Life Mattered

I'm sure just as soon as I type the words, someone is going to fact-check me, so I am not going to bury the headline.

To my knowledge, I don't think I have ever made one comment—I mean leaving a digital footprint—regarding any "... lives matter" movement.  Let the live fire exercise begin!

It isn't that I would be without opinion, I am sure.  Reality of it is, it's social quicksand, if not mine field.  And I am quite certain, my contention and position at the end of any debate or engagement would be no different than when it began; same for the opposing party.  But no one emerges without battle scar.

Regarding, specifically, the Black Lives Matter cause:  by my estimation, we spent the better part of the late 80's through the onset of the 2000's adjusting the vernacular of our whole society to not include such turn of phrase, e.g. "black lives".  Now we have a whole movement that is supposed to be discussed with intimacy.  If that ain't the makings of a mine field, I don't know what is, particularly for someone unfitting of the moniker.

I better make a hard right here; this is not at all a political, or even social, post.

*******

I have, since high school referred to her as my "sister from another mister".  She's been Mighty Mel to me for nearly 30 years.  We share a birthday, and there is not much more beyond that we hold truly in common, other than being great friends courtesy of Sulphur High School Class of 1992.  She is a proud black Mossville woman—I hope she nor anyone else is offended by my use of "black" there—and we probably find ourselves 180° out of sync on just about every political plane.

Good thing is, neither I nor she have felt compelled to engage each other over Black Lives, Blue Lives, All Lives, or Nine Lives.

I said earlier that there isn't "much more" beyond our common birthday in which we align.  Well, there is one small and mighty powerful area.

On Saturday morning, about three hours before being discharged from the hospital, still reeling and whirling trying to figure out how I was still breathing on the top side of the planet, I heard a ding from my phone and saw a Facebook Messenger post:

MAY GOD CONTINUE TO HEAL YOUR BODY GET WELL SOON BUDDY!

See, there wasn't a class of life concerned in that message.  The only life that mattered, at that time to her, was mine.  Jeff's life mattered.  And as I tried to keep the tears down to reply to her, quite honestly, Mighty Mel's life mattered as much or more to me right then than anyone else.

*******

As much as I love a good scrap, my current rehab says I probably wouldn't enjoy the aftermath of a real fight nearly as much as when I was younger.  But you know, I really want to live relationally all the time just like in that moment of mine and Mel's.  My life mattered.  And her life mattered.

Actually, I think if we could all take a big collective breath and dwell on this little tidbit from St. Paul's second letter to the Church at Corinth:

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come:  the old has gone, the new is here!"  - 2 Corinthians 5:17

Yeah, NEW lives matter.  I like it.

God bless you all!  I look forward to your comments!!!

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