I don't know why that little girl died.
I didn't watch her mother's trial. I didn't want to. That doesn't make me indifferent though. I used to think that those who were quiet must be indifferent. That is not so. Sometimes quiet is quite the opposite of indifference.
I haven't discussed this. Each time I caught my mom or my husband watching the trial I said, "I don't know how you can watch that." I said that, but I'm not indifferent.
There were times when I was a kid that I would aggravate my mom into silence. Sometimes she 'ignored' me...as if that were possible as loud as I was, but she needed to make me feel ignored anyway, so I would calm down. Usually, it worked. It worked though only after my squeals and shrieks and scolds climaxed in tears and snot and a scratchy throat. I threw my body wildly when sound wasn't enough, and she just went on about her business. Indifferent, I thought, but this wasn't indifference either.
I relate indifference to complacency. Neither connotes anything positive for me. Sometimes I invent my own definitions--my own connotations....but this is my writing--humor me. Complacency and indifference are two of my biggest pet peeves. In words according to Carrie, complacency is a state of being satisfied with mediocrity. I am complacent with or about my math skills. Indifference though, is a stronger word. Indifference is a whole lot of Idon'tgivea. And, I have to say, I'm a bit indifferent about my math skills too. Still though, there are certain things with which I am complacent, but not indifferent. I'm complacent about aging. I don't necessarily like or enjoy it, but I'm, as so many of my teenagers say, "just okay" with it. I accept it--itiswhatitis....That to me is complacency....the state of being "just okay." Indifference, though, is more like a full-blown "whatever." And "whatever" is a lot like apathy.....
I've never experienced apathy, and I'm not indifferent about much either. I care. Care is another word that perhaps we should explore sometime too....I care through that pinch below my collarbone and just above my heart. I care through nights when sleep won't come. I care and carry (Carrie) on. I can't imagine what it must feel like to be apathetic...to not feel...to not care. Sometimes, yes, life would be easier perhaps, but I wouldn't be me. All those kittens killed in the night by the tom cat who hunted them like mice. The mamacats thrown into the ditch by indifferent cars. The smiling kids on milkcartons who disappeared once then twice--leaving me wondering if they'd all been found. The boy left to burn alive in a rented hotel room by his father when he was sleeping and young and I was young too and couldn't sleep because I worried about him...the scars on my fingers reminding me of the scars allover his tight pinkandred body. His hat too big for his scalded head. I've carried each of them with me, you see, all this time--and many more too--all with me forever.
So, no, I can't understand complacency much, indifference really, or apathy ever. I don't know why people say hurtful things unintentionally and then don't apologize when the realize what they've done, or why people ever say hurtful things on purpose. I don't know why bad things happen to good people--but I believe that God plants a seed of purpose in everything. I don't know if God makes bad things happen--I don't believe that he does. I know from my own life and mistakes that when one prays, good and life and lessons can grow from the ruins. I know this for sure.
I don't know why some people seem like they just don't care, but I do know that sometimes things aren't what they seem. Look at me. You think I'm put together--successful maybe--confident perhaps, but if any of these are true it is by the grace of God and a loving family. I am nothing by myself. Nothing. And yet, even with God's grace, I am not what I seem. Not completely. Because sometimes I seem complacent, and as I've said, I am not.
My mom was outraged, like so many of you were, when Casey Anthony was acquitted. I didn't watch the trial. I couldn't. I would not endure it. I understand that many people watched the trial with earnest and I understand that many of these people felt certain....I asked my mom why she felt this way. She said, "I know, I just know."
I don't know why that little girl died. I don't even know how....I don't want to know. I won't feel healed by knowing. Most importantly, knowing won't bring her sweetness back to this earth. Thank God for heaven. I don't know who caused this--where to place the blame, but I know that somewhere someone knows--and guilt is inescapable and certain and excruciating. Death is swift and fleeting--even when life is cut short--death is temporary--thank God. I don't mean to sermonize--if that's how this seems. I can only write what my heart says, and it says this. I'm not indifferent to the loss of life--to the injustice of death--to senseless and untimely and cruel and hateful death. I don't find comfort at all in damnation, condemnation, revenge.....there's no comfort to be found in sorrow, sadness, loss--none. We could find Casey Anthony guilty beyond a shadow of doubt--she could confess--be executed--but to what end? We can't bring her back. I cried and mourned and searched for Caylee....
When I was a child--an intolerable child-- my mom punished me when I did wrong....when I was caught doing wrong--when a trail of evidence proved my wrong. But sometimes, sometimes the evidence was inconclusive. Sometimes there were not clues at all. Sometimes I was bad and guilty and no one knew--and in these times, the punishment hurt far worse than a spanking. The guilt and shame were insufferable.
My porch light glowed all night for little Caylee. I didn't say anything before I flicked it on or when I clicked it off the next morning. I'm not indifferent though you see. I didn't say anything, because I don't know what to say, but my heart cares, and I'll carry little Caylee with me forever.
I didn't watch her mother's trial. I didn't want to. That doesn't make me indifferent though. I used to think that those who were quiet must be indifferent. That is not so. Sometimes quiet is quite the opposite of indifference.
I haven't discussed this. Each time I caught my mom or my husband watching the trial I said, "I don't know how you can watch that." I said that, but I'm not indifferent.
There were times when I was a kid that I would aggravate my mom into silence. Sometimes she 'ignored' me...as if that were possible as loud as I was, but she needed to make me feel ignored anyway, so I would calm down. Usually, it worked. It worked though only after my squeals and shrieks and scolds climaxed in tears and snot and a scratchy throat. I threw my body wildly when sound wasn't enough, and she just went on about her business. Indifferent, I thought, but this wasn't indifference either.
I relate indifference to complacency. Neither connotes anything positive for me. Sometimes I invent my own definitions--my own connotations....but this is my writing--humor me. Complacency and indifference are two of my biggest pet peeves. In words according to Carrie, complacency is a state of being satisfied with mediocrity. I am complacent with or about my math skills. Indifference though, is a stronger word. Indifference is a whole lot of Idon'tgivea. And, I have to say, I'm a bit indifferent about my math skills too. Still though, there are certain things with which I am complacent, but not indifferent. I'm complacent about aging. I don't necessarily like or enjoy it, but I'm, as so many of my teenagers say, "just okay" with it. I accept it--itiswhatitis....That to me is complacency....the state of being "just okay." Indifference, though, is more like a full-blown "whatever." And "whatever" is a lot like apathy.....
I've never experienced apathy, and I'm not indifferent about much either. I care. Care is another word that perhaps we should explore sometime too....I care through that pinch below my collarbone and just above my heart. I care through nights when sleep won't come. I care and carry (Carrie) on. I can't imagine what it must feel like to be apathetic...to not feel...to not care. Sometimes, yes, life would be easier perhaps, but I wouldn't be me. All those kittens killed in the night by the tom cat who hunted them like mice. The mamacats thrown into the ditch by indifferent cars. The smiling kids on milkcartons who disappeared once then twice--leaving me wondering if they'd all been found. The boy left to burn alive in a rented hotel room by his father when he was sleeping and young and I was young too and couldn't sleep because I worried about him...the scars on my fingers reminding me of the scars allover his tight pinkandred body. His hat too big for his scalded head. I've carried each of them with me, you see, all this time--and many more too--all with me forever.
So, no, I can't understand complacency much, indifference really, or apathy ever. I don't know why people say hurtful things unintentionally and then don't apologize when the realize what they've done, or why people ever say hurtful things on purpose. I don't know why bad things happen to good people--but I believe that God plants a seed of purpose in everything. I don't know if God makes bad things happen--I don't believe that he does. I know from my own life and mistakes that when one prays, good and life and lessons can grow from the ruins. I know this for sure.
I don't know why some people seem like they just don't care, but I do know that sometimes things aren't what they seem. Look at me. You think I'm put together--successful maybe--confident perhaps, but if any of these are true it is by the grace of God and a loving family. I am nothing by myself. Nothing. And yet, even with God's grace, I am not what I seem. Not completely. Because sometimes I seem complacent, and as I've said, I am not.
My mom was outraged, like so many of you were, when Casey Anthony was acquitted. I didn't watch the trial. I couldn't. I would not endure it. I understand that many people watched the trial with earnest and I understand that many of these people felt certain....I asked my mom why she felt this way. She said, "I know, I just know."
I don't know why that little girl died. I don't even know how....I don't want to know. I won't feel healed by knowing. Most importantly, knowing won't bring her sweetness back to this earth. Thank God for heaven. I don't know who caused this--where to place the blame, but I know that somewhere someone knows--and guilt is inescapable and certain and excruciating. Death is swift and fleeting--even when life is cut short--death is temporary--thank God. I don't mean to sermonize--if that's how this seems. I can only write what my heart says, and it says this. I'm not indifferent to the loss of life--to the injustice of death--to senseless and untimely and cruel and hateful death. I don't find comfort at all in damnation, condemnation, revenge.....there's no comfort to be found in sorrow, sadness, loss--none. We could find Casey Anthony guilty beyond a shadow of doubt--she could confess--be executed--but to what end? We can't bring her back. I cried and mourned and searched for Caylee....
When I was a child--an intolerable child-- my mom punished me when I did wrong....when I was caught doing wrong--when a trail of evidence proved my wrong. But sometimes, sometimes the evidence was inconclusive. Sometimes there were not clues at all. Sometimes I was bad and guilty and no one knew--and in these times, the punishment hurt far worse than a spanking. The guilt and shame were insufferable.
My porch light glowed all night for little Caylee. I didn't say anything before I flicked it on or when I clicked it off the next morning. I'm not indifferent though you see. I didn't say anything, because I don't know what to say, but my heart cares, and I'll carry little Caylee with me forever.
Copyright © 2011. Carrie Ellen
Campbell. All Rights Reserved. http://carriellencampbell.blogspot.com. Please respect Carrie's intellectual property. Sharing
blog posts is permitted, but no part of this material may be copied,
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Carrie at: carrieellencampbell@icloud.com.
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