A revolution of togetherness.

BY HEiDI PRAHL

Lover of Jesus, my family, really good coffee, and all things Chicago. I’m a living, breathing paradox.

Mother Teresa famously said that if we have no peace, it’s because we’ve forgotten that we belong to each other. I’m clutching those words closely these days because, from my vantage point, what the world needs most at this moment is a heaping dose of peace. 

I’m dreaming of a revolution, which almost sounds contradictory to what I just said, incompatible with peace. Most often revolutions are associated with change obtained through violence, but I’m talking about a revolution of the heart. 

A revolution that happens through togetherness, standing side by side.  One that happens by remembering what we’ve forgotten: that we belong to each other. 

I’m dreaming of a world where we stop trying to have all the answers, be the solution to everyone’s problems, and have an opinion that we share on every single topic. 

In our current world where we can literally google search an answer to every question, purchase an app to solve any problem, have virtually anything we need at our fingertips or delivered to our doorstep within a few hours, I think we’ve forgotten the beauty of simply being together. 

We’ve forgotten that oftentimes togetherness is what most heals us. 

By nature I’m a problem solver, a creative thinker, and someone who doesn’t easily accept the fact that some things simply will not work. When the people I care about have a problem, I want to solve it. I want to be able to right the wrongs in society and advocate for all that is broken.

There’s a certain value to these qualities, no doubt. There are proper circumstances where this is not only appreciated, it’s necessary. 

But I’m learning that when we forget the act of simply being together, shoulder to shoulder, we lose out on the magic that happens and the healing that can take place through the gift of presence.

I got a crash course in this idea by volunteering with newly arrived refugee families. I’d visit shortly after they settled into their new homes. A friendly face, a person to practice English with, a modern day welcome wagon, if you will- that was my role. 

However, I’d often be tempted to call and cancel my visits because I felt useless, like more of a burden, like I was wasting their time. In my mind what they really needed was someone who spoke their native language and could sit down to explain things like taxes, utility bills, and garbage day. 

Since I only speak one language, my visits with various families often consisted of essentially playing charades to act out simple phrases, attempting to tell each other what we’d done that day or what we’d watched on TV the previous night. There were extended periods of awkward silence or unsuccessful communication.

I was tempted to pitch in the towel many times. I felt like more of a detractor than a helper who was supposed to make this transition easier. 

But I’d go. 

I’d bake some cookies or bring some Spiderman stickers for the kids, or print out some coloring pages and put a few crayons in a baggie and knock on the door.

One day I was speaking with my contact at the resettlement agency when she said, “oh, by the way, I have no idea what you’ve been doing for the family you’re assigned to, but their caseworker told me she got an earful. They couldn’t stop talking about you and everything you’ve done for them, everything you’ve given them. They raved about you for a long time. I have no idea what you’re doing, but they sure love you.”

I told her I honestly had no idea. In fact, I felt like I’d failed them; I’d not been useful for the very practical things they needed. I didn’t speak the language or help them enroll their son in preschool. I didn’t help them find jobs or explain health insurance. I simply showed up and sat in their living room and smiled awkwardly. 

This produced a powerful paradigm shift in my life. I was reminded that we aren’t always called to solve each other’s problems or have all the answers. We’re simply called to remember that we belong to each other. And the easiest way to live this out is to practice being together. 

It also taught me that there are two sides to every interaction - your perception and the other party’s perception. I thought this family wanted me to teach them English, answer their questions, be their advocate, and in my mind, I was failing. 

They simply wanted me to do exactly what I’d been doing: sitting on the floor and playing with their boy, teaching him to blow bubbles, eating the donuts they’d fried for me (thankfully I’m great at blowing bubbles and eating donuts is my specialty).

I never want to forget that because it was such a powerful example of exactly what I think Mother Teresa meant. Remembering that we belong to each other is simply that - going outside of our comfort zones to spend time with others. Even those who don’t speak our language or share our cultural heritage or skin color. 

It’s not being anyone’s savior or knowing all of the right things to say. It’s simply a commitment to show up - in places we may be anxious about going, crossing lines or borders or cultural norms to say, “I see you. I’m here with you.” 

There’s no doubt a time and a place to meet real, physical, actual needs, but I’m suggesting we start by simply committing to be together. I’m asking you to join me in this revolution - the revolution that starts with togetherness and ends with never, ever forgetting that we belong to each other.