My grandmother was a gentle, kind woman. She was a nurse during the war, and had a very angelic quality about her healing. Way before her time, she believed and exercised the idea that ‘food is medicine’ and acted accordingly. She was loving and nurturing.
She was also scandalized at an episode of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, wherein a black man was invited to soak his feet in the same pool of water that Mr. Rogers did. At the same time. She snapped it off and lectured me for quite some time about how awful that was.
Thing is … even at however old I was (8 or 9) I felt that she was wrong, somehow. Which is a very confusing thing to think about one’s grandmother, when one is 8 or 9.
Fred Rogers, sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly, taught me to love my neighbor.
More than the Bible.
More than any pastor I ever met.
More than Jesus.
Gran was unselfish, loving, and kind. She would also be a Trump supporter, if she were alive. Because she was partially blind, not of the eyes, but of the heart. Daveed Diggs coined the term ‘Blindspotting’ to define this. The limits of one’s own perception. My friend Susan helped with this and pointed me toward the movie of the same name. I highly recommend it.
I love my Gran despite her blindness. In my lifetime, I have overcome the anger and hate I was taught by otherwise loving humans. I purged my system.
I don’t know exactly what my point here is … but it’s been on my mind that love can help clean up the blind spots.