Order Description
Read those essay
Expressing True Faith
As a stone cast upon the water creates ripples, so too, an act of kindness in a lake of despair does the same.
The best way I can describe one of my core beliefs is to recount a story that was an integral part of shaping it.
In December of 1993, 10 days before Christmas, I lay in a hospital bed at Jules Stein Medical Center in Los Angeles, California. The empty socket that had cradled my left eye only a day before was being continuously bathed in the solution that flowed from a thin plastic tube taped to the side of my face. The malignancy was tragic enough, but the despair I felt in that stormy season of broken dreams was far more tragic.
I had just suffered devastating loss. Before the illness, I had lost my parents, my marriage, and my status as a full-time mom to my three-year-old son Matthew. He had become a victim of joint custody and it seemed my entire world had been shattered.
My roommate at Jules Stein was a soft-spoken, 40ish Iranian lady with warm brown eyes and wavy brown medium-length hair named Manzar. She was recuperating from the removal of a tumor from behind her eye that had all but destroyed her sight. Her husband visited her often and I envied the obvious concern he showed for his bedridden wife. We became transient friends, bonding, as many do, through the agency of mutual pain. Between the bouts of nausea and drowsiness, we shared life experiences, philosophies and religion. I was Christian, she was Muslim, but she said she had her own ideas about God.
The Koran, she said, spoke of Jesus. She spoke to me about the peace she felt when she examined the work of God in nature. She told me she believed that all people were God’s children. She couldn’t accept that some were created less equal in the sight of God than others. She bore her true feelings about life and love and we accumulated more than a few hours in heart sharing: faith-to-faith, woman-to-woman, one human being to another.
A day before she was to be released into the care of her devoted husband, we were again sharing our thoughts about life in general. She asked me, “Are you ready for Christmas?” She had no idea that the question she asked was like a knife in my heart. How I wanted to spend a wonderful holiday with my children, but just being able to pay my rent seemed impossible. Turning my head so she wouldn’t see the tears, I quietly answered, “No. We won’t be celebrating this year.”
The next day, Manzar’s husband arrived to bring her home. I was still groggy from the medication and she came to my bedside to say goodbye. Pressing a check into the palm of my hand, she said with motherly concern, “I want you to take this. You must. It’s for your children. You can’t refuse for your children.” She had me. I thanked her with a hug and my newfound friend disappeared. I never saw her again.
I didn’t look at the check immediately. When I did, I was shocked to find that was for $250, a great deal of money to me at the time. What a generous gesture!
But that wasn’t the end of her generosity. After I was released, I began receiving checks from others with Muslim-sounding names, from $25 to $100! Needless to say, I received more than enough to spend the most wonderful holiday with my children and also provide the necessities. This incredible lady had not only given of her own resources but had rallied her Muslim friends to help a “Christian” acquaintance. Without a doubt, it was the nicest thing I can remember anyone doing for a complete stranger. The kindness of this wonderful lady made an indelible impression in my heart.
In a parable of the “Good Samaritan” it was not those who professed faith who earned the title, but those who acted upon it. As a Christian, I am not in agreement with the teachings of the Koran, but it was not the Koran that cared for me in that bleak season of my life. It was the lady whose generosity of spirit went beyond it. Religion is a word, but true faith is expressed in the ripples we create.
In the Spirit of Peace and Joy
My mother is a devout Southern Baptist. She’s getting older, and we’ve begun having difficult conversations and planning to buy a house together. The last time she visited, I stood next to where she sat, making clear my expectations regarding her smoking, our privacy and our religious differences. I remember looking at her and saying, with far less gentleness than she deserves, “I don’t do Christmas. I don’t do Jesus.”
As a Buddhist, I am pressured constantly to reject what I believe. I can’t drive to work without encountering church signs telling me I’m lost without Jesus Christ. I can’t be politically active without being reminded that half of the population believes this is — or should be — a Christian nation, and that God has something to do with the day-to-day business of running the country. I am surrounded by people for whom Protestantism is the norm, and who do not apologize for assuming that the word “charity” is best preceded by the word “Christian.” Co-workers forward me religious e-mail.
When I walk into the student commons at my college, I am confronted by two, giant Christmas trees. Downtown, I am surrounded by lights and projections of bells and holly and Santa Claus. And it is hard.
It’s hard not so much because I don’t “do Jesus,” but because it seems like Jesus is the only thing worth doing. It is because of this that I must be almost militant in my refusal of Christmas. I spend a lot of time hoping that my response to Christmas will make others reflect on exclusion and begin working to dismantle the structures that harm those who believe differently. More often than not, though, I suspect they’re writing me off as a Scrooge in the War Against Christmas. After all, what sort of idiot hates Christmas? What am I, some kind of killjoy?
No. What I want is to walk into my student commons at Eid-al-Fitr and see a celebration. I want Hanukkah and Kwanzaa decorations downtown. I want a Yule parade, and I want more than just the Western calendar New Year. I want someone other than me to know what and when Diwali is.
Christmas is so terrible in its conspicuousness that it’s become for an oppressive force, reminding me that my beliefs are not as valid or worthwhile as those my local municipality spends thousands of dollars to celebrate.
The fact is, I want Christmas, too. I want glass ornaments, a flame retardant tree, and the right to howl the words “FIVE GOLDEN RINGS!” at any unfortunate soul who gets too close. I want to put plush antlers on my dog and decorate the house with lights. But I want to do it without feeling like I am contributing to and endorsing injustice or undermining others. I want to do it with love, in the spirit of peace and joy. I want to believe in Christmas.
A) state the name of assay and write at least 3 sentences for each telling what each one is about.
B) write about a believe on your own in 150 words and life experiences that led you to this belief.
I believe that life is unique, and we have to enjoy each respiration. I believe this because a i am a hospice nurse, and working with people near to die make me to appreciate my life.