What happened?

When I was growing up, if there was a family that was struggling, grieving or somehow disrupted, the entire church, neighborhood or community would pitch in. Even up to 9/11, when the country experienced a tragedy, people pulled together, went to donate blood, went to Ground Zero, and gathered to pray.

What happened?

In the years since 2001, people's compassion has gone out the window. The left bashes the right, the red slams the blue, and people who are struggling somehow deserve it. The homeless and hungry don't deserve assistance -- they are weak and lazy. People who are earning minimum wage need to go out and find another job if they can't live on $7.25/hour ($290/week, gross pay).

Years ago, communities used to take pride in the accomplishments of their kids. How many seniors went to college, how many scholarships, how many military academy appointments were numbers about which a whole town would brag. Today, adults talk about how bad kids are, how today's kids are useless, and how they will never spend an extra dime on education.

From people losing their jobs when a factory closes to someone's health crisis, there's always a critic trying to blame those who are suffering. If people would have worked harder, they wouldn't have outsourced the jobs to China or Mexico. If people would just take better care of themselves we wouldn't be paying such exorbitant fees for health care.

Basically, the world has become a cold-hearted, mean-spirited, blame-the-victim place. Tough it out, take care of yourself, because no one is going to be there for you. I've got mine, and I don't need anything from anyone, so go away and leave me alone.

Read the comments after stories in the national and local news, and you wonder if you're still living in the same communities that existed before 2001. Could those same people be there? Are people suffering from hardening of the heart, mind and soul?

What happened?

Fueled by a divided political and media atmosphere, people have chosen sides. The undecided have jumped on the bandwagon of political conservatism. The right has become vocal: we need to protect what we have from the 47%. We're losing ground and only by keeping the other half in their place do we stay in ours.

Fear is paramount. We could become them in a heartbeat. We need to protect ourselves from losing anything.

Lost? We've already lost the important stuff. Justice, compassion and goodwill for our fellow man.

Stoking the fire or sustaining the passion: anniversary reflections

Today is my second anniversary at CCJ. In another way of looking at it, I'm starting my third year here. For a time, I wondered whether this position was going to be the interim, while I figured out what God's next plan for my life was. Apparently, this was his plan. I am where He wants me to be. Time to unpack and settle in.

Hard to believe that someone could hang out in a place for 730 days and not settle in, but I've really done it here. My desk is piled high with papers needing organization. I have a photo frame with two family photos on my shelf. An inspirational photo from my last office. Two plants, one that a former co-worker sent when I arrived, and a philodendron growing in an Arizona tea bottle that Leslie gave me after Lloyd died of lung cancer at age 42. It was a piece of the one Lloyd grew all around the house. I brought it into my office in April, following Lucy's death. I see both of them need attention, as does my desk. As do I.

I'm not very good at tending to myself. Mike is demanding I take a few days off next week, and I submitted reluctantly to three days at the Canyon. Did I really say that? "Submitted...reluctantly...Canyon"? I have lost my boundaries here.

The thought that crosses my mind today is "burning." What IS it that I'm on fire for? I am moved by many things. My heart aches for the homeless, the hungry, traumatized veterans, and so many other groups of people who don't have what I consider basic necessities: food, clean and plentiful water, shelter, mental and physical health, resources, relationships, peace. Truly, a large percentage of the global population.

I used to think I could change the world. And at 50, I feel like I've lost that idealism. I can't change my country, my state, or even my sick red county. I've resorted to celebrating when I can -- at least temporarily -- change the circumstances of some people who cross my path here at CCJ. But that feeling is so fleeting. Have I really changed them long-term or just made them more comfortable in their poverty? Have they grasped the power of change or have I acted for them? It's so difficult to see the bigger picture.

I find it so easy to get stirred up about an issue, really stoked, and then the moment passes. Like throwing countless logs on the fire and building a huge inferno, soon to burn out. A few embers remain, but the heat is gone until rebuilt with new logs.

Slow burn. That's what I need to learn. I need to feed the fire one small log at a time with a sustaining passion. Make action a daily, hourly, continuing effort without the bursts of fuel. Working for that compassionate, just community as praxis, rather than consumption.