Missing the Story That Could Change Everything

This past weekend, my husband and I finally carved out some much-needed time for ourselves. We call this “Mommy-Daddy time” at our house. Our home is typically a vibrant hub of spirited discussions, where voices rise and fall in playful banter over politics, sports, and everything in between. My family and friends often hear me jumping in conversations with a psychological or religious perspective, dissecting why people behave as they do. I thank them for listening to my overanalytical commentary.

My curiosity about human nature is insatiable to a fault, often leading me to question the “Why’s” of everything—so much so that my stepfather used to chuckle about how I’d get into trouble for asking “Why?” all the time. He would reminisce about the exasperation he felt as I dissected the reasons behind every rule or consequence, always digging deeper to understand the “why” behind the “what.” Especially, if I were in trouble.

The tendency to question can be a double-edged sword. While it enriches my understanding, it can also spiral into over-analysis, breeding my own self-doubt and criticism. I’ve made strides in redirecting those negative thoughts into something positive and embracing the good I discover along the way, but there are still moments when I don’t catch myself in time.

As I share these blog posts publicly, my hope is to communicate in a way that sparks a desire for someone to climb into the roller coaster ride of deeper understanding.

Currently, I feel a palpable wave of unrest, reflecting the pervasive labeling that seems to infiltrate every aspect of our lives. In my opinion, this tendency to categorize one another only pulls us apart instead of bringing us closer together. It appears we’re more focused on labels and titles than ever, losing sight of the richness of each other’s stories. Unraveling the layers of someone’s life is an act of love, much like noticing each individual tree in the woods. Instead of seeing the trees and dismissing them as just trees, and walking on, we stop and notice each individual beautiful specimen.

Everything about each one is different from the fungi growing on each one to the little animals living inside. They each have a whole world of stories to tell. Yet, I often find this simple act of love, of stopping, taking the time to notice and understand, slipping away amid the chaos of daily tasks, conflicting opinions, and persistent distractions.

Why do we insist on labeling each other, an entire life, down to one word or mere sentence?

This question surfaced during our quiet evening together, with just the two of us in the house. My husband loves to experiment in the kitchen, and that night, he was in his element, conjuring up delightful dishes. The aroma of sautéing onions and garlic filled the air as he playfully brought me little bites of his latest creations, urging me to taste and trust his instincts. “Try this” he insisted, and I found myself amazed by the deliciousness of each little fork full of juicy wild caught salmon he brought my way.

The calmness of the evening set the stage for genuine connection and conversation. As we settled in, we decided to watch the documentary “Ghislaine Maxwell: Filthy Rich.” Just 20 minutes in, we were drawn outside by the allure of the evening air, leaving the documentary behind. But one chilling comment from Christian Oxenburg, a close acquaintance of Ghislaine, echoed in my mind:

“They are nothing. They are trash.”

This remark starkly illustrated the dismissive attitude Ghislaine held toward the young women ensnared in her world.

Hearing that sentiment triggered a familiar ache within me—a profound sense of inadequacy, as if I were being scrutinized through a lens of privilege that held a smug, almost contemptuous gaze. It stirred memories of my own experiences growing up, igniting a fierce desire to advocate for those whom society often overlooks.

This longing for justice often manifests in my dreams of a hero rising from the shadows of human trafficking—a resilient girl who grows stronger with every attempt to keep her down. She embodies unwavering determination, her spirit unbreakable as she navigates the darkest corners of this world. With each challenge she faces, her strength magnifies, transforming her into a fierce force, standing tall in her armor, single-handedly dismantling the networks of human traffickers preying on the vulnerable. Her courage not only inspires others to rise alongside her like Joan of Arc, but also sparks a powerful movement for change.

This notion of strength and resilience resonates deeply within us, regardless of where we find ourselves on the socio-economic ladder. We’ve all felt the sting of judgment at some point in our lives. Whether we’ve roamed the vibrant streets of California, traversed the bustling avenues of New York City, or enjoyed the quiet charm of Charleston, WV, there’s an unmistakable shift in the atmosphere when someone perceives you as “less than.”

Many of us have friends from diverse backgrounds, and it becomes painfully evident that, there are always those who look down on others, equating a person’s worth with their bank account, social standing, or job title. In this context, we often find ourselves measuring our value by these external metrics—our possessions, our roles, and the circles we inhabit—while neglecting the prosperous melody of experiences and stories that make everyone, truly unique.

As my husband and I discussed the Ghislaine Maxwell documentary, I found myself reflecting on her upbringing. I envisioned a world where the word “no” was never spoken, where boundaries were as fragile as the delicate film that rests on the surface of water. The barrier that feels solid if approached quickly, yet it yields effortlessly if you take your time, allowing you to glide through. Ghislaine appeared to mirror the behaviors of the powerful men around her, skillfully navigating relationships through manipulation and grooming. Driven by her desire to maintain her lavish lifestyle, she adapted to whatever was necessary to fit in with those who taught her the ropes.

It’s striking how much power we grant to those who possess wealth and status—the “haves” versus the “have-nots.” As a society, we often elevate certain lifestyles, placing them on a pedestal and ignoring the collateral damage left in their wake. Meanwhile, the innocent, the kind, and the humble—those who find joy in life’s simple pleasures—often go unnoticed, trampled underfoot, and overshadowed by the dazzling allure of wealth and privilege.

Somehow the ones who need us the most get our attention the least.

It’s difficult to accept that we consciously treat others poorly based on their socio-economic status. Could it be that our busy lives lead us to narrow our focus, categorizing people into neat boxes instead of taking the time to get to know them?

I don’t think that I know one homeless person’s name.

I’ve come to realize how much I’ve filled my life with tasks and distractions, often at the expense of nurturing deep relationships. It’s all too easy to slip into the habit of prioritizing productivity over connection (a trauma response). However, as I continue my healing journey, I’m discovering the profound importance of slowing down, connecting on a deeper level, and clearing out the material clutter in my life. When I make room for genuine human connections, I often find myself experiencing beautiful moments that feel like divine nudges and interactions.

Romans 12:10 reminds us, “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.”

There are several new practices I’ve embraced that are gently nudging me out of my comfort zone on this journey called life. These moments often push me beyond the known, cozy space my husband and I have created together. Yet, as we both grow on this journey, I feel the divine guidance transforming us in ways we never expected. This is the kind of person I aspire to be—someone who quickly and eagerly responds to divine callings. Someone who bravely faces the life-defining challenges that God places in my path, recognizing that they will only make me stronger.

I want to learn to look beyond the labels society has placed on others, beyond the hurt, anger, fear, and ego that can cloud my judgment. My desire is to connect with the heart of each person, and I believe that the only way to achieve this is with God’s help—help in changing my own heart and perspective. It’s all about divine intervention, guiding me toward a more compassionate and connected life. #Godspeed
– Tonya

Luke 6:32-36:
32 “But if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.
33 And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.
34 And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive back, what credit is that to you? For even sinners lend to sinners to receive as much back.
35 But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For He is kind to the unthankful and evil.
36 Therefore be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.

“To see the world, things dangerous to come to, To see behind walls, To draw closer, To find each other and To feel. That is the Purpose of Life.” The Secret Life of Walter Mitty