Comforting Words: 03/2005

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Pick Up Your Cross!

Some words give me trouble. “Responsibility” is one such.

Have you ever had “responsibility” thrust at you for something that you cannot fathom how it became yours? Ever told that you are responsible for another person’s situation in life and therefore ‘responsible’ for the cure? Even better, have you ever been accused of shirking ‘responsibility’ when you decided to do something for you?

For the most part “responsibility” is something most of us embrace. There are times and situations however, when it is exactly what we wish to avoid. Outside of the ‘routine’ obligations to children, spouses and job, how does one decide when to embrace and when to run from responsibility? Pick Up Your Cross! with me through the Words from Scripture, Words of Comfort and Words from the Heart.


From Unification Church
Sun Myung Moon, 5-1-81

“Take responsibility for the most difficult problem in your nation. Take responsibility for the most difficult problem in your church. Take responsibility for the most difficult problem of the world.”

From Confucianism
Great Learning

“The ancients who wished to manifest their clear character to the world would first bring order to their states. Those who wished to bring order to their states would first regulate their families. Those who wished to regulate their families would first cultivate their personal lives. Those who wished to cultivate their personal lives would first rectify their minds. Those who wished to rectify their minds would first make their will sincere. Those who wished to make their wills sincere would first extend their knowledge.”

(Excerpt from the Unification Church and Confucianism taken from World Scripture: A Comparative Anthology (St. Paul: Paragon House, 1995) 731, 491


It is funny how things work together for good.

Without thinking about it, the idea to write about responsibility quietly germinated in my mind as I went through my week.

It all started with a calendar sent to me each month by some dear friends and ministers in Jamaica. Containing thoughts for each day, the calendar for March is propped on my desk by the computer and I read it while waiting for it to boot up.

Whether it was their intention I do not know, but the thoughts for this past week focussed on the individual taking responsibility for their lives in all its aspects. The thought for Sunday, March 13, 2005 read: “Even marriages, made in heaven need down to earth maintenance work.” Monday’s: “God is the only third party in a marriage that can make it work.”

I have this habit of talking to inanimate objects and reading this I asked the calendar, “Why are you telling me this?” Obviously, it did not answer, at least not verbally. The thought for Tuesday reminded me that I am the all-ness of God and on Friday, again I was reminded to be thankful that I have something to do – albeit reading a pile of books for papers.

Between my seemingly one-sided conversation with the calendar, life happened and my world was shaken with an email from a friend, which prompted a telephone call to Jamaica. During this telephone call, the person on the other end of the line said, “But, Claudette, you are responsible!”

“How can that be so,” I responded, “I did not agree to that.” When the call ended, I had reason to move back to my computer and so glanced at the calendar. Though it was Friday, the reading for Wednesday came in to focus, “Instead of putting others in their place, put yourself in their place.”

“No way,” I thought. Why should I be the one to take responsibility for an occurrence thousand of miles away from me, without my prior consent or a discussion? Why is this stupid calendar telling me to put myself in the other person’s place! What about them putting themselves in my place and see that my plate is full and it simply cannot hold another morsel of problem.

Being the end of the week there was much to be done, so I stormed off to take care of ‘stuff’ and tried, unsuccessfully, to work on a paper that becomes due the following Monday. The distraction was too great. “How can I be responsible?” I kept asking myself. It then struck me as I pretended to read a book on the pastoral care response (or lack thereof) to the HIV/AIDS epidemic, particularly among the gay community and sex workers.

“All things work together for good” and there it was – the answer was before me. The daily thoughts on the calendar, the confusion in my personal life and the pastoral care response to persons living with AIDS were all pointing to moral responsibility.

To be responsible simply means - “to answer.” How one answers is a personal choice, one that will be made based on personal morals (character, conduct considered good or evil). Moral decisions may be directed primarily by faith beliefs, but not necessarily. In my case, my ruing over whether I was responsible for the confusion in my affairs was largely affected by my firm belief in a Divine Good.

Does that free the other people in my life, who caused the dilemma or are party to it? Certainly not, however as Confucius wrote in the Great Learning, those “who wished to manifest their clear character to the world would first bring order to their states.”

The Christian Scripture tells us to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” On the cross, Jesus provides a model for this working out, for taking responsibility. His answer to the call of God was one of compassion, self-giving and serving what he believed to be the highest truth.

We all bear our crosses – that is an inescapable fact. It might come in the form of family, a spouse, children, employers or a friend. Collectively, we bear the cross of the world – children dying from hunger, people dropping like flies from HIV/AIDS, millions of women being beaten and/or raped every second on this planet.

We all have the ability to respond. How we journey with our crosses will be dictated by our morals – personal or faith-guided. The reading for Saturday on my friend the calendar was “All we need to make us happy is something to be happy about.” Smiling, I picked up my cross this morning, grateful that I could.


(Sent to me by a friend via email)

I want to thank you for what you have already done. I am not going to wait until I see results or receive rewards; I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until I feel better or things look better, I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until the people say they are sorry or until they stop talking about me, I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until the pain in my body disappears, I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until my financial situation improves, I am going to thank you right now.

I am not going to wait until the children are asleep and the house is quiet, I am thanking you right now. I am not going to wait until I am promoted at work or until I get a job, I am going to thank you right now. I am not going to wait until I understand every experience in my life that has caused me pain or grief, I am going to thank you right now. I am not going to wait until the journey gets easier or the challenges are removed. I am thanking you right now. I am thanking you because I have walked around the obstacles.

I am thanking you because I have the ability and the opportunity to do better. I am thanking you because you have not given up on me. God is good, S/he is good all the time, and so I will give thanks all the time.

Blessings, until next week.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Walking Softly

If I took away only one thing from my philosophy classes, though I am quite sure it was more, Socrates’ famous dictum “the unexamined life is not worth living,” constantly reverberates in my mind.

At given intervals, I try to go over the occurrences in my life and what gifts and messages they held and in some cases still hold for me. This examination sometimes takes the simple form of pouring over my journals or I might go on a retreat from the distractions of my everyday life. Other times, it takes the form of starting a Blog.

Through this Comforting Words blog, I examine my life and the issues that propel me into a state of contemplation and/or action. Over the past week, it has been my honour and privilege to meet and be in the presence of some everyday heroes.

Coming away from those experiences, the desire to take stock of my own steps in the world became urgent. Join me as I evaluate my week and how these everyday heroes taught me to Walk Softly through the Words from Scripture, Words of Comfort and Words from the Heart.


From African Traditional Religions:
Yoruba Proverb (Nigeria)

“God drives away flies for a cow who has no tail.”

From Hinduism:
Bhagavad Gita. 6.28 – 32

“The infinite joy of touching the Godhead is easily attained by those who are free from the burden of evil and established within themselves. They see the Self in every creature and all creation in the Self. With consciousness unified through meditation, they see everything with an equal eye.

I am ever present into those who have realized me in every creature . . .. When a person responds to the joy and sorrow of others as if they were his own, he has attained the highest state of spiritual union.”

(Excerpt from African Traditional Religion and Hinduism taken from World Scripture: A Comparative Anthology (St. Paul: Paragon House, 1995) 89, 160


Sunday, March 6, 2005:
This Sunday was to be a special one for me as a small group of people were coming to my home to pray. For me this was a daunting, yet awesome happening, as I was not sure whether I was prepared to ‘journey’ in such an intimate way with my visitors.

What was awesome about the visit was the fact that this group represented people who felt spiritually uncertain and desired a space and time where they could together come together and invite the Divine presence.

To calm my nerves and get a sense of greater peace and direction, I made sure to go to Sunday Worship and Communion with my fellow sojourners at Southminster-Steinhauer United Church. The words of the opening hymn, “We Are One,” were the first salve to my anxiety:

“We are one as we share, as we share brokenness and fear; in the touch of a hand there’s a sense that God is here. We are one as we care, as we heal, we are healed; and we share warmth in God’s embrace as we pray together in this place.”

My friends and I sang those lines that evening.

Monday, March 7, 2005:
This was the beginning of the campaign week for elections at my college. Though I am not running for any office and in fact, my time at this college ends this semester, the process and the way that the race for President was turning out intrigued me.

Without going into the details about each of the three candidates, this election embodied in many respects how to walk in the world. The three candidates come from seemingly different life-perspectives but they share a common faith.

From their life-perspectives, I perceived in their campaign gifts that will go with me as I continue my journey through this life. Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, in his guidelines for mindfulness has this as the second guideline, which I believe, would serve us all very well – regardless of faith traditions:

“Do not think that the knowledge you possess is changeless, absolute truth. Avoid being narrow-minded and bound to present views. Learn and practice non-attachment from views in order to be open to receive others’ viewpoints. Truth is found in life and not merely in conceptual knowledge. Be ready to learn throughout your entire life and to observe reality in yourself and in the world at all times.”

Tuesday, March 8, 2005: International Women’s Day
God “drives away the flies from the cow’s tail” through his helpers and sometimes they come in petite packages. I met one such helper on Tuesday, when I skipped the last session of my class to attend a presentation by Jan Reimer at Stephen’s College here in Edmonton.

Ms Reimer is a former mayor of Edmonton and is now the Provincial Coordinator of Alberta Council of Women’s Shelters. How well she was as a mayor I do not know nor do I care. As the Provincial Coordinator of this programme she is doing a fantastic job in her presentation of the issues surrounding violence against women and what is being done to help women in this circumstance.

Without fanfare, hype or what some love to call feminist-hysteria, Ms Reimer painted a picture of the advances being made here in Alberta to assist women and children in difficult circumstances. She also, to my amazement, through confirmed data, showed how the incidents of domestic violence outnumber gang violence approximately 50:1, however top priority is given to fighting gangs, with residual attention and resources channeled to women and family programmes.

My ‘woman-friend’ (there is a story here, but I will share that another time) and I left the presentation with our heads nodding in agreement that this too must stop! Over supper, at an organic food restaurant much to my dismay and my friend’s pleasure, we spilled our guts and disgust about the situation of women in Canada and in my beloved Jamaica.

Wednesday, March 9, 2005:
This was another anxiety-filled day for me. It was my privilege and pleasure to be a part of a panel discussion on how to create a non-homophobic, non-heterosexist and non-sexist church. This discussion took place with members of a semi-rural Alberta church (United) and facilitated by their young, female Minister with the bottom line being whether they should conduct and/or support same-sex marriages.

The gift(s) that I received from this dialogue was that when there is mutual respect and a willingness to not only share but to listen, people can arrive at a new understanding, if not endorsement, of others reality.

My personal contribution to the discussion focussed attention on the link between all these “isms” (heterosexism and sexism) and racism. The bonding word is discrimination.

At the end of the discussion, though the bottom line issue of same-sex marriage was not resolved (and it was not intended to be), I left feeling that I could truly call Canada my new home. In this rural community, I met people who, unlike many in academia and the big city, genuinely wanted to understand how they discriminate against others and how the ‘victims’ felt.

Thursday, March 10, 2005:
The words that best describe this day are “mind blowing,” as not everyday I meet someone who stops me in my tracks and cause me to examine my life. Denise McLaren of the Women’s Re-Integration Chaplaincy did that to me.

Another pint-size, soft spoken, charismatic, no-nonsense woman like Jan Reimer, Denise McLaren was different in significant ways. A visible minority (which is the politically correct way of saying African-Canadian), former drug addict and former inmate of the Edmonton Institute for Women (EIFW), Denise packs a mean verbal punch.

Arrogant as theological students tend to be, one could be fooled into thinking that she would offer very little by way of theological insight and biblical exegesis. By the end of her 30-minute presentation, I was so stunned that for the second time this week, I missed most of my post-lunchtime class.

Along with her fellow former inmate at EIFW, Denise reminded us what being disciples of Jesus meant – to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. Richer for having been in her presence, I left the college that afternoon for the hairdresser and had my hair cut, giving up my foolish desire of growing it.

Denise reminded me what it meant to be real and living from one’s purpose. Having my hair short has always been my statement to me and to the world that I am not afraid to be and am not valueless as a person of African descent, woman and different. Thank you Denise.

Friday, March 11, 2005:
In my ‘impatience’ to be released from the walls of academia, into the real world, I decided to do six courses this semester. Every day I pay the price of that decision by either having to spend the entire day in classes, then doing reading assignments or writing papers.

This Friday, the ‘punishment’ varied somewhat and I spent the day, guess where? In the library until closing time. Every time I utter a complaint about my life as a 40-year old student, my partner reminds me: “be careful what you wish for . . . you might surely get it.” Years ago, I wished to be in a job that paid me to read all day – who says God does not answer prayers.

My problem is I am not being paid!

Saturday, March 12, 2005:
Some years ago, I met a Canadian woman who was living and teaching in South Korea at the time. Adventurer that she is, soon after our meeting, she came to Jamaica for a three-week stay with my family and I. Only once before had I met a ‘foreigner’ so trusting of people who are racially and culturally different from her. That other person was also Canadian.

Sonya is full of life, willing to realize God in every creature, responsive to the joy and sorrow of others and in herself. We have kept in touch over the years, though we live even further apart these days – she in Australia and me here in the great North.

Both of us share similar interests including a passion for justice, spirituality and travelling. A few weeks after starting this blog, I invited Sonya to write articles, from and about Australia in all its manifestations, for posting here. She finally did and so today, I invite you to read her article, Our Freedom, Your Freedom, on one aspect of homosexuality in Australia.

Eagerly I posted this article as it touched on an issue raised in that panel discussion in rural Alberta – how does a gay parade, in all its nudity and seemingly sexualized as it is, help the “cause” for equal rights.

More than anything else, Sonya’s article points to something that we all experience when the discussion turns how to walking softly with others. The pain, anxiety and need for understanding and compassion on all sides, not only here in Canada, not only in Australia but also around the world is clear.

Make Me a Blessing, Lord
By James Dillet Freeman

Make me a blessing, Lord! Help me
to help those needing help, to be
A blessing to my fellow men.
Instruct me when to speak and when
To hold my speech, when to be bold
In giving and when to withhold;
And if I have not strength enough,
Then give me strength. Lord, make me tough
With my own self but tender toward
All others. Let there be outpoured
On me the gentleness to bless
All who have need of gentleness.
Give me a word, a touch to fill
The lonely life, faith for the ill,
And courage to keep hearts up though
My own is feeling just as low.
When men have bitter things to meet
And quail and would not accept defeat,
Then let me lift their eyes to see
The vision of Thy victory.
Help me to help; help me to give
The wisdom and the will to live!

Blessings, until next week.

Our Freedom, Your Freedom

Comforting Thoughts from Australia

By Sonya

Before moving to Sydney, Australia, I lived for five years in supposedly gay-free South Korea. Ask any Korean national and they will tell you that this is a country where, “we don't have any gay people,” though some might add, “except for that one bald comedian.”

The fact that he is gay became public knowledge during a live television programme when he was ‘outed’. Many Koreans blamed his "gayness" on the fact that he had travelled extensively, and had 'even' visited Sydney several times. It was this ‘foreign influence', they say that made him gay, you see. Nobody in South Korea appeared to question this perspective.

So I left South Korea for the "the gay Mecca" of Sydney, Australia. To experience what made Sydney as ‘notorious’, I threw myself into the "gayness" of it all and took pride in the fact that for almost a full year I did not enter a straight bar.

To complete the experience, one must see the Mardi Gras. The first time I went it was in 2003. The friendliness of the crowd, the festive mood of the entire city and the sheer beauty and pride embodied in the whole experience blew me away.

The following year I wanted to be a part of the whole experience, so I volunteered to work with the parade – selling the fundraising parade programmes. That year however, it rained all day and so the parade was not much fun. This year, 2005, the weather gods had been appeased and it was a nice day.

For anyone who has never been to the Sydney parade, let me sum it up this way: it brings tears to the eyes. This year, for reasons of compassion and solidarity as well with its theme was "Our freedom, your freedom."

The first float of the parade was a series of flags. They were the flags of countries across the world where homosexuality (or at least "homosexual acts") is still illegal. Each flag-bearer wore a T-shirt with the name of the country and the punishment for committing the crime of homosexuality.

I was reading words like "death penalty," "14 years imprisonment" or "life imprisonment" frequently. The flags of Poland, Turkey, South Africa, eastern European nations, Caribbean nations and island nations just off the coast of Australia were flying.

I am not naive to believe that all the flags which SHOULD have been there were. Someone behind me, however, remarked that the flags seemed to going on for a long time: "My, there are a LOT of these flags!"

This innocent remark tells a tale. For a long time, I have been trying to explain to some friends the freedom they enjoy as gay people. Many could not wrap their heads around this completely until, I am sure, they saw this physical representation through the flying flags. Many understand that day the value of their freedom to express themselves, be who they are and a part of the ‘scene’ in Australia. It also came home to many, how much in prison they are as long as others in the world cannot be fully human due to “committing the crime of homosexuality.”

The debates on the pros and cons of ‘the scene’ or the clubs and social spots on Oxford Street are many. Having travelled to other parts of the world (Asia and the Caribbean for example) I have often interjected that they are lucky to HAVE an Oxford street and a Mardi Gras, and the freedom to go there or to engage in debates about it.

I have attended annual conferences as a university student where non-heterosexually identifying university students gather from all over the country to debate/curse/protest and party for a week. The mere existence of this conference is a testament to the freedom and openness that exists here in Australia.

There still, however, remains the question whether this kind of visibility (Mardi Gras) is productive? Many question whether it furthers the cause to have the average heteronormative-gender-stereotype-following family member (herein referred to as "Joe Average") hear the word "gay" and "Mardi Gras" in the same sentence.

The experience has been that Joe Average instantly associates these terms with visuals of drag queens, "dykes on bikes” and other such images from the hotly debated ‘scene’. Starting the parade with a float with lesbians on motorcycles, clothed or not, might create an impression harmful to the ‘scene’ rather than promote an argument for equality.

As I ponder this, I am reminded of a Buddhist parable of a father whose children are in the burning house. The father lies to them, telling them to come out to taste the yummy candy he has bought for them. He will not bring the candy into the house; they must exit to get the candy.

In most religious traditions, lying is regarded as a "bad" action, to 'sin' or whatever terms your faith uses. However, in this parable, the 'sin' of lying is justified by the fact that the father gets the children out of the house and away from the danger of the fire.

The symbols in this parable may be analyzed, in most contexts, as such: the "Father" is Buddha. The "Children" are all the unenlightened beings. The "house" is samsara (repetitive pattern of life and death) and the "fire" is our ignorance, hatred and greed. The "candy" is the joy of nirvana.

I am offering this parable with different a symbolic analysis. The "Father" is all non-heterosexually identified people. The "children" are "Joe Average". The "fire" is still ignorance and hatred.

By using any means necessary, including drag queens and dykes on bikes, the gay community alerts Joe Average to its existence and even partial acceptance of other modes of being and partnering (not just his). The aim is to educate all Joe Averages and their families. These families may even contain people who do not identify with him, but rather are homosexuals afraid to be ‘outed’.

I am an optimist and admit that my hope is that the "candy" in this interpretation of the parable is freedom and unconditional love. As a member of the human family, this is my fervent hope.

Personally, I try to be the "father" to all the "children" who live in the "burning houses" in the nations whose flags started off this year's parade. We must all continue to educate, love and have compassion for the "children" who need us.

While there may be negative happenings in those clubs on Oxford Street, I must accept the freedom of the people who choose to be part of that ‘scene’. They are a symbol of the freedom we enjoy in Australia. I prefer to understand and be compassionate towards those symbols rather than impose the "death penalty" or "life imprisonment" – neither of which results from a spirit of love.

Gate gate paragate parasamgate bodhi svaha.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Reach Out and Touch

By the time I got to the third account of how Canadians love boundaries and detest being touched by anyone outside of their immediate circle – and even there only few are permitted – I knew I was in trouble.

Coming as I do from a culture where touching and warm greetings are the norm, in panic I wondered how many people have I insulted in the almost three years that we migrated to Canada. Greeting someone is a special moment for me, a moment which communicates in a much shorter time that a television commercial, the anticipation I have for the interaction.

My hope is always that in everyone I meet, both of us will leave the encounter blessed in some way. Therefore, maybe in anticipation of that blessing I tend to wrap the person standing in front of me with all the tenderness and hope that I have to share.

What then shall we do in a culture and society that prefers to keep “others” at a distance? Reach Out and Touch, as the song says, with me through the Words from Scripture, Words of Comfort and Words from the Heart.


From Judeo-Christianity (NRSV):
Luke 18: 15

“People were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. . . .”

Mark 5: 30

“. . . Who touched my clothes?”


A regular contributor to the Edmonton Journal had an interesting story about the anxiety that Canadians, for the most part, have about being touched. He referred to the individualism that continues to grow in the Canadian society, which, among other things, has caused people to create invisible walls around themselves.

These walls form a protective barrier, which many feel necessary to keep safe the property and ‘stuff’ that they have accumulated. It however has a secondary effect – they keep people out of their personal space to the extent that the emotional bonds that marked Canadian communities are fading.

Another writer, Christopher Levan, in his book Give Us This Day, which offers daily reflections for Lent, notes interestingly enough that Anglo-Canadians do not like to kiss. This is very unlike the French-Canadians who he writes, “cast caution to the wind and do a double kiss twice in any serious encounter.”

“Canadians,” he says, “are not mushy feely types” and therefore do not make it onto, what he calls, the touch scale. This is compounded by the “no touching” policy of the corporate world, one which in my experience, thankfully has not sterilized the people in tropical climes.

None of this is to minimize the need people have to create boundaries and the abuse many have suffered at the hands, pun intended, of those who do not recognize that there is a time and place for everything. Many a stories I could share of encounters in my beautiful tropics which went well beyond the touch to the feel. Sadly, when this does happen, there is little recourse for the person, usually a woman, who has been touched just a little too much.

The problem, as I see it, is how do we strike a balance, between respecting people’s personal space and office decorum, for example, and maintaining a warm place where people encounter and touch each other.

The Christian gospels of Luke and Mark illustrate the power of the touch in two encounters Jesus had – with a woman and children. Ironically, in our society and culture the encounter between man and woman and/or children has become so suspect that we have lost the magic that these stories tell.

In Luke’s gospel, people were bringing their children to this much-talked about man, to have him touch them. They felt that one touch from his hand would eternally bless their children. They seemed to understand the significance of a touch far greater and at a much deeper level than his own disciples who tried to turn them away.

The woman in Mark’s gospel did the reverse. Hemorrhaging for twelve years, she too heard the ‘news’ about this ‘healer’ man and made her way through the crowds to touch him. “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well,” she said.

Whether we believe any of these stories to be factual is not the point. The power of touch is what is common in both stories. I witnessed an outpouring of love for the late Lieutenant Governor of Alberta, Lois Hole, upon her death this year. Sadly, I did not have the pleasure to meet or see this woman in person, but many are the stories I have heard before her passing and since about her touch.

My partner, who is someone who has never displayed any awe for politicians, told one such story that I particularly love. Apparently, there was this huge function in downtown Edmonton, at either City Hall, the Francis Winspear Centre for Music or the Shaw Conference Center and Lois Hole, in her capacity of Lieutenant Governor attended.

The event ended and well after the time that one would expect the ‘dignitaries’ to have taken their leave one of her aide-de-camp could be seen searching for her. Whether it took him long to figure out where she was I was not told. However, he ‘found’ her in the kitchen, hugging the staff.

This story is not uncommon, as I have heard of many similar ones since her Lois Hole’s passing. Most of the people, public figures (across the country) and private individuals, including those of ‘lowly’ means and children, remembering Lois Hole spoke of her hugs, her touch and how she shared from her table.

This has caused me to wonder about the earlier observations about Canadians. The outpouring one witnessed about this woman surrounded her humanity – her capacity to share her love through her hugs. That hardly suggests to me a people who are community of untouchables.

Three years and many hugs and full handshakes later, no one has yet filed a lawsuit against me. Somewhere deep in my heart I feel that will not happen. Why am I now so confident given my initial panic? Well, as I recall these stories about the Lieutenant Governor, what occurred to me is that people of modern societies are not so insular. The problem is that not many of us are like Lois Hole, respectful enough, caring enough and courageous enough to “Reach out and touch.”

May her soul rest in peace.


Reach Out And Touch (Somebody's Hand)

Performed by: Diana Ross

Reach out and touch
Somebody's hand
Make this world a better place
If you can
Reach out and touch
Somebody's hand
Make this world a better place
If you can

(Just try)
Take a little time out of your busy day
To give encouragement
To someone who's lost the way
(Just try)
Or would I be talking to a stone
If I asked you
To share a problem that's not your own
We can change things if we start giving
Why don't you.

Blessings, until next week.