What Can I Do?

It's been a couple of days since the most horrific mass shooting on American soil.

Writers who are far more eloquent than I am have put their thoughts into words. So maybe you ought to go read their posts instead of this! Jen Hatmaker, author and Christian speaker, wrote two posts on her Facebook fan page that spoke to my heart. I can't figure out how to post a link to those. Maybe I'll paste them at the bottom of this blog.

My Facebook feed is filled with heartfelt and poignant reactions to this atrocity. It's also filled with all the usual posts from haters and blamers and people trying to make sense out of something so senseless.

Once again, the flags are flying at half-mast. And every time something like this happens, we all think, "What can I do?" It all seems so overwhelming. We all feel so helpless.

And talk is cheap. As followers of Christ, we're called to love. Love. LOVE. Our faith in Christ should express itself in love. And our love should express itself in action.

So many things seem so out of my control in my life right now. This act of terrorism in Orlando sort of magnifies that feeling for me. And as I type that, I'm ashamed to realize that something like this would make me think of writing about ME. Me, me, me. Yet here I sit. Typing away.

I know, I know. God is in control. Always. But there are lots of things going on in my life and in my world that shout of chaos and changes to come:

• The fact that I'm suddenly finished homeschooling. My prime directive for the past 13 years. Done. What's next?

• I've been caring for my grand-niece three days a week, for over a year... but that may be coming to an end eventually, or even soon, as she gets older and heads off to pre-school and other adventures.

• Menopause and other signs of more-than-middle-age have me recognizing that some doors are closing in my life.  The world never was actually my oyster, but now, it's even less so.

• Don't even get me started on our appalling choices for President. Sophie's Choice...

So, oddly, as I'm feeling less and less in control, I'm finding myself digging in and doing lots of little things lately -- things that I CAN control.

Like this weekend. I went to battle over a bottle of vitamin D that I was supposed to get for free from a local drug store. The manager refused to honor a raincheck I presented to him, so I got all heated up and headed back there on Monday to see the big manager. I was loaded for bear. But I was polite. And he was apologetic. And I got my free vitamins.

The other day, I took on a mission to fix a Facebook problem for a friend who had somehow accidentally ended up with three profiles - one that she had created on purpose, a second she created because she forgot her password or something for the first, and a third that had popped up through a hacker. I think the only reason I offered to help is that it was something I could do.

Today, I made good on a growing desire to begin hanging out with a very beloved elderly lady who belongs to my church. She can't drive anymore, but she only lives ten minutes from me. I drove her to the beach this morning and we had a lovely visit on a bench on the Manhattan Beach pier, watching kids play in the sand below on this June Gloomy day. She rarely gets out any more, and she thanked me repeatedly and profusely. It was humbling. And it made me determined to do it more regularly.

My house is filled with the smell of cast iron pots, lightly coated with Crisco, baking in the oven. I hadn't used them in a while, so they were rusty and in need of re-seasoning. But I can control that, so into the heat they went.

Even though my blood won't make it all the way to Orlando, I'm going to donate blood. Because we all should be doing that, as long as we can, and as often as we can.

So it's a bunch of little things. Does it make a difference? I suppose somehow it does. But it hardly feels like it.

Over the years, I've heard a lot of versions of this great story:

A young man is walking along the ocean and sees a beach on which thousands and thousands of starfish have washed ashore. Further along he sees an old man, walking slowly and stooping often, picking up one starfish after another and tossing each one gently into the ocean. 

“Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?,” he asks. 

“Because the sun is up and the tide is going out and if I don’t throw them further in they will die.” 

“But, old man, don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it! You can’t possibly save them all, you can’t even save one-tenth of them. In fact, even if you work all day, your efforts won’t make any difference at all.” 

The old man listened calmly and then bent down to pick up another starfish and threw it into the sea. “It made a difference to that one.” 

I hope you're doing what you can to make a difference. Look around you. Pay attention. You'll start to see things. Hopefully you'll start to get ideas. Do something. Do anything. Make a difference to that one.