weeping nurse

I walked into work and found two of my co-workers in tears in the breakroom. I'll call one of them: Sweet Gentle Smarty Who's Always Collected (rare qualities on a busy hospital floor). The other was sitting there crying in empathy, without words. Come to find out, she is preparing to marry, and her parents don't want anything to do with her fiancee. He's from another race.

Trying on her wedding dress, her mother is trying to talk her out of marriage, speaking ill of his genetic composition and culture. Her father has refused to meet the young man. She sat there quietly weeping - I'd never seen this vulnerability in her before - wishing that her parents would just get to know this man she loves, and love him too.

Her tears jarred something in me that have had me thinking about her the last couple days. Man I'm sad. I understand partly, personally. I've heard her story so many times in so many variations. And part of me is angry.

I don't know how to fix it. Other than love her. And build bridges with diverse people in my own life and circles. And encourage others to reach into their more loving self, and let go of their set expectations for someone else, and welcome change, and newness, and love.