Yesterday my husband and I had the opportunity to baby-sit
for the most adorable twenty-month-old twins. It’s been a while since I’ve
spent time with children this age, since most of the kids in my Sunday school
class are over the age of three. These children were so excited by everything
they saw, whether it was a truck, dog, bird or simply another person their
height. Each dog or truck was just as exciting as the last, making them shout
“Wow!” every time a van drove past the play park. It was fascinating to see the
world through the eyes of a toddler and witness their joy over everyday items
or occurrences that adults barely notice.
I don’t think I’m going to start shouting “Wow!” every time
a bin lorry drives down my street, but I think there’s a lot to be learnt from
another person’s perspective. Today, a toddler taught me to appreciate the people
who empty my bins, and I found myself pausing to look at wildlife and birds a
lot more on our walk back from the park.
You don’t necessarily have to give yourself entirely over to
someone’s system of belief in order to gain something from their perspective. I
love reading Amish fiction because it reminds me to slow down and focus on the
simpler things in life. I love the way that the Amish hold family as the
highest priority (next to God) since this isn’t something we see a lot of
nowadays. It’s something that speaks a lot to me, since my husband and I
believe that our relationship and our future children should always be more
important than our careers, even if it means sacrificing promotions or a higher
salary.
However, I don’t agree with the Amish practice of “shunning”
members of a community, especially when the shunning only ends when the person
makes a public confession for their sins. I don’t need to hear the details of
someone’s sin in order to forgive them or help them, so this just doesn’t seem
right to me. Likewise, I’m not a fan of the way that labour and chores are
split among the Amish, with women always doing the cooking and cleaning, and men
always doing the heavy labour—not to mention male-only preaching. I might love
to bake and do laundry, but where does this leave the woman whose skills lie in
woodwork or giving sermons?
But the fact that the Amish rely heavily on gender
constructs to split their labour doesn’t mean that I can’t still learn
something from their lifestyle. If I ever met an Amish woman, I’d hope she
could overlook my jewellery and tight-fitting clothes and be able to bond over
our common interests, rather than focusing on those aspects of our lives which
are different.
This is something I’ve had to realise this past year,
particularly with regards to my increasing involvement in feminism. I think
I’ve probably always been a feminist, but I didn’t start using the label to
describe myself until recently. I held back because I didn’t agree with some of
the things people did in the name of feminism, particularly groups like FEMEN. It took me a
while to realise that I could call myself a feminist without agreeing with
every individual feminist act or organisation.
I’ve met some wonderful men and women in the Christian
community who want to promote equality and make more people aware of the
prevalence of issues like domestic abuse and rape, and promote ways in which to
protect women from dangerous situations. But even in this community, I come
across feminists who support viewpoints that I don’t agree with—whether have
different views on abortion, or have a more extreme stance on modesty. Even so,
I’m still grateful for the viewpoints that have introduced me to, and the ways
in which they have enlightened my thinking.
Sometimes I think that we’re under the illusion that we need
to agree with everything another person believes in order to call them our
friend, but this way of thinking is ultimately going to leave us rather lonely.
Sometimes having one small point to connect on can be all we need to forge a new
friendship, which can be especially important when we’re heading off to a new
adventure—moving house, starting a new career or hobby, or entering a new
university. I’ve made a lot of unexpected friendships at university, and even
if I haven’t always agreed with some friends’ actions of points of view on
certain subjects, I’d like to think that each person I’ve stayed friends with
over these past four years has enriched my life in some way. Sometimes it takes
someone from a different culture or walk of life to help us to see past the
hurdles in our own life that seem impossible to get past.
As we prepare to move to Edinburgh in a couple of weeks, I
hope that we can approach new experiences and friendships with the same
excitement as the toddlers we babysat—with excitement and appreciation.
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