My friend Jason Anderson told this story during one of his sessions at The Montana Summer Institute in Big Sky last week. I want to make sure he gets the credit, and because I’m going to paraphrase it the best I can, there’s a chance I won’t do the story justice the way he did.
I do remember that Jason got a little emotional as he told the story on stage, and I got a little emotional when I heard it, but then again, he and I exchanged messages all week long and said things like, “Oh, hey…I made it til 8:13 am today before my eyes started leaking.”
It was the sort of week that brought all the emotions close to the surface and moved swiftly from sorrow to joy, and concern to hope. But by far, the balance of the week leaned towards hope.
Jason said he was watching a newscast one night recently and there was a story that we are all too familiar with. Something horrific had happened. I don’t remember what, but it was some act of violence. Some debased violation of our human compact with one another. And when the camera returned to the commentator, they said with a shake of their head, “This is who we’ve become.”
You’ve thought that, I bet. I have too. And we seem to get delivered a stream of messages and stories that draw out that sort of defeated response.
But then, Jason said, the very next story was about a school bus driver who had been driving the same route for a number of years. There was one little boy who sat behind him all the time. Let’s call the little boy Timmy, since I didn’t take notes and my memory for names is not so great. The bus driver and Timmy struck up a friendship and they visited every day as they made the rounds.
One day, Timmy looked a little sad when he got on the bus. The driver asked what was wrong and Timmy explained that it was pajama day at school, but he didn’t have any pajamas to wear.
It got a little quiet on the bus. Then after all the kids were dropped off at school, the bus driver went to a local store and bought a pair of pajamas in Timmy’s size. He drove back to the school and walked them into the office where he said, “Can you get these pajamas to Timmy? He accidentally left them on the bus.”
The camera cut back to the commentator who said, “That’s so nice, isn’t it?”
But they did NOT say, “This is who we’ve become.” They did not take it to be a barometer of our society even though the story of Timmy and the bus driver is just as true as that other thing. Both experiences are true, but how is it that we allow the horrific one to define us and the story of compassion becomes just an interesting aside?
In fact, I’d argue that maybe…just maybe…the world has more pajama stories than horrific ones. (I have no science to back that up.) But on any given commute home, you might have 7 to 10 people who allow you to merge smoothly and safely while one person cuts you off. Guess which one leaves you fuming as you walk in the door?
What is the story that we tell ourselves about who we are? What narratives are serving us poorly and need to be reexamined? Where are we spending our energy?
I’m not suggesting we ignore the challenges of the world. The world is filled with challenges and it’s important that we face them honestly and directly. But don’t get lost in those challenges. Don’t allow them to blind you to what else is happening in the world. The world has hard edges, but it has compassion, too.
Here’s a passage from the intro panel of our exhibit for Lessons on the Road to Peace:
“I had been working on a storytelling project called A Peace of My Mind, which uses portraiture and personal stories to bridge divides and build community. In a divided world, I set out to rediscover the common humanity that connects us. I rooted my efforts in a concern for the increasing polarization in our country, and yet, as the project grew, so did the prevalence of animosity and culture wars.
But I saw something else emerge in the midst of the bitterness. Hope. Everywhere I looked, good people were working to find creative solutions to some of our most challenging issues. When ugliness reared its head, beauty responded. With every shooting came an outpouring of support. For every act of hate, a response of compassion. What if we could shift our focus to those efforts? What if we could amplify those stories of success and use them to light our way?”
What story will you tell about who we have become?