“Everyone hates politicians and says, ‘Get rid of the politicians,'” my client said.  “But I say – the world needs politicians.”

Ah, the forbidden topics…religion and politics.  This conversation was all politics.

Yesterday, I stepped in at the last minute on a photo shoot for a real estate agent with whom I’ve never worked.  Noticing his veteran ballcap, I thanked him for his service (as I normally do) and inadvertently launched an hour-long conversation for which I was excruciatingly unprepared.  Over the course of the hour, he proceeded to lay out very strong opinions on both domestic and foreign policy in the United States, beginning with the conclusion of WWI.   The challenge?  I disagree with almost every viewpoint he holds.  With a peer, I would have engaged in a lively exchange.  However, I decided to tread carefully for two reasons.  One, he is a client, and there’s no need to alienate a client over politics.  Second, and more importantly, his six tours of combat and the many terrible things he described seeing overseas earned him the right, in my eyes, to feel and say whatever the heck he wants.  So an hour of noncommittal murmuring and nodding allowed him to vent in a manner he clearly needed while preserving our standing as client and photographer.

However, in the midst of his many firm statements, he made one that truly stuck out to me (particularly as it seemed to contradict much of his general message otherwise).

“The world needs politicians.”

Why did that statement stand out to me?  Because I agree with him.  I think “politician” has become a fashionably derogatory term.  How frequently do you hear people just dismiss elected officials as “just a career politician”?  All the time. All the time.

I learned a lot – a LOT – from having an immediate family member as an elected official in the Great State of Texas.  The primary thing I learned is that the vast majority of people have absolutely no concept or understanding of the political process, but are completely convinced that they do.  For elected officials of any sway, this has to be one of the most frustrating parts of the job.

Technically, the definition of politician is “a person who is professionally involved in politics, esp. as a holder of or a candidate for an elected office.”  There are many bad apples spoiling the bunch, but on the whole, I find “politicians” to be ordinary people dedicated to a job I can’t imagine anyone wanting to do.  Yes, political power has the capability to turn men and women into people their mothers wouldn’t recognize.   But is there any real career field in which human nature is immune to corruption by power?  Has anyone been to the bulk mail desk at the post office lately?  Talk to that guy sometime and you’ll tell me I’m right.

The truth is, I want a politician in the political process, just like I want a surgeon in the operating room.  I want someone who speaks the language, knows  how to make connections that are meaningful, learns the give and take of compromise.  I recognize that, if you are to only follow the national media, you would say I’m living in a dreamworld and there aren’t politicians like that.  I disagree.  Consider the tens of thousands of people nationwide, serving their city/county/state/country as elected officials.  The most visible are those sensationally drawing lines or making stands for the point of … well… nothing. That’s because the rest – the true politicians, for whom it is a calling – are too busy working. They are working hard, usually behind the scenes.  They are busy preserving the way of life we value that allows us to elect those who represent us in the writing and execution of the laws by which we live.  They are busy celebrating the victory of achievement when they get a bill passed that directly and positively impacts the people who live in their district, and which will never receive any public affirmation or applause.   They are busy trying to balance their commitment to service and their commitment to their families and communities.   The really good ones are generally too busy to deal with the mire of uninformed public opinion.  Thank goodness.

So, Mr. Agent, while I respectfully disagree with you on pretty much everything else, I have to agree…the world needs politicians.

I admit, blogging is an entirely foreign concept to me, or should I say, FOR me.  I have read and admired many people’s blogs, but in general they are written by experts in a specific field, ministry leaders, or friends living out a great adventure and intentionally communicating about it.  As I fit into none of the aforementioned categories, the idea of me blogging seemed narcissistic, to say the least.  What on earth could I write about that anyone would ever want to read?

Then a friend mentioned to me that I am indeed an expert. An expert in talking.

Great, just what I’ve always wanted to hear.  And just what you’ve always wanted to hear, friends.

However, the more I thought about it, I realized that I’m not exactly an expert in talking – simply talking too much does not make one an expert – but somehow I do seem highly skilled in getting into interesting conversations.  Sometimes they originate with me, but most often they start with another person, and usually a stranger.  This shouldn’t surprise me, as I grew up in a home in which lengthy and high-level conversation was a dinner table staple (much to the chagrin of friends, dates, and extended family members less inclined). I realized that, on any given day, I’ve probably had a pretty fascinating conversation with someone, completely unintentionally, that leaves me with a head full of thoughts and nowhere to put them.

So, because I bothered to set up this account and start this whole endeavor, I’ve decided that I will write when I’ve encountered a particularly interesting conversation (which was what the first post stemmed from, anyway!).

This week’s winner?  A newish friend who called me yesterday to discuss the fact that I am writing this blog, and offer helpful hints on how to do so.  Naturally I accepted her constructive criticism and unsolicited advice gracefully – I was well-raised, you know – but one thing she said was very thought-provoking. “People will read this who don’t know you,” she reminded me, “and you have to make sure you don’t seem too unhappy.”

I guess, given the fact that my sole post was about the death of a teenager, her comment was applicable (if somewhat premature – it’s one post, people).  And I have a number of friends whom I can hear now, saying, “How dare she tell you that? We need to be real and transparent and authentic – enough of this ‘fake front’ we put on for each other!”

But what she meant was, make sure your writing reflects who you are – and for me, that is generally happy.  I like happy.  Most of the time, I am happy.  It doesn’t take much to make me happy.  So her advice was spot on, because to understand where I come from on any given topic requires knowing that I am, in fact, an annoying, optimistic, starry-eyed Pollyanna.

What makes me happy on any given day?

THIS.

And THIS.

And THIS.

And THIS.

THIS.

And most of all, THESE PEOPLE.

So you get the idea that a lot of things, completely unrelated, make me happy.  Pretty much anything.  Let’s face it, people are often annoyed by other people’s happiness.   We could hash the “why” of that to death, but ultimately it isn’t important.  This space, for me, is henceforth about The Conversation, and most real conversation (or interesting conversation) goes beyond happy.  Real conversation requires a brain that is fully awake, reasoning that is ready to be pulled and stretched, and a willingness to acknowledge that how a conversation starts does not dictate how it ends.

As I move forward in the blogging journey (assuming I stick to my initial plan of writing once a week – without a goal in mind, I would simply sit down with a book and some sour cream and onion chips instead of writing), I won’t be able to have a conversation with you, reader.  Well, I will, but it will be one-sided! However, I hope that the conversations I encounter will spur you to conversations of your own.

~NTM

*My newish friend has given me permission to use her phone call in this blog.  So nobody yell at me for it.  Thanks! 

I love teenagers. I hate it when a teenager dies.  Walking through life alongside a teenager is like watching a tall, freshly green stem, leaves unfurling to reveal the tight bud of possibility –  forthcoming beauty and magnificence.  The death of a teenager rips that stem from the ground, and with it all the promise of a hundred tomorrows.  It is a wrenching experience for anyone in the vicinity, whether a close family member or a simple acquaintance.   Don’t get me wrong. I’m firmly in the camp that believes in God’s mercy, love, and endlessly perfect will.  But I also believe that God made us flesh, and it flat hurts to watch these things happen.

I have found, however, that events like the death of a teenager open channels of conversation that never seem to come up on a regular Tuesday.  Today, on the heels of a death that has many people I love and respect reeling,  the comment was made that I live in the black and white, while others live in the gray.

That has me thinking.  I’m not sure I agree.

The truth is, much of what others consider “gray” simply is black and white to me.  Doing the right thing…following the rules…finding and sticking with the right mindset…making good decisions…these are invariably black and white to me (whereas, I find others seem to think them gray).  Truthfully, we don’t need God in the black and white.  The Pharisees were masters of the black and white.   We can choose (or not choose) the right thing in the black and white, without any help from God.

But the gray…the gray!  The gray is finding the balance between trusting God’s promises and feeling the very real feelings in the skin and bones we live in.  (This calls to mind one of my favorite movie scenes – The Apostle – Robert Duvall frustrated with God, saying to Him, “I’ve always called you Jesus, and you’ve always called me Sonny.”  The relationship there!) The gray is saying “I don’t understand” and being simultaneous furious about it and completely okay with it.  We try to put actions and decisions in the gray area.  To me, actions are almost always black and white. The heart, however, lives in the gray.

Fortunately, so does God.  He knows that the gray is the void that draws us to Him for answers, a safe place to vent anger, a desperate plea for peace.  The gray is where God works.  The gray is where you simply try to put one foot in front of the other, and you look back and find that you did, in fact, put one foot in front of the other.

People speak of “the gray area” with a negative bent.  For me, the gray is where I find that I don’t have to have the answers, and I don’t have to try to find the right words or feelings.

The gray is where I can simply be.