Ordinary

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.”

Obviously, chaos is the order of the day…an ordinary occurrence. Regardless of the era, what is has been and will be again…and again…and again.

So it is that I find myself in ordinary circumstance. To many it may seem extraordinary, but to the majority, I believe it is too terribly ordinary.

From my perspective, it appears that greed, hunger, fear, and uncertainty are far more ordinary than their opposites for even in opulence, there can be these things. All of these cross economic lines, racial boundaries, ethnicities. There is always one whose greed is his/her god. There is hunger regardless if it is a hunger born of the physical need for food or for the psychological need of love and acceptance. Fear motivates us to act in far too familiar ways, often creating greed, always perpetuated by an uncertainty of steadfastedness.

I would guess that if people were asked for one desire to be granted, that regardless of what that wish was – wealth, peace, happiness – the one thing that they seek is happiness.

Perhaps it is our culture that equates happiness with wealth. Yet we know for so many stories, fiction and non-fiction alike, money does not ensure happiness. Nor does it alleviate stress. Yet, while it does not guarantee a healthy diet, money, at least, allows one the choice of a healthy food source.

So, while money does not make people happy, it does, in several senses, allow a person more choices that might create positive factors that can increase happiness. Therefore, it seems to me that money can indeed by some things that help ease stress and dis-ease.

Look at the rate of heart disease, the number one killer in the United States. Mississippi is the number one poorest state in the Union. It also ranks as number one in the number of deaths due to heart disease – 244.1 out of 100,000 people – according to the CDC. Heart disease can be attributed to a diet high in fats, low in nutrients which can result in obesity, diabetes, physical inactivity, and excessive alcohol use – all conditions that can lead to heart disease.

It is a fact: organic foods, fresh vegetables, seafood are more expensive. A diet high in fresh fruits and vegetable, whole grains grown without of pesticides and nutrient-depleted soils, and omega rich seafood are shown to be healthier.

It is also a fact that money will buy insurance and easier accessibility to healthcare which in turn includes preventative measures that help keep a person healthy because concerns are addressed prior to becoming complex or lethal.

These facts are compounded by these:

44 million in this country have no health insurance while 38 million are under insured.

According to the National Poverty center, in 2010, 22% of all children under the age of 18 live in poverty. Within that 22%, 38% of those children are Black while 35% are Hispanic. Whites and Asians split the remainder almost equally.

The quandary for me is this: Why does greed drive a person to such an “all or none” type of ideology? Why must one person’s wealth demand that others are impoverished? Perhaps it is simply the number of people in need that scares those with wealth. 44 million is a very large number. Even if all of those people were only given $1, that would be an extreme total. Not that the dollars would come out of any one person’s pocketbook…still, the amount staggers the imagination.

We live in a time of vicious regulations. The laws of the land, rather than being legislated to protect the people, are set up to protect those whose wealth can be perceived to increase the well being of the estate itself, in this case, Corporate America. But that is not representative of the historical greatness of the American Dream.

The “Dream” was always based upon the idea that one could begin as an immigrant with nothing and rise up to great wealth and power. That “Dream” was played out throughout the history of the United States…until recent eras.

Yet, the historical idea of “immigrant” was of a Caucasian nature. The immigrants, for the most part, were white men, immigrant in that they were born in another country or perhaps were sons of immigrants. Those who “pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps” were the same – white men. They certainly were not Black men or Hispanic men…or women of any color.

However, those most in need of a break are those very men and women…and children…especially the children. If our hearts can be touched and our pocketbooks opened up to help those little foreign children on “$1 per day” why in the world can we not do at least the same for children in our own nation? Does the threat of death have to be eminent for our hearts to be moved to action?

I have far more questions than I do answers but I do believe a few things. I believe that fear is the god that too many worship. Fear makes us live out of our scarcity. We live in fear of losing what we have, whether that is a lot or a little. Fear makes us greedy. Fear demands that we think of self before thinking of others.

Fear demands that God be nothing to us.

There are so many discussions as to why the church is declining. We preach that we are to love God and love our neighbor but we elect people who do not care about neighbors…and give only lip-service to a belief in God. We bring people into government who talk a lot but whose past records do not show proof of their good will toward others. We elect people who accept huge amounts of money from corporate sponsors and from lobbyists. Their allegiance is owed to those donors. God has nothing to do with it.

Those laws could help that very large population of people living on the edge of uncertainty. But I go further and say, if we began to legislate so that we intentionally help those who are living in or near poverty, those who have no healthcare, the ones who are in need of a “hand up”, our children, our elders, lower income, we would begin to help all of our people living in fear.

If there was less need, there might be less greed.

Ordinary could become extraordinary. 


http://www.pbs.org/healthcarecrisis/uninsured.html
http://www.cdc.gov/dhdsp/maps/national_maps/hd_all.htm

The Road Goes On Forever..a day trip to Arcadia Valley

Putting It All Out There

I have walked the gossamer line of life these past months. Uncertainty haunts my every move. Those moments of feeling compelled to follow a way I believed to be of God vanished, evaporated in the unseen vapors of anxiety and human will.

Losing my mother to Leukemia rocked the boat of my experience to such a degree as to unsettle the balance of my life. My dad’s health issues and subsequent stay in a skilled nursing care last December accented the arrogance of my nonchalant living.

Add to this the loss of our beloved Jak, our 10 year old Newfoundland dog, our buddy, our dear friend, our protector and companion. I do believe that one reason my mom did not worry so much about us living in our neighborhood was because she knew Jak would protect us with his life…and scare the bejeezus out of any who threatened us.

Being fired, good thing as it might have been, threw open the doors of economic surety – we were not merely insecure, we were in trouble. Then, Debbie and Kyleigh were in a wreck that totaled our little Scion xB, a car we really loved. Thank God, they were both ok. However, the loss of that little car was emotionally and financially taxing. We could not afford to replace it with anything that got such good fuel mileage. Regardless, the idea that these two could have been severely injured or dead was a lesson in here today, gone tomorrow.

The timely (or some might say untimely) death of my 100 year old grandmother followed in the next month by the deaths of my beloved aunt (my mom’s sister) and her husband (on the day of her funeral), while natural to an extent, still served to expand my understanding that this life is fleeting.

My dad’s most recent health issue brought on by a fall, small brain bleed, and ongoing recovery in addition to what could have been a catastrophic event involving my sister, adds yet one more layer to the already heavy load. A driver running a red light slammed into my sister as she was returning my dad’s vehicle after having taken him to the VA for a regular appointment. The fact that she was not killed or seriously injured; that it happened after she dropped my dad off; and that my grand-niece was not in the car with her are huge opportunities for thanksgiving. Yet, in all of this, the wreck, the possibility of her, as my dad’s primary care giver, being seriously injured or killed, pointed to the fact that this could have been a life changing event for her, for my daddy, and for me and my immediate family.

The fact that I turned 60 this year simply complicates my own sense of worth, ridiculous as that may sound. While 60 is not old if one is fairly secure, psychologically, spiritually, and economically, it feels very old when all of these are compromised. I see the effects of poverty and anxiety on the faces and in the bodies of those who are clients of the food pantry where I work. I do not know the spiritual aspects of their hearts but I do know that each has a tale to tell and that most are full of sorrow. The effects are devastating in people younger than I but who look a decade older. It is all simply compounded by age.

I fully realize that part of the emotional toll is that which is brought on by having an additional two kids in the house. They are here for a year. Hopefully, their parents will be able to get their own lives in order so that the kids can return home. Moving from grandparent to parent role is never an easy one. It is also what throws us into the real definition of living below the poverty line…as opposed to right above it.

The emotional and economical nature of my psyche have been compromised by all aspects mentioned while the spiritual has been so by the very nature of spirituality itself – seeking the will of God while living in a world that demands immediate attention to the secular. It is one thing to take on Holy Poverty; it is another to take it on while juggling family responsibilities and economic uncertainty. Whereas my past conviction has been that God will provide for all of our needs, and while I strongly continue to believe that, the simple struggle of making ends meet, of having to constantly be aware of each penny spent, of every dime wasted, erodes a certain ability to set my trust fully on God’s provisions.

Basically, this is not a lining up of things for which I can lay cause of despair; rather, it is simply to put into words those struggles in which I find myself immersed.  More intently, it creates within me the questioning of my struggle to follow God’s will for me.

Did I fall off the path? Take a wrong turn? Is there a cause and effect in all of these recent happenings? Or is it just a part of that well known aphorism, “Shit happens.”?

Having been indoctrinated by a ‘bad things happen to bad people’ theology, regardless of how little I believe that, in spite of the fact that I do not believe that, still…that little worm wiggles its way into my mind, questioning my worth, my desires, my steps. Evil or reality?

I feel a clearly defined cynicism for the church. For the first time ever, I hold a kinship with the idea of Spiritual but not Religious.

I have always thought that working within the structure was vital. However, I am beginning to question that. What I have found, what I feel, is that where two or more men are gathered, the work of the Spirit is lessened. Is it God’s will that I continue butting my head into this human wall?

I remember my Ethics professor turning her steely glare upon one white woman who had the audacity to declare, “but I am so tired of trying”. The prof’s answer to that statement? “How nice for you that you have the luxury and privilege of being tired and giving up.” That sardonic statement has sustained me through this past decade. But I swear I am at the point of wanting to care not so much, of wanting to just escape into a mindless solitude that is without nuclear weapons, extreme and not so extreme but just as deadly poverty, from hunger and fear, injustice and oppression.

But, I do not have that luxury. My Holy Poverty and now Involuntary Poverty have intertwined. My full dependence upon God has been compromised by a radical dependence upon a broken social system and need to accept help from those who seem to hold a good deal of contempt for those in need. I have lost a great deal of autonomy. This, in and of itself, might not be a bad thing in that it has allowed me to view my own arrogance and self righteousness. It has allowed me to see power in its most vile form – a power in charge of the welfare of its most vulnerable citizens yet without a care for the welfare of those disenfranchised.

It has also allowed me to see more clearly how side issues misdirect us. We have spent years arguing, pushing and promoting the idea that all are welcomed and trying to make those who make that declaration actually live into its fullness. Yet, with our blind eye, we only give an academic nod to the reality of poverty and its effects on a nation at large.

Still, be that as it may be, for whatever good, there is a great loss of self-esteem…or even of worthiness. Yet it is not a sense of being unworthy to God – just basically useless, not being allowed to work in a capacity to which I am able in the society I live.

Suffice it to say, I am in the process of questioning all I have done, all that I have left undone, and all that is still required to be done. At this time, without a doubt, I live deep within that doubt. 

Two Things That Just Do Not Make Sense…TO ME

I don’t have the statistics in front of me, but from what I recall, most firearm deaths of children happen in homes where firearms are owned or kept. Of course, I could be wrong, but I don’t recall having ever heard of a child shooting another child in a home where one child had to transport the weapon from one place to another to accidentally shoot the other child. But as I said, I could be wrong.

Is it a case of the shooting happening so far away from a gun owner’s reality that it just doesn’t seem capable of happening to that gun owner? What I mean, is a gun owner so arrogant (or naïve) as to think that would never happen in her or his own home? I know I have read numerous times the statements from parents who declared that they taught their children from an early age how to handle a weapon.  So, I suppose that means everyone is safe and no more children will be killed by other children. Dilemma solved. Not.

For what it is worth, I was taught as a young teen how to handle a weapon and how to shoot. I grew up in a household of ranchers and hunters. I don’t live on a ranch anymore. Humans never were the target of the hunt in my family.

It just doesn’t make sense that we are willing to risk one child’s life so that anyone who wants one can purchase a handgun or automatic rifle. Is it so inconceivable to think that one child’s life might be one we know and love?

Nuclear power plants are a mystery to me – not how they work but why we are willing to risk hundreds of thousands of lives, not just in the immediate but in the future. At this time, I am 84 miles from the nearest reactor in Missouri. That is not in the 50 mile radius evacuation zone but it is just west of St. Louis. Considering that the winds and weather come from the southwest a portion of the year, it is easily conceivable that I and people I know and love would be personally affected by fallout should there be a nuclear crisis. My parents’ home is 11 miles from the Comanche Peak Nuclear Power Plant in Glen Rose, Texas. That means my dad, sister, and nieces would be immediately and adversely affected.

In light of the nuclear crises in the past – Three Mile Island, Chernobyl to name two – how can we white-wash the damage done? Nuclear reactors are environmental catastrophes waiting to happen – Fukushima is an ongoing frightening example of that.  We have been told a little bit about that current environmental calamity. Why in the world are we not paying attention to the news of the unstoppable leak? Are we so naïve as to think that if we ignore it, the problem will go away? Do we not realize that the ocean currents into which the radioactive streams are flowing will directly affect Hawaii? The West Coast?

This is not something that will affect a way in the future unknown generation. This is something that has the potential to affect people we know, people which whom we have relations. It has the potential to be as devastating if not more so than any terroristic threat we have experienced as a nation.

I know that there is the thought process that the nuclear plants already exist and that to shut them down at this point would be problematic; therefore, to continue these is better than to not. But to contemplate more? Or to allow old and aging plants to continue without immediate upgrades for environmental protection?

Are we so naïve as to think that the word “environment” only has to do with a few unknown plants or animals in a far away land? It means US – humans – and all the things that are necessary to sustain life as we know it – air to breathe, water to drink, food to eat.

It just does not make sense to me that some people in the decision making world would be willing to treat the lives of millions as though it was a game of Craps. They are rolling snake eyes and our lives are the stakes.

But the joke is on them – They, too, are human. The problem is the joke is not funny. We are all in danger. The difference is that they – the politician, the law maker, the rule maker/breaker – They are the guilty ones and the blood of all who have died and will die, those who have suffered and will suffer  is and will be forever on their hands. Any who have assuaged the mind of self or of others with the fallacy that nuclear powered plants are safe are just as culpable as those who made the decisions to allow these.

Riddle me this, Batman…if nuclear power plants and weapons are ok for the exalted United States to have, why do we work so diligently to keep these out of the hands of others? Why do we demand that others rid themselves of nuclear capabilities all the while we continue to use and build up these?

Regardless of the issue, the right to have handguns and automatic rifles or nuclear power plants and weapons, the takeaway for me is this – the lives of others are not important. All that matters is an ideology and for that belief people are willing to actively kill or allow the killing of others who are basically innocent.

Did you know the gun laws in Missouri? 

No permit required, no registration required, no license required, no carry permits needed, yes open carry is permitted, no purchase wait time, and no assault weapons ban.

In Texas? 

No permit required, no registration required, no license required, yes carry permits, yes open carry is permitted, no purchase wait time, and no assault weapons ban.

How close are you to a nuclear power plant? http://money.cnn.com/news/specials/nuclear_power_plants_locations/

Are you aware of what is going on in Japan? 

http://www.livescience.com/38844-fukushima-radioactive-water-leaks.html

Rule or Be Ruled?

http://www.kansascity.com/2013/06/01/4268348/new-laws-in-kansas-and-missouri.html

“The balance of power between businesses and their workers shifted in Kansas and Missouri this year — in favor of the boss.”

Unemployment Insurance is a new experience for me. This is the first time I have had to apply for it. It is a strange new land to journey within and one for which I am both grateful yet wish was not necessary.

Although it seems to tie me to a boss with whom I do not wish to be associated, still, I am grateful for the laws in place that protect an employee from the whims of such a boss.

That is what is frightening about this article; it allows whims to be acted upon legally. While I am one of those who believe that arriving at work at the designated time is important, anyone can be late occasionally. Chronic tardiness is a different thing.

But I don’t think we are talking about chronic anything here, except perhaps chronic greed. I think that the whole gist of the new regulation is pettiness. In a state that is supposedly an “at-will employment” state, what is the need for such pettiness?

One can be fired for no reason – at will – at the will of the employer – just because, on any given day, at any given time. Regardless, if the fire is not for misconduct, then the disengaged employee can receive unemployment benefits.

This is good for a minimum of two reasons.

1)      It helps keep employers accountable.

2)     It helps fired employees stay in their apartments/homes.

Homelessness is never ever good for the economy. I know for sure that without my unemployment insurance, my household could have been in a very serious and dire circumstance. As it was, with the UI, it was merely serious.

By the way, for what it is worth, speaking to the issue of accountability, my past employer appealed my benefits. The appeal was lost. That employer was unable to prove that I had violated any organizational rule therefore it appeared that I was fired because I made too much. This was substantiated by the fact that she actually said that I was one of the highest paid employees and that this was a problem. While that is a fully acceptable reason for her ridding herself of me, it is not a good enough reason (at this time) to deny responsibility for unemployment benefits.

So, at this moment, I am very grateful for whatever laws are in place that allow me to receive this benefit.

However, it is likely that these benefits will change. Never having had a need for unemployment insurance before, I am not quite sure how the next step goes.

So, the second scary threat of this article is that unemployment helps people maintain a certain place within the economy as opposed to at the mercy of the economy. 

I only can speak from my own particular place in this situation. I have accepted a temporary part time job which I like a lot. At this moment, it is for two months. I am happy to be doing this particular new job in that it is what I love doing – on the ground floor of ministry. Yet it is at a good bit less than past employment and less than my benefits received from UI. In that I have quite a few weeks left on the benefits, I am hopeful that UI will pay the difference between what I was receiving and what I now receive from the new temporary position. Then, when I am able, I will have another more permanent position (with “permanent” being a relative term).

But at the moment, I am considered under-employed. I am not alone. In fact, under-employment is one of the reasons unemployment figures are lower. More people are working but out of those people, more of them are employed in a much lower paying job with fewer, if any, benefits. Lower hours equal no overtime, no health benefits, no pension/retirement plans.

I get the idea that the world has changed. Corporations no longer care about loyalty or taking care of the employees that make them what they are. Employees are now considered disposable, replaceable. It is all about the bottom line – the profit margin. Employees are considered an expense and therefore, the fewer employees, the less time spent on the job, the less amount of money lost.

I understand that it is what it is. What I don’t understand is that the corporations don’t see the harm to themselves that can be done by eliminating that middle class and increasing the numbers that live in poverty.  I suppose I am not at all surprised that the states – the Red States with the ideas that there are some deserving while the majority are undeserving – are finding yet more ways to lessen the expenses of businesses with no regard for the actual damage done overall.

We talk in quantitative terms of majority and minority with our historical background based in the ideal of “majority rules.” If it is now true that we are “ruled” by a minority of 1%, just how long must the majority have slept to allow us to get into the state in which we now find ourselves? I am fairly certain that very few of the people holding elective office right now are working for me. I can see the good that some have done and I applaud that but seriously…how inept must a group of people be to be so ineffectual in speaking for the majority of the population? How the hell did we wind up like this?

And yes, that is a rhetorical question. I know that indeed the majority has been unmotivated to act if not actually asleep or unaware. And yes, I know that often, life its ownself wraps us up in a time warp that carries us into the future with little understanding how time passed so quickly. I also understand that we are inundated with “causes” – so many as to almost make us immune to the compassion needed to rile us up.

Or we get caught up in causes of the day – a badly mutilated innocent animal, abused and tortured – or the rape of women in the military – or five hundred other equally reprehensive acts of violence perpetuated upon an innocent populace. We look and react at the individual act without understanding that these are all effects of a much larger cause. Just as victims of war or those living and participating in violent cultures become immune to the daily acts, so we too – just likes kids watching too much violence in games and cartoons – become numb to the damage.

What can we do? What can be done? There is so much – so much damage, so much pain, so much violence? How can we change anything? These are questions that we ask ourselves – often to no avail.

That seems to be the point. We are paralyzed by what we know and the magnitude of the damage done. It is like looking into a basement into which years of discarded items have been thrown. Where to start? How to begin to rid the basement of the clutter?

It is difficult to begin. Yet the only way is to start at the doorway and work our way into the crap and clutter, discarding the majority of it…looking with nostalgia at a few things maybe yet knowing that the item has been there for who knows how long without having been missed. One piece at a time; one box of trash after another; tossed into the dumpster.

That is basically where we are at this time politically. We start at the place where we are – ward, city, county, state, national. Clear out, clean out the rubbish, keep those things really needed but put aside nostalgia for a time past. It is gone. We are in a new time and we have been sequestered, cast aside, deemed less than worthy. It is time to reclaim our rightful place as the majority. It is time to reclaim our voices and to proclaim loudly and clearly – corporate rule is over.

We cannot continue to support people that consider the majority as being unworthy of respect. Justice belongs to all – not just a few special people.

We have to look at the broader picture – what allows such injustices to affect such a large group of people? What causes the perversions, the prosecution, the anger and disorder?

No one wants to call it like it is but what we are looking at is the establishment of a caste system – a class order in a society that used to (erroneously but perhaps nobly) proclaim itself class-less.  To overcome a problem, we have to first see it for what it is.  There are those who would rule and there are those who would be ruled.

I don't know about the rest, but as for me, I am damn tired of being ruled...or of people thinking that I should be ruled.

Evensong, July 21, 2013

Psalm 103; 1 Samuel 23: 7-18; Romans 11:33-12:2

I have not felt transformed or renewed in the past little while. In fact, lately, I have felt as though the world has turned against me, sort of like David must have felt with Saul trying to kill him.

I am waiting for my Jonathan to stand with me against those who want to see me dead…or at least broken down.

I am waiting for God to strengthen my hand so that these worries might be done.

The past four years have offered one disappointment after another – often these feel more like failures.

Early on, my messed up discernment process – the subsequent fool I felt I made of myself before the Commission on Ministry...

Over the past year, having my duties at work stripped away from me one by one by a new boss, to the point of knowing that any day I might be eliminated from my position…and then… having it happen…I was fired...

Having my name besmirched by that narcissistic boss – my reputation sullied in an attempt to appeal unemployment benefits… accusations known to be untrue hurled out into the world for the sheer thrill of causing damage….

Seeking help through the Department of Social Service, having a caseworker send help through the mail … to the wrong address. …then, after I checked on it, be told I make too much from the unemployment (that finally kicked in) (that may be near to history) to receive help…

These days I am afraid to look up for the fear that yet one more crazy thing will be tossed at me.

If it is not an “enemy” out to get me, then it is at minimum the reality of living into a failing culture. 

Once upon a time, I was accused of “creating furor” and that might have been true but it was never vindictive, nor mean-hearted and never ever an attempt to do harm. In fact, I spoke truth to the power and it caused grief to that power.

Over the past four years, I have learned what it is to be powerless…to be at the mercy of not only those who would do me harm but of being an invisible player in a social welfare system. Even in the church, it feels as though I have mattered little.

I can assure you I have beat my chest and cried aloud in pain and anguish to God – WHY ME????What have I done to deserve this?

And Why me indeed? A better question would be Why not me? Why another?

Paul tells us:

DO NOT BE CONFORMED TO THIS WORLD. Be transformed by the renewing of our minds that we may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Is it the will of God that I go through this trial with a vindictive past employer?

No.

Is it the will of God that the caseworker from the Department of Social Services screws up when we need her to help?

No.

Be not conformed to the small minded pettiness or human error of this world.

It is not God’s will that meanness happens, nor human error…Life just happens.

I do believe it is God’s will that I understand the problems that plague people everyday…the situations beyond their control that beat them down, wear them out and run them over. I am one of hundreds of thousands and out of those numbers, I am one of the lucky ones. I have my community, my family, -- each one of you -- to bear my burdens with me, to walk this journey with me. 

I lost my job because I was naïve to the mean nature of some people. I innocently thought that truth could and would overcome evil. 

And I still believe that God’s abiding love will prevail. eventually

The only way it fails to do so is when I allow myself to be conformed by those things in the world that do harm.

I appeal to you, my brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present your lives as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God.

Do not be conformed by the meanness in this world, by the petty nature of people who seek to do us harm. Do not repay hurt with hurt, hate with hate.

Do not be conformed by the inept functioning of a social system which has far too many desperate people that need help and far too few dedicated people to help. We cannot be angry at effects…we have to change the cause…

Be transformed by the renewing of your mind – by the steadfast love of God for each one of us – that love that gets us through each trial, each tribulation, each day.

Know that what we seek is good and acceptable and perfect when we seek that love.

It is there in that renewing that we make our covenant with God, just as did Jonathan and David. In that covenant, our bonds are strengthened.

It is in that renewing that we know we are living contrary to a good portion of the world and that it is going to be very difficult on many days.

But in that knowledge we also have one precious understanding – God is with us always as we live this journey together. 

We are Bidden

It never occurred to me that George Zimmerman would be acquitted…totally exonerated…free to walk away as though Trayvon Martin never existed. It should have occurred to me, but it didn’t.

Like many, I grew tired of the constant news coverage of the Zimmerman trial. As a result, I feel as though I feel asleep during the most important part of a movie.

With the verdict, I awoke – as obviously many did – with an exclamation of What the Hell???? 

Why would it have not occurred to me? Just because all the markers that indicated that George Zimmerman profiled Trayvon Martin, stalked him, confronted him and subsequently killed him were in place, the times we live in at this moment should have sent out all sorts of warnings that Zimmerman might get off.

The blatant racist remarks made over the past 5 years about the President of the United States, the growing war that seems to be in the midst of destroying the middle class and all that it was and could be, the violent rhetoric spewing at an unprecedented rate against women by Texas and other state legislatures, the absolute hate and virulent actions against all things outside of a very narrow ideology, the sinful amount of corporate and private money being poured into the promotion of that excessively narrow mindset…all of these things point to a nation turned upside down both morally and ethically.

I am not sure why the State of Florida prosecutor did not use the Stand Your Ground idea with the thought that Martin attacked Zimmerman simply because Zimmerman confronted and scared him. Certainly, Martin had as much right to confront his stalker as did the husband who awoke to find his wife in a less than platonic position with a male neighbor on the living room couch. I am also not certain why Martin appeared to be on trial even though as the victim of this shooting, he is dead.

The only things that Martin might be accused of were being a black teenager, wearing a hoodie, and not answering Zimmerman’s questions the way Zimmerman wanted him to answer. Not good reasons for receiving the death penalty, at least not in the “normal” sense. But these times are far from “normal”.

If every teen who ever sassed a wannabe adult got the death penalty for intended or perceived disrespect, there would be very few teens left in the world…at least not in the less-than-United States.

I can’t even begin to get into the insanity of the Stand Your Ground defense…nor of Florida being one of the 22 Kill at Will states.  https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=476611935762054&set=a.330756843680898.74066.328133157276600&type=1&theater

I cannot begin to describe my sense of amazement or rather, dumbfoundedness at the devil that lives within the minds of those who conceived the law that allows one person to kill another … legally…as long as it is not a fetus, of course.

I am sure I am not alone in my bewilderment, frustration, and sense of despair. Yet, today,  deep within that state of mind that make me want to fall on my knees – not in wonder but in anguish – and lament My God, My God…came a post on Facebook from Brian D. McLaren,” author, speaker, pastor, and networker among innovative Christian leaders, thinkers, and activists.”

What we call the secular is actually the realm or domain of the Spirit. The secular - literally meaning the world, the realm outside of church control - isn’t profane. Rather, properly understood, it is sacred because the Spirit is and has always been active there, evoking light from darkness, order from chaos, fulness from void, life from lifelessness, actuality from potentiality, and potentiality from actuality. - From Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? (p. 151) (sic)
Learn more here:<a href=”http://bit.ly/R8fzUI”>http://bit.ly/R8fzUI</a>

In that post, I was brought back into the hope that is the Holy Spirit, into that sacred, crazy, chaotic space where She lives and moves and God breathes. Into that sacred terrifying space we are invited to not just exist but thrive. Into that space, we are asked to be a part of all that is holy. Into that space, we are not simply invited but bidden.

It is there, here, that we are called to share our love…right here in the midst of hate and venom, violence and distrust, anger and anxiety, pain and suffering.

Here in the presence of the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, ruach…we are bidden…come...come and be a part of the darkness, the chaos, the void, the lifelessness, the light, the order, the fullness, the life...the actual potential of a life filled with the Holy Spirit.

circumstance

this is a holy time, a sacred time
             crawling on paths of change with no control
a time of fear uncertainty anger
a time of Why      Why Not
a time of rants/raves with few/no answers
a time for listening       but not wanting to
a desire for answers with no pain

fingers digging in the dirt stretching back eyes to search the sky
looking for God in the known and unknown
seeing only dregs of humanity
            the pain the suffering
identifying with the possibility     it could be me
not for the "Grace of God"
but for the sheer circumstance

hope's light a dimmer glow
buried in the angst of now
not lost in the midst is the presence of God
my mind wonders in God's silence. God struckdumb
by the humanity of it all?
or just biding in that God-time?

vengenance is mine saith the Lord so the scripture goes
heart blackened by unjust ways
makes it hard to care for God's justice
             somewhere down the road

That God-time thing again.

If you don't see it, does it count?

The other day I saw a friend’s reference on Facebook to the Mary Chapin Carpenter song lyrics, “sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug”. Certainly many can relate to that!

I do right now, for sure. The idea that God’s way is not our way has never been more apparent to me than it is at this time. The last year and a half has been very difficult and seems only to be getting more so as time wears on. I know that all manner of things will be well…eventually. But for right now, there seem to be a lot of people dying a long dang ways away and a lot of need in the immediate area of finances.

I love St. Louis. I really do. It is basically temperate – regardless of the high humidity and heat combination, I am telling you all – it is temperate when compared to five+ months of hot and the ongoing desertification of North Central Texas. The growing season here is amazing. There are a lot of the same types of plants in North Central Texas but who knew some of these trees and bushes actually bloom when allowed to thrive in rainwater and moderate temps?

I love the idea that when the temperatures in St. Louis rise above 60 degrees, the streets are full of people. Parks, sidewalk cafes, people sitting on their stoops – having a “stoop” even! I love it. I love my old house. Most of all, I love the Mississippi River and the Arch. Top all that with some of the finest people I have ever had to pleasure to come to know and love, it is just a great place to live, regardless of stupid magazine articles.

But I have been so tired lately.  I have not known what to do. Feelings of ineptitude, impotence have washed over me, making me weak and unsure of where I am headed. All the reasons why we came to St. Louis seemed to have evaporated above the multitude of trees into the beautiful blue skies.

I know that we are feeling the stress of loved ones lost to death. Knowing that it is a beginning of loss rather than an end makes the future seem dire. Being out of work adds to it, creating a negative sense of urgency. It allows us to wonder – what the hell are we doing? What have we done? Yet, always we are consciously aware that what we did was what we were supposed to do. And that all we have done can be claimed as good, regardless of what it seemed to be the cost.

But now, it almost seems as if there is a siren going off in the far distance, calling out to us…get up, go, it is time. Of course, whatever is calling is not giving a direction…just an order.

Mary Chapin Carpenter goes on to sing, “Sometimes it all comes together, sometimes you’re gonna lose it all.” Sunday’s gospel spelled it out basically the same way. (Luke 9:51-62)  I know beyond a doubt that we were called and continue to be called by God to live our lives according to God’s will. I know that sometimes we try to plow a straight line but forget and look back over our shoulders and the row goes all wacky. I know that sometimes we get attached to the things that hold us in place too long. It is so much easier to stay in a job that seems god-less and toxic than it is to say, “take this job and shove it, I ain't workin' here no more.” A salary is a very nice thing to have, as is insurance.

I have been on the margins for as long as I can remember. It is from there that my voice most often spoke. It was from there that people were able to respond. There are a lot more people on the margins that most (even those there) will ever realize. Yet in these last five years, I have found the comfort of the middle stream, floating comfortably along with the current, feeling safe. And if not “happy”, at least I was not anxious about the day to day worries associated with money. Bills were being paid, everyone in our house was basically healthy and if we weren't,  at least two of us had insurance. That is…until…until the jagged rocks popped up in the middle of the channel, catching me unaware, to change it all.

Perhaps that is what my unrest is all about – the reality of the precarious nature of our very being has slapped me full in the fact, not once or twice but several times.

This week past was such an extraordinary week – my unemployment kicked in, rescuing us from the brink of some serious problems; Texas Senator Wendy Davis managed to ignite the flames of unrest with her dogged determination to disrupt unethical practices by a convoluted Texas Legislature; and then, the Supreme Court said that section 4 of the Defense of Marriage Act was unconstitutional. The “gutting” of the Voting Rights Act can actually been seen as an extraordinary event – it served to cause a lot of sometimes far too quiet people to stand up in outrage. That is a very good thing and will be needed if the US Congress does as the Supreme Court told them to do – fix the VRA so that it works properly. And then there was Pride. Pride celebrations were held all over the nation in the month of June but few that I have seen (online rather than in person) can compare with the elation of St. Louis Pride this year in particular. City buildings lit up in rainbow lights, gay pride flags flying throughout the downtown area, thousands upon thousands of people in downtown to express their support of their LGBT brothers and sisters and in celebration of the DOMA ruling.

All of these things happened from the edge…the margins. I watched intently from 8:30-ish p.m. to well past midnight on the evening of Wendy Davis’ stand against Rick Perry. I read of the Texas Legislature’s immediate response to the VRA’s gutting as they began plans to redistrict. And of course, the district that voted Wendy Davis into office is one of those areas to undergo remapping. I was up and glued to the SCOTUSblog the morning of the DOMA and Prop 8 decision. And I was in the midst of all the Pride events, working the Faith Aloud booth on Saturday, walking in the parade with the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri on Sunday, and later just enjoying the excitement of a large group of people elated at the current state of affairs. All of these things from the margin…not the mainstream…

I have been too long doing things that were not in my gifts set; skill sets, maybe, but gifts, no. I have forgotten that God gave me the gift of speaking out when others cannot or do not feel able. I have been afraid to write for fear of offending; forgetting that offense taken is often not the problem of the one supposedly causing the offense. As a friend of mine used to tell me – rather often, actually – “Honey, it ain’t always about you.” 

Besides that, not writing what I am called to write doesn’t make a whit of difference to those making decisions – people will make the decisions that they will make – regardless. But my lack of writing harms me, makes me timid, makes me fearful, makes me stay silent. Silence is no one’s friend. And it makes me seek comfort.

I cannot do what God calls me to do from the middle of the stream…not even from the Via Media. I am not called to see both sides. I may not always be on the same side (yeah, I probably will be) but I can’t stand in the middle. I am called to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” How can I do that from the middle? Others may have an answer for that but I don’t see one for me…at least not at this moment.

So, who knows where this pull will lead me? Who knows the works intended but God? I don’t even know if I am ready. I just know that I had to write all of this.

But I do have to say, putting this all in writing and onto the blog, scares me half to death. If not that many people see it, does it still count?

A Voice from the Gallery

I always insisted that I was pro-choice just as I always believed that I was. That is, until 9 months or so before May 7, 1996. That was the day my first grandson was born.

When my daughter came to me, telling me that she was pregnant, I immediately said, “Well, you need an abortion.” She said, “no, I don’t want to have an abortion.” I gently reminded her that she was only 18, in her first year of college and oh so many other things. I told her that an abortion would be the best thing. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Mom, I thought you were pro-choice. This is my choice.”

And I realized the impact of being pro-choice. Regardless of my opinion, what it might cost me in vacating dreams for my daughter or in dollars and cents, it was not my decision.

To say I was pro-choice meant that I had to act in that same manner.

My feelings of “my body, my choice” dates back to 1972. I was 19, living with a roommate, in my second year of college and I felt a certain amount of independence although my monthly income still came from my parents. I was dating and of course, it being 1972 (does it matter the decade??? Or century for that matter?), I believed that if it felt right, all was well.

And so it was…until I found out I was pregnant. All of a sudden, I was not free, I was trapped. And scared. And oh my god, terrified of telling my parents. In fact, it got down to the point where I decided that no, I would not, could not tell them at all. I was afraid they would be so disappointed in me.

And I never have to this day told them. And I probably would not be writing this now if my mom was still alive…not because she would have disagreed with my decision but because I had never told her in all of these years. That would have hurt her. Little did I know at the time that she might have agreed with my decision to abort the pregnancy.

I told the guy I was dating. His immediate reaction was that I had to have an abortion. Never did it occur to me that he was totally violating the idea of “my body, my choice”. Even though I agreed with him, still, I was scared to death and some worried that I was making the wrong decision.

The Supreme Court made its decision about Roe v Wade on January 22, 1973….about 4 months after my decision had to be made. It was determined that I would fly to Los Angeles and have the procedure there. I barely remember it all. I remember that he made arrangements and paid for it all. I remember the fear, the plane ride, the fact that LAX was much smaller in reality than in my imagination and the lights overhead as the gurney I was lying on was wheeled into the operating room. I do not remember flying home or how I got to or from either airport. I just knew that I was home and in my own bed and in a good deal of discomfort, emotionally and physically.

Have I been sorry that I did this? That is a really packed question. I am not sure I can unpack it still to this day. I was not sorry that my life was not changed dramatically by a newborn baby. I know that I would not have had the courage at the time to raise it on my own. It would have made me utterly dependent upon someone else. In the dark spaces of the night, I lamented the little one it might have been. In my more adult years, especially after the birth of my daughter, I often wondered at the lost chance of a big brother for her. But of course, I always wondered that if I had “him” would I have had her. She is the balm that soothes my concern. In these days, I think of the man he might have been.

For whatever reason, “it” was always a boy in my heart and mind.

Would I do it again? I can’t answer that either. I don’t know. My views on abortion have changed as have I over the years. I do not like the idea of aborting that which may be, will be or actually is. I think sex education will do far more to control the unplanned births than abortion. I definitely believe in the sanctity of life but that goes to my beliefs that the death penalty is wrong also.

Regardless of the decision I make about my body, I would never tell another woman or girl that they should – or should not – have an abortion. I certainly feel adamant that no man…NO man…has a right to tell a woman what they should – or should not – do.

Our Christian sexual ethics are screwed up. That is the truth. Abortion won’t fix it. But neither will a bunch of men (and the few women) telling women what they can or cannot do with their own bodies. It is just not that easy.

My situation was my own doing. I should have known better than to get pregnant. But there are a whole lot of women and girls out there who have no choice. It is not their fault. They did not agree. My fear came afterwards…it was of the unknown. Their fear is of the known and/or the uncontrollable.

That makes one hell of a lot of difference.

So, I stand beside Senator Wendy Davis. She spoke, and I know will continue to speak, for all those who have no voice…for all those whose fears are real and now.

I say thank you to Sen. Davis and give thanks for her courage. 

Got to find my way back

http://www.metrolyrics.com/house-on-pooh-corner-lyrics-kenny-loggins.html

I used to sing Kenny Loggin's song House on Pooh Corner to Tucker when he was a little boy.

"Christopher Tucker and I walked along under branches lit up by the moon..." He loved hearing his name in a song and it seemed to fit so well.

Our days are disappearing all too soon. Suddenly he is 17 years old. Before I know it, he will be gone to college and onward. He will be beyond my perceived ability to guide and protect him.

He will be an adult...a man...