February 20, 2009

After reading my newsletter about Bobbie and her trucking license, an old friend wrote that he admired my energy for helping people. I smiled widely as I wrote back…it’s been a long time since anyone described me as having a full tank of gas.  In fact, the last thing I saw written about me called me a ‘jaded, crusty cynic’…and that was from Sojourners, who like me.

Honestly, I’m not here to help people, but only to make friends, and I’m not trying to fix those friends, but only to love them ways they can feel.  I know Bobbie isn’t likely to hold a job, or to stop drinking so much, or even to be especially nice to me more days than not.  I’m not loving her because she has potential.  I’m loving her because I can.

More and more I realize that I live in the land of bad decisions, where people keep breathing and eating and reproducing even though both they and their culture are broken beyond repair.  I’m not optimistic anymore, about this place of about the larger world’s chances for avoiding a serious cataclysm, but apparently I remain a prisoner of hope.  That is, I still believe that what I do matters, even if it doesn’t make a difference.