Judgment, empathy, and the power of understanding
Last night, after a long weekend, i was working through the familiar bedtime rhythm with my 10 year old, trying to wind down the day's energy into something resembling calm. As calm as can be expected for a 10 year old gamer that isn’t looking forward to going to school in the morning.
That's when the first boom of fireworks shattered the evening quiet.
These weren’t your Walmart style fireworks but professional grade fireworks. Strong enough to rattle windows and excite the neighborhood dogs into barking in chorus.
i was instantly angry. This wasn't July 4th July or Pioneer Day, this wasn't even close to any of Utah's legally sanctioned fireworks dates.
As more explosions punctuated the night sky, my anger seemed to grow exponentially with each burst.
i stepped out my front door to see where the booms were coming from and i caught glimpses of startled deer darting for cover in the trees, their peaceful evening disrupted just like mine.
The wildlife, my dog, my child who needed to be up for school tomorrow, all of them impacted by someone's thoughtless decision. Or so I thought.
i reached for my phone, fingers already tapping out an angry message to a close friend. The words flowed easily, fueled by indignation. Who did these people think they were? What gave them the right to disrupt everyone's evening with illegal fireworks? My judgment was swift, harsh, and absolute.
Then came my friend's gentle redirection. "Hey, did you see the post on the neighborhood app?"
There it was. A post explaining everything. The fireworks display was permitted by the city and supervised with fire safety equipment on standby. More importantly, it was a memorial. A local man, known for bringing joy to the community through his firework shows, had recently lost his life in a highway accident. The community was honoring him in the way that best celebrated his spirit.
The realization hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks, shrinking me down to the size of a grain of rice. All my righteous anger evaporated, replaced by a crushing sense of shame. i felt like such a jerk. i was such a jerk.
i had jumped to the worst conclusions, assigned the worst motivations, without taking even a moment to understand. The very act that had sparked my outrage was, in reality, an expression of love and remembrance.
In my subsequent message to my friend, gone was the anger, replaced by embarrassment and apology. But beyond that immediate conversation, the evening left me wrestling with deeper questions about my own reactions.
How often did i let current moods, social media influence, and snap judgments color my perception of events around me? A simple check of the neighborhood app or a quick inquiry to neighbors would have given me context before i spiraled into anger.
The incident forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth, in our 24-hour breaking news, powered by fear and ager, world of instant reactions and quick conclusions, i had become part of the problem. The very behavior i might criticize in others, like the rush to judgment, the quick anger, the failure to seek understanding, i had exhibited myself.
As i attempted to drift off to sleep, i couldn’t help think that the world would be a kinder place if we all took just a moment to understand before we judged. If we resisted the urge to let our emotions be inflamed by social media, politicians, and the constant drumbeat of outrage that seems to define our current existence.
The fireworks were meant to honor one man's memory but they ended up illuminating something important for me as well. The path toward being a more thoughtful, empathetic person begins with the simple act of slowing down and seeking to understand.
