Being Grounded

This morning I got up early and headed out to go door to door for a political campaign.  It was my first time doing this and I was tired when I returned home several hours later.  My week has been filled with evening meetings, errands, phone calls, and time on the computer for a hunger walk, two different interfaith groups, and my church team.  My head is swimming with details not yet organized.

This afternoon I needed to spend some time harvesting vegetables from my garden before watering it.  I wandered in and out of the house, thoroughly enjoying the warm, sunny day.  A squawking great blue heron flew over our stream accompanied by two ducks.  I disturbed a covey of quail on my patio and deck multiple times; they vocalized their distress at my presence and scooted off, their top-notches bobbing.  I pulled a few weeds in the strawberries.  And I found myself smiling.

I am sitting on my deck right now, in between moving the water on my garden.  A squirrel scrambles through the large maple tree above me.  I hear quail and ducks near the stream.  The sky is a beautiful, calm blue.  The air is still.  I catch my breath and I find that I am at peace.  Whenever I get overwhelmed with my busyness, I just need to go out to the garden and reconnect with the natural world.  It grounds me.

9/21/2014

Speaking of Justice

A vast expanse of blue stretches before me –deep blue water, gray-blue mountains, and a pale, blue sky.  I hear the waves hitting the rocks below me.  Two women are deep in conversation two benches down.  My friend sits on the other end of my bench reading her Kindle.  Lake Tahoe is a wonderful location for a conference. 

We have been drawn together by our interest in justice—Methodists mostly from the western part of the United States, clergy and lay people, church leaders.  We have sung songs of justice, prayed, and listened to inspiring speakers.  During workshops we discussed a variety of justice issues, often with passion.

The biggest issue, near to my heart, involves changing our Book of Discipline where it states that “homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.”  (This contradicts a statement elsewhere that says that all people are of sacred worth.)  People have been trying to change this since it was inserted 40 years ago.  Homosexuals are not allowed to be pastors under this rule.  Pastors are not supposed to perform gay unions/weddings and churches are not supposed to host them.  The chief supporters of these rules come from the United Methodist Central Conference (Africa) and the southern part of the United States.  Pastors have broken the rules and performed same sex unions; some have lost their credentials.  In some conferences there are openly gay pastors.  More and more churches are joining the Reconciling Ministries Network which actively opposes these rules.  Member churches have inclusive welcoming statements indicating they welcome everybody.

There are other issues on which we would like our church to take a clear stand.  These include the plight of the Palestinians, economic inequality, immigration (especially the children coming over our border), women’s rights, racial inequality, and the environment.  Someone stated that we need to focus the church back on the teachings of Jesus and the principles of John Wesley, our founder, instead of on sin and salvation.

The work of justice is not easy.  We talked about what we want to take to our General Conference in 2016.  One of our speakers was from Zimbabwe.  He told us how Africans focus on community and connection.  We need each other.  We were reminded that we can’t look at one another as other and attach labels.  We need to talk to and respect each other.  In later discussions I think we all agreed that we just don’t know how to do it.  We could not come to complete agreement on where our justice movement should go next.

Sitting here I feel a calmness brought on by the sun and the beauty of the lake.  At the same time the crashing of the waves makes me feel a certain urgency.  Some people will remind us that justice takes time—and history does tell us that.  At the same time there are those who have been waiting a long time, too long, sometimes a lifetime for justice.  How long must they wait?  Now would be a good time for them.  When will there be a time when we have justice for all on this earth?  I think that will be when we truly and fully live in the Kingdom of God.

Written on 8/31/2014

A Day to Explore

This morning we awoke to the sound of a generator in the campground.  Once it finally shut off we were just barely able to hear the river over the noise from the large group of Boy Scouts that moved in late last night.  So much for our peaceful campsite.  We realized our plan to leave the campground and go exploring in our car was a good one.  However, one set of neighbors took off in their large ATV and the trailer couple took off in their truck.  The Boy Scouts packed up their gear and hiked off with a couple of pack horses.  We were alone again. 

We didn’t hang around for long—but I did finish my book.  We took our little SUV up a long dirt road to the Carey Dome Lookout.  The tower stands 85 feet tall and is the only metal tower still in use in the Payette National Forest.  Bob said that we might be invited to climb up the tower so I was gazing up at the series of stairs with very narrow railings, wondering if I had the courage to climb up there.  The lookout walked out of the nearby cabin to say hello and said that he had come down for lunch.  He would have invited us up but there was a storm moving by and he couldn't due to lightning concerns.  Phew.  He told us that the tower actually acts as a lightning rod and the current runs through the ground from each of the four corners.  You don’t want to be standing there.  During a storm he sits in the tower on a stool with glass insulators on the bottom to protect him.  Wow.  That would be an experience.  Bob chatted with him for a bit while I petted his very friendly dog and looked at the view.  Unfortunately there was a smoky haze today and the mountains in the distance were barely visible.

We headed back down the mountain looking for the trail to Marshall Lake that the lookout had told us about.  We couldn't find it so instead we drove up Marshall Mountain.  It got very steep and rocky the last one-half to three-quarters of a mile so we parked the car, ate some lunch in a lovely meadow, and then hiked up the rest of the way. The wildflowers were beautiful, surprising for August, but we were over 6,000 feet.  I stopped to take photos.  I spotted some hawks flying around and managed to snap a photo of one perching in a tree using my zoom.  I frightened it when I tried to get closer.  To get to the top of the mountain we had to go cross-country.  Bob found a federal government geodetic benchmark which told us that we had found the high point.

While heading back down the mountain in our car we came across a couple who was also looking for the trail to Marshall Lake.  We wished them luck and moved on.  Once we turned back onto the lookout road and drove a ways, we saw the trail we’d been looking for!  Bad directions, I guess.  It was getting late and we had other plans.

Further down the road we turned into Burgdorf Hot Springs.  We hadn't been there for years.  These hot springs were used in the 1860s by miners.  It is now privately owned.  Driving in we noticed that some of the very old cabins have been fixed up and are now rented.  There are others that are falling down.  Burgdorf is a very rustic resort.  When we paid our $14 for two, the woman proudly told us that they have new outhouses.  The pool has gravel on the bottom and the cooler end is about 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  The hot end has pools that are 110 and 120 degrees—too hot for me. 

The hot water was very relaxing at the end of the day.  At first we had the pool mostly to ourselves but then some older people from an ATV group came in; they were quite friendly.  The air was cool and there was a nice breeze.  We found half in and half out of the water worked best.  When we began turning into prunes we changed out of our suits and drove back to camp.

We discovered that the campground had filled up while we were gone.  Despite the number of people it’s been fairly quiet tonight.  As the sun was setting I heard the sandhill cranes again—but they sounded different.  I got out of my chair by the fire and saw a pair flying over the river vocalizing.  I’m not sure where they went.  Right now we’re sitting by the campfire listening to the river and waiting for the fire to burn down.  Once the coals are perfect we will roast marshmallows and make s’mores—possibly the last ones of the summer.  Tomorrow we head home.

Written on 8/8/2014

Out in the Woods Again

Once again I am sitting out in the woods next to a river writing in my journal.  I have been busy and this camping trip did not get much planning which probably indicates how much I needed to get away.  The day before we left we were cleaning our deck and patio plus the house for a neighborhood gathering that evening.  After everyone left we talked about the weather and which direction we should head—that’s it.  The next morning I started pulling out the camping equipment but had to take a break for a doctor’s appointment.  I also took time to pick and freeze blackberries so I wouldn’t lose them.  We managed to leave the house mid-afternoon.

For those who know Idaho, we drove from Boise to McCall then ultimately ended up about 40+ miles up Warren Wagon Road in the Chinook Campground.  Amazingly we were the only people here so we got the best spot overlooking the Secesh River.  It was so peaceful.  Just about the only sound we heard was the river.  As the sun was setting I was surprised and delighted to hear the whooping of sandhill cranes.

We heard the cranes again as the sun rose and we lay in our sleeping bags.  It was a bit chilly when we got up but hot coffee and French toast alleviated that.  Soon the sun was warming our campsite.  We relaxed—I read and Bob napped in his hammock.  Soon a truck with a trailer pulled in—we had neighbors.  They left for a while then came back and we heard the sound of a chain saw.  It woke Bob up from his nap.  It seems that many people come in with chain saws these days—with no thought or consideration for their neighbors.  It’s now evening and a camper drove in with a trailer containing an ATV.  We’re waiting to see how noisy they’ll be.  It’s quiet right now.

About mid-afternoon we decided we needed some exercise so we headed out on the trail to Loon Lake along the Secesh River.  We hiked here 18 years ago when we took a weekend backpack trip with our girls and camped at Loon Lake.  It’s about a 10-mile round trip and we had no intention of going that far today.  We simply strolled along the trail, stopping in the shade for a water break, taking photos, inspecting the flowers, and taking in the scenery.

There was a huge fire in this area about 15 years ago and on the first part of our hike we were surrounded by dead, blackened trees and lots of colorful purple fireweed.  As we moved along the river narrowed as we came into a canyon.  The river ran more quickly over the rocks and there were stands of green trees and a wider variety of vegetation.  At one point we startled a young deer on the path.  I tried to get my camera out but the deer was frightened and ran away.  We passed just five people—two on foot and three on mountain bikes, all returning from Loon Lake, I think.  We walked for a couple hours then decided it was time to turn back.  It’s always interesting to see what you missed going the opposite direction.  On the other side of the river we saw what looked like a terrace of bright yellow flowers apparently thriving in a damp location.  We noticed fascinating rock formations carved out by the fast-moving river.  Once back at our camp we looked at the topo map while sipping cold soft drinks.  We were surprised to learn that we had hiked about 5 miles total.  Perhaps that’s enough exercise to rationalize eating a couple of s’mores tonight.

Written on 8/7/2014