What do I offer in a world of seeming disrespect and irresponsibility?
I have multiple experiences of people who are not present for their commitments,
fail to perform their contracted agreements, arrive late or not at all, appear not to care about their tasks,
deceive about their intention to get rather than give.
If I give the benefit of the doubt and let it go, how many times before I speak up?
If I leave their services or association behind, have I not broken my own agreement to tell the truth?
If I simply judge and defend, am I not caught in the web of continuing what is not working?
We seem to live in a culture which allows, supports and even encourages people falling asleep on their responsibilities.
If a brother is sleeping on the job, is it respectful to wake him up and remind him?
If a brother is not communicating, is it respectful to open communication?
If a brother is hurting obviously, is it not compassionate to offer help?
If someone is behaving insanely, do we ignore or encourage sanity in him?
While some media, education and politics seem to foster what is not fair, honest beneficial or promoting good will,
we do not have to choose to follow the path of least resistance.
While our family may complain about the wakeup calls and requirements to put some responsibility and accountability back into our relationships, I don’t have to be deterred by their complaints.
When there is irresponsible behavior or disrespect on my part, I can easily acknowledge my ignorance and make amends.
Life is a process of learning.
It is guilt that makes us seek the comfort of blaming others.
It is the comfort of denial and ignorance that keeps us stuck in repeating the habitual errors of our past.
It is fear of being attacked that keeps us from being truly responsibly.
I am my brother.
I am the quality of relationships I see.
Therefore I choose to speak, to act and to forgive, so that I may choose a healed perception.
Do I dare do nothing and allow my world to forget what it means to love with respect and gratitude?
Loving you,
Betty Lue