I went out to a bar one night when I was in Fort Wayne at Christmas. Even though I was going to see my friends Lissa and Laura, the evening had quite a surprising twist that I was not expecting. I come to find out a girl I graduated with named Liz, now lives 5 minutes from my house in Georgia. I was first fascinated to find another 20-something who actually lived in the sticks of Alpharetta, and not the trendy, happening Buckhead or Midtown. But I was more fascinated by the reminder of just how small this world is.

It's crazy when you think about it. On June 9, 2001, we both graduated from high school. I went to Los Angeles. She went to West Lafyette, IN. She joined a sorority.¹ I traveled to 18 countries. We both graduated from college in May of 2005. I moved to Atlanta. She moved to Wisconsin. Yet, 6.5 years later, we find ourselves somewhat "back where we started." Only I have a better haircut.

Last night we went and saw Dan in Real Life. The movie wasn't what I expected, and to Liz's credit, she gave me the option to see American Gangster. But there was one scene in the movie that was so brilliant, but subtle, and I almost missed it.

Context: Steve Carrell plays a widowed father of three girls. They go to a family "reunion" in Rhode Island. He leaves his family to "get away" for a morning and goes to a book store. He picks up Juliette Binoche in the bookstore by suggesting a really random series of books. They then proceed to go outside and talk for a couple of hours. But here's the brilliance. Even in this romantic moment, you knew something was wrong. You didn't know why, but you knew something wasn't right. Why? Because they were on separate benches.

It's odd you know? When I go to sit on a bench, even with somebody I am not romantically interested in, and there are two benches - even if they are close to each other - I don't choose to sit on a different bench. The director did a great job because in that subtle choice he communicated both intimacy and distance. Similarity and difference. Wholeness and brokenness.

This scene draws my thoughts to the time I spent in the West Bank and I sat face to face with a Palestinian man named Omar. We shared tea. Talked about our families and friends. We discussed what we wanted to do with our lives and the current political situation in the region. And even though CNN would never portray our lives as similar, I realized at that moment we were two men, living in a small world, wanting to be on the same bench.

I think about the current affairs of this country and world and just think how much better a place this would be if we shared benches. If we didn't have that awkward, subtle divide in every area of life. If there wasn't a rich and poor bench. A white and black bench. An American and "enemy of America" bench. It isn't communism and a homogenized culture I am looking for. It isn't removing the other bench. It is the opposite. It is diversity. It is uniqueness. It is sharing a bench with those different than you. It wouldn't be us and them, it would just be us. That is the "real life" I am longing for.