Mountains and Justice

A couple nights ago we were crossing the Sierra Nevada in California.  The sun was just setting and the songs of Peter, Paul, and Mary burst from our van’s CD player.  The snow-capped mountains were spectacular in the fading light.  My heart was full of gratitude for the Creator’s wondrous gift.  But there was something more.  Those old Peter, Paul, and Mary songs always stir something in me.  They are a call for justice.  I continued to gaze at those beautiful mountains.  God gave us an amazing world which not only includes natural wonders but also an incredible array of creatures that inhabit it.  This includes the very diverse human species.  We are not made to sit still.  We are charged with caring for our planet and all who inhabit it.  We are meant to do good works and this includes working for justice for all God’s people—everyone.  We are to connect with our fellow human being and be love in this world.  We are God’s hands and feet.

Written on 6/2/2014

Finding Balance

I have concluded that it takes constant effort to keep one’s life in balance.  At the beginning of this year, I became an activist of sorts.  While I have felt strongly that I have done the right things, even getting arrested, I now feel it is time to seek some balance.

Perhaps this urge has been spurred on by the arrival of spring in all its beauty.  Nature has a way of sparking creativity.  My first urge is to pull out my camera to capture what I experience.  I have tried drawing and watercolor in the past.  Watercolor can be freeing if you just let the paint flow.

About a year ago I began doing glass fusion at a local studio.  It is fun to put layers of glass together and see what you get when it comes out of the kiln.  I have tried jewelry, plates, bowls, and candleholders.  I love how the glass sparkles as the light passes through the bright colors.  I plan to spend some time at the glass studio soon and see what I can create.

When we spend too much time on one thing, our lives are out of balance.  Too much work, paid or volunteer, is not good for us.  We need time to explore—physically, intellectually, and spiritually.  We were made to be creative, in the image of our creator.  I am seeking to find the right combination for me.

Written on 5/27/2014

A Perfect Spring

I am sitting on the deck outside my bedroom listening to birds chirping and frogs croaking.  It is late afternoon on a beautiful, sunny spring day.  In this area spring weather can be quite unpredictable—very warm one day and a frost the next morning.  This year, once spring had truly sprung, we have had mostly sunny, warm days. 

I have been working hard in my yard, but I have been taking breaks to sit and enjoy the day.  My husband and I have been eating most of our dinners on the patio. While we eat we can hear the songs of robins, red-wing blackbirds, chickadees, and more.  We can watch adult chickadees flying up to the birdhouse above our heads to feed their hungry, chirping babies; their dedication is admirable.  Cattails rustle in the wind and bright yellow irises line the stream that runs through our property.  Large white blossoms cover the black locust trees.  From where we sit we can see many of our roses that have just begun to bloom. 

As the sun begins to set, I will take one last walk through the yard before heading inside.  Perhaps I’ll hear the owl calling again as the night becomes still.

Easter Thoughts

Today is Easter, the most holiest of days in the Christian faith.  It is the day that we believe Jesus rose from the dead.  Lent, the 40 days preceding Easter, is a time of reflection.  The last week, known as Holy Week, can be emotionally intense if one is tuned in to the series of events.  On Palm Sunday, Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey to the cheers of a crowd.  Adding to the drama, Pontius Pilate, a Roman governor, rode into the city through another gate at the same time.  On Maundy Thursday, Jesus ate a Seder meal with his disciples.  Depending on which Gospel you read, he either shared bread and wine with them, the first Communion, or he washed their feet.  That night, betrayed by his disciple, Judas, he was arrested as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Jesus was sentenced to death, tortured, and was nailed to a cross to die the most horrible of deaths.  This is where we are left until Easter morning.  It is a dark time.

I grew up with these stories, but never gave much thought to them.  Now I have questions.  What does this mean to me personally?  How does this affect how I live my life?  After more careful study of the Gospels, I have learned that they don’t agree on details.  We don’t really know what happened or how Jesus was resurrected.  It’s a mystery.  Clearly, whatever the details, something fantastic occurred.

How does this help me today?  The resurrection is a story of love, a story of hope.  Can I look at it with fresh eyes?  To be honest, I needed a little hope this past week.  We all have our dark days and I was there.  I know I can always find people worse off than me, but truly when you step into a dark hole, even for a short time, it blots out all the light.  I was in pain—physical and emotional.  How does the resurrection give me hope?  I do know that God turned a horrible death, Jesus’ death, into something amazing and wonderful.  God took the worst, most evil thing that humans could do and turned it upside down.  How does this help me?

I don’t really think God will rescue me or my loved ones—although that doesn't stop me from wishing it so.  But God does love us.  We are the body of Christ—his hands and feet in this world.  He is our example to follow.  I get so discouraged with what I see around me—hunger, corruption, poverty, greed, injustice, hate, ignorance, intolerance. . . and the list goes on.  It is overwhelming.  It affects us all.  Jesus was a radical who was killed for standing up to authorities.  Do I have even a fraction of his courage to stand up for what is right?  When I am dealing with physical or emotional pain, can I endure it and be able to still live my life as a follower of Jesus?  Can I be useful?

God showed us the power of love in the resurrection of Jesus.  We learned that death is not the end.  Love can conquer all.  Spreading that love is our job.  That’s what the Kingdom of God is all about—here and now. . . but not quite yet.  We get glimpses of what it might be. . . and we can feel it at times.

I know I could spend the rest of my life asking questions but never learn all the answers.  One answer leads to another question.  However, there is one thing of which I am certain, even on my dark days—there exists great love even among all the bad things, love that overwhelms and flows through all.

4/20/2014

My Transformation to Leader and Activist

I was a shy kid.  Throughout my childhood and teen years people who didn't know me referred to me as quiet.  Some people even say that about me now.  It is never a compliment.  When I was young I thought that my shyness meant that I couldn't be a leader.  However, when it became necessary to assume a leadership role in our small high school church youth group, I learned that I could do it.

If my younger self could see me now, she would be amazed.  If somebody told me 40, 30, 20, or even 10 years ago what I’d be doing now, I wouldn't have believed it.  My shyness is mostly gone, although it can rear its head in large groups of strange people.  I have learned that I am truly an extrovert; being with other people energizes me.  I can be talkative at times but I do have the tendency to hang back, especially in groups, and think carefully before I say something.  I have learned that I am able to lead a group to accomplish goals.  I find myself continually stepping outside my comfort zone.  I ask myself how I got into this.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I don’t have experience.  Somehow things work out.

My first memory of stepping up was when I was a teen.  I remember initiating a collection at my church for people in a disaster area.  I don’t remember much but I remember feeling moved by the plight of these people.  Fast forward to 30 years ago when I was a new resident of the state of Idaho.  I became a VISTA volunteer for a project to establish a surplus food warehouse in Idaho because I felt very strongly that I was being called to do it.  I had no experience—just a college degree.  At that time I hated making phone calls.  I remember hovering over my phone with a written script in front of me, gathering my courage to make a cold call to a trucking company to get free transportation for food.  As time went on, I got more comfortable making calls to strangers to request help.  When we held a grand opening for our first warehouse, I not only planned the ceremony that included the governor, but I was interviewed on TV.  This was not the sort of thing this shy person was comfortable doing!

After my experience as a VISTA, I was asked to lead the new missions and outreach team at my church.  I had no experience leading any sort of church team but I said yes.  Just a few weeks before the local CROP Walk, I was asked to jump in and do the arrangements, even though I had never taken part in the walk before.  I used my position as missions and outreach chair to recruit people from my church to participate in the CROP Walk.  I have continued to participate in CROP, one way or another, since that time.

When my older daughter wanted to be a Girl Scout, I became a leader.  And when we lost the leader of our Girl Scout Service Unit, I volunteered to be Service Unit Director.  I had no experience with any of this but I realized that I was needed.

I have held a number of leadership positions in my church.  About 6 years ago I was asked to chair the Discipleship and Evangelism team, now called Welcome, Invitation, and Membership.  I was still trying to figure out, as a team member, what the team was supposed to be doing so I asked a lot of questions.  I thought carefully about this and prayed before saying yes.  When a new pastor came, suddenly my team was in charge of redecorating our narthex.  Are you kidding?  I had zero experience.  It was somewhat controversial (change!) and people didn't hesitate to tell me what they thought.  We hired an interior decorator and did fundraising.  I had never raised that much money for anything before.  I was lucky to have some good people on my team and our project was successful.

The Reconciling Ministries team was formed to oversee our church’s efforts to live into our statement that we welcome everybody—with a special emphasis on LGBT.  This became an independent team a year ago and I am chair.  Once again, I didn't really know what I was doing.  As a team we ended up starting an LGBT support group and participated in the Pride rally, parade, and festival.  I began attending LGBT events and making connections.  While I was in contact with reconciling United Methodists in Oregon, there are no other reconciling congregations in Idaho.  I was a bit jealous of the work the Oregon churches were doing together.  I knew there were other faith communities that welcomed LGBT people because I saw them at the Pride Festival.  As chair of my church’s reconciling team, I reached out to these others and then I expanded the list.  We held our first meeting in November and named ourselves the Interfaith Equality Coalition.  I was amazed at the turnout at the first two meetings.  We have shown up at the Statehouse multiple times in support of LGBT rights.  I think we have made a difference.  What’s next?  We’ll see.  On one hand, I am very excited about this coalition but then I wonder how I got myself into this.  I've never done this before.  How do I lead this?  My pastor assures me that I don’t need her help.  I doubt myself yet I’m excited and ready to move forward.

My contacts with the LGBT community have caused me to participate in a sort of activism that I have never done before.  My passion for justice for LGBT people led me to get arrested for civil disobedience at our Statehouse a month ago.  I have continued to participate in other protests, observation in the gallery, and prayer vigils.

I guess I’m an uncomfortable Christian, a term used at my church.  As a follower of Jesus, I am constantly nudged to go out and do more.  God pushes us out of our comfort zone and encourages us to be love in this world.  The shy little girl is now an older woman who continues to gain courage and step out where there is no assurance of success—just a desire to make the world a bit better.  I can’t wait to see what happens next.

My Arrest for Civil Disobedience

In the darkness of early morning, my friends arrived at my door, one by one.  We piled into our van and my husband drove us downtown; he was “aiding and abetting” one friend said.  Arriving at our destination we climbed out and stood on the sidewalk together, heads bowed in prayer—four nicely dressed women all over the age of 60 preparing to break the law.

Once inside we joined the others.  Most of them were strangers to us.  Names were checked off and black shirts were handed out.  Once we had all arrived we were broken into three groups.  I was separated from my friends and put into one of the smaller groups, probably because the organizer knew my name.  There were others who would not be arrested but had other jobs.

When we were ready we walked outside, bunching up on the sidewalk as we waited.  Having left our coats behind we shivered in the cool damp air, partially from the temperature but also in nervousness.  Given the signal we began to walk toward the Statehouse quietly.  Once we entered we were to act like a college group of staff and students visiting their state capitol.  Quickly, but casually, we climbed the marble staircase to the fourth floor.  Not many people were there yet at that early hour.  Once we all reached the top, we filed past the young security guard at the entrance to the Senate gallery.  However, instead of walking around to the gallery, we turned and quickly made our way down the stairs to the Senate Chambers.  We separated into our groups then pulled on our shirts which said “Add the 4 Words.”  We got into position, blocking the three entrances to the Senate Chambers, our hands over our mouths symbolizing how we had been silenced.  We had no intention of moving.

Why did we do this?  For eight years the Idaho legislature has refused to hear a bill to add the words “sexual orientation” and “gender identity” to the Idaho Human Rights Act.  The Republican leadership won’t even hold a public hearing.  They don’t want to hear how LGBT people have suffered discrimination—fired from jobs, denied housing and public accommodation.  People have been bullied, beat up, and have committed suicide.  Other methods have been tried but nothing has moved them.  A former state senator, and the first openly gay one, decided that it was time to try civil disobedience to get media attention on the issue.  She invited individuals to join her and gradually the word quietly spread.

Why did I do it?  Somebody at church asked me why I am so passionate about this issue when I am not gay myself.  I told her that I believe that everybody should be treated equally and that nobody should be treated badly because of who they are.  God loves all.  I said that as a Christian, a follower of Jesus, I believe I need to stand up for justice.  I learned about this action early in the planning stages and invited others, mostly fellow church members who I thought might be interested.  I had never been arrested before so I had to give careful thought to whether or not I was prepared to do this.

So I stood with eight others, blocking one of the back entrances to the Senate Chambers.  We faced a hallway and the door to the office of the Senate Pro Tem.  People scurried by and tried to ignore us.  They used alternate doors.  Our group had two videographers who almost constantly filmed us to document everything.  At times it got a bit boring.  A secretary attempted to enter the chambers so the gal next to me and I linked arms and stepped together to block her way.  Our leader and a legal observer came by periodically to update us and encourage us.  Members of the media walked by, snapping photos or filming us.  Later, we learned that the larger group that stood in front of the main Senate Chambers entrance had a constant audience of media watching and recording them—a bit more stressful for them.  Through all of this we stood silently with hands over our mouths, sometimes changing hands in unison as one arm tired.  My back began to really hurt after 2 hours so I was given a chair.  Finally, after about 2 ½ hours the Senate Republican leaders had had enough of us.

The Senate Pro Tem, state troopers, and a couple of others walked up to each group and gave us a 5-minute warning.  I didn't look carefully since we were told to avoid eye contact.  We had each undergone a 2-hour training to learn how to behave non-violently.  We were told that we were preventing them from doing the people’s business and we were being irresponsible.  I wanted to yell that they needed to actually do the people’s business and add the words; they were being irresponsible.  But, of course, I remained silent.

We stood in place, hands over our mouths, and we were updated as the largest group was arrested.  One of our videographers then told us to walk through the chamber and stand with our leader at the main door.  Wow, there was a lot of media.  Being short, I ended up in the front row, and was one of the first of this bunch arrested.  A trooper asked if I was willing to leave the premises.  I shook my head no.  He told me I was under arrest.  They walked us, five at a time, through the hall and up the stairs, many eyes and cameras upon us.  Once upstairs we were told to stand against a wall and wait.  Gradually, a few at a time, we were led into a large room where the rest of our group waited.  We were frisked by a female officer and then allowed to sit or stand where we wanted.  We still had our hands over our mouths.

I must state that all of the city police officers and state troopers were very polite and professional.  I have no complaints about them.  Once we were all in the room we were told that we would not be taken to jail.  Instead the state police brought in two laptops and we stood in line to get our citations.  Once that happened we were allowed to leave.  We had been told that we were welcome to return to the building that day if we took off our shirts (or turned them inside out) and didn’t break the law again.

There were 44 of us arrested on a charge of trespassing, a misdemeanor.  Ten lawyers had been recruited to work for us pro bono.  At this point legal discussions continue among the group while prosecutors decide what to do with us.  The maximum penalty is 6 months in jail or a $1,000 fine.  Nobody thinks they’ll give us the maximum but we really don’t know how we’ll be treated.  A fund has been set up to pay our fines.

Am I sorry I did it?  No.  We got national and international media attention which is giving a new focus on Idaho.  Hopefully it is making at least a few legislators squirm.  But I am not naive enough to think that the law will change soon.  Just 2 days after our arrest, a bill that legalizes discrimination based on religious grounds was introduced into a House committee.  Despite the presence of 400-500 people, and overwhelming testimony against it (the only testimony for it was from a married couple with a far right religious organization that is promoting the bill) the committee voted to send it to the House floor for amendment.  Just 2 days ago another group with 65 people walked through the Statehouse in black shirts and hands covering their mouths—no arrests this time.  We will not let them ignore us anymore.  We will not go away.  This is about justice.

Where Is the Path?

I just found this tonight.  I wrote it several years ago during a church women’s retreat.

I am lost

Where is the path?

Darkness envelopes me

All is still

In my confusion

I stop and sit

I listen finally

And hear the shepherd’s voice

His light shines down the path

Lighting my way

True friend of friends

The one who will never leave me

He takes me by the hand

And leads me home

Packing Up Christmas

Epiphany occurred over a week ago; Christmas is over.  I got busy so we were a bit slow taking down the Christmas tree.  A very dry, brittle tree was dragged out the front door yesterday, leaving a trail of needles behind it.  Now I sit on the steps between the dining room and the living room pondering the boxes and Christmas decorations around me.  Large green tubs await the boxes.  Myriads of ornaments sit in small open boxes while other more delicate ones have yet to be wrapped.  Stray ornaments can be found in various odd places, carried there by our young cats.  Snowmen and reindeer rest on my coffee table.  The dining room table in covered.  Where to start?  It is overwhelming.

I hate this job.  Decorating for Christmas is a joy.  Opening up boxes and rediscovering old friends and memories delight me.  The colors and lights brighten the cold, gray winter days.  It is hard to say goodbye to Christmas.  January is so often cold and cheerless.  However, once again I will pack it all away like pieces in a puzzle and then I will face the new year.  It will be up to me to carry the joy and light from Christmas into this year and discover what is possible.

Moments of Joy

From the minute I awake in the morning I am bombarded with news—another school shooting, a local car crash, more dysfunction in government, casualties in Afghanistan, and it goes on.  Through Facebook and phone calls I learn of the struggle of family and friends.  I have my own problems to deal with, too.  All of this can wear me down.

In the midst of the struggles and sadness of everyday life, there are moments of joy that fill and delight me—sunlight shining through the golden leaves, the smile on a stranger’s face, a last perfect flower at the end of the season, a hauntingly beautiful melody, the first snow on bare branches, a hug from a friend.  These are all special gifts that light up an otherwise dark day.  I thank God for these moments.

(This was written for my church's Advent devotional book.)

What Are We Really Waiting For During Advent?

I wrote the following for an Advent devotion booklet for my church.  The Christian season of Advent begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas; this year it began on December 1.  It is a time of waiting and preparation.  

What the heck is Advent?  I don't recall even celebrating Advent as a kid in the Methodist Church.  If you google Advent you get a definition, a bunch of Catholic websites, some fundamentalist websites about the Second Advent (second coming) and not much else.  I guess I don't really understand Advent when I think about it.  I know it is about waiting and that in many traditions it is broken down into weeks of hope, peace, love, and joy.  But. . . what are we really waiting for except Christmas?  Are we supposed to suspend what we know about Jesus/God, pretending he has yet to be born and waiting with hope, etc.?  I mean Jesus was born, died, rose.  We have his teachings and we know God is with us.  The Kingdom of God is here for those who are ready for it.  What are we really waiting for during Advent?

Is Advent about waiting for the Christmas tree or the presents beneath it?  I love spending time with my family and sharing a Christmas dinner but is that what I’m waiting for?  Most of us delight in singing Christmas carols and viewing Christmas lights, but is that it?  Is it the Christmas Eve service that I always attend, no matter where I am?  Are we waiting to hang out with family, read stories and attend Christmas programs together?  Or is it something deeper?  Is it simply a time for quiet reflection?  Are we waiting to receive something new from God, a special gift in our lives?  Can God’s love come to us in a new and different way?  Are we waiting for that?  Are we waiting for some sort of magic?  The key to the Kingdom?  Could Christmas change us in some way?  What are we really waiting for during Advent?

A Reflection on Giving Thanks

On this day of Thanksgiving, I ponder the deeper meaning.  Yes, I know about its history, about the Pilgrims and the Indians.  For the past month I have watched people post what they are thankful for each day on Facebook—laundry lists of blessings.  My pastor has encouraged me to think about this more carefully.  What does it mean to be blessed?  Does it mean that God singles me out, deciding to give me something I need or even something special?  What about the children starving in this world or those who lost their homes in the latest storm?  Does God care about them?

When we say the word “thanksgiving” we think of giving thanks.  Can we take it a step further and consider giving as part of being thankful?  What does that really mean?

God gave us the gift of life, placing us in an amazing and complex world.  We were given other beings, both human and animal, with whom to share this life.  God connects us all through love.  It is up to us to accept this gift, be thankful, and to try to live fully in God’s Kingdom.  Sure there are hard times and tragedies in this life, but there are also wonderful opportunities.  Perhaps if we are truly thankful for our lives, we show appreciation by giving and living in love.

A Day I Can’t Forget

In our pasts there are events so tragic that everyone who lived through them can remember exactly where they were when they heard the news.  These are experiences that tie us together.  November 22, 1963 was such a day for me.  I was sitting in my fifth grade classroom.  There was a knock on the door and our teacher, Mrs. Schneider, went to answer it.  It was another teacher who spoke in hushed tones.  When Mrs. Schneider turned around she was visibly upset and told us that President Kennedy had been shot.  We sat in shocked silence as she walked over and turned on the small black and white T.V. so we could watch the news.

I remember sitting in that classroom with the other kids, staring at that T.V.  The scene is permanently etched in my brain.  We heard the incomprehensible news that the president was dead.  How could such a thing happen?  At home the same scene was repeated.  We sat in front of our black and white T.V staring at the screen.  The same scene was repeated throughout our neighborhood, our city, our state, and the entire country.  Everything ground to a halt.  For 3 days we all sat in front of our T.V.s.  We watched replays of the shooting, the arrest of Lee Harvey Oswald, the shooting of Oswald, the casket lying in state, the funeral procession, little John John saluting his father’s casket as the caisson rolled by, the grave at Arlington Cemetery.  The eternal flame.

My parents were staunch Republicans but that didn’t matter; party didn’t matter.  We all mourned the loss of the young president, our president.  Camelot had ended.  This tragic event forever changed us.  We lost some of our innocence that day.  And perhaps it prepared us for what was to come.

Transgender Day of Remembrance

Bundled against the cold wind

We sat on concrete benches

Watching eighteen yellow balloons

Held in a bronzed Anne Frank’s hand

Speakers told personal stories

And remembered 240 souls

Transgendered persons killed this year

Eighteen of them in the U.S.

People brutally murdered

For being who they truly were

People with lives and loves and dreams

Why?  Why did this happen?

Why can’t we accept differences?

One by one candles were lit

And balloons gently floated upward

Reminding us to never forget 

And to spread love not hate

11/20/2013

Welcome Rain

Rain falls on parched earth

Soil soaks up welcome moisture

Plants reach up in joy

A Change in Seasons

I tend to have conflicting feelings as the seasons change.  I am sorry to say goodbye to the current season (except winter) but I am ready for a change.  This afternoon it was a comfortable 70 degrees with the sun peeping in and out from behind the clouds.  I worked to clean out the dead plants from my vegetable garden.  As I worked, I could see gray clouds moving in.  The air temperature began to drop and the wind picked up.  I hurried to finish what I was doing.  I ran inside for a sweatshirt to cover the T-shirt that I had changed into only a couple hours earlier.  More leaves dropped to the ground, adding to the fading yellow and brown carpet.  Once inside I put on comfortable sweats.  Tonight I am enjoying a pumpkin spice tea and contemplating a dip in the hot tub.  It is time to leave the last vestiges of summer behind and prepare for the long winter ahead.  Now I am pondering holiday plans and projects that had been set aside for gardening.  Change can be a good thing.

10/27/2013

Government Dysfunction

I worry about my country.  I fear for our democracy.  We are nearing 2 weeks of a government shutdown which was initiated by a band of zealots within one party.  They decided to use this ploy to get their way on a law that they couldn’t defeat through any other legal means.  Defund “Obamacare” (the Affordable Care Act) or we will shut down the government!  This is a law passed by Congress and upheld by the Supreme Court.  Despite efforts to drag Obama down using this controversial law, he easily won re-election.  So what did the Republican led House do?  They voted 40 times to defund the Affordable Care Act knowing that it would never get through the Senate.  They did this instead of addressing important issues like the economy and jobs.  It was apparently more important to deny Americans healthcare.  They declared it was necessary to shut down the government to force the president to negotiate.  Some Republicans even stated that they needed to stop this law before citizens got a taste of it—millions began signing up for insurance online October 1, same day as the shutdown.  They were afraid that Americans might like having affordable healthcare!

The longer this shutdown lasts, the more damage is done.  On top of that, Congress must raise the debt ceiling by October 17 or the U.S. faces default on paying our bills.  Some foolish Republicans scoff at the seriousness of this.  However, it seems that economists agree that to not raise our debt ceiling would have serious consequences for our country and possibly the world.

Most Republican lawmakers seem oblivious to the pain that they have caused—or they just don’t care.  Furloughed government employees are scrambling to pay bills without a paycheck and some have been told to cancel doctor appointments because they are not insured.  At least they know they’ll eventually get paid.  Employees working for government contractors are not so lucky.  There will be no paycheck for them until they can actually go back to work.  Until she moved recently, my daughter was one of those people.  Her former coworkers at the Statue of Liberty were sent home and will be out of work until it reopens.  These young people only make $10 per hour, a poverty wage in New York City, so they have no reserves.  All of the businesses who provide services to government employees and to tourists who visit national parks have also been affected.  If there aren’t people to eat at the restaurants, workers are sent home.  The poor have been hit especially hard with services such as WIC and Head Start closed.  And then there are untold other consequences that cannot be reversed—scientific studies stopped, the projects ruined, data lost.  And the list goes on. . .

Perhaps even more distressing is the damage done to our democracy.  Polls show that the approval rate for Congress is at its lowest rate ever.  Trust in government is long gone.  Our representatives have forgotten who they are representing; instead of voting for the interests of the people they are following the almighty dollar and/or extreme ideologies.  The Tea Partiers are so intent on bringing down this black president and his health law that they would destroy this country to do it.  Their tactic is “give us what we want or we will make problems for you.”  This is really a form of extortion.  And they call themselves patriots!  In the meantime the country waits for these lawmakers to grow up, act responsibly, and do their jobs.  

The River

I am sitting above a roaring river.  The morning sun shines brightly, reflecting off the swirling, white foam, reflecting the beauty of God’s world.  Watching the water pour over the glistening rocks and rush downstream gives me a feeling of hope.  Why?  Part of it is just an appreciation of the beauty; in spite of all the ugliness and horrors around us—just read the news—we have this incredible gift.  Perhaps the river can also be a metaphor for life or for our path in life.  As we float down our river we often hurry.  Sometimes we float smoothly over the rocks while other times we hit those rocks or get caught in between them.  But the river keeps flowing and eventually we are on our way again.  We may pass many wonderful sights along our journey but we rush right by.  At times the river slows and spreads out into quieter pools where we may pause a while.  Farther down we may be caught in an eddy which swirls us around, making us dizzy.  We may even get sucked down.  Our ride down the river may end sooner than others’.  Some may make it to the river’s end and some may not.  However, riding the river is an adventure.  I am full of hope at what I might see around each bend.  I bask in the sunshine and enjoy the quiet of the pools.  There is always beauty if I bother to look.  I realize I must open my eyes and enjoy the journey.

Written on 8/15/2013

Out in the Woods

I had been waiting for this all summer and now finally we were packed and in the car, heading out to go camping.  We have had some great trips this summer but camping out in the Idaho mountains is something special.  On top of that, our area is extremely smoky from local fires and there is a yellow air alert.  My eyes, nose, and throat have been irritated and my chest hurt.  One of our favorite camping spots also has poor air quality because of other fires so we made other plans.  While driving north we were elated when we finally saw blue skies.  Gradually my coughing and the pressure on my chest began to ease.

We reached a small, but popular resort town where we stopped for milkshakes before once again heading on our way.  Our destination was a rather remote Forest Service campground where we had camped several times before over 15 years ago.  We drove about 20 miles over a mostly gravel one lane road.

As soon as we left the town behind my spirits began to soar.  Through our open windows we could smell the fresh scent of the pine trees.  We passed a small, shallow lake and a few creeks.  Mountain peaks rose on each side of us.  We saw very few vehicles.  Of course, there was road equipment—you can’t avoid road work during the summer in Idaho—but the workers had gone home so it was quiet.  We felt like we had the woods to ourselves.  When we pulled into the campground, it was empty except for a truck with a tent trailer which had pulled in just ahead of us.  We had our choice of nine campsites—we chose one overlooking the rushing river.

We stuck our fee into the drop box then began to unpack the car.  Up went the tent, the dining canopy (for rain and sun protection over the table), the chairs, and the clothesline for towels.  Dinner was simple—sloppy joes and zucchini.  Unfortunately, dozens of yellow jackets (wasps) decided to join us so we built a fire and ate next to it—they don’t like smoke so it worked quite well.

What would a camping trip be without s’mores?  We roasted our marshmallows over the red coals of our campfire until they turned a golden brown.  We sandwiched them in between graham crackers along with a few pieces of milk chocolate.  As we bit into this popular camp dessert, the soft white center oozed out—oh, so good!

We watched the fire as it slowly burned down.  Stars appeared in the night sky until it seemed like a thousand diamonds sparkled above us.  The only noise was the popping of the fire and the roar of the river.  Quietly, I sang campfire songs that I had learned long ago.  A peace settled over me.

Written on 8/14/2013

Waiting for My Dog to Die

I’ve been through this before.  That doesn’t make it any easier.  A week ago we found out that our dog, Kozmo, is dying.  This was a huge shock because until the previous night he had seemed fine.  Even though he is 13, maybe 14 years old, Kozmo has been a very active dog.  He has had more than half his teeth pulled but other than that he has been quite healthy.  Kozmo is a go-do-it sort of dog, always ready for a walk, a ride in the car, a stroll out to get the mail or paper, or a treat.

We knew something was wrong when we sat down to eat our salmon dinner and he was nowhere to be seen.  He is always there for that.  We called him and he slowly walked in but had no interest in the salmon skin that Bob offered him.  He did eat a small piece of salmon that I gave him.  Kozmo was lethargic the next morning so Bob took him to the vet. 

Kozmo spent the day at the clinic while they ran tests.  Bob called me on my cell with the report.  The news was not good.  Kozmo has a large tumor on his liver.  The vet was offering biopsy, blood transfusion, prednisone, and even euthanasia.  I couldn’t hold back the tears.  Bob and I discussed options but I had questions.  We decided to pick up our dog at the end of the day and asked to speak to the vet.

The vet did an ultrasound so we could see the massive tumor—it is all through his liver and pushing on his lungs and intestines.  There is nothing the vet can do.  It appears that the tumor is bleeding which would explain his sudden downhill turn.  A blood transfusion would give him maybe an extra week.  Sometimes prednisone helps.  The vet suggested euthanasia.  I told him I just needed to take him home and love him for now.  The vet said they’d come to our home to euthanize him if needed—he left the catheter in.  Kozmo got a shot of steroids and we came home with 2 weeks of prednisone, which the vet didn’t think we’d need.  We rode home with my sweet boy on my lap.

It was hard to give my girls the sad news—this is their dog, too.  Like me, they cried.  And they live far away and will not be able to see him.

Kozmo was not terribly interested in his dry food but ate a little when we took it out of his bowl and handed it to him.  However, when Bob went into the kitchen, he ran right in along with our other dog.  Bob in the kitchen has always been a cause for excitement in our house—our dogs know something will be tossed their way.  I marveled at how normal Kozmo seemed at that moment, waiting for his treat and jumping to catch it.

I bought some canned food with meat chunks and gravy.  Kozmo gobbled it down.  He also drank a lot of water.  Prednisone increases thirst and appetite.  In between bursts of activity, he lies on his side quietly.  Since the vet indicated that he might not even make it through the first night, I have a tendency to check if he is still breathing.  A few nights ago, I barbequed chicken.  As Bob and I sat down for dinner on the patio, Kozmo and Piper were both there waiting for a taste of chicken.  The dog that was so still earlier was alert and waiting excitedly.  He even jumped when Bob tossed him the chicken.  Later, he was conked out on the floor.  What a roller coaster ride this is.  I have savored the moments of normalcy and even photographed them.

Kozmo has become noticeably weaker in the last two days.  This morning he was reluctant to get out of his bed.  However, when Bob grabbed the other dog’s leash, Kozmo got up and followed him.  It was obvious that he wouldn’t be going out to get the paper with Bob, something he’s been doing every morning.  He wasn’t interested in eating breakfast.  However, when he heard Piper out in the other room, barking in excitement about going for a walk, I had to stop him from heading out there too.  It broke my heart—he was so sad.

Later, when Kozmo heard me say I was going out (a magic word), he stood up and looked at me.  I brought him out in the front yard with me while I weeded and trimmed.  When Bob came out he followed him around a bit before lying down.  When I went back inside for lunch, Kozmo was spread out on the carpet.  When I pulled out the lunchmeat, both dogs immediately showed up.  I looked down at Kozmo’s big brown eyes and I had to give him some of my lunch.  Right now I would give him anything.  Later, when he is once again lying on his side, I will go over and pet him, telling him he’s a good boy.  Once again tears will stream down my face.

The vet called to check on Kozmo and told me to call if I needed his help.  Thanks, I said.  But hopefully I won’t need to call him.  Kozmo does not seem to be in pain.  He is trying to be normal and is puzzled and sad that he can’t do his favorite things.  Death is a part of life—it is painful.  We will give our love to Kozmo until he is gone.  It is difficult to watch a family member fade away—human or animal.  Pets become an integral part of our lives.  While I try to prepare myself for Kozmo’s departure from our lives, I’m struggling.  I am torn by conflicting feelings—I don’t want to lose him, but watching and waiting for him to die is so hard that I just want it to be over.  I don’t think we have much longer to wait.

8/6/2013

People We Met in Matzatlan

As we return home and I reflect on our week in Matzatlan, I think about the people.  Since we were there during the height of the Mexican tourist season, we were surrounded by Mexicans and the Spanish language.  There were lots of families at the resort, large families, all having a good time.  People were friendly and usually greeted us with an “hola” or “buenas dias” as they passed by.  I remember two boys, a teenager and a younger boy, who greeted me in English as they passed by on the back of a golf cart.  I could tell they were trying their English on me—they seemed quite pleased with themselves.

Since the Mexican families were busy with each other, we did not get the opportunity to visit with any of them.  Our encounters were with the people who served us.  The first person we got to know was Enrique, poolside waiter.  His English was excellent, and he was quite friendly.  He gave us great service—it probably didn’t hurt that Bob gave him a really good tip the first day (a pesos/dollar confusion).  We learned that he was from the area so we asked him how things had changed.  He acknowledged that the drugs and gangs are a problem but claimed that he wasn’t afraid to go out.  However, he did comment that there are elements/people that are such an integral part of the foundation of society that you don’t miss them until they’re gone.  Enrique is a family man with a wife and two daughters, ages 5 and 13 (going on 18).  On his day off his wife had a “to do” list for him.  He told me that it was a good day—he completed the list.  “Happy wife, happy life” he said.

We showed up for a Spanish class one day.  However, even though it was on the resort activities list, no teacher was there.  A cute girl named Marifer, age 17 going on 18, ended up teaching us—her first class.  During the class we asked her about herself.  She learned English at age 4 from her father who lived in London and has returned there.  (Her parents are divorced.)  Her family is from Veracruz but they moved to Matzatlan so they could care for her grandfather.  Her mother stays home with him and her 10-year-old brother so Marifer is the sole support of her family.  She is very proud of this.  She goes to high school at night and will be finished soon.  She is using a couple online courses to learn Japanese and French.  We were impressed with this bright, personable girl.  Our friend, Don, commented that she will go far.

One morning Bob and I went for an early morning walk around the resort.  We ended up sitting on a couple lounge chairs on the beach.  One of the workers, a man named Ariel, walked up and started a conversation, first in Spanish then in English.  His English was flawless—we learned that he traveled in California quite a bit when he worked for a travel agency.  He told us he was from the Yucatan and to look at his nose—Mayan—the ugliest people in the world, he laughed.  Ariel is 71 years old with an 8^th grade education but it was obvious that he’s an intelligent man.  He grew up as one of five children and he knows what it is to be poor and to work hard.  He was extremely critical of the Catholic Church and blamed it for many of the problems in his country.  Ariel said people had too many children—more than they can provide for.  Some workers at the resort only make ten dollars a day but have five children.  “How can they provide well for that many children?”, he asked.  Ariel stressed the importance of a good education.  He only had one son and made sure that he went to a top school.  Unfortunately this son no longer talks to Ariel because he divorced his mother.  The wife became very religious and it was not the life he wanted so he divorced her.  He gave her the house and everything so now he has nothing and works for a living.  I didn’t get the impression that he regretted his decision.

Every morning a maid named Rocio came into our suite to make our bed and clean up after us.  She also made delightful shapes with the towels.  Sometimes we were gone, and a couple times we were out on the deck and tried to stay out of her way.  However, one day Bob returned to our room and she was there.  He struck up a conversation.  He told her we’re from Idaho and she mentioned California.  It turns out that she lived in Palo Alto for a while.  Bob told her that he had lived there too.  What a small world.

We had other shorter encounters with people who we enjoyed—there was the cab driver who took us to old Matzatlan and the waiter at Pancho’s who gave us a great show making flaming Mexican coffee.  I look forward to returning to Mexico and meeting more of its interesting people.

Written on 7/27/2013