
Top entry of many on Urban Dictionary: a very arrogant well put together young urban professional who you more than likely will find wearing Gucci and prada with a large bank account which they love to brag about. You can find them drinking Starbucks, living in a one bedroom apartment in a city where they will pay 1000-2000 a month for and spending another 3000 a month on their credit cards. They brag about their designer clothes and love to flaunt them , as well as their wealth. They look down upon anyone who isn’t as wealthy or high status as they are. Men are likely to be found wearing designer suits, Gucci preferably with slicked back or well cut hair. The women will be wearing Prada/Gucci and Fendi. The most arrogant conceited f**ks on the planet.
The entry went on to give most of the characters in the excellent movie American Psycho as examples of yuppies.
Wow, so that description of a yuppie is most definitely not one I’d like to associate to myself. And certainly, when the term was coined in the 1980s and was aimed more at young urban professionals with an arrogance to match their over-inflated wallets the negative connotation of the word could be assumed.
I think what’s illustrated in these two different definitions is that the term yuppie means different things to different people in different times.
The definition of yuppie is changing
I’m under the impression the term is losing it’s negative connotation and is evolving to represent young professionals who are trying to do well and lead the way for our generation to take responsibility for the world in which we live.
It seems like some of the initial negativity in the term yuppie could have been caused not only because of the prideful spirit of the young urban professionals, but because of the jealousy of the people lacking less money, objects, and social status than the yuppies of the 80s.
Today, I look around and see lots of new luxury cars on the road, people wearing brand new $50 t-shirts that were designed to look old, expensive sunglasses, a Starbucks on every corner, and lots of expensive martini bars. These aren’t necessarily bad things, but I think the culture has moved from jealousy to trying to emulate the living large style and delusions of the original yuppies. At one time, if you had a cell phone that automatically made you a yuppie. The term has since lost it’s original meaning as the quality, or perhaps excess, of everyone’s life has grown.
So, sure I like a good expensive martini sometimes. And even though I’ll drive my current Ford Focus into the ground past it’s current 102,000 miles I will eventually get a new car– maybe even a fancy full size one! However, I lack much of the delusion and pride of the original yuppies and think others like me are out there too.
Generation Y and the new yuppies
Many of us in our 20s and 30s are self-reliant individualists, have money in the bank or a 401K, work hard and are doing better than our parents, and realize we have it better than a lot of people. We do these things and live this lifestyle not thinking we are better than everyone else who has less, but realizing our efforts help influence our luck and take responsibility for the direction and success of our own life.
We are the new yuppies and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
Alex Fisher rants periodically on his personal website Young Professional Finance Blog. You can read more about saving, investing, and financial ideas for and by young professionals on YPFB.
Wasteful Spending in Suburbia
I don’t usually think of myself as a wasteful person. I don’t like to think that I throw my resources away. I would like to think of myself as a person who consciously uses the things in my life.
Should I mention again that I live in the suburbs?
The suburbs are a wasteful place. It is difficult to live here without your own vehicle. Carpooling is a suburban myth – sure, you could carpool but if you wanted to share your space with other people, you would live in the city.
The suburbs are also based entirely on consumerism. Here we keep up with the Jones’. We also keep up with the Smith’s (I heard they bought a brand new car), the Johnson’s (they are remodeling their kitchen, sweetheart, when are we going to remodel our kitchen, I need granite countertops) and everyone else on the block (Honey, do something, someone might get ahead of us).
But we don’t like to say we’re “keeping up”. Mainly because “keeping up” really means “falling behind”. Instead we are “getting ahead” and “living up to our potential”. Both of those terms translate into “I can’t stop to take a vacation or I could lose all of my stuff”.
Translation: this is a wasteful life.
We waste our money on things we cannot afford. We waste our time in ridiculous commutes because we live so far away from where the jobs are located. We waste our families because we fail to instill a sense of community in our children.
We waste.
We have so much and yet we value so little of it.
We like to be trendy. We go green, rarely because we genuinely care about the world we are leaving for our children but because everyone else is going green. We don’t want to be left out.
We build a false sense of community on trends. Those trends make us feel like we are apart of something bigger than ourselves but because trends quickly pass, we are constantly looking for the next thing that will make us fill connected. And if we are the first to discover something new and trendy, it makes us feel as if we are more valuable than everyone around us.
It is shallow.
I want to change. I want to change the way suburbia lives but I have to change the way I live first.
I’m starting a savings challenge with myself today. I have to be honest: this is not the first time I’ve had a savings challenge. Usually, my challenges consist of no lattes for as long as I can bear or no new shoes or only peanut butter and jelly until I’m malnourished.
This savings challenge will be much more balanced. No wacky extremes. Just serious questions: How often do I really need to have my eyebrows waxed? How much food do we really need to buy at the grocery store? If I buy the cheaper item, will I have to replace it next month?
I’ll be sticking with it for 30 days. Wish me luck.
Change and Birthdays
Birthday always feel like a better opportunity for self improvement than the beginning of a new calendar year. I usually try to be a person with great New Year’s Resolutions. And it’s usually an epic fail. This year wasn’t as bad as usual but it still wasn’t the changes I thought I could make.
My heart just was not in it.
The New Year is just a time we expect that we should make changes. Because everyone else is doing it. Maybe it really is because we all want to be part of a culture of change. Or maybe it is because we want to connect with the people around us.
The big problem with making changes at the New Year is the group mentality. We aren’t making changes because the timing is right for our lives. We aren’t making changes because we have an overwhelming urge and need to change. We are trying to change because it is convenient. We are trying to change for the wrong reasons.
I turned 23 in 2005. I like to describe 23 as my scary age – you feel like you should know what you are doing with your life but in reality, you have absolutely no clue. 23 still scares me in ways that I’m told are similar to the ways my friends feel about 30 or 40.
But I don’t say that 2005 was my scary year. 2005 was just fine. It was me being 23 in the year 2005 that was the problem.
And I think 26 is going to be a pretty good age for me. I have a husband that I love and I adore. I have a home to live in. I have my friends and family. I have a job. I have things in my life that I am passionate and excited about doing. My needs are met and I want the things that I have.
I’m not emotionally attached to the calendar year I am living in but I am emotionally attached to the number of years I have under my belt. The process of turning 26 makes me want to make changes to make this year under my belt. I would rather say that I changed the world for the better when I was 26 years old than say “Dorie Morgan changed the world in 2008”. Or “Dorie changed the way she lived when she was 26” would be better as well.
What if we change the way we think about making resolutions to change? What if we picked one thing to change or accomplish every year? But instead of waiting for a universal start date, we use our birthdays. We make one change and we make that change in the form of a well developed plan.
Change rarely looks like a wish list. I may wish that I looked like Angelina Jolie, had the money of Oprah Winfrey and kept a house like Martha Stewart but none of that is realistic. Or probable. All that list contains is a series of wishes that are virtually unobtainable.
If I am serious about making a change, I need baby steps that lead to success.
I’m not sure what exactly I want for my 26th year but today is a really good day to actively think about it.
Safe and Comfortable is not enough
While I was making dinner last night, a young woman came to the door to talk about our voting choices. My father in law may have gotten to the woman first because I may have a habit of hassling the kids that go door to door on a campaign and it may make my family uncomfortable. No one else seems to be as entertained by it as I am. (My favorite question involves Gen-Y, student loans and what will whatever politician do to earn my vote.)
My f-i-l has a brief conversation with the girl. She had to have been 19 or 20. She had that “I’m a college kid and I can change the world” level of excitement, which I love. I wish we all had that level of excitement in our daily lives. But is excitement enough?
She was campaigning for Barack Obama in a predominantly white, suburban neighborhood (there are only two African American families on our street which is kind of impressive because most houses on the street are owned by the original owners). Her accent and use of language implied that she probably did not grow up in the best Philadelphia neighborhood. She was an African American. She had a look on her face that said “I work hard for everything I’ve got and I’m proud of where I am going”.
She was also dressed as if the moment she got done walking through the neighborhood, she was going to the clubs, not the burbs.
This was not the face I expected in the neighborhood. Usually our door to door campaign kids are dressed like they are headed to the office. And they usually come in pairs and are smiley - not passionate.
This girl had all of this enthusiasm which was inspiring and amazing to see. I might not be a huge fan of Obama but his ability to excite people is something I really respect. She conveyed his message with passion and commitment.
But I couldn’t help but wonder about the package that message came in.
Could the message be hidden by the form that it was delivered in? Would my 90 year old neighbor across the street want to open the door? Then again, my 90 year old neighbor doesn’t even open her front door for girl scouts selling cookies.
This isn’t just politics. This is everyday life.
I once heard a sermon that Jesus has become a safe package for us to accept salvation (I cannot remember for the life of me who I heard it from so if you recall, let me know). But Jesus wasn’t a safe package to accept two thousand years ago. Two thousand years ago, salvation in the form of Jesus was pretty radical concept. It wasn’t safe and it wasn’t comfortable but it did change the world. Regardless of your religious beliefs, Jesus changed the world you live in.
Things or people that change the world are rarely safe and comfortable. But people who get hired usually are comfortable. They make the interviewer feel comfortable with the decision to hire. If you aren’t safe and comfortable, you have to be so brilliant it hurts to be hired but even then, you’ll probably be an entrepreneur and make your own terms.
Safe and comfortable also helps when you want to get married or when you want to be part of a long term relationship. Part of why I married Brian was that he made me feel safe. And having that safety in my marriage makes it easier to not be safe in my other life decisions. It is easier to be bodacious by day when there is a comfortable harbor to return to at night.
From where I am sitting today, it seems as if our next president needs to be safe enough to make us feel comfortable with our decision but still have the courage to make changes. It isn’t enough to change the world and it isn’t enough to just give warm, fuzzy feelings to the voters.
I didn’t get to talk to the dressed up campaign worker. I could only overhear what was said. But when she left our house, she left me thinking.
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