Remembering Kozmo

It was 2 years ago today that our sweet dog, Kozmo, took his last breath.  We lost him so quickly; he was gone just 10 days after the vet told us he had an inoperable tumor on his liver.  It was a tough time for us and it wasn’t until this past June that we adopted another dog.

Kozmo was a rescue dog.  Like all our pets, he came from the Idaho Humane Society.  He was 2 years old when we adopted him.  Apparently in his previous home he spent a lot of time on the couch.  When he first arrived we would reprimand him when he jumped onto our couch.  (Our previous dog, Frisbee, was not allowed on it.)  When scolded for this he looked confused and upset.  He couldn’t understand what was wrong.  After a while we gave up and allowed him on the couch.

Although he came with a name, he didn’t seem to know it so our daughters renamed him Kozmo.  He was pure white with big brown eyes and the cutest little white eyelashes.  The information we received said that he was American Eskimo and his coloring definitely indicated that.  His coat was short like a lab—and he definitely shed like one.

Kozmo love to go for walks.  He picked up on the cues quickly.  If my husband put on his shoes and grabbed his hat, Kozmo would go crazy.  He tended to walk with his head looking up, but would stop to smell interesting things.  Kozmo had an aversion to water.  He would walk out in the street to avoid a sprinkler that was hitting the sidewalk.  When we stopped at the river he would drink but not step in.  When other dogs passed by we would have to pull him in because we never knew if he’d dislike the dog and be aggressive.

Kozmo was a squirrel dog.  He would want to chase after them while on a walk.  In our yard he would chase them up trees and just sit and watch.  One time we left him in the unfenced area of the yard because we knew he would stay and watch the squirrel—he must have sat there 1-2 hours until we called him in.

Kozmo wanted to be a good dog.  If we yelled at our other dog, Piper, he would worry that we were mad at him.  You could see it in his face.  He loved to walk out with us to get the paper in the morning.  Most of the time he would stay right with us.  If he started to wander too far off, I’d call him back.  Sometimes, I’d take him in the car with me if I wasn’t getting out for long.  I would tell him we were going in the car and he understood—that’s where he would go.  He was smart.  He did have moments where he was disobedient.  If he walked down the street and got too far away, he would pretend he couldn’t hear us.  However we knew otherwise because he’d have one ear pointed back. 

I really miss the dog choruses.  Kozmo was a howler.  The howling was usually brought on by sirens.  Piper would join in by barking and they would have a sort of rhythm going, like a song.  How I wish I could hear that again.

Kozmo is buried out in our yard along with another dog, Frisbee, and our cats, Mandy, Pixi, and Bandit.  Thinking about him now may still bring tears but mostly I smile at the memories.  What a great dog he was!

Written on 8/10/2015

 

 
 

 

The Drive up North

Yesterday, as we began our long day’s drive from Boise to northern Idaho, I was reminded of the diversity of the state I call home.  Boise has a desert climate; we only get about 12 inches of rain a year.  Sagebrush dots the grass-covered foothills.  We live near the Boise River and a stream runs through our yard.  Our mini-climate is riparian.  We have tules (reeds) and lots of water birds.

Leaving Boise we climb up Highway 55 past golden hills and sagebrush.  We begin to drop down to a river valley and soon cross the horseshoe-like bend in the Payette River, passing through the small town of Horseshoe Bend.  As we continue to climb, pine trees appear and the sagebrush is gone.  We can view the river on our left.  It is a favorite place for rafters and kayakers; this is one of the calmer sections.  Once we pass Banks, the canyon narrows and the churning Payette River begins to look like a washing machine.  These are class 5 rapids so it is rare to see any kayakers here.

We pass the open, quiet waters of Smiths Ferry.  It is always so green here in the summer.  Once we leave this area behind, the road narrows and lies dangerously close to the fast moving river.  This part always makes me nervous.  Before long the landscape opens up and we enter a wide valley.  Golden fields lay on either side of the highway.  On the left we pass a small airport.  We drive by a small cabin that is falling down; we always wonder how long it will still be around.

Soon we reach the town of Cascade.  It was once a lumbertown but the mill closed a number of years ago.  The old rail lines are now used for scenic rides on the Thunder Mountain Railway.  We cross the river and spot children playing in the water near an RV park.  Next we pass the Cascade Reservoir.  The road begins to climb and evergreens line the way.  We pass through two more small towns and then the road levels out.  We enter McCall, a resort town on the shores of Payette Lake.  We stop for lunch at a little burger joint—hamburger and a shake for me.  McCall is always a good place to stretch our legs.  Sometimes we stop at Ice Cream Alley for an ice cream cone.  Other times we stop at one of the small public beaches to use the facilities, look at the lake, and perhaps make lunch.

Upon leaving McCall the highway descends downward through heavily wooded forest.  We reach New Meadows (after passing Meadows), aptly named because it describes the terrain.  Gradually we see more trees and the walls of the mountains close in and we are in a steep canyon and the town of Riggins.  The streets are only a couple blocks deep on the left side while the Salmon River runs close by on the right.  Rafting is big in this town so we see ads for the many commercial outfitters ready to take people on an adventure.

Not too far out of Riggins we begin to go up a very steep incline known as White Bird Hill.  There is an overlook near the top.  It marks the location of the Battle of White Bird Canyon which was the first battle of the Nez Perce War; the Army lost.  White Bird was the Nez Perce chief.

From the summit of White Bird we descend to the Camas Prairie.  The most striking feature here is the fields of winter wheat (no irrigation).  Most of the fields have already been harvested but we did see a combine at work.  We pass through Cottonwood, the location of St. Gertrude’s Monastery, the home of Benedictine nuns.  A short distance later we enter the Nez Perce reservation begin to drop off the Camas Prairie.  We come close to Lewiston, Idaho’s port city (no kidding—on the Snake River) but the highway turns before entering it.  When the wind is blowing the right way you can smell the paper mill there. (Perhaps I should say wrong way since it stinks.)   Next we are making a steep climb up to the Palouse—rolling hills with more wheat fields. 

Leaving the Palouse, we enter the college town of Moscow, home to the University of Idaho.  It is also the commercial and agricultural hub of the Palouse region.  (Locals call it “Mosco”—don’t add the w because residents don’t want to be associated with that other Moscow.)  From Moscow it’s only about 30 miles to Coeur d’Alene. 

Continuing on we pass an operating lumbermill and enter the town Plummer.  Here is the beginning of the Trail of the Coeur d’Alenes, a wonderful 72-mile paved bike path.  We pass through the Palouse Indian reservation and more wheat fields.  The road runs by rolling hills with a mix of evergreens and deciduous trees.  As we get closer we get glimpses of Lake Coeur d’Alene but we don’t get a really good look at it until we cross the river and pull into town.  It’s a beautiful lake with many inlets.  The tall Coeur d’Alene Resort is a prominent fixture on the edge of the lake.  The town has an interesting history going back to early tribes and fur traders.

We are staying in Coeur d’Alene this time but we have been north to the border.  It is well worth the drive.  Farragut State Park sits next to Lake Pend Oreille.  It was once a naval base for testing submarines during World War II.  Yes, submarines—it’s a very deep lake.  Further north is the little city of Sandpoint, also on this lake.  It has a large artistic community with fun shops and a lovely city beach.  It was the home of the women’s clothing company, Coldwater Creek.  Their store was once on the Sand Creek Bridge—I always insisted that we stop there when passing through Sandpoint.

Heading north you will pass through the small town of Priest River, named for the river that runs through it.  Priest Lake is north from there.  It is a heavily wooded area, much like the terrain directly north in Canada.  This area was the location of silent movies made by Nell Shipman and company in the 1920s.  It’s a beautiful spot with lots of wildlife, including moose.  Federal and state campgrounds provide many great campsites.

I’ve described just a part of the Idaho geography.  I live in an interesting state—it is so much more than potato fields.

Written on 8/7/2015

Sitting on the Beach

Slowly the boats leave

Pink and blue color the sky

Waves pound, the only sound

Crickets chirp their song

Darkness falls over the lake

Air cools the warm sand

Written on 8/7/2015

Long-time Love

About a week ago, my husband and I made a long day’s drive to see my parents.  They are in their late eighties and I hadn’t seen them in over a year.  Mostly we talked and ate.  While we were there, we celebrated our 35^th wedding anniversary.  My mom made reservations for the patio of a local restaurant and all my siblings plus a cousin joined us.  We had a delightful time visiting.  For dessert we celebrated with a delicious strawberry cheese pie.  My mom reminded us that they had just celebrated their 65^th wedding anniversary.

Sixty-five years is a long time.  I began thinking about it on our long drive home.  From our car CD player, we heard the lovely song, “Longer” by Dan Fogelberg, a song that was sung at our wedding.  I always think of our special day when I hear that song, but this time it occurred to me that it is so much more appropriate for my parents.  I am touched by the little ways they look out for each other.  Sure, they have their arguments just like everybody else.  However, there is something extremely special about such a long-term close relationship.  They know each other so well.  My parents still hold hands.  The tenderness I see between them touches my heart.  My mom constantly watches out for my dad and worries if he is out of sight; he has fallen recently and now walks with a cane.  My dad makes tea for my mom most evenings, putting it in her own special teapot and cup.  Age brings physical problems; they take turns putting drops into each other’s eyes.  There are smiles and looks that are reserved only for each other.  They now take joy in simple things.  They love to go for a drive in the country and discover new places or simply sit in their chairs and watch a favorite TV show.   I look at them and I know what love is.

I think this song could have been written for them.

"Longer"

By Dan Fogelberg

Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you

Stronger than any mountain cathedral
Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval
I am in love with you

I'll bring fire in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings

Through the years, as the fire starts to mellow
Burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow
I'll be in love with you
I'll be in love with you

Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you
I am in love with you

Being Present on My Deck

God within, God without

Sun shining on me

Warmth on my shoulder

Warmth within reaching out

Doves cooing, birds singing

The earth hums with life

Wind whispers thru leaves

Light shines off water

And reflects from within

I empty my mind

Allowing life around me

To wash over me, sink in

Eyes open to see the beauty

A lovely prayer and meditation

Sitting by the River

The river rushes by me

I long to jump in and float

To see what lies around the bend

To experience the excitement

I want to let the river carry me

But instead I sit on the bank

And watch others float by

Today I am content to sit quietly

I know this is where I need to be

I need to pause in my busyness

And take time to heal,

Time to listen and reflect

I remember to simply be

I am aware of my connection

To my Creator and all of creation

I feel the warmth of God’s love

That will carry me farther

Than the river ever can

Written on 7/7/2015

River Therapy

This morning I awoke to the sounds of a rushing river and bird songs.  Once the sun hit the tent, I pulled myself out of my warm sleeping bag, and emerged to inhale the fresh mountain air.

Breakfast is over and I’m sitting on the shore of the Salmon River.  The sun is shining and the air is cool—such a relief after the heat of the past week in the valley.  The birds continue to sing; there are so many of them.  Chipmunks scurry around the rocks.  Already several rafts have floated by.  The occupants wave or call out a greeting as I look up.

It is so quiet and peaceful here.  We purposely came after the busy July 4^th weekend.  There are not many people here now.  I need a bit of solitude, some time to disconnect.  I am tired in both body and spirit.  I need healing.  What better place to seek it?  In the natural world life comes down to the basics.  This is my time to reflect and remind myself that I am one with God’s world.

Written on 7/6/2015

Heat Wave

I left the comfort of my air-conditioned house to sit on our deck for a while.  The day is rapidly heating up and the temperature is approaching mid-90s and will supposedly hit 102.  This morning my husband and I took our dogs for a walk along the river.  Most of the path is shaded and there are opportunities for the dogs to stop and drink.  We returned home shortly after noon.  One dog sprawled out on the floor while the other lay across the AC vent. 

We have endured about a week of temperatures over 100 degrees; this is not common here.  The hottest day was on Sunday when it hit 110.  I had planned to shop that day.  After all, the car had AC and so does the mall.  I stepped outside and felt like I had hit a brick wall of heat.  It literally took my breath away.  I walked back inside and decided to stay home.  When it was ONLY 102 the next day, we felt so much cooler.

I think I could live on salads and ice cream right now.  The heat zaps my appetite and my energy.  I found myself nodding off at the computer last night.  I looked over and saw my husband asleep on the couch with one cat on top of him and the other asleep nearby.  The dogs were stretched out on the floor.

Well, before I fall asleep, I think I’ll go back inside where it’s cooler and pour myself a glass of iced tea.  I’m looking forward to cooler days but I may need to drive to the mountains for that.

What Matters

Our phone rang early this morning.  A friend told us the news.  I jumped onto Facebook—my news feed was overflowing with the announcement of the Supreme Court’s historic ruling.  Same sex marriage is now legal in all 50 states.  Such joy flooded the Internet!  I am thrilled that gay relationships are finally recognized in our country.  The next step is to ensure that all people have equal rights under the law.  In Idaho that means that we need to “Add the Words” sexual orientation and gender identity to the Idaho Human Rights Act.  A federal ruling would be even better. 

I know there will be an uproar from the far right, especially from fundamentalist Christians.  But why?  How does this actually hurt them or affect their marriages?  What really matters? 

Not all that long ago I didn’t pay much attention to gay rights.  I didn’t know very many gay people.  About 6 years ago a small group in our church offered a study on homosexuality and the Bible.  I wanted to know more so I signed up.  I learned about the historic context in which the Bible verses cited by anti-gay Christians were written, plus I learned of other interpretations.  Out of this class grew an effort to make our church a Reconciling Congregation, one that welcomes all people including LGBT people.

Our congregation voted to become a Reconciling Congregation 4 years ago and I ended up as chair of the Reconciling Ministries Team.  I began to attend events to meet members of the LGBT community and let them know that our church is supportive.  One thing led to another.  I went from being acquainted with a few gay people to knowing a broad spectrum of LGBT people.  I have learned so much over the past few years.

What have I learned?  Lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people aren’t that different from me.  Gay people are attracted to the same sex, but otherwise their “lifestyles” are just like those of everyone else I know—they work, go to school, have families, go on vacations, volunteer, and go to church.  I have met some wonderful, interesting, and caring people.  Why should it matter who they love?  Their love for their partners/spouses is every bit as committed and deep as mine.  I think they should have the right to make it legal.

I have come to believe that gender does not matter.  I know people who are gay, transgender, gender fluid, asexual, cisgender, and more.  Human sexuality is so much more complicated and diverse than I ever imagined.  I am still learning.  We are all part of God’s wonderful creation.

What really matters?  I believe that God is the Creator and cares for all of creation.  We are born straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender—and created in God’s image.  We are all one, connected in spirit to each other and to God.  Let’s embrace each other.  Humans share the same needs and desires.  We all want to be loved and to love.  Let’s also celebrate our differences.  Our human diversity makes life so much more interesting and demonstrates God’s amazing creativity.  We all deserve respect and to be treated equally under the laws of our country.  Today I am filled with joy over the Supreme Court's decision to affirm marriage equality. 

My Day in Court

The alarm went off early and I pulled myself out of bed.  I showered and put on my nylons, a skirt, top, and jacket.  I ate a quick breakfast and finished getting ready.  Once in my car, I drove myself down to the Courthouse.  It was a week ago today that I got my day in court.

I parked my car and walked around to the front of the building.  My group of fellow Add the 4 Words arrestees was standing outside.  We all walked into the Courthouse together, found our courtroom on the reader board, and took the elevator upstairs.  We crowded into a small conference room just outside of the courtroom.  Our attorney discussed the prosecutor’s offer with us.  Nobody liked it; some were concerned about the one year (or more) probation and others were concerned about the number of days of community service.  Our lawyer, along with another lawyer he recruited, went back and forth to the prosecutor and to the judge.  There was lots of discussion.

Three people who had only been arrested one time (March 2) took a revised plea offer.  There were 15 people who were arrested two or three times in March.  The judge agreed to hear their cases and consolidate them; they will be sentenced at a later date.  That left six of us who had only been arrested on March 2 (this year) and it was decided that our cases would be heard that day.  I was caught a bit off guard because we had been told that we would probably just talk with the attorney and be sentenced later.  We were told we could make a statement; I didn't feel prepared but I quickly thought about what to say.  The attorney began to talk to us about our individual cases but was told that the judge was ready for us.  He said he’d just wing it.  Oh boy.  I was nervous.  We all solemnly walked into the courtroom and sat down; the entire group went in.

The judge began by talking about the way he viewed our cases.  He acknowledged that we were not like the usual defendants who walked into his courtroom.  We were mostly older, like him, good citizens and civic-minded.  He talked a little about the fact that civil disobedience has been used throughout history.  I think we all relaxed just a bit.  We were called in alphabetical order and I was so glad I wasn’t first.  The judge asked the first person, B.A., questions to make sure she understood the charges and the process.  We were all charged with trespassing, a misdemeanor.  Our attorney made his statement on behalf of B.A.  She made her statement, telling about herself and her lesbian daughter.  She told the judge that she is not a threat to the community and therefore didn’t deserve probation.  The prosecutor asked for a fine, court costs, community service to be substituted for jail time and one year probation.  It was the judge’s turn—we all held our breath.  He gave her what the prosecutor asked for except for the probation.

The second defendant, D.F., was called forward.  Our lawyer pleaded for reduced community service hours since the 7 days proposed by the prosecution was a huge burden on a clergy person.  The prosecutor stated that they did not believe that we are a danger to the community.  The reason they were asking for probation was to deter us from doing the same thing next year.  We had guessed that this was the reason but I was surprised that she admitted it to the judge.  The judge reduced D.F.’s community service by several days.  No probation.  I was up next.  Nervously I walked up and sat in the chair next to our attorney.  He whispered what he was going to say to the judge and I nodded.  When it was my time to speak I simply said that I had lived there for over 30 years and was active in my church and the community.  As a person of faith I felt I needed to participate in this action because I felt that all people should be treated equally.  I told the judge that I was prepared to take responsibility for my actions.  Phew.  I got the same fine as the other two, one less day of community service, and no probation.  One by one the other three went forward.  The judge did the same for them.  And then it was over.

We all felt that the judge had treated us fairly.  Our attorney told me that I can do my community service hours at any nonprofit (501 3c).  I shook his hand and thanked him.  He’s an extremely busy man, yet he represented us for free.  We all stood around and talked for a while.  I got a few hugs.  One was from J.K., a gay man who never fails to thank me and hug me.  We all headed downstairs to pay fines.  They were covered by donations made to Add the 4 Words.  I was so grateful for that help, but I know we will need more for the rest of the group.

I didn't get home until about 1:00 p.m.—it was a long morning.  I was exhausted—it was an emotional day.  So now I have a record.  I’m thinking about where to do my community service hours.  Lots of thoughts swirled through my head for the rest of the day.  However, I have no regrets.  When I walked into the Capitol building on March 2, I had no doubt that I was supposed to be there.  The Idaho legislature needs to add the words “sexual orientation” and “gender identity” to the Idaho Human Rights Act.  It’s a matter of justice.

Mother’s Day Thoughts

Another Mother’s Day has come and gone.  This year I was surprised to see a number of anti-Mother’s Day articles and posts on the Internet.  There were mothers who stated that they did not want to celebrate the holiday.  Some people feel the day should not be observed at all.

I understand that Mother’s Day can be painful for some people.  It can be difficult for those who have lost their mothers recently.  It is hard on women who can’t have children or for those who gave up their children.  Some people had abusive mothers or were abandoned by their mothers.  It is important to be sensitive to these people.  Many churches have changed how they approach Mother’s Day to respect people who find the day to be difficult.

However, I don’t think it is necessary to throw it all out because of these concerns.  For me, Mother’s Day is a very personal observance.  Unfortunately, I no longer live near my mother or daughters so we celebrate from afar.  We get busy in our lives and it is helpful to have a special day set aside to say thanks to our mothers.  Of course, we should do this more than once a year, but I like having a special day.

My mother is now 85 years old and lives in another state.  It has been years since I was with her on Mother’s Day.  Every year I send her flowers.  She looks forward to them and my siblings all know that I do this.  I call a flower shop in her town to place the order—the flowers are always beautiful.  When I called her last night, she told me that they had arrived at just the right time.  She wasn't feeling well so decided to skip a family gathering the day before.  The flowers brightened her sad day.  I have stopped thinking about the increasing cost of flowers.  They make her happy and I know that I won’t have her forever.  My husband also sends flowers to his 91-year-old mother.

My daughters live across the country from me.  I receive cards and gifts, sometimes on time and sometimes late—all chosen with great care.  I am impressed by their choices; they know what I’ll like.  I am especially touched by their words, either on cards or on Facebook.  Being their mother has not always been easy but I would do it again in a heartbeat.  I am so proud of the women they have grown to be.

By next Mother’s Day my older daughter will be celebrating with her new son.  That first one is so special.  Motherhood is a hard job but it’s the best job I've ever had.

Unfinished Business

Earlier this month the Idaho Legislature packed up and went home.  I had mixed feelings.  The first was “good riddance!”  The second was sadness over unfinished business.  There were multiple important issues ignored by this legislature but one is especially close to my heart.  They failed to add four words—sexual orientation and gender identity—to the Idaho Human Rights Act. 

Just five days before they adjourned, I participated in the last Add the 4 Words protest of the session.  We stood with signs which told stories of harm done to LGBT people in Idaho.  I carried a sign saying “Joseph  Beaten in alley  February 1997  Boise, Idaho.”  Joseph’s sign said “Joel O.—Boise, ID  Completed suicide  March 1997.”  What the signs didn’t say was that Joseph’s friend, Joel, was beaten too and it was Joseph who found him hanging from a tree.  These stories are so painful.  We stood silently, solemnly in the State Capitol building, hoping the stories would touch hearts and let them know that we’re not going away.

That day I wore my cross that says “hope.”  It was my statement about why I was there.  As a follower of Jesus, I believe God loves all.  I stood by Joseph and carried his story with the hope that we won’t have to keep doing this—no more stories of harm, of discrimination, of death.  Everybody deserves to be treated equally, to have hope for the future.  Everybody.

Two days later we gathered around a bonfire and shared our feelings.  It was quite emotional.  Yes, there was anger and frustration with our legislature.  However, there was more.  We have all been changed by our experiences with activism.  LGBT activists have learned to step up and stand up for themselves, forming close bonds with others in the struggle.  A couple straight activists spoke of their respect for the courage of LGBT people and how it inspired them to be brave.  A gay man told me how much it meant to have straight allies and religious people standing with them after fighting alone for so long.  I told him how much I respect him.  I had to examine my faith and I realized that I needed to stand up for what I believe and be there for him and others.  We hugged.

I will see many of my fellow activists next week when we get our day in court.  I don’t know what will happen but I know I will continue to stand up for what is right, for what is just.

The Invasion of the Flies

 . . . buzz. . . buzzzzzzzzzzzz. . . The loud buzzing of the flies brings memories of summer—hot, sticky days, sprawled out in a chair swatting at flies.  However, this is only April and the hot weather has not yet arrived.  We are just beginning to venture outside on lovely, warm spring days.

The flies have moved inside to torture us, I think.  There were just a few at first and we thought it unusual to see them so early in the year.  Our young cats sat and stared at the ceiling.  Eventually, I had to go to see what they were looking at.  When the flies moved the cats would follow, sometimes jumping—and missing.  The flies have provided great entertainment for them.  However, their hunting instincts appear to be lacking.  One day I spotted our black cat up on a window sill next to a fly.  Buzzzzzz.  Get it!!  She leaned over. . . and sniffed it.  Arghh!  To her credit, I did see her catch one recently.  The other cat quickly ran over to investigate.  They sniffed it, batted at it, and apparently lost it.

As the number of flies in the house has increased, the cats' interest has seemed to decrease.  Old news, I guess.  The other day I was on a mission—I got out the fly swatter and killed ten flies on our dining room window.  Ten more flies quickly replaced them!  Arghh.  I sat at the computer and tried to concentrate.  Buzzz. . .buzzzz. . . buzzzzzzzzz.  Ack!  I jumped up and killed a few more.

We have no idea where they are coming from.  The other morning I got up and it was quiet.  No flies were in sight.  Did we get them all?  No.  Soon they began to reappear, one by one—flying around the kitchen, on the dining room window, in our bedroom.  Buzz. . . buzzzzzzzz. .. buzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  The day warmed up and we opened the doors.  Soon they were buzzing against the screen doors.  We opened them up and let the flies out.  We discovered that was an easy way to get rid of them.  It’s almost as if they knew we’d let them out. . .

I came home this afternoon and opened the blinds in the dining room.  A dozen flies appeared.  I killed them and sat down.  More flies appeared.  I left the room. 

Is this some diabolical plot to rob me of my sanity?  Buzzzzzzzzz.  Should I buy ear plugs?  Buzzzzzz.  Maybe a bug zapper.  Buzzz. . .buzzzz. . .buzzzzzap!  I am writing this outside.  I would like to point out that there are no flies out here.  Unfortunately the sun is preparing to set and I will have to go back inside.  The battle with the flies will continue. . . buzz. . . buzzzzz. . . buzzzzzzzzzz. . . SWAT!

A Lovely Spring Day

In early spring when a warm, sunny day arrives, it is a special gift.  Within a couple months days like this will become common.  However, right now it is to be savored.

Today has been one of those lovely days.  We had to go downtown and ended up walking around and then eating lunch at a sidewalk table.  The city was bustling with kids on spring break and people attending our local music festival.  Short sleeves, sun glasses, smiles, and laughter were everywhere.  It’s hard to frown on a day like this.

At the moment I’m sitting on our deck enjoying the warmth.  There is a chorus of bird calls and songs.  With the exception of the large spruce tree in front of me, the leaves on the trees are just beginning to bud out.  From here I can see our quince bush in full bloom next to our house, the neighbor’s bright yellow forsythia in the distance, plus a few dandelions about six feet away—those are the only flowers.  Many plants still look dead, but I know they will come to life in the next two months.

I tend to come to life in the spring, too.  In the winter I want to sit in my warm house; it takes an effort to venture out.  As the days get warmer and the sun shines longer, I am ready to go out and enjoy the world.  Welcome spring!

Going to Jail for Justice

The alarm went off early, well before sunrise.  I crawled out of my warm bed in my cold bedroom and then quickly jumped into the shower.  I dressed in a black top, black pants, and black shoes.  After breakfast I carefully tucked a rolled black shirt into my waistband, slipped into my black jacket, and placed a pewter cross necklace with the word “hope” around my neck.  I put a thin black wallet containing my driver’s license and a credit card in my jacket pocket.  I was ready.  And I was nervous.

My husband and I climbed into our little Honda.  Fifteen minutes later he dropped me off downtown and I walked a block to the Idaho State Capitol building.  I climbed the stairway to the third floor and briefly joined the people standing across from the House Chambers entrance.  Soon I walked around to the Senate side to join a few people there.  We stood as we had been doing for the past couple of weeks of vigils—silently with hands over our mouths.  However, this day was to be different.  There were more of us than usual which may have made the Senate door guard suspicious.

Two of our group are also lobbyists and were dressed for it that morning.  When the door guard left briefly they tried to go through the closed door but he was back in a flash to stop them.  We had all run towards the door, and being unable to enter we turned around to block the entrance instead.  We stood shoulder to shoulder, hand over mouth, and watched the group on the House side hurry into the House Chambers as our leader held the door.  Their door guard had walked away.  We saw them line up in front of the Speaker’s podium.  The press had shown up and the photos and videos began.  We also had our own videographers, photographers, and legal observers.

Our plan was to enter the Senate Chambers so we watched for an opportunity.  We tried again.  The door guard was determined to keep us out.  At some point this large older man picked up one of our guys off his feet until an Idaho State trooper told him to stop.  His arms were out in an attempt to block us and somehow I got hit in the head; I ended up with a headache.  I think one person got through that time and the rest of us lined up outside again.  On the third attempt I made it through and almost tripped as I ran through the chambers.  I think I was the fourth person to line up in front of the podium.  More came to join us and finally the door guard gave up, allowing the rest of us to come in.  There were eleven of us lined up with our hands over our mouths.  All of us were now wearing shirts saying “Add the 4 Words Idaho.”

Why were we there?  For 10 years Idaho lawmakers have refused to add four simple words, sexual orientation and gender identity, to the Idaho Human Rights Act.  Currently, gay, bisexual, and transgender people in Idaho live in fear of being fired, evicted, and denied service by restaurants and other businesses.  This year a public hearing was finally held.  Legislators on the House State Affairs Committee listened for 3 days while people told their stories of harm.  However, they declined to pass the bill on to the full House, killing it in committee.  Hundreds of hours have been spent at the Capitol educating and lobbying lawmakers.  Compromise language has been offered with support from a majority in both the House and Senate, but the leadership won’t allow it.  Twenty-three of us, ordinary Idaho citizens of all ages, both LGBT and straight, stood in the Idaho State House and Senate Chambers where we said we would stay until serious consideration is given to adding the four words into law.  As our press release stated, “We will remain peacefully, silently, respectfully standing in the Capitol until your deafening silence ends.”

Why did I stand there?  This was not an easy decision for me.  I was arrested once last year; we were cited but not taken to jail.  I knew I would go to jail this time.  I’m recovering from hand and wrist surgery so I would have to wear my brace for protection.  I have back problems which make standing for hours difficult.  Participating in civil disobedience is unpredictable; you never know how others will behave or if they will be peaceful.  However, I believe that all people should be treated equally.  This strongly held conviction has its roots in my deep Christian faith.  I follow Jesus who showed us that God loves all people.  Not only did I think hard about this decision but I prayed.  It is hard to explain in words how God answers our questions.  All I can say is that by Sunday night I knew I needed to be at the Idaho Statehouse the next morning.  I had no doubts.

We stood there in the Senate and House Chambers for over an hour.  We continually switched hands in unison as we got tired.  We shifted our weight from foot to foot as our bodies started to hurt.  News media came in and out.  We were given reports from our leadership.  We learned that we would be removed first since the Senate needed to convene.  (Apparently our presence was a bit of a distraction.)  Finally, we got the official warning; we had 5 minutes to leave or we would be arrested.

It took a lot longer than 5 minutes for all of the Idaho State troopers to arrive.  We were informed that we were in violation of Idaho State code which bars the public from the Senate floor 30 minutes prior to the opening of their session and that we would be arrested for trespassing.  A trooper asked if anyone wanted to leave.  Silence.  One by one he informed each of us that we were under arrest and pointed where we should go.  As we walked out in a line, the cameras filmed us.

We were led to a small room and two at a time we were sent over to be frisked and cuffed.  Our possessions were placed in a large plastic bag and we were all handcuffed.  Everybody had a chain placed around their waist and cuffs were attached to the chain.  Everybody but me, that is.  My brace wouldn't fit in those cuffs so they used flex cuffs which are really like large zip ties.  Our IDs were collected and the information was put into computers.  We were issued misdemeanor citations.  A woman in a wheelchair was cited and released—catch and release, she said.  The rest of us were led out to the waiting bus.

Everybody was sent to the back of the bus but me.  I couldn't really sit down because of the way my hands were cuffed.  The flex cuff was really cutting into my good arm and it couldn't be loosened.  One of the deputies went back inside to get pliers.  He cut off the flex cuffs and put my hands in regular cuffs with my hands in front of me.  Finally I could join the others.  We had to wait a while for the group on the House side to join us.  The deputies were very kind to us.

The deputy in charge explained to us that we would first go to the Courthouse to be processed and then to the jail for mug shots and fingerprints.  If they had the ability to do fingerprints and photos at the Courthouse, they would have; our large number put a strain on the jail.  Our bus drove into the Courthouse garage and we were led into a large holding cell.  One by one we were taken out to be processed.  Our possessions were placed in a plastic envelope, labeled, and taken from us.  We were asked all sorts of questions from address to “Are you depressed?” and “Have you consumed alcohol or narcotics today?”  One by one we went back to a holding cell.  When the women were done, we were led back to the bus.  Without waiting for the eight men, they drove us to the Ada County Jail.  Someone began singing “We Shall Overcome” on the ride over and we all joined in.  Upon arrival a deputy asked us not to sing once we got inside because they had some rather unstable prisoners.  That was sobering.

Single file we walked inside.  Our cuffs were removed and we were placed in two stark holding cells.  Most of us in my cell were older women so the low cement bench was a bit challenging.  As we sat there our view was of a low metal toilet.  One woman asked for toilet paper but explained it was only in case she got desperate.  Two others were grateful that they had been allowed to use the restroom at the Courthouse.  Right next to the toilet was a door with a large window and lots of people outside.  A male deputy would periodically stick his head in to bring one of us out.  Nobody wanted to use that toilet.  One of my companions stated that she was going to wash all of the clothes she was wearing as soon as she got home; she was sure the place was crawling with germs.

One by one we were removed from the cell.  Finally it was my turn.  I got my photo taken from three sides.  No, I didn’t smile—somehow it didn’t seem appropriate.  The deputy took all sorts of fingerprints and hand prints on his machine.  I had to take off my brace for a palm print.  Once done I joined another woman in a seating area; others joined me.  Finally we were each called to be checked out.  I was given my little bag of possessions and walked out with four big men, one of whom smelled a bit.  We wound our way out and finally I walked into the waiting area where our group was gathered.  I was greeted by cheers.  Supporters and those released earlier were there.  Someone gave me a Tylenol for my headache.  I was directed over to the bail bondsman and signed the paperwork.  I was surprised to learn that one of my fellow arrestees had paid the bail for all of us.  How generous!  I gave her a hug.

There was bottled water and all kinds of food for us.  It was not quite 2:00 p.m. and we were starved.  I visited, cheered as people walked out of the jail, and snacked.  My husband arrived to pick me up.  After a bit more visiting, cheering, and snacking, we headed home.  I was tired and I had a headache.

I’m not done.  Of course there will be legal issues; I will get my day in court.  While I do not plan to get arrested again anytime soon, I will be leading our weekly prayer vigils and joining in other peaceful activities to bring justice for our LGBT citizens.  I do this with love and joy because it is what I am called to do.  Add the Words, Idaho!

Waiting for Two Good Hands

It’s been 6 weeks since I had surgery on my hand and wrist for tenosynovitis (swollen tendon sheath).  Luckily it’s not my dominant hand but I have certainly gained an appreciation for having two good hands.

Pain and swelling aside, I have found this experience to be frustrating and tiring.  I had to wear a brace for 6 weeks.  Some of my clothes simply would not fit over it.  Buttoning, zipping, and pulling on clothes are challenging activities.  My husband had to fasten my bra for me.  (What if I lived alone?)  He got so good at it that he said he ought to hire himself out.  Um. . .no.

Getting in and out of the car, putting on the seat belt, and of course, driving, all take a lot more work.  Cooking is impossible but I could use the microwave.  I couldn’t open a jar.  Luckily my husband can cook; we have eaten out a lot more than usual.  We had a few days of nice weather, but I couldn’t ride my bike.  And no puttering in the yard.

The brace is now off, but the hand and wrist are swollen and stiff.  I am looking at weeks of physical therapy.  I am so thankful that this is only temporary and that I can look forward to once again having two good hands.

Just Add the Words, Idaho

I wrote this for the Reconciling Ministries Network; it appeared in the RMN Blog today.  

http://www.rmnetwork.org/newrmn/just-add-the-words-idaho/

As we stood near the doors of the Ada County Courthouse last October, same-sex couples walked out with smiles on their faces and marriage licenses in hand.  Each couple was cheered as they walked out of the building and down the stairs into the crowd.  Same-sex marriage was now legal in Idaho.  What joy there was!

However, these newlyweds can go to work wearing their wedding rings and be fired for being gay.  In Idaho LGBT people have no protection from being fired, losing their housing, or being denied public accommodation for simply being who they are.  For 9 years an organization called Add the Words, Idaho has been working to add the words “sexual orientation” and “gender identity” to the Idaho Human Rights Act but the Republican leadership of the Idaho Legislature refused to even allow a public hearing.  The movement has grown over the years.  Last year four of us from Hillview UMC were among the first 44 people to be arrested for civil disobedience at the Idaho State Capitol.  More church members became active plus I pulled together other people of faith to form the Interfaith Equality Coalition.

Finally, at the beginning of the legislative session in January, a public hearing was held.  The bill was sent to the House State Affairs Committee, the least likely committee to pass it on.  I spent a good portion of that week at the Statehouse sitting through about 17 hours of the 21 total hours of testimony.  The stories of harm were heartbreaking: bullying, suicides, beatings, loss of jobs, being kicked out of public places, denial of housing, fear, hiding, and more.  It was also difficult to listen to the opposition, especially the vitriol and misinformation coming from other Christians, including pastors.  Someone commented that we didn't hear any atheists standing up there in opposition.  We had hoped, by some miracle, that they would vote to pass it on to the entire House for a vote but in the end the vote was down party lines—13 Republicans against moving it on and 4 Democrats for it.  While we expected this, it was disappointing that not one mind was changed.

I was extremely proud of the LGBT people and their families who stood up in public and told such personal stories of discrimination and harm.  I was also proud of our coalition clergy and other members who testified.  We had additional clergy in religious attire sitting in the audience to observe the hearing and to be seen.  After all of the harm done by churches, our LGBT people really appreciate their support.  The Interfaith Equality Coalition is holding prayer vigils every Wednesday in front of the Capitol.  I plan to work on expanding our coalition statewide.  The Add the Words Coalition (about 12 groups, including our coalition) met the afternoon of the vote.  More than half of the people around the table were LGBT—there was a lot of pain.  It's hard but we are not done.  We are all looking at next steps. 

Have we made progress?  Getting a hearing after 9 years is a step.  It does seem that our civil disobedience and protests made an impact.  We had hoped that a bill would be introduced on the Senate side but lawmakers have announced that no new Add the Words bill will be introduced this session.  Some activists have said that this gives us time to get more lawmakers comfortable with the legislation.   But for people who have waited so long and are being hurt, it is hard to be patient.  It's personal.  All I can say to them is that I, along with other people of faith, stand with you.  We’re not done yet.

The Gift of Sight

About a year ago I had my first cataract surgery.  My “bad” eye had a fast-growing cataract that needed to be removed soon, according to the doctor.  I have lazy eye so the vision in this eye is not correctable but the glare caused by the cataract was affecting my other eye.  The surgery went well and the glare was gone.

By fall the cataract in my good eye began to seriously affect my vision.  It was the worst at night while dealing with the glare of oncoming headlights while driving.  However, I also noticed a difference while reading.  Words were often blurry.  I’d clean my glasses and realize that they were not the problem.  This is the only eye with which I can read.  I struggled for a while before returning to my eye doctor.  He confirmed that the cataract had grown and that my vision had deteriorated.

The doctor offered a new eyeglass prescription if I wanted to hold off a while or he could do cataract surgery.  He stated that the success rate is 98-99% and I replied that this was my good eye—he nodded.  I was rather nervous since this is really the only eye I use.  What if there was a problem?  However, I was struggling enough with my vision that I didn't want to wait.  Surgery was scheduled.

Early on a December morning my husband drove me to the surgery clinic.  I was led back to a line of beds with curtains in between.  I received a warm blanket and my friendly nurse began administering drops to dilate and numb my eye.  The people in the beds on either side of me were experiencing the same thing.  My doctor came in to check on me and then later returned to get me, pushing the bed to the surgery room himself.  A nurse anesthesiologist put the happy drug into my IV and soon I was feeling no pain.  Within 10 minutes the surgery was over and I was sitting in a small room with another patient.  Our husbands were ushered in.  The nurse gave us juice and a snack while we listened to our post-op instructions.

Before long I was walking out the door hanging on to my husband because I was a bit wobbly and couldn't see well.  A clear piece of plastic was taped over my eye.  I was instructed to wear it for several hours and also every night at bedtime for one week.  Once home I headed for the recliner and spent most of the day there.  For me, relaxing involves reading so this was a bit of a challenge.  My eye stayed dilated for a couple days so reading was impossible.  The TV was blurry.  The only discomfort I experienced was from one of eye drops which I needed to apply four times a day.

By the next day I was able to do a little housecleaning, some baking, and host an evening Christmas party for my women’s group.  I had one day and one week post-op appointments.  Everything looks good.  I graduated to drops twice a day.

The fog and glare are gone.  The amazing thing is that they can put your prescription into your new lens.  (Cataract surgery involves removing your lens with the cataract and implanting an artificial one.)  I no longer need prescription glasses.  Once my eye is totally healed and the inflammation is gone—which takes about a month—the vision in my eye will be about 20/20.  I can use the computer without glasses.  All I need are drug store reading glasses.  I’m learning to deal with that now.  I began with dollar store reading glasses since my vision is still adjusting—they broke within a couple of weeks.  I’m on pair #2 which has a rather fun design on the frames.  Where do I keep them?  On my head?  In my purse?  Multiples everywhere?  I’m working on this.

I marvel at what I can see again even though my eyes are still healing.  I had a couple days of very poor vision and an inability to read.  I depend on my sight for nearly everything I do.  I am grateful for the gift of sight I received when I was born and now my renewed vision from my very skilled doctor.  What a gift!

A New Year

It’s the first day of a brand new year and while I tend to believe that New Year’s Day is a great time to assess one’s direction in life, I’m wondering if I’m in the right place to do it.  I’m sitting on my mother-in-law’s screened patio in Florida; the temperature is around 74 degrees.  Meanwhile, the temperature at our home in Idaho is around 17 degrees.  We have been away from home for almost 2 weeks; we spent Christmas with our daughters in North Carolina.  For these reasons I feel rather removed from my life in Idaho.  Perhaps that can be helpful in looking ahead.

We spent time in the middle of the lives of our twenty-something daughters and are now with relatives in their nineties—such different perspectives on life.  Our daughters are at the beginning of their adult lives and our elderly relatives, while at the end of their lives, are not done living.  What’s important in life?  The way we view life changes over time.  Our daughters are always in a hurry—there’s an impatience to get where they are going.  The elders have all the time in the world—and yet they don’t.  And what about me?

I find it hard to consider myself a senior citizen although I am over sixty or to call myself retired even though I am not working.  I have never been good about planning for the future but perhaps it is time to do it.  I know I won’t live forever.

We can get by on my husband’s pension but extra money would be helpful.  However, if I work that would limit travel and volunteer activities.  My husband is in his seventies and interested in doing some traveling.  We can’t wait until he’s 80.  I find fulfillment in my community activities.  What is important?

My mother-in-law questioned why I am in a hurry to go home.  (My husband is staying a week longer.)  She suggested that whatever responsibilities I have, others can do them.  On the other hand, in a recent conversation with a retired pastor, I told him that I have considered job hunting but he insisted that what I’m doing is important.  I feel it is, too.

I am grateful to have choices.  These life decisions hinge on who we are and what matters most in our lives.  For some people, retirement means travel, family, and new activities—they do what makes them happy.  What matters most to me?  Family and friends are important to me.  I look forward to traveling to experience new places.  I have hobbies I enjoy.  However, I know that I need more.

My faith dictates how I live.  For my life to have meaning, I need to do my best to bring light, love, and justice into this world.  How can I not?  I got arrested for civil disobedience because I believe discrimination is wrong.  I started a coalition to work on this with like-minded people of faith.  I can’t stop now.  There is more to do.  I want to make a difference in the world around me.  It’s what God calls me to do.

So, what will I do in 2015?  I see the year as an adventure stretching out before me.

Hope through Justice

I am sharing what I wrote for our church's Advent devotion booklet.  Advent is the season that precedes Christmas in the Christian calendar.

On the first Sunday of Advent we light the candle of Hope.  We remember how the Hebrew people awaited the arrival of the Messiah.  They longed and hoped for the anointed one who would bring them to a time of justice and peace.

When Jesus was beginning his ministry, he returned to his hometown of Nazareth.  At the synagogue he stood up and read from Isaiah and afterwards told those present that the scripture had been fulfilled in him.

                “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

                                because he has anointed me

                                to bring good news to the poor.

                He has sent me to proclaim

                                release to the captives

                                and recovery of sight to the blind,

                                to let the oppressed go free,

                to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”    

                                                                (Luke 4:18-19)

Jesus brought hope to those who needed it the most.

Over Labor Day weekend I had the opportunity to attend the very first Western Methodist Justice Movement retreat at Lake Tahoe called “Stepping Out in Faith.”  I met Methodists from all over the West who are passionate about justice.  We had workshops and discussions on indigenous peoples, women’s reproductive rights, ministry to LGBTQ people, global economics, disabilities, cultural approaches to death, racism and heterosexism, mental health, immigration, and more.  How do we as Christians, and specifically United Methodists, respond to these issues?  We discussed ways we can step out in faith to work for justice.

The speakers at the conference were inspiring.  One statement particularly stood out for me.  “Never deprive someone of hope; it might be all they have.”  It reminds me of another quote from Harvey Milk.  “The only thing they have to look forward to is hope.  And you have to give them hope.  Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow. . .  Hope that all will be all right.  Without hope, not only gays, but the blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the us’es, the us’es will give up.”

As followers of Jesus, we spread the word of God’s love for all people.  We can give them the gift of hope by working for justice, following in Jesus’ footsteps.

Holy God, as we begin this season of Advent, we thank you for your gift of your son, Jesus, who brought hope to a hurting world.  Help us to be like him by bringing love and hope to all your people.  Amen.