Before I began my ministerial career, I worked at a day care center. I had always enjoyed young children, but in my work with them five days a week I discovered I adored them. Their raw, unvarnished truth-telling and total presence in the moment endeared them to me. Young children are so utterly and simply themselves. There is so little pretense or façade. I laughed often and found each day was full of surprises.
When I had been in the job for nearly a year I recall a conversation with a friend in which they asked how I could care so much for children that were not mine. I was startled by the question. It had never even occurred to me that I would feel differently about these children because I was not biologically related to them. I cared about them. I wanted them to be happy. They were my friends -- part of my community and circle of care.
I thought about this conversation and my experiences in my late 20s and early 30s recently when I read a blog post by Courtney E. Martin. She was reflecting on the US’ educational inequalities and realized, “I’ve come to believe that as long as elite parents feel justified in an all-consuming focus on their own children’s advancement, the whole country will remain deeply and immorally unequal…There must be some healthy balance (and I mean healthy for me, my kids, and society) between self-interest and collective action. I’ve got to believe that I can love my kids and want the best for them, while still pursuing better conditions for all kids. And what’s more, that this pursuit… will be better for them in the long run, too.” As I read her powerful social justice argument about economic, racial, and educational equity for all people, I realized that it came down to a simple and profound question. What if we cared about everyone’s children as much as we care for our own?
Whether or not you have children or grandchildren, the question and challenge facing our world remains: how broadly or widely can we draw the circle of our caring? In so many ways we are constantly encouraged to care only about me and mine. What happened to you and ours? The rhetoric of so much political engagement and civic life these days is about what is best for me or some, not all.
I think this heart expansion, this widening circle of compassion and care is at the core of many spiritual practices and the spiritual life. Mother Theresa once said, “The problem of the world is that we draw the circle of our family too small.” My resolution for the new year is to expand my heart’s reach. I need to recall and remember the truth I knew several decades ago as a day care provider. I can love and care for people beyond my immediate family. Rather than shrinking the reach of my compassion I can expand it.
Whether the child you are thinking of is one washed up on a Turkish beach (tears well up in my eyes every time I see the image of Aylan Kurdi’s body in the surf), or children growing up amidst the gun violence of Chicago, or children right here in Victoria whose families are struggling to get by—all of them can be included in your circle of compassion. May we find ways to expand our caring beyond the usual borders.
Rev. Shana Lyngood is co-minister of First Unitarian Church of Victoria. She has loved and served in Victoria since 2010
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* This article was published in the pront edition of the Times Colonist on Saturday, January 21 2017
