Injured Reserve

My clumsiness is no secret, but I have outdone myself. If you’re even the least bit squeamish, LEAVE NOW JUST IN CASE!!

1. On Friday September 15th while folding clothes at work, I looked down and realized my arm was scratched and bleeding; I still have no idea when or where it happened.

2. On Saturday September 16th while carrying a heavy sign at work, I stubbed my toe. It hurt momentarily, but I didn’t think anything of it. When I put the sign down, I realized my toe was bleeding… A LOT. Thankfully it wasn’t as bad as it seemed; my toenail was only partially split, and the bruise caused very little discomfort.

3. Fast forward to Thursday September 21st. I was preparing my usual breakfast: coffee & a blueberry bagel with lactose free cream cheese. The cream cheese was brand new so I slid my finger around the container to loosen the lid. What you think happened did happen and required immediate medical attention. Nothing a quick patch up couldn’t fix! I went back to preparing my bagel and found myself uttering these words: “Dang it! I got cream cheese on my band-aid.”

4. I can’t remember the exact date, but I know that sometime that same week I tripped going up the stairs and scraped my leg in two places. I can’t even remember the last time this happened to me so it was bound to happen sooner or later. The bruises are still visible.

One, two, three, FOUR accidents in one week. That is quite possibly a record! The embarrassment is long gone so feel free to laugh at my expense. If you don’t want to laugh at me (I appreciate your loyalty), laugh at this girl. ⬇️

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– Lauren Michele ❤︎

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Love Out Loud

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

I am going to try very hard to get these words out without becoming overly emotional and rambling.  I apologize for the serious note of this post, but my heart is telling me to write.  Because of the picture, you already have a basic idea of what I am going to discuss.  I have watched quite a few Holocaust-related movies but am not sure why because it is very hard for me to do so.  I suppose that as a Jew I feel a strange sort of loyalty, a loyalty that urges me to watch and empathize to the best of my ability.  I did not experience a concentration camp nor did my Sephardic ancestors.  However, Jews are brothers and sisters no matter the category one belongs to (Ashkenazi, Mizrahi, or Sephardic); after all, we all descend from the same bloodline.  I cannot speak for other Jews, but I can speak for myself.  When another heart hurts, I hurt, no matter how far back in history that hurt occurred.  I have been emotionally disturbed by Holocaust movies in the past, but this film wrenched my heart to the point of illness.  As soon as the credits started to roll, I ran away from my computer and wept alone in another room.  My head throbbed, and my stomach was in knots.  I do not pretend to have felt pain anywhere near that of the Jews in concentration camps, but I did indeed feel pain.  Pain and anger.  I could not speak, only weep.  One word kept coming to mind over and over and over again: Why.  Why?  Why??  Why??!  Why!!!

– If you have not seen “The Boy in the Striped Pajamas”, I suggest you stop reading now. –

There is one specific element in this movie that grabbed my attention.  It is subtle but very much significant.  When Bruno is mistakenly taken with a group of Jews to the gas chamber, the Nazi soldiers do not question his presence.  Yes he is disguised, and yes he is surrounded by numerous other Jews, but take all that away.  Cut off Bruno’s hair.  Take away from Shmuel the dirty appearance and malnutrition.  Line them up side by side in matching “striped pajamas.”  They are two young boys, same age and same height.  Shmuel could be German.  Bruno could be Jewish.  Both could be one or the other.  It is unclear whether Bruno was visible to the soldiers, but he looked just like everybody else therefore he received the same treatment and tragic death.  He was one of them, a German, and yet the soldiers could not tell the difference.  What does that tell you about prejudice?  Hatred will show you what you want to see, not what is actually there.

If you think your contribution to the fight against prejudice as one person is too small, think again.  Love goes a long way no matter the number of contributors.  I will end with some lyrics from a song called “Let It Be Love” by Family Force 5.  I encourage you to read the words, click the following link to hear the entire song, and take time to reflect.

“Stronger than every fear
Comfort for all the tears
It’s where the war is won
And it has overcome
Louder than the loudest shout
Deeper than the deepest doubt
We’ll watch the walls fall down…

Let it be a heart wide open
Bigger than the words we’ve spoken
Let it be a heart for the broken
If we’re gonna light, light, light the way to You
Let it be love…
It’s love that lights the way”

“Let It Be Love” by Family Force 5: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTZHl5cNLJE

Please don’t pick and choose who to love.  Love everyone!

– Lauren Michele :)

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