Live and Let Live and Lunch

Just yesterday, there were workers at my parents' house, fixing a botched job that they had done on their deck.

These men, immigrants from Brazil, were at my parents house real early, working in the sticky heat that occurs in New York in July. 

I called my mom around lunchtime to see if she wanted to go to the gym with me that afternoon. 

She declined.

I can't. I'm cooking, Megan.

For whom? I asked.

The workers. They said they were going to order pizza. I said don't do that, I'll make you some pasta.


Because it's a nice thing to do.

So there she was, my mom, cooking pasta and sauce for these workers who came to her home to finish a job. 

Why? Because it's a nice thing to do.

She didn't have to. She got nothing out cooking for these men. There was no angle. There were people who were hungry, and she just wanted to feed them.

It's not the first time she's done something like that. Not the first time at all. That's just who she is - a woman who practices what she preaches. A woman who listens before she judges. A woman with a heart so big, everyone wants to climb inside her warmnth.

I don't know why I was surprised.

But perhaps it has something to do with the world lately...our politics at home. The terror abroad. The senseless violence that seems to know no limits. The arguing over whose life matters most. The ignorance of some. The deafening silence of others. The pain. And heartache. And sadness. And anger.

It's too much.

So yeah, when my mother does something so natural to her, for men who are quite different from her, perhaps that's cause for a tiny celebration.

Moments like that give me hope.

I think it was barely eight hours after that lunch when I heard about the terror in Nice.

I can't get it out of my head.

Wounds are still raw from Orlando and Beirut and Turkey and Israel and Alton and Philandro and Dallas, and now Nice?

I'm so tied of turning tragedies into hashtags. I'm so tired of evil getting such a loud voice on my screens. If you cannot love - at least live and let live. 

Perhaps the answer is baby steps. 

Perhaps the first step is a simple smile, a simple compliment. Perhaps it's saying "thank you" or "you're welcome". Perhaps it's listening to a friend in need, listening to a stranger in need - if only for a moment. Perhaps it's coming together, if only for one evening, to support those who are both similar and different thank you - perhaps these are the pebbles of goodness that start ripples of change. 

Perhaps the answer is a simple lunch.