The Weight of our Words

The rain held off some yesterday. The sunlight came in filtered enough so you could look far up into the sky, unblinking. I took the kids to their favorite lunch spot and then we checked the progress on the new Nollen Plaza park downtown, stopping to tap some noise from one of the art pianos the city of Des Moines has given a home and garnering applause from random passerby's. Though the park is still fenced off, I read the lines etched in the concrete benches that snake throughout the space, including "Peace is always beautiful" by Walt Whitman. From there, we agreed to head up to the capital area to walk the sculptures and statues and monuments and roll down the best hill in town. We passed a group of middle-aged men in work attire playing hacky-sack in front of the Judicial building. Don't mind us, they said, we're just on break and enjoying some exercise. I vote for more suits playing hacky-sack outside buildings over lunch. The kids had brought along notepads and would occasionally pause to draw whatever held their view. After rolling on the hill, we walked to the memorial grounds and the kids were sprawled out, carried by their own interests, while I read every word etched in stone therein. I was struck most by the phrase "To be rather than to seem." As I held the weight of those words, I noticed Fisher writing in his notebook in front of the Vietnam memorial which was peppered with bouquets of flowers. He had written: I Love You, Fisher. He tore out that page and placed it under one of the bouquets to give it another kind of weight. Fisher, I asked, do you know what this is? I explained it was to honor the soldiers who were killed in the Vietnam war. These names etched in stone were their names. He hadn't known what it meant, hadn't known why flowers were placed at its base, yet he felt moved to say "I love you." I couldn't help my tears for his big heart that gives without question or prompting. Later, after we toured the capital interior and threw wishing coins in the fountain and were heading back to the car, he said he hoped his paper wouldn't blow away or get ruined with rain now settling upon us. It won't be there forever and it doesn't matter if it does blow away I told him, because what matters is you felt those words--you sent them here and now the energy of those words will always be there. And what is more, that is why it is so important to be kind, to show love, to watch our words--because you matter, we all matter, and everything we do touches the world. As I write this, I am reminded of the recent riots in Baltimore, of the blacklivesmatter hashtag campaign, of the fact that there is still so much prejudice and fear in this country. When I saw the video clips of the riots, all I could think was how I wish I could give every single person involved there a hug. To bring that kind of peace through dignity and love for humankind. I don't have all the answers and I can't undo what has been done, but one thing I can do is recognize how everyone matters. I can choose words that only lift. I can be kind. It is that kind of collective love that will diminish prejudice, because our words do have weight. If people really believed--truly held the thought--that "all men are created equal" then would those riots ever happen?