[by Liz Lafferty, marcher from Canyon Lake, California]
The miles didn’t scare me. Being with strangers would be ok; sleeping in a tent is survivable. The embarrassing truth is I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what the marchers know. Or be counted as “one of them.”
Could I survive learning about the state of our planet? Could I withstand information that would rub my soul raw? Did I have the guts to be a member of a community that celebrates being arrested? Did I have the courage to see what they see, know what they know?
These questions scared me — doing nothing scared me more.
I would need to be willing to have my heart broken and go on. I would need to admit how much I care, how much I long to contribute and be part of a solution. I would need to risk what I have, what people think, and the comforts of home, for a legacy worth leaving.
As Week Two begins, what I’ve found is “Yes”, my heart has been broken, my soul is raw, AND I am filled with hope beyond any fear I imagined. The opportunity to care this deeply, act this powerfully and contribute this fully is satisfying beyond measure.
I began the march with the names of my four grand-kids in my pocket. Now, as I meet people, I’m collecting the names of their children and grandchildren to carry with me. The fact that these kids may never see a whale, a polar bear, or the endless list of other gifts from this jewel we call home simply seems too unimaginable for us not to do what each of us CAN DO.