My daughter is currently working on a paper for her English class which she has titled, “The Epitome of Morals.” Obviously, I am the subject matter. Oh, okay that’s not true. It’s Atticus Finch.
I’m going to try really hard not to take the moral high-ground here, because I am nothing if not flawed. I have a lot of remorse and regret over past behavior and I still make errors every single day. That’s because I’m human. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a fact. None of us walk a perfect straight and narrow.
But, at what point do we draw a line and say someone has morally crossed it?
The truth is, not much has changed since Harper Lee wrote To Kill a Mockingbird. Mockingbirds are still being slain while bluejays fly free. More and more and more, every single day. Are you a mockingbird? Are you making the world a better place? Do you treat people with love, kindness and respect? Are you singing a beautiful song?
We would all be better people if we had a little Atticus Finch in us; if we were courageous, strong, calm and kind. Maycomb isn’t just a symbol of my town or your town – it’s a symbol of me and you. It’s the good and the bad within us and which one we choose to display.
I’m thankful my daughter recognizes the morals of Atticus as a citizen, lawyer, father, neighbor and friend.
It’s too bad he’s just a character in a book.
This post was inspired by Netflix. Come see what we’re watching.
If you had to pick one friend with whom to get stuck on a deserted island, who would you pick? I would be hard-pressed to choose between my very sensible, resourceful, crafty friend and the friend I have who would slap me in the face and tell me to stop freaking out, instruct me to enjoy the sunshine, and help me figure out how to make alcohol out of coconuts.
I am fortunate to have a diverse group of friends on whom I can count. They each speak to the different parts of my personality – though, I’ll be honest, I’ve yet to find one who will hang with me at my gym or meet me on the running trail. That’s okay, though, because I don’t usually have enough air to breathe, let alone talk.
I have family-friends, work-friends, church-friends, online-friends and drinking-friends. I even have dog-friends; not people with dogs, but actual dogs. My two Labs listen to me more than anyone else. Sometimes, I get them drunk and I have drinking-dog-friends. Then we play poker.
Honestly, I couldn’t choose just one person to join me on that island; I’d want to bring them all. One thing’s for sure, it would be one heck of a good time. Unless we had to eat each other. That would kind of stink.
On Monday, she volunteered for her service project after school then went to basketball practice. On Wednesday, she volunteered again, then dog-sat for her grandmother and babysat her brother.
On Thursday, we got a letter saying she had made honor roll again.
On Friday, she watched our neighbor’s infant and he slept in her arms.
Today, she made my favorite cookies.
I think I’ll keep her.
I cried real tears when my first pair of favorite jeans got an irreparable hole in an unfortunate spot. Ahem. There are only so many places you can put a patch.
There have been a lot of favorite jeans since that first pair and each time I must part with the buttery-soft denim and their perfect fit, my heart breaks a little. The loss of something familiar, even after it has become unrecognizable, torn and ratty, is not easy for me to do. I have no desire to forego comfort for something shinier.
I like being comfortable. I like flannel shirts and furry socks. I like snuggling. Everyone likes to be comfortable, right? Not necessarily.
Some people need to feel itchy in their skin. They need constant movement, exploring unknowns, and excitement. And, while I am looking forward to new adventures, I still prefer them with a heavy side of fireplace, old movie, dogs at my feet, and a pot pie in my belly.
Unknowns make me feel tormented, scared, and a little bit crazy. I don’t like getting new cars, I hate the idea of moving, or the kind of exhilaration people get when they buy new things. I like the feel of old jeans, worn and broken-in in all the right places.
Irreparable holes be damned.