As a retired teacher, I remember back when playgrounds for preschool children had sandboxes. I also recall that the sandbox was the place that required the most intervention from me, because it required “getting along with others” more so than the other apparatuses. The arguments usually started over trivial matters. “He took my shovel.” or “She knocked over my castle.” Then the progressed to throwing sand at each other and intentionally hoarding all the toys. When asked what happened, the children quickly pointed at each other and said, “He/she started it!” When pressed further, the second to throw handfuls of sand usually said, “He did it to me first!” The implied reasoning was that since “he did it first” I am now justified in doing the same thing back. Tit for tat. Eye for eye. Tooth for tooth.

My job as the referee was to explain to the children, that isn’t how it works. When someone does something wrong to you, it doesn’t mean you get to do something wrong back to them. The thing is still wrong…no matter who does it. Fairness doesn’t trample over other people to do them harm. Throwing sand at others isn’t right…ever. The conversation then progressed to considering how the other person felt, and what started the altercation in the first place. It never starts with throwing sand. There is a build-up, usually from a misunderstanding. It requires patience and untangling the feelings and emotions of the parties involved by asking some basic questions. What were you doing? Throwing sand. What were you supposed to be doing? Playing in the sandbox nicely with each other. Were you doing it? No. How can we do it differently next time? This last question is the heart of the issue.

After the first three questions which point out to the children, they are each accountable for their own actions no matter what the other person did, as well as diffusing the emotions, it is time to discuss and think about other ways to handle conflict. This part is a delicate dance for the teacher. Suggesting ideas and allowing kids to see there are many options. Letting them talk together about the best way to play in the sandbox. I also taught them removing yourself from the sandbox, BEFORE the sand starts flying doesn’t mean you “lost”. It means you recognize that sometimes the best way to keep from getting yourself in trouble is to stay away from those who cannot see how their actions are harmful to others.

As my young students matured over the course of a year, and after many, many sandbox conversations, they began to understand the idea that revenge justice is not the appropriate way to cooperate to have the desired outcome. Fun sandbox play requires consideration of others and acceptance of shared space. Once those two things were established, the sandbox was no longer a place of sandstorms, but became a place of learning…not subject matter, rather how to negotiate and get along with others for the good of all the participants.

In 2020, during the shutdown, I left the sandbox of political discourse. Not that I was really involved in it to begin with. I have never liked the arguments between political parties. Election years always feels like long used-car-salesman conventions. They leave me feeling slimy and in need of a hot shower. Even the commercials sling mud/sand…in my own home! I can’t stand it. In addition, churches were shuttered and so I, like everyone else, was stuck at home.

However, in that unprecedented time, I felt God say, “Only listen to my voice. Draw close to me, my daughter. Only me, and I will speak.” He was true to his word, as always. He spoke. He convicted me. He uncovered places in my heart I didn’t know existed. He is doing it still. My season with Him has been a deep dive into humiliation. Into self-reflection. Into allowing him to open my eyes. I have been and am still looking at my own heart, my beliefs, my viewpoint, my worldview, my accountability. Now he has asked me the last question…how can you do life differently in view of what I have revealed to you? I don’t have the answer yet. I am thinking through the options. Shout from the rooftops? Stay silent? Throw some sand? Point some fingers? 

While I am waiting for him to guide me to the answer he has for me, I know one thing…voting is not optional in this discourse. It is a bit like leaving the sandbox of outcry and stepping into a place where my voice can be heard, quietly. No need to be in the place where the blind lead the blind and continue to throw grains of blindness to prove their points. I will not add to the sandstorm. I have opinions. I have ideas. Putting them on display won’t change anything but my friend group. Voting might make a difference. So I choose to get out of the sandbox and into the voting booth. What about you?