Sometimes, you just don’t know what to say. You’re not sure whether to laugh, cry, shake your head, pray, go take a nap, or mutter an “umm hmm” in a way only your grandmother could.
Social media is full of opposing sentiments concerning the recent news of Covid-19's impact on the occupants, visitors, and staff of White House. Some, who have neither shown empathy nor concern for the nations death toll, and have rejected and mocked, from day one, protocols to stop the spread, are suddenly demanding that we all play nice, and be respectful and civilized. Others are beside themselves, reveling in the irony and surety; citing everything from karma to stupidity.
It's October. This year has been a nightmare for many.
People have sacrificed, adjusted their lives, endeavored to follow guidelines to protect themselves their families, businesses, and co-workers. The once respected USA is a global laughingstock. Leaders have lied so much, it's difficult to believe much that they say.
Exactly how are people who have contracted Covid-19, lost loved ones, jobs, homes, plans, etc. supposed to feel? When they find out that the very people who were tasked to lead, who deemed the virus a hoax, politicized the response, mishandled supplies, mismanaged funds, undermined experts, and downplayed the severity of the situation, are now sick themselves, is their mockery unfounded and cruel, or well deserved?
How are you, who’ve been quarantined since March; trying to follow the rules and guidelines, supposed to feel today? Are you snickering? Is there a gloat welling up in your spirit? Are you biting and bridling your tongue?
I was reminded of an afternoon several years ago.
I'd had a wonderful day subbing at the elementary school I'd attended as a child. Once outside, I walked to the corner, and took out my phone to open my ride share app. The crossing guard recognized me, and called my name. We chatted briefly, before she asked if I knew of the death of someone who had been horribly, and repeatedly unkind to me.
I froze. It was clear that the loss saddened her. I wasn't sure what look was on my face, or what she expected me to say. I managed to eek out, "Oh, no. I didn't know. I'm so sorry."
When the light changed, she signaled that I could cross, and we said our goodbyes. I walked across the street--and kept walking. In my mind, I replayed what she'd said. I wasn't sorry at all. There was no jubilation. I wasn't smiling like a Cheshire cat, but something came over me. I think it was relief; a sense of freedom, even. I could feel my stride change. I could also sense my thoughts being arrested. I heard so clearly, "You will never have to deal with that bully again. I know how you want to feel, but let me talk to you."
It occurred to me, as I walked, that as evil as the person had been to me, there were actually people who would be mourning the loss. There would be upheaval, change, disruption, lack, and need. I felt compelled to focus on them, and that.
It had been a long time since I'd walked the distance I traveled that day. God talked all the way. It was as if he was loving me enough not to let me descend to the level of the very inconsiderate being I'd had the misfortune to meet. The inclination to skip and sing, "Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead" never materialized. I knew I had every right to be glad, but exercising that right didn't feel...well...right.
I'd allowed the person to cause me to abandon something I enjoyed. The constant stress, antagonism, and sabotage had been too much. Others knew and watched, but did nothing to help. I suppose I could have fought back, but I didn't. It seemed like too much work, and I didn't have the will, or energy.
I've never liked bullies. I always found them exhausting, and hated the way their toxicity ruined otherwise kind people and pleasant situations. I think that, sometimes, people want to see how you're going to handle the bully because they couldn't. Other times, they just want to see a fight.
I'd made sure I'd never have to encounter that person, and suddenly I'd learned that my efforts to avoid places I even thought they would be, would no longer be necessary. They were gone for good.
What really took the cake was someone contacting me to see if I would be attending the funeral. I knew that act of total hypocrisy wasn't going to happen. Why on Earth would I go? Just to see? To gloat?
It is tricky when foes fall. You're human. If you're honest, your grief is non-existent. If you're wise, however, you focus on the lessons to be learned: how you treat others; soberly considering what you say and do; whether or not you believe that God will fight your battles for you.
Sometimes it does seem like evil is winning; like mean-spirited, hateful people are deliberately planted in your life just to see what you're made of. You do want them to stop. You do want them gone. You do wish that something will happen to make them go away. Enough really is enough.
I've been affected by bullies throughout my life, but I've never wanted to join them. I've never wanted to become one just to survive. I learned I didn't have to. I've seen God's work on my behalf. It is neither spooky, nor scary. It's swift and thorough, much like my Mother used to be. She would say, "Let me handle it. I'm grown." To me, that meant she knew of a more efficient, effective way than the childish tactics I would employ, which would surely make matters worse. I trusted her, and I trust God.
I'm not saying that one should deny the wrongdoing, mistreatment, and criminality visited upon them, or pretend it doesn't exist. I don't think evil deserves sympathy, prayer, grace, mercy, or a pass. I'm just scared for those who either aren't aware, are too arrogant, or ignore the patience they're being shown as they wreak havoc upon others.
My Dad used to say, "God ain't always gonna chide with you". I believe that. I also believe that the fall of every bully is compounded by fear, insecurity, and the tormenting memories of, and delayed regret toward every person they've hurt.
Sooner or later, people get what's coming to them, and it in no way erases the harm they've done. Justice and vengeance amplify it. History memorializes it. Everybody sees it. Some want to romanticize it, deny it, or blanket it with sympathy, but all that does is bring more attention to it.
Sowing and reaping aren't merely financial principles. We'd all be wise to remember that. There's a difference between holding someone accountable for the harm they've done; stating the truth about it, and gloating about the related, or unrelated consequences they suffer. That ish, deserving though it may be, can backfire.
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