Our church had a music night tonight. I worked behind the scenes, as did my Davey who manned the data projector and lights. Zinni sang her heart out in an accapella choir which sounded magnificent as the beauty of 40 combined voices lifted the audience to a place of sheer delight.
Later in the night a man who I find to be quite superficial (this judgement has a bearing on my story) sang a song about relying on Jesus in all things. The only words I can remember of the song are "The widow who sits and cries tears for her loneliness".
I didn't feel gratitude that the song captured my situation. I felt anger. Anger because the man singing has no frigging idea.
Anger because that's not how it is. I don't sit and cry. I DO. My life is about doing, not sitting and moping!
Anger because I know in his mind he's singing about a woman dressed in black, helpless and pathetic. Anger because he doesn't connect me with the term widow. I doubt that many people at church do attach the term widow to me. The stereotype doesn't match my red hair, my humour, my lack of patheticness.
Yet a widow I am. And it makes me angry that this man will use the term that descibes my situation in a song to arouse emotion, yet never once offer an actual widow in his sphere any form of spoken or practical support. I feel anger that he's used a description that applies to me in a way that buys into an incorrect stereotype with no connection to the actual experience.
Did this man do anything wrong? No. He's just an innocent man who is blessed to know not of what he sings.
Me? I guess I'm buying into the stereotype by being a bitter widow!