3 Things You Can Do After a Tragedy

5/31/22

Dear friend,

I'm guessing you, like me, have spent this past week feeling a lot and thinking a lot—or perhaps not thinking very much because the feelings have been so big.

As I shared with the Light House community yesterday:

Last week was hard. On top of collective weeks and months and years of hard.

You are not alone in your weariness in and for the world, if that's what you're feeling. We have been waking up each day and doing hard things for a very long time.

It is hard to be a human on this earth at this time.

It really is. 

One thing that has circled around and around in my thoughts this past week, though, is that we are humans on earth at this time. 

What are the implications of this on how we live? 

I think back to what caused me to pay attention in May 2020, when George Floyd was killed, in a greater way than I had been doing before then.

I knew the names of so many who had been killed before him: Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, and the list goes on. But I had, at some point, determined that racial justice and reconciliation work was for those who were called to it, just as the work of the inner life and heart and spirit was what I was called to do. 

That was my part to play. Each of us has our part.

I still believe that.

And yet, in May 2020, I was graced with a moment of lifting my head, looking around, and realizing: This is the world I live in. This is the country I live in. I'm involved because I'm here.

The same is true when it comes to mass shootings. This is the world I live in. This is the country I live in. I'm involved because I'm here.

It would be quite easy for someone (like me) whose work is deeply concerned with the individual life and path to stay concerned with that alone, and to invite the individuals I work with to do the same—to just "stay in their lane," so to speak.

But what if our light is meant for the times in which we live? 

What if they're meant to be for this time? 

What difference might that make on how history unfolds? 

When you think about your light, how might it be of service for this time in which you live? 

And now to the promised subject line of this email. Since our individual lives are married to the collective life we share on this planet, here are 3 things you can do after a tragedy like the shooting in Uvalde, Texas: 

1. Call or write your senators. If you live in the United States, two bills related to gun control (HR-8 and HR-1446) passed the House of Representatives and are now sitting in the Senate, waiting for a vote.
   
   They have been sitting there since March.
   
   You can call your senators (most likely, you'll get voicemail) and tell them you support bringing these two bills to a vote and voting in favor of them.
   
   I created a step-by-step guide for calling and writing that makes it less scary. I encourage you to do it every weekday.
   
   If it helps, set an alarm on your phone that repeats each weekday, and label it "Call your senators." That's what I'm doing, and it helps!
   

2. Get to know your neighbors. Last week, I was helped immensely by the perspective of a rhetoric teacher I know, who shared from her professional experience that the most helpful solutions in a community come from those who actually know the people in that community. 
   
   In our highly individualized and isolated culture, where we can drive directly into our garages and order everything we need straight to our doorsteps, we never have to see, much less get to know, our neighbors.
   
   I speak from experience on this—guilty as charged. My livelihood happens online, and I'm a sky-high introvert and happy homebody. It's very easy for me to live disconnected from my neighbors and community. 
   
   But what if I went next door, where a young couple and their two dogs just moved in over the weekend, and said hello? What if I went next door in the other direction, where I think a Hispanic family lives, and said hello to them too? What if I made an effort to get to know the 7 families on my small cul-de-sac block? How much different would my experience of this neighborhood be? How much more might we be able to help each other out? How much more might we learn from each other? 
   

3. Reach out to those you know. I spoke to another friend last week who talked about doing what we can to love those around us. She said, "What if that shooter in Uvalde had someone in his life who noticed he wasn't okay? Who took an active interest in his life? Who cared about him? How might things have gone a different way?"
   
   It's a sobering question. And it makes me think of the ability we all have to be present to those we know, and to reach out to them intentionally. 
   
   I speak of this as someone who isn't the best at doing this, either. I easily get caught up in my work and what needs my attention right in front of me, and I can go weeks, if not longer, without reaching out to people in my life. 
   
   So this past weekend, I made an effort. I called two people and texted two others, and I'm going to keep making an effort to reach out. What if a simple text—"Hey, I'm thinking of you. How are things going for you over there?"—made a difference in someone feeling cared for on a given day? What if it lifted their spirits a bit higher than they had been? What if it brought a sliver of light into an otherwise dark mental health day for them? 

There's more we can do in times like these. But hopefully something here inspires you in some way to do something.

Your light matters, and it makes a difference in this world that is actually ours. 

Yours in contemplative light,
Christianne