Snopes and the Dalai Lama

     Are you all constantly getting those emails that warn, especially women, about insanely scary situations that you must vigilantly be on the look out for?  The latest I received warned about being on a deserted road (of course) and seeing a baby carseat on the side with a blanket draped over it.  So, it warns, women have stopped to see if there, indeed, is a stranded baby in the carseat, only to be overtaken by a gang and beaten to a pulp.  Who needs Criminal Minds or Law and Order anymore?  Just take a trip to your inbox and let the various scenarios induce a fear-like coma in your vulnerable brain.
     I, for one, am especially susceptible to this and every other fear tactic known to man.  I was the junior high student who listened with utter horror as the D.A.R.E. program listed the possible outcomes of a play date with Mary Jane.  I was absolutely convinced she would fry my fragile brain in her malicious skillet.  Now, in this instance, fear might have been a good thing.  I've been drug-free since the epidural wore off at birth.  No regrets here, my friend.
     But fear can be an oh-so-heavy burden when, rather than using it as a psychological tool to stay away from hallucinogenic plants, we use it to cripple our grasp on the realities of this world and the relationships we have with our fellow fearer.  Aren't we afraid enough as a society?  Do we really need people to hatch up fake stories to turn our consistent shakes into uncontrollable convulsions?  Is the nightly news just too darn cheery for some people that they start devising other forms of mental torture for those who feel a tad too safe?  Seriously, where do these things come from?
    This is where the saving gift of Snopes comes in handy.  Snopes.com is my fear-conquering, virtual friend.  Snopes is where you can look up various reports and emails of horrific stories to see if they really are true.  Gosh, do I love this website.  I looked up the aforementioned story to check out its validity and, to my sheer delight, it wasn't true.  Just another one of the million hoaxes to get us to fear gangs.  Because, you know, we need a lot  of help in that area.  If I let you into a glimpse of my fear of drugs, you can imagine my fear of those who purportedly sell them.
     I tell you all of this because a couple of weeks ago I picked up Katherine from pre-school.  Just like almost every other time I've picked her up, there was an elderly Asian man standing outside the door waiting to pick up his grandson.  James, for some reason, loves this man and always smiles at him and tries to engage the elderly man in some form of baby communication.  And, I swear, the old man is just the cutest thing alive.  His smile is almost identical to that of the Dalai Lama's. And if you don't like the smile of the Dalai Lama, well,  there's not much I can do for you.  So, anyway, the man picks up his grandson and Katherine jumps into my one free arm.  Off we go.  But this day was a little different.  This day the Dalai Lama spoke to me in his adorable little broken-English way.
"You live near here?" he asked grinning.
I was a bit taken off-guard and always get a little antsy with a question like that.  Come fear, enter in.
"Uh, yeah, kind of...we live near the lake," I responded, intentionally vague.
"Ah, yes," he replied, "you think you could bring us home?" he asked, pointing to himself and his cute little Asian grandson.
Ok, so there it was.  A request for help.  Now, let me tell you, I previously saw the Dalai Lama and his grandson trying to cross Transcontinental after school one day.  I don't know exactly how far he walks but I told myself it probably wasn't far so that I could pass him up without guilt, my van emissions blowing in his wrinkled face.  Ugh.  So, here it was.  The Dalai Lama, with his big toe peeking out of his worn shoes, asking me for help.  And you know what?  I was afraid. 
     Let me completely humble myself and tell you what entered my mind when he was talking to me.  Before I found out about Snopes several years ago, there was a story circulating around during Christmas time about a lady who had gone shopping at a mall and encountered an elderly lady in the parking lot who looked like she was having trouble getting to her car.  So, the nice lady stops to check on her.  The old lady asks if the nice lady wouldn't mind bringing her to her car.  The nice lady says 'sure.'  The old lady gets into the nice lady's car and-- boom! Come to find out it was a man dressed as an old lady with a hatchet in his purse.  You can fill in the rest.  Now, even as I type this, I kind of start chuckling.  WHO WOULD BELIEVE THAT?????  Me. Oh, the more insane a story gets the more likely I'm going to wrap my fishy mouth around the stinkin' bait.  Even as I'm drug into the boat, I'm still trying to piece together how the story could have taken place and silently vowing never to help an old lady again.  And, apparently, an old man.
    To let myself off the hook a bit, I'll have you know I didn't have a third carseat for the little boy and I didn't have the third seat in the van up.  I had a brief mental image of me loading two asian males into the back of my van like some illegal-immigrant carpool.  Agh, this story is just not getting better.
    Bottom line is, I should have helped.  Yeah, I know its illegal to drive a three-year old around without a carseat.  Well, do I let the law shape all of my decisions?  Do I always drive the speed limit?  I know the law is meant to protect, but I think there are sometimes you should let compassion override.  The Dalai Lama's feet were tired.  The little three-year old's feet were tired.  Is it much safer to cross a busy street with tired feet and little feet than to ride in a car with an excellent driver :) for a couple of blocks?  I'm not telling anyone else what they should do, I'm just telling you what I wish I would have done.
     Because I saw the Dalai Lama's face when I told him I couldn't.  And he looked tired.  And my soul became tired.  Because I let fear make my decision.  Because I couldn't bring myself to override the thought of what I "should" do and replace it with what I "must" do.  Because, when I think long and hard about it, I am very afraid that if I passed the showers one day in a locker room and saw a young boy being brutalized I might give into my fear.  I might not run over and, if need be, risk my life and everything I have to save that boy.  Because I might listen to the law that says I just need to tell my boss and not listen to compassion and do everything in my God-given power to not sleep until I knew that boy was safe.  Because little fears turn into big fears.  Because people need me to not be afraid.  Because the little boy in the shower needed someone to take away his own fears.  And the adult was too afraid.