Variety is More Than Spice. It IS Life. A Note From Jan.

My recent time with extended family reminds me that variety is more than just the spice of life. It is life. Frustrating, at times, that we’re different.  Different in looks, of course. But I’m thinking more about differences in points of view, behaviors, preferences. Thinking about this makes me take a step back to see how much I value sameness.

While I may join a bookclub because we’re going to read and discuss books together, I wouldn’t like it if we always read the same kinds of books or agreed and nodded our way through discussion times, playing it safe.

It seems to me that families, like communities, thrive on varying opinions.  Questioners and questioning matter.  To erase differences in color, tone, word, and ways of seeing would leave our world colorless, bland, boring, blah with only the illusion of safety.  We need dissidents. It’s tyrannical leaders who don’t tolerate differing opinions. And it’s the thinkers, writers, and artists who are often the first silenced. 

Healthy families and communities comprise warriors as well as pacifists.  Listeners and speakers. Thinkers and feelers. Dissonance and harmony.  The wounded and the healers.

Fearful folks in families often demand uniformity.  Appearance matters more than substance.  Look good.  Watch your manners. Don’t do anything to shame the family.

Good thing God doesn’t think like that or none of us could be called God’s children.   Instead, God dares to give us freedom to think, question, and speak. Imagine God giving up control to the likes of us.

I have my own fears.  Sometimes I’m afraid I’m too slow to listen.   Too quick to judge. To try to control. Prove a point at too high a cost. Fear acts like that. Need to remind myself that “perfect love drives out fear.”

One day in British Columbia, while some of the family took off to kayak, I hopped on a big red double-decker bus for an overview of Victoria.  We passed several churches.  One boasted a sign, “Be friends with Jesus.  Use Faithbook.” Another called itself, “The Church of Truth and Community of Conscious Living.”  Not sure what that one’s all about, though I’m all for truth and for staying conscious as long as possible! 

But I think most of the tourists passing through Victoria would be more familiar with the third church we passed, though it looked nothing like a church and probably doesn’t even call itself a church.  Housed in a large building in a part of town less populated by tourists stood The Salvation Army and the Salvation Army Social Center.  It’s known as a welcoming place.  A refuge for all. Hungry? Lonely? Wasted? Desperate? Come on in.

Not a safe place, the Salvation Army, if you want beautiful people who all think alike.  Don’t let the uniforms fool you.  Underneath are warriors and pacifists. Listeners and speakers. Thinkers and questioners. Wounded and healers. Harmony and dissonance.

Families and communities could take a lesson or two from this strange collection of folks who ring bells, wear odd uniforms that make them look the same on the outside, yet who learned a long time ago that variety matters. More than mere spice, it’s life.  Variety smells, cries, hurts.    It shows up hungry  for more than mere food. Comes empty handed, tired,  bone weary.

Variety unsettles sameness. Questions uniformity.  Spooks safety.

Uncomfortable. Like life.

Their family’s not so different from mine. Maybe not so different from yours either.

Sameness. So overrated. Never truly safe.