Ann Kiemel

I Love the Word Impossible


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undercutting ways.

      there are lots of prejudices, and they always create

      pain and hurt.

      often they are created for funny reasons, silly

      reasons.

      they make church groups distant and cold and

      unable to relate

      as caring circles.

      love heals prejudice

      because love accepts people where they are.

      how they look, how they act, what their

      potential is, or isn’t. it makes no demands,

      no stipulations. it constantly reaches out

      and says, “you may be at one pole and i

      at another… but can we be friends

      and learn from each other?”

      a close friend of mine is a journalist who claims to

      be agnostic. we met when she interviewed me for

      a newspaper feature. she’s pretty, vibrant, brilliant

      in her world.

      she has a lovely family i’m fond of.

      after we’ve been out together, and i start to leave,

      i always say,

      “vera, i really love you…”

      and vera always responds, “i love you, too…”

      i laugh and hug her and think how wonderful it

      is that even taking the most sacred thing in my

      life and seeing it as pure skepticism in another

      doesn’t have to build a wall. God’s love streaks

      through the barriers. of course,

      i wish vera believed in Jesus Christ. but we love

      each other in spite of our differences.

      prejudice never lived in our relationship…

      not even in the beginning.

      when i was twelve, we took a tiny hawaiian baby to

      live with us. she was a gift from her family who

      already had eleven.

      they considered it an honor to entrust us

      with their twelfth. if ever a baby had love and

      attention to grow in, lani did.

      we were white, but somehow we were able to bring

      into our family circle the brown skin and black

      eyes that we so loved.

      God planned people.

      all of us.

      under the skin or the type of dress or the difference

      of language or drawl…

      under the facade of house and neighborhood and

      “what does your father do?”… similar hurts and

      feelings exist.

      at different times, everybody cries and laughs

      and fails and feels embarrassed and insecure

      and needs warmth and someone to call a

      friend.

      so when all the outside layers are peeled, prejudice

      gets tossed out, too.

      love made me reach out again and again growing

      up.

      not shoving, pushing love… but love that says

      simply, with affirmation,

      “i am a person with purpose and value. i will

      be patient as you work at remembering that…”

      by the time i graduated from high school, i was no

      longer alienated.

      it took time.

      love does.

      but the circle “drew us in.”

      i felt belonging in the cafeteria,

      in the gym,

      at the bus stop.

      love won.

      it paid.

      eric is my friend.

      maybe i love him extra because he’s black.

      i can imagine how it must feel

      in a white-dominated world.

      he’s six, and his favorite thing for me to do with

      him is rub his head.

       he stands tall with arms at his side, and

      squirms with delight as i stroke his head

      and pat his face.

      “eric, i love you. it’s fun being your friend…”

      word came to me that eric was to go in

      for open heart surgery, and the odds were

      poor.

      i was upset.

      i couldn’t lose eric.

      he has reason to live.

      the night before surgery, i drove into

      massachusetts general hospital and went to the

      sixth floor; most of the children were asleep.

      not eric.

      clean pajamas, tucked under fresh sheets.

      i picked him up,

      cradled him on my lap,

      and rubbed his head.

      “eric, you aren’t scared, are you? don’t be

      scared. Jesus is going to sit right here by your

      bedside all night,

      just taking care of you, eric,

      i love you… be brave for me.”

      i prayed with eric and tucked him back under, and

      walked out wondering if i’d ever see him again.

      i did.

      he came through.

      he now scoots around on a shiny red tricycle.

      i worry about eric. he lives in south boston.

      and racial prejudice is exploding and killing

      everywhere. i hope my love for him makes a

      difference.

      i hope it teaches him that people belong

      together.

      all kinds.

      in hawaii all the manger scenes at Christmas

      picture a dark-skinned Christ child.

      love sees no differences.

      Jesus, make my heart wide.

      so wide that differences don’t matter.

      just beating hearts and minds.

       legalism

      a professor was lecturing to a class of law