As autumn starts, when leaves begin dropping, we know that soon many of Sacramento's trees will be colorless and empty. It's hard to keep up with the raking; even more discouraging to look ahead to a winter of being cooped up indoors.
The year 2020 has been amazingly awful. Family members and friends have had lives disrupted (and property damaged or destroyed) by vicious wildfires. The COVID-19 pandemic has led to loved ones' job losses and business failures, and interruptions in children’s education, not to mention taking the life of at least one former Bethany member and those of hundreds of others in our city. This frightening disease seems to lurk like a shark, waiting for us to forget to apply hand sanitizer or come into contact with someone who's unknowingly contagious. And it's keeping us from being with each other in person … which could very well be the most challenging and heartbreaking impact of all.
Now is when we need each other more than ever, because—just like the wildfires and COVID-19—distrust, frustration, fear and anger are spreading rampantly throughout our nation. Unlike natural disasters, though, the circumstances that have compelled people to take to the streets to protest are human-caused. I am embarrassed and ashamed to be a citizen of a country that has for too long tacitly upheld and perpetuated discrimination.
You can scoff all you want and protest, "But I have friends who are …” [choose one or more: non-white, using a wheelchair, non-English speaking, suffering from mental health issues, undocumented workers, homeless, gay, etc.] It’s nice that you do.
But "being friends" is not enough.
Nor is proclaiming, "I treat everyone the same. When I look at a person, I don't see 'color.'“
Don’t kid yourself. The only way you don't "see color" is if you're color blind. And even most of those diagnosed with color blindness (like me) aren't really color blind—we just see colors differently.
Here's a way to "know if you truly know" your friends who are different from you. Ask yourself these questions:
Do I know what it's like to constantly worry I’ll be misunderstood or victimized?
Do I cringe and feel like crying when—because of my ethnic heritage or religion or age or disability or gender identification, whatever—someone makes well-meaning but displaced generalizations and assumptions about my lifestyle, my experiences, my hopes and my dreams?
Do I find myself regularly expecting to shield myself from an insult, a slur or an insensitive joke?
Have I lived in a state of anxiety my entire life because I can never be sure of the welcome I’ll receive at a shopping center or a barber shop or a government agency … or even at my own kid's soccer game?
If you've not thought about any of this before, it's about time you did. Because the friends you say you hold dear to you have been hanging in there for decades dealing with this stuff.
Not only do we need each other desperately during these tough times … we need desperately to better understand and learn from each other. Here's your chance—during the months ahead of sitting at home—to read … to think … to really ponder what you can do to be more connected with others. If you want friendships that are true and authentic, you'll find that examining your hidden prejudices (yes, you've got them; everybody does) is the first step.
When the world seems out of control, it's smart to stop and take stock of what you have. And what you can give, and what you can do. Yes, rake the leaves. You'll feel better having done it. And then call a friend or two and have a really good chat where you don't pussyfoot around sensitive topics. Listen. And listen some more. Later, look at candidates' statements and figure out who will do the best job helping sort out the mess our country is in. Read a magazine article or start a book about something that never before interested you. When you run out to get groceries, wear your mask and wash your hands and pick up items to drop off at the food closet.
Then go back to that huge pile adorning your yard—brown, orange, yellow and red leaves, each beautiful in its own way—and give thanks that God promises us continued renewal and reclamation. Like the tree with bare branches, we can always do with a time of rest. And use that time to become even more fully His people in all we are and do.
—Cathy Betts Sapunor
