Author: toseealife

Wiser than my teachers.

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“You, through Your commandments, make me wiser than my enemies;
For they are ever with me.
99 I have more understanding than all my teachers,
For Your testimonies are my meditation.
100 I understand more than the ancients,
Because I keep Your precepts.” (Psalm 199:98-100)

When I first read this passage, years ago now, U think what came to my mind was the many clashes I was having with teachers and elders at that time. I shared in a recent post how I am a free spirit.

Well, free spirits can have a lot of issues with authority.

We hate being bossed around.

Over the years, I have not really changed much when it comes to how I see authority.

I am not one to say I know more about fishing than a fisherman, or anything like that, of course I don’t. Yet it’s been my observation that even the experts in a field can be blind to the most obvious things about it, sometimes you need a novice person to make you see the profoundest things.

And to be honest, one of the chief problems with humanities approach to education is thinking that the person who knows the most facts and figures about something is the one who understands it best.

Facts and figures are crucial, and no mistake, but they feed only the mind. As C. S. Lewis pointed out in “The Abolition of Man” when we know with our mind but not with our soul, we are on dangerous and inhuman footing. We will question the very existence of reality and truth, and become unfeeling, uncompassionate, machine like people.

Which is exactly what is happening to many of us, sadly enough; and both the Left and Right, the Atheist and Theist, are noticing this problem. To their credit, Liberals and Atheists seem to care about it just as much as the sides of the spectrum I come into agreement with, and that should wake us all up.

One of the reasons I have always distinguished myself in Academics is not because I know the most facts about everything, I also don’t know much about math. I barely got through it with a B.

In five weeks of college I am already starting to get positive attention from my professors. Teachers can spot the different types of students a mile away. And it never takes long for mine to identify me as the smart, nice, girl. Who cares about what she’s doing. (Except for math, which is why I don’t take it.)

I appreciate the positivity I get from teachers, I enjoy it, who wouldn’t? I’ve been fortunate to be home-schooled and never picked on for being a geek or teacher’s pet. I have hopefully dodged that bullet since in college is really makes no sense for kids to make fun of each other for that.

Though I am getting on one of my classmates nerves, I can tell, for being white and ignorant of the lower classes problems.

Please. I wonder if she’s been to Skid-row. At least I’ve done something to help the lower class.

I am somewhat ignorant. Because I’ve had little contact with those people, I can’t help that, I am open to learning more. I read books and watch movies about their situation. What else can I do?

Anyway, my point is, my approach to learning is very much based on the heart of the matter. I will try to find, in everything I study, something that ties it into life, and into humanity. If I can’t find that, then why would I care about learning it?

And the secret to loving learning I’m realizing that every single subject out there affects either your life or the life of someone you know or someone you will have heard of and felt sorry for.

My homeschooling background is the chief reason I see learning this way. I pity people who never got that because I think education without heart misses the whole point. Even in public schools some teachers try to pass this on to their students, hopefully with success, but it can’t compare to getting 12 years of it.

My faith shapes my views of learning also. Growing up, going to Sunday school was something I had to do, but I loved it. I love learning life lessons from stories. I really couldn’t grasp why, after years in Sunday school, my peers still got mixed up about details I had known since I was in Kindergarten. Really?

In the end, Learning is a gift, and I apply it to everything I do. Nowadays adults tell me I’m wise for my years, it’s because I learn.

And I am not as wise as I wish. If I could learn as fast with my heart as I can with my head, I would be like Solomon. I can say that without bragging because the fact is all of us would be like Solomon if facts translated to wisdom. But they don’t, do they?

But why did I start this with that passage from Psalms?

This was on my mind because in class this week I actually corrected one of my professors on several points. The Bible was the reference, so I had an advantage. I knew my teacher wouldn’t be offended since our class runs on discussion. He actually asked for further clarification during the break, which was awesome. Though I could practically feel the other students thinking “know it all Christian.” Oh well.

Because of my background I have found that in some ways I do understand things better than my teachers. I always have. Even as a kid this used to happen to me. I think the reason is God has given me, like David, understanding.

I forget facts, I barely pass some tests, I make errors, but I absorb the soul behind the subject. I think and grow and get new ideas.

That’s true learning, and the best thing about it is it never stops, and it’s never too late to start learning that way.

Until next time, Natasha.

P.S. (If you like my movie reviews I should have some new superhero ones out soon. Stay on the look out.)

Free spirits.

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Do you know what the hardest thing about college is? Remembering your assignments and instructions.

Some students are going “amen sister.”

Why does the system have to be that we do everything the way the book says?

This is the home-schooler in me talking, I’m too used to putting my own spin on things. I mean, for example, if someone gives you a writing assignment and lists some possible topics you could use, but adds “Or you  could pick something yourself” I am that girl who will pick something herself.

I don’t think that means you have to do everything the opposite of what people suggest. I take advice, I follow important rules.

But when it comes to stuff that is non-essential, I like to shake things up.

I have gotten in trouble with teachers more for wanting to do things my own way, or actually for resisting doing everything their way, then I ever got for being flat out disobedient.

I don’t directly disobey authority, I try to obey it on my terms.

I think someone reading this is bound to relate.

I apply this to my religion also, In fact I give God all the responsibility for me being this way. (Yeah, I can play that card.) I don’t wish to offend anyone, but I could never be Jewish, Mormon, Amish, or any of the more organized forms of the faith.

I hate regimentation.

I know that there’s merit in tradition and discipline, and I have no beef with the above sects for doing things that way, but it would drive me crazy.

I don’t think this about being too good for conforming, so much as it’s my character is already too developed in the kind of freedom I’m used to.

I love a good tradition, don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to storm about how Christmas tress are dull and Easter services are restrictive. And I need to be more disciplined.

But tradition and discipline are like salt and pepper, some like a lot, some like a little, but at bottom they are still seasonings.

The main dish of life is variety and flexibility. Because life is unpredictable.

And that is why people like me, though we seem helter-skelter to those of you who live by a schedule, tend to bounce back a lot faster when our plans go awry.

I will say this, you don’t have to have an outgoing personality to be into individual touch.

My mom, for example, is an introvert who doesn’t like the spotlight and will read the instruction manual before doing something. She likes organizations.

but I admire my Mom, because through her faith she’s learned to be flexible and change her plans a lot. She would naturally prefer organization, but she will stay the most calm in the chaos and crisis, and bounce back the fastest. Though her personality might lead you to believe she’d have a meltdown under pressure, that’s only if you don’t know her very well. All the people who know my mom know she’s tough.

But in a quiet way that’s very different form me. Yet she has that same “design it your own way” thing. Though she reads the manual, my mom believes in creativity.

Which goes to show you can’t put people in a box.

My dad on the other hand prefers things be done his way.

I can be like that too, maybe too much actually. (I have that oldest child bossiness thing.) But I prefer to go my own way.

On principle I tend to object to movies and books that send that message to kids. Because I believe kids need to be guided and they are not mature enough to know which way to go much of the time. But I do not believe at all in micromanagement. My mom never did that with us, and I think that’s why we turned out to be free spirits.

Young teens need to be able to express themselves outside of what their parents like or understand, but I would never advocate letting teens be rebels in the name of expression.

I don’t have kids, yet based on my own experience, I’d say freedom within certain boundaries is always the healthiest way to handle kids and their creativity.

To tie this back into the college students out there, I think this shapes our approach to academia.

I am so used to thriving when I can express myself with freedom. I’ve had a couple teachers in my life who understood me in that way. But college professors are so busy, how cant hey be expected to nurture that?

Well, the truth is, college is the last chance teachers have to awaken that in young people before they turn them loose on the world. It’s a slim chance, because 18-25 year olds are already pretty set in their ways, but there’s a chance.

We need college professors to care just as much, if not more, then high school teachers, because this is the last schooling most of us get before we set off on our career paths.No one is ever too old to be mentored.

I will praise my English professor for being the only one of mine to get this in some way. But there’s precious few like him. IF you have one, you better be thankful.

Any person who is willing to teach thickheaded freshmen for eight hours to 16 hours a week has patience, but not everyone has inspiration.

College is the only part of education that puts two adults together but still on unequal footing. We’re all allowed to choose for the first time what we will learn.

But no matter ho much responsibility we take, it can’t be denied that teachers play a pivotal role in inspiring the student.

That’s all for now, until l next time–Natasha.

Language Barriers.

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Sometimes courage is not slowing down long enough for fear to catch you.

And sometime courage is staying still long enough for peace to catch up with you.

But I’d say the first one is my motto today. I woke up feeling achy, but upon getting up I felt better, and I’ve learned that my stress symptoms increase when I’m inactive. Inactivity can be just as hard o your body as hyperactivity.

So with that in mind, I want to switch subjects.

Some of you who’ve been reading my college posts know that I’m studying Language. Specifically English and ASL. (Guess which is harder.)

A few of my older followers probably remember that I went on a mission trip two years ago (almost three) to Cambodia, and there I learned a bit of Khmer.

Khmer (pronounced Ka-mai) is not an easy language to learn by rote. You have to hear it, and in my opinion you have to hear it spoken in real settings. My attempts to learn more of it since haven’t panned out well. I need a tutor I bet.

My ASL teacher wanted us to journal on a movie we watched in class about. Audism is a new term, probably not i most dictionaries, that refers to discrimination based on one’s ability to hear.

It’s a real thing. But it seems to bother people the most when their own families won’t include them in conversation by interpreting for them.

Welcome to my world, I would say. I’ve been frustrated many times over the years by being left out of conversations. I wish I could blame it on being deaf but all I can attribute it to is being young and not having common ground.

I guess being deaf makes it hard to have common ground and that’s the sting. Even if they did, they can’t talk about it.

But the problem between people of different languages isn’t really lack of knowledge. It’s a lack of heart.

Very profound things can be communicated between people who speak different languages. We’ve heard that love doesn’t need a language. It’s true. In Cambodia, the people were very welcoming and nice to us even though we couldn’t understand more than a few things they said. We didn’t need to to understand good will.

I’d venture to say the trouble between different groups of people isn’t about language or skin color, it’s about suspicion.

Remember when I talked about strangers? How we wish we could connect with them?

Oftentimes we build walls around ourselves so that we won’t have to deal with strangers as people. The don’t challenge us, we don’t feel guilty.

And that’s the real reason behind slavery I think. Slavery has happened many times between people of the same race by the way, just different divisions. Sometimes it’s not even between tribes, it can be between classes. They don’t talk about that when they teach kids that America is evil for having slaves.

Yes it was evil a lot of the time, but America is not the exception in any way except that it fought a war over it. You look far back enough into almost nay country and you’ll fine slavery. Often not between different races.

We don’t have to look different to make strangers of each other.

We don’t have to look the same to believe we’re kindred.

To be open to new and different ways is to be open to life. Life is constantly changing. People who recognize this are more likely to accept each other, I think. There is n o point in trying to live in a certain time while the rest of the world moves on.

And coming from a home-schooler raised to believe that the old ways are better, that’s a big concession.

I believe they are better. They were healthier, more in line with natural law. But I don’t believe you change the world by staying in the past. The world won’t stay with you. Solutions always lie ahead of us.

True brotherhood between nations always begins, and always will, with the laying aside of suspicions. The willingness to see each other as part of the same family. Just different looking and different sounding. (Heck some of us have that in our immediate family. I’m not exactly like anyone else in mine, my sister even observed that it’s hard to place who I look like.)

Suspicion is the killer of phileo love (friendship/brotherly love.)  You remember that part of Pocahontas? “They’re different form us, therefore they an’t be trusted.” But what led to that? Immediate suspicion.

You know, both the Native Americans and the White men were already determined to think that their ways were the only way and that they had nothing to learn from anyone else. Both of them. Is it any wonder that they were immediately suspicious of each other? While Pocahontas both in the true history and in the movie represented those of us who think we have something to learn from each other.

I will never be convinced that my religion is not the correct one, but what I like about mine is that it allows me to recognize wisdom in other cultures. There is no culture without it’s own revelation of God that it understand better then others.

Americans understand freedom, for example. Jews understand holiness. I think many Asian cultures understand the flow of the spiritual into art and lifestyle better then we do. I think the Native Americans understood a lot about the way God speaks through nature.

The list goes on.

And that’s not exclusive of course. It’s just a sample.

Language is a gap between people, but in God’s mysterious ways, He was made it one of the most powerful ways to bridge the gap between people, if we approach it humbly and with love and patience.

Zombies and Redemption.

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So, I have a confession, I actually dared to watch a movie featuring zombies. I doubt any of you are really shocked, what do you know about my tastes, that’s pretty normal now.

Well it’s not for me, but I gave this one a pass because the zombies in it aren’t brain-eating monsters…except for ten seconds.

This movie was a Disney Channel Original, this movie was their average, not terrible, but not good.

Zombies, which is the full title, is about a post-post apocalyptic world, where in a very Divergent fashion, humans are split into two groups, those who are normal, and those who are infected with some virus that made them into zombies…because someone spilled lime soda on some electric device.

Yeah, WordGirl Levels of sense.

But this movie is for kids and younger teens, so I’ll let the silliness slide. The last thing I need is for horror movies to be a DCOM thing.

The story is about a boy zombie, named Zed, and a normal girl, who of course fall in love and unite to overturn cultural expectations. Since zombies are stigmatized and ostracized.

The whole thing is an obvious metaphor for privileged whites keeping down blacks and Hispanics. The zombies get all the worse jobs, they go to separate schools until the integration act that kicks off this movie.

The movie has one interesting turn. Zed uses his zombie powers to become good at football, but he is endangering himself and everyone else in the process because the only thing keeping him stable is a special watch that sends calming signals to their brain. So there’s that.

When Zed convinces his friend Eliza to help him override his watch slightly so he can win the games, people start to accept the zombies, but unfortunately the anti-zombie kids hijack the signal and send Zed, Eliza, and their other friend into full on zombie death mode. Though Zed seems to resist it briefly.

For awhile things start to go terribly wrong, but then the girl Zed likes fixes everything by having he zombies and cheerleaders unite to win the cheer champions ship…which they don’t, but they do end up bring humans into zombie territory and end with a happy song and dance number.

It was stupid; but the elements of the movie do call for some closer examination, not because the movie is brilliant but because the way it was made reflects a lot about what the writers think teens are into and what they think we should be concerned about.

The biggest problem with this movie is that is mishandled the zombie thing entirely. It made it a metaphor for race, but the zombie virus is a way closer metaphor for mental or social disabilities.

Comparing it to Autism would have been smarter. Like the zombies, autistic people can have triggers that make them go ballistic, they could hurt people. So can other special needs kids. And they can’t help it, necessarily.

It’s a pertinent question to ask how much special needs kids should be allowed to mingle with “normal” ones. There are real dangers to both us and them if they lose it, or get bullied, but is there a greater danger if we don’t learn to understand each other? I think there is.

That’s a worthwhile conversation to have, but this movie doesn’t have it. The cheerleaders who mess up the special watches just to get the zombies to go nuts are never caught, the zombies never even bring it up to them, at the end of the movie they are all cool. Even though the brats could easily have gotten someone killed. They almost did, in fact. There’s no lasting impact from that very serious problem.

All we get is Eliza whining about how they took all the blame.

In all fairness if Eliza hadn’t been screwing with the watches to begin with, the cheerleaders couldn’t have done it. Eliza shows no remorse or horror for what she did, Zed admits it was wrong, but he lingers no longer on it. The girl he likes doesn’t chew him out. Nothing.

It’s no use, in a story like this, to pretend that Zombies aren’t different. The age old problem “Should we blame them for what happened before they were born?” presents itself. Should we punish people for something that is not their fault?

And yet whether we like it or not, in real life kids do get punished for what isn’t their fault. They bear the brunt of other people’s mistakes.

We all have to choose what we will do about the problems we face, but it doesn’t follow that we’ll all make good choices.

This movie slightly touches on that when Eliza wants to sabotage the cheer championship, but it deflates almost instantly. She’s talked out of it in twenty seconds. Zed brings up the point that if they behave that way then they are the monsters everyone thinks they are.

Which  is a good point, but it wasn’t fleshed out to really mean much.

And is it problematic to use zombies at all? They are monsters, they do bad things, and we’d be justified in killing them if they were real. They aren’t human, strictly speaking. Though the movie uses it differently, still it leaves the brain-eating nastiness in there (I thought that was a mistake) then we do have to wonder, why should the humans want them around?

I have a problem with making monsters “relatable” the only reason I might have gone with it for this movie is because monster can be a metaphor, and a powerful one. Just not this time.

That’s an okay way to illustrate, I’ve used the example of zombies myself to teach kids in Sunday school what being spiritually dead might look like. It can work.

Comparing zombies to a certain race isn’t going to work because having a different skin color doesn’t make you a monster prone to eating people.

Making that cool isn’t good. It misses the point. When you admit that there’s something wrong with you, you can be helped. There can be redemption. Forgiveness.

But the more we try to justify our issues, the more ridiculous the situation becomes. The most grotesque things become acceptable.

The idea is to be removed from all that, set apart, cleansed. That’s the idea of holiness the bible talks about.

We’re all, you might say, infected with the virus of sin. We all try to control it, much like with the watches, some of us try to harness it, ultimately we end up hurting people because sin hurts. The wage of sin is death.

It’s not our fault we’re born into it, but we constantly make choices that make us weaker to it, and that is our fault. (See the parallels?)

I think the movie reflects our attitude toward perfection. We think that if we as a species can work together we might overcome our differences and dangers.

Wonder Woman is wiser, she knows that each of us has our own darkness we have to face, and love is what will make us able to do it.

So, that was a lot of thought for such a dumb movie, but sometimes figuring out what went wrong can be more work.

Until next time–Natasha.

Memoirs of a Babysitter.

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So I just watched the Nanny Diaries. This won’t be a review so much as what my English Professor calls a “Development parallel.” That is to say, cause and effects that are similar.

I only babysat (regularly) once, it was for one family and I haven’t been employed in that way since.

I watched three children. In the beginning it was only two, but then the mom decided to pull her oldest out of school because she didn’t like her teacher, and to home-school her. So, me being home-schooled, she thought I’d be down with that. And I was. I was even willing to help the kid out. So far so good.

And trust me, if I’d seen the Nanny Diaries before that time, I would probably have thought it was exaggerated for comedic effect. I’m sure if you saw it you thought so, unless you’ve been in a long term babysitting position.

The only difference between being a babysitter and being a nanny is title and hours and you don’t live in the home.

The job was fine at first, I liked the kids, I put up with the temper of the baby, and I stayed calm.

Then I made the mistake of thinking corporal punishment was accepted in their house, the oldest told me it was, but it wasn’t. (I assume they told me the truth the second time but with them you never knew.) I know that will horrify someone, but when I grew up spanking was normal-ish and I never had a problem with it. Get over it people, not all of us had progressive parents.

Well, I realized my mistake (and I never actually spanked the kids just to clarify, I threatened it but thought better of it later.) But my fate was sealed.

Things went downhill from there. I really think my mistake had very little to do with it, but it started it. After that, I never knew what the expectations were.

I entered the employment with the understanding that housework would be appreciated but was not required, that I did not have to cook for the kids because the oldest liked doing it though of course I was to feed them. (They had stuff on hand naturally.)

I put the kids in time out when they sassed me and refused to do as I said (not corporal punishment right?) And then they told their mother on me. I’m sure claiming that it was unprovoked, but trust me, it wasn’t. I wasn’t locking them the garage for Pete’s sake, I made them sit in a comfy chair. Was that cruel? No! But their mom still wondered what my problem was.

Can you see where I’m going with this?

At fist the mom told the kids to respect me, but they continued to be disrespectful quite frequently. Especially the eldest one. The younger one never was a problem till her sister set the example.

Then it just got ridiculous. I’m going to list all the over the top things in the Nanny Diaries that actually happened to me:

  1. Getting spied on. No cameras here, no, actual people were at the house, no warning half the time. Completely strangers were just there, watching me and reporting back to the mom. Why? Because her little angels were saying I was dong such a bad job.
  2. Getting a consultant. I wasn’t told tot each the kids French. But I was subjected to a “training” to be a better babysitter. Training really meant I was being supervised and made to do the chores and cook meals. (Even though originally that wasn’t part of the deal. Something my employer conveniently forgot.) I was also put down in front of the kids constantly for not being a good enough babysitter.
  3. Having men around when I was alone with the kids. Yes, the men were relatives. But still, awkward. My dad didn’t like it either.
  4. Getting fired after I did everything my boss said but still didn’t meet some unclear standard. Of course, she didn’t call it firing, she just said she might need me later but for now someone else was taking over.

Ugh.

It drove me crazy. But honestly, I wish that was all in the movie I could relate to. Aside from my complaints, The Nanny Diaries actually shows a very real problem that caregivers like me have: Letting go.

Like Annie, I observed a lot about the kids that the parents were too busy or just chose not to notice. I noted how one of them didn’t get enough attention because the other two were louder and pushier, and how one needed to be treated with more firmness, and the eldest, though she was a pain, wasn’t a bad kid and if she’d been taught respect and shown some more gentle ways, she would have been exceptional.

Babysitters get involved because we can’t help it. If you don’t like kids to begin with you’ve got no business babysitting, and if you like kids you will learn to love them. It’s not hard, children are way more lovable then adults.

And babysitters, because we like kids, and especially if we like to mother them, will study the kids we watch and we will want to help them. It’s part of us.

And that’s why we don’t get along with the parents.

I suspect, secretly, the parents feel guilty that they even need us around, that’s why they keep firing and rehiring. but though it may sting to have your kids turn to someone other than you for comfort, if you can’t be there, then maybe the kids need that stability.

I have no wish to come down on working moms, or dads, nor do I think it can never work out being a babysitter, nanny, or Au pair, and their employer. There’s a delicate balance but it can be achieved. My grandma takes care of my cousins all week without becoming estranged from their parents.

but the truth is, it’s not easy. Often the best babysitters don’t last because the sad fact is the less involved ones make the parents a lot less uncomfortable.

I was no saint, but I cared. I expected that to mean something, it turns out it meant trouble. And it broke my heart to leave those kids. It’s something I haven’t really gotten over even now. To tell you the truth, like Annie, I’m kind of asking why. What was the point of loving them if I had to leave them? And is this kind of love even what kids need? Or do parents just need to be the ones who are there?

Again, not to come down on working parents, but I have to ask the honest question, what does my experience show?

I doubt I’ll ever get the letter from my former boss telling me I showed her something about her kids. I don’t think she wanted me to show her anything.

And I’m left hoping I changed something, just like Annie, but not knowing if I did. Not knowing if my love will mean anything to those kids once their older.

I never had a babysitter like me. I liked mine, but they only watched me a few times, and only once in a while. Not four days a week for two months or more.

I liked the job, but it costs you.

Those are my thoughts one that, sorry this ran so long but it was a memoir.

Until next time–Natasha.

 

Standing in the Need of Prayer.

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“It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer. It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer.

Not my brother nor my sister but it’s me, oh lord, standing in the need of prayer. Not my brother nor my sister but it’s me, oh lord, standing in the need of prayer.

Not the elder nor the deacon but it’s me, oh lord, standing in the need of prayer.

Not my father nor my mother, but it’s me oh lord, standing in the need of prayer.

Not the stranger, nor my neighbor but it’s me oh lord, standing in the need of prayer. 

Standing in the need of prayer.”

This song used to strike me as selfish. Come on, none of the rest of these people need prayer? Get over yourself.

But since reading Toni Morrison’s “Strangers.” I see this song, particularly the last verse, differently.

Morrison thinks that we find in strangers a part of ourselves. That we wich to merge with them, to draw them into ourselves and so regain whatever we’ve lost. In my previous post I talked about that feeling at length.

Now I just want to look at this song, and what its words mean if you see it all as the person singing saying “When all these people are in need of prayer, I am too. Because we’re all part of the same body.”

When we pray for humanity, are we really praying for ourselves? Not for our petty problems (or sometimes serious problems) but for what we hope to have in our own suffering.

I think we may have genuinely selflessreasons to pray. But Jesus specifically told us to look on others as worthy of the same love we would show ourselves. Even when they weren’t deserving of it.

I’m not inot all this “we’re all one, in each other,” wierdness. Not ot the extent it’s taken to, tat we literally are inside each other and acting dependently. We may be depednent, but it’s not in the way that implies.

No, our hearts and minds are our own to guard and keep, and no one else can do it for us completely. Even God Himself leaves a lot of it up to us to choose. That’s the price of being free.

But we are connected in a way. We all suffer, we all have joys, we all share the human experience. And that’s not something to take lightly.

So when someone is suffering in the body, as Paul says, all the rest suffer with it.

The usffering of christians in the middle east is my suffering also. I don’t die, I don’t feel ohysical pain, but deep down the knowledge that they suffer affects me. I may not think it does, bu it does.

Becauase we share the same faith, we’re connected.

My faith connects me more to other christians, but my hunaity connects me toe veryone else.

That’s why I can feel pity for someone like Hitler or Stallin, I know what it is to be human and to fall. And I know what it is to rise up. I wish they could ahve.

My shared experience is all that enables me to pity them and motivates me to help others.

I note that shared experience can pass between humans and animals also, and even, some might say, being humans and other spiritual beings. There’s an ungodly trend going around of pitying the devil in shows and movies and books (Paradise Lost might be the most famous example of this) and while I don’t see why it’s popular, especially if you don’t believe in the devil anyway, it’s only possible because we have spirits, otherwise how could we understand them at all?

Of course that will be denied, but this post isn’t about that so I’m not going into it.

The point is, when you’re in the need of prayer, or of love, or of anything really, you will know better how much other people are in need of it. When you need help, someone else does.

I’ve seen this in my own life, my own suffering has been frustrating to me, but looking around I see how other’s share similar physical and emotional pain to me, and maybe when I pray for myself, I need to pray for them too.

We’re all standing in the need of prayer.

Christian or no, I hope this post was enjoyable to you. I seem to be on a grave bent tonight, but it’s where my mind was.

Until next time–Natasha.