Sometimes

Sometimes I want to cut on the lights in my office, but unless it’s stormy out or I’m here past dark then there’s really no need because of natural light. So I don’t. I haven’t since the Caring for Creation Conference a month ago. I figure that my sitting in natural light is one very simple way of reducing demand for electricity and standing in solidarity with those affected by mountain top removal.

Sometimes I want to go through the drive-thru at Chick-Fil-A and get food and a drink. I like Chick-Fil-A. I have for years. So I go. But I feel guilty receiving a Styrofoam cup and lots of packaging and not cutting of my car and walking inside to get my food.

Sometimes I want to use the dishwasher instead of hand-washing my dishes. So I do.

Sometimes I want to use the Styrofoam cups provided by a church or work place even though I know that I have a reusable cup in the car. But I don’t. I walk to my car and get my cup even if it’s not the cleanest in the world.

Sometimes I want to take a long, hot shower. So I do. But I try to justify by it by not taking a shower every night (don’t gasp—I really don’t get that dirty sitting at my desk every day). Ideally, I would not shower every night AND not take long showers when I do.

Sometimes I want to stop shaving my legs because of the amount of life-time trash produced by razors. But I don’t. Contrary to how it might seem, I actually enjoy the feeling of clean shaven legs and sometimes do care what people think when they see my unshaved legs.

Sometimes I want to adjust the heat or air in my apartment. But I don’t. I leave it at 68 in the winter and 72 in the summer…and I haven’t cut on the air yet.

Sometimes I want to call the National Trafficking Hotline when I drive by spas, gentlemen’s clubs, or truck stops where I have a hunch that trafficking victims are being held. But I don’t. I have no idea why. It’s a free, anonymous phone call.

Sometimes I want to roll down my window and talk with the homeless man or woman standing at a stop light or pick up a hitch-hiker from the side of the road. But I don’t. Stereotypes and horror stories have done their jobs of exploiting my fear and selfishing my kindness.

Sometimes I want to buy Hershey’s chocolate. But I don’t. Usually. Okay. So I do when/if it’s a gift and I haven’t planned ahead and located a Fair Trade alternative. Sorry Boss.

Sometimes I want to take a road trip to see friends and family members. So I do. Even though I know that I am using gas and contributing to carbon emissions. One day, I will get a hybrid.

Sometimes I want to speak up when persons or people groups are being bullied by religious or political organizations. But I don’t. Not often. I’m such a people pleaser that I don’t want to make anyone mad or risk a reprimand if my personal beliefs don’t align with organizational ones.

Sometimes I want to talk to my nephews about bullying and pornography. But I don’t. I don’t want to risk tempting them with the latter…although I know that they’ve most likely already been exposed because of the internet and the soft-porn in advertisements and on apps and that an addiction could have already began. It makes me sick to think about it.

Sometimes I want to sequester my niece (and nephews, too, actually) and make sure no one ever touches her inappropriately or manipulates or sweet-talks her into doing things she doesn’t want to do—cheating, drugs, sex, alcohol, illegal behavior, bullying. But I don’t. I know they can’t live in isolation.

Sometimes I want to watch movies or TV for hours and get lost in comedies and dramas beyond myself, even when they include violence, language, questionable morality and suck away time that could be used for something productive. So I do. I lay on my couch and escape.

Sometimes I want to write my political leaders and share with them my convictions. But I don’t. The political process intimidates me and makes me feel like my vote doesn’t matter…though I know that it does.

Sometimes I want Starbucks. So I go.

Sometimes I want to feel like I’m saving money in a fast, convenient way. So I do. Or least pretend that I do since I know that cheap food and clothing and other items are either subsidized, shipped, or produced with slave labor.

Sometimes I want to buy things for people even when they don’t need them because I love people and show my love through gifts. So I do. Even when I know that my item purchasing will raise demand for manmade products that will eventually fill a land fill.

Sometimes I want to forget everything I’ve learned about human exploitation and live my life as I lived it before. But I don’t. I can’t.

Sometimes I want to succeed. But I fail. But I keep trying. And sometimes I find myself at peace with the fact that sometimes trying is what matters.