Wednesday, September 20

You are Loved

Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world
When you're heart's heavy
I, I will lift it for you

Don't give up
Cuz you want to be heard
If silence keeps you
I, I will break it for you

Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you
Everybody wants to be loved
Don't give up
Because you are loved

Don't give up
It's just the hurt that you hide
When you're lost inside
I, I'll be there to find you

Don't give up
Because you want to burn bright
If darkness blinds you
I, I will shine to guide you

Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you
Everybody wants to be loved
Don't give up
Because you are loved
You are loved

Don't give up
It's just the weight of the world

Don't give up
Everyone needs to be heard
You are loved - J.G. 2006

Friday, September 8

Not in Our Town

When the Klan came to Montana, they made no grand parade.
No hooded knights on horseback, no banners boldly raised.
Spray paint and bomb threats, a voice on the telephone line:
"Kill the niggers, kill the homos, Jew bitch die."

Five-year-old Isaac woke screaming in the gloom.
"Mommy, there's a man at my window, looking into my room."
"Son, there's nothing out there but the shadows branches make."
The little boy went back to sleep, his parents lay awake.

For Isaac's bedroom window showed their faith for all to see
The candles of the menorah stood for hope and memory.
The next night, out of the darkness, a cinder block was hurled.
It shattered Isaac's window, and the boundaries of his world.

One moment of conviction, one voice quiet and clear,
One act of compassion, it all begins here.
No safety now in silence, we've got to stand our ground.
No hate. No violence. Not in our town.

The cop was not unfriendly. He said, "Ma'am, if I were you,
I'd take down that menorah, the Star of David, too."
Isaac's mother Tammy said, "I'm sure that's good advice.
But how then could I ever look my children in the eye?"

Then at their doorway a little girl did stand
A gift for her schoolmate in her outstretched hand.
A menorah drawn in crayon, from a Gentile to a Jew
It read, "To Isaac, From Rebecca, I'm sorry this happened to you."

One moment of conviction, one voice quiet and clear,
One act of compassion, it all begins here.
No safety now in silence, we've got to stand our ground.
No hate. No violence. Not in our town.

Have you seen the paper? Did you hear the news?
What kind of people are we? We thought we knew.
Can children primed in prejudice in peace together dwell?
If we look out through this shattered glass, do we see ourselves?

Margaret McDonald called her pastor on the phone.
"This time the Jews will not face their foes alone.
We'll make paper menorahs, display them from our homes.
We'll show the bigots there are more of us than they have stones."

Volunteers printed up menorahs by the score.
Children in their Sunday schools colored hundreds more.
Grocers and dry cleaners gave out the design, singing:
What's a little broken glass when freedom's on the line?

Now in the town of Billings live not 100 Jews,
But menorahs now were everywhere, on every avenue.
Thousands upon thousands, in windows rich and poor.
When a neighbor stands in danger, we will not close our door.

Through the drifting snow, Tammy drove her children round
To see all the menorahs in the windows of the town.
"Are all those people Jewish?" asked Isaac as they went.
"No," his mother answered, "they are your friends."

One moment of conviction, one voice quiet and clear,
One act of compassion, it all begins here.
No safety now in silence, we've got to stand our ground.
No hate. No violence. Not in our town. - F.S. 1994

Friday, September 1

Something to Think About

"I really used to think I was going to reach my goal
I really used to think I was going to be that person that I'd always wanted to be
I really used to think I'd be me no matter what
I really used to think that when I fell in love I'd live happily ever after...
But lifes not like that and life is certainly not going to change for me.
I guess I just always thought that I'd be ok, that I'd always be loved and no-one would ever try to change me and that no-one would ever make me cry.
But again lifes not like that.
I find it a struggle just to get myself to sleep at night and waking up in the morning is twice as bad.
Some mornings I lie there and just wish that I hadn't woken up because I know that today is going to be just like the one before...
A struggle, a constant struggle because no matter how much I want to be strong and not cry I just do anyway.
I really used to believe that nothing would remove that smile from my face, that giggle in my voice, that warm feeling in my heart and that sparkle in my eye.
But I was wrong and the sad thing is... I can't change it and I can't stop it.
But... do you know whats worse? Given up, I now accept crying and breaking down and being confused as a part of life... a part of MY life...." - S.M. 2005