When I was in the second grade, I fell out of our climbing tree in the backyard. I don't remember what happened -- I think I just lost hold -- but I remember falling out of the tree backwards, landing flat on my back and the breath knocked out of me.
On the way down, a broken bit of branch tore a good long scratch in my right upper arm. It was the only wound from that fall.
What I also remember is the scab on that scratch. The scratch was long and thin, on my inner arm. It scabbed over hard and tight. And I remember sitting in class, in second grade, and every time I raised my hand to answer a question, the scab would pop apart a little. And it would hurt. I remember that even more clearly than getting the breath knocked out of me.
I was thinking about that today, driving the short hour home from spiritual direction, being literally knocked about by the windy day after an extended session of being spiritually knocked about -- not by my director, mind you, but by my own pain, and my own desperate struggle to hope.
My life right now is like that scab. Only bigger. That scab covers a two-year old wound and the months of continued wounding afterwards. It's a wound to the body, the soul, the spirit. It's a loss of trust, of belief, of innocence. It's layers of wounds over which is a hard, tight scab which I'm sure served a purpose for a time but is no longer much serving me. Because the only thing left outside is anger. And unbelief.
And I don't talk about it much. At all.
Every time, though, I raise my hand to speak of justice, of hope, of life, that scab pops apart a little. And it's terrifying. You'd think it would be nice, you know, a sign of healing, but it just hurts. What's underneath is tender tender tender and doesn't really want to be hurt again. And I resist that, and it's exhausting.
But on the other hand. When the scab begins to crack, the air can get in. And that tenderness can get out. And I need that. I need that. I am not this anger and unbelief that is left.
Today the scab cracked in a big way. Oh, it hurt. A lot. I'm exhausted. But feel a glimmer of hope (a little goat therapy this afternoon, including head rubs from Arlo, helped).
In second grade, eventually, the scab came off, bit by bit. I still have a scar on my arm from that fall, but the wound healed and stopped hurting. I like to look at that scar and remember that it is proof that in my life I have climbed trees without fear.
This wound will leave a scar as well. I wonder what I will think of it then.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Friday, November 6, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Requisite Whiny Monday Post
So, these things all happened to me today.
Finally got home. Went for a long walk with my cielo. Fed the duckies. It's a beautiful day here in Denver, and I feel much better now.
- Got a chip in my windshield driving on the highway to the bulk mail processing center to drop of an appeal letter mailing for my other job (as in, not my church work). The highway is being repaired and there was gravel and a semi kicked a rock into my windshield.
- Got to bulk mail center. Everything seemed fine, except apparently our non-profit mailing permit had expired. Last week. I can't pay it because I don't have a "company" credit card.
Cart the mailing back to my car and go back to work.
- Get stuck behind trash truck emptying recycle bins. Tried to be thankful for recycling, but at this point was not feeling that thankful.
- Stopped at the green dry cleaner to drop off a couple of shirts. My reasonably new (as in, I've had it all of 3 months) has a tear in it. Must pay extra (not today, but soon) to have it repaired.
- Fouled up printing several appeal letters that were fouled up the first time. Forgot to put return envelope/reply form in and had to open the envelopes...and thus reprint them. Again.
Finally got home. Went for a long walk with my cielo. Fed the duckies. It's a beautiful day here in Denver, and I feel much better now.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Happy Day
My cielo graduates from Iliff tomorrow. I am so proud of her I can hardly stand it!
Her parents came yesterday for graduation, the first time they have ever visited us. They are very sweet to me; we aren't out to them, as they are of a much more conservative strain of Christianity, but they somehow "get" that my cielo and I go together, and they consider me a daughter.
My mom flew in this morning, the first time she has met my cielo's family. She is more excited to meet them even than the graduation. It's been a good day, so far.
My favorite part of the day so far: All of us sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee and tea, laughing together about my cielo's dad trying to sneak another cookie; crying together while my cielo translated "The Summons," a hymn special to both of us, sung at my graduation and now at hers, and, it turns it out, meaningful to my dad as well; and all of us singing "Great is Thy Faithfulness" in Spanish (my mom humming along), which will be sung tomorrow as well.
Truly, a beautiful set of moments of 2 families sharing together. Made me very happy.
Her parents came yesterday for graduation, the first time they have ever visited us. They are very sweet to me; we aren't out to them, as they are of a much more conservative strain of Christianity, but they somehow "get" that my cielo and I go together, and they consider me a daughter.
My mom flew in this morning, the first time she has met my cielo's family. She is more excited to meet them even than the graduation. It's been a good day, so far.
My favorite part of the day so far: All of us sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee and tea, laughing together about my cielo's dad trying to sneak another cookie; crying together while my cielo translated "The Summons," a hymn special to both of us, sung at my graduation and now at hers, and, it turns it out, meaningful to my dad as well; and all of us singing "Great is Thy Faithfulness" in Spanish (my mom humming along), which will be sung tomorrow as well.
Truly, a beautiful set of moments of 2 families sharing together. Made me very happy.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Towanda Gets Interviewed
Tess offered up a chance to be interviewed, so here are her questions for yours truly (and my answers, of course!).
Wow, hmm. My gut response is Antigua, Guatemala, which still has much of its original Spanish colonial (as in, built by the original Spanish colonists) architecture, and what is newer is built in that same style. Bougainvillea bounds abundantly over the walls and other sorts of flora are equally bountiful. The city is small, you can walk to just about anywhere you'd want to go, and there are sweet little cafes where you can sit at a little table inside the hacienda walls but still outside, by the fountain, and have a café con leche and write. And yes, I know, it is a complexity in me to be anti-colonial and yet appreciate this architecture.
With that in mind what I also like is the presence of Maya folk, especially women, still in their traditional traje and going about town. That many are impoverished and are there selling their wares to tourists in order to feed their families is problematic, I know. However, I think their presence is also a reminder that as much as the colonists, the church, and later, the Guatemalan government have tried to wipe out the Maya through colonization, conversion, assimilation and genocide, THEY ARE STILL HERE. They are still here. The empire has not won.
Honestly, it was because I couldn't imagine doing my work in the world any other way. And believe me, I tried to talk God out of it many, many times. Word and Table are integral pieces of my understanding of how I am called to do God's work of justice.
Nature versus nurture? Great question. I know I have an innate concern for fairness, just ask my brothers. Maybe that's from being the oldest child? But I can also point to a specific event that initiated the whole rest of this journey that's been my life ever since. I wrote about this in in my seminary application (which you can read all of here):
What's the most beautiful city you've ever visited, and why?
Wow, hmm. My gut response is Antigua, Guatemala, which still has much of its original Spanish colonial (as in, built by the original Spanish colonists) architecture, and what is newer is built in that same style. Bougainvillea bounds abundantly over the walls and other sorts of flora are equally bountiful. The city is small, you can walk to just about anywhere you'd want to go, and there are sweet little cafes where you can sit at a little table inside the hacienda walls but still outside, by the fountain, and have a café con leche and write. And yes, I know, it is a complexity in me to be anti-colonial and yet appreciate this architecture.
With that in mind what I also like is the presence of Maya folk, especially women, still in their traditional traje and going about town. That many are impoverished and are there selling their wares to tourists in order to feed their families is problematic, I know. However, I think their presence is also a reminder that as much as the colonists, the church, and later, the Guatemalan government have tried to wipe out the Maya through colonization, conversion, assimilation and genocide, THEY ARE STILL HERE. They are still here. The empire has not won.
What made you know it was right for you to seek ordination?
Honestly, it was because I couldn't imagine doing my work in the world any other way. And believe me, I tried to talk God out of it many, many times. Word and Table are integral pieces of my understanding of how I am called to do God's work of justice.
Do you think your passion for social justice is innate,
or was it triggered by something in particular?
or was it triggered by something in particular?
Nature versus nurture? Great question. I know I have an innate concern for fairness, just ask my brothers. Maybe that's from being the oldest child? But I can also point to a specific event that initiated the whole rest of this journey that's been my life ever since. I wrote about this in in my seminary application (which you can read all of here):
My first experience of transformation, my first real sense of call, came when I was 16 years old. I was attending the 1986 Presbyterian Youth Triennium; One morning, the thousands of us gathered in the large auditorium for the plenary. After being introduced, a young woman, dressed simply, came out on to the stage, accompanied by a young man. Her name was Jean Peacock, and she began to speak of her work in Tucson, Arizona, as part of the Sanctuary movement.
I had never heard of such a thing. But I sat in rapt attention as she described the plight of Central Americans fleeing to the border, escaping brutality which at that point in my young life was new to me. She spoke of civil wars in El Salvador, Guatemala, Nicaragua, of the campesinos fleeing death threats, massacres, torture, to the supposed refuge of the U.S., where they faced new struggles of entering the country illegally, traveling a new “Underground Railroad” throughout the U.S. and into Canada, to a tenuous safety. Few lucky ones were granted asylum, but strange it seemed, the U.S. officials did not believe the stories, and the vast majority were forced to live hidden lives.
When Jean introduced the young man with her, a former death squad member from El Salvador who had repented and fled the country, already my heart was pounding, and I could sense God speaking to me between the beats, urging me to listen in a way I had never listened before. What I was hearing was difficult – such tragedy, such violence, and the complicity of my own country – but I ached to know more. By the time he finished speaking, I knew that I was being called. I could not get their stories out of my head, nor my heart, nor my soul. While the kids around me were complaining that this had been a “downer” (and, interestingly, when I met Jean years later, she told me that she thought at the time that her speech had been unimpressive), I understood very clearly the voice that was now resounding in my heart: Pay attention: This is the life I am setting before you. Your life and work are going to be connected to Central America, in working for justice and for peace.
What is it about goats that makes them so lovable?
Mmm. There's this blend of intelligence and sweetness and how they just know and you can see that in their faces. I swear Arlo knows who I am, and he comes when I call and he nudges me and nibbles at me. He seems to know when I need more attention, a little more care. The first time I did evening chores all by myself, Arlo and his mama and his grandmama circled round me as I walked through the goat pens, as if showing the other goats I could be trusted.
Working with the goats has taught me that they will trust me if I treat them well -- talking to them gently, feeding them, scritching their foreheads. Trusting me doesn't always mean they behave, right Lori? But I also know that when they refuse to go to bed, that really doesn't have anything to do with me, and I just have to laugh at them 'cause they're goofy. Getting mad doesn't help. I don't have to do or be anything special, just show up and be kind.
Plus, they're just cute!! I mean, look at this face! Who wouldn't love this face??!!
Anything? Really? Wow, hmm. How about one of the home plates that Jackie Robinson stole (I'm not even sure if one is extant, but I can dream)? George Brett's pine tar bat (man, that would make my brothers jealous)? A game ball from the 1985 World Series signed by all the Royals (we lived in Kansas then and followed them closely)? An original, mint condition, Ted Williams baseball card? Oh, Tess, don't get me started!
If you'd like to be interviewed by me, leave me a note in the comments!
Mmm. There's this blend of intelligence and sweetness and how they just know and you can see that in their faces. I swear Arlo knows who I am, and he comes when I call and he nudges me and nibbles at me. He seems to know when I need more attention, a little more care. The first time I did evening chores all by myself, Arlo and his mama and his grandmama circled round me as I walked through the goat pens, as if showing the other goats I could be trusted.
Working with the goats has taught me that they will trust me if I treat them well -- talking to them gently, feeding them, scritching their foreheads. Trusting me doesn't always mean they behave, right Lori? But I also know that when they refuse to go to bed, that really doesn't have anything to do with me, and I just have to laugh at them 'cause they're goofy. Getting mad doesn't help. I don't have to do or be anything special, just show up and be kind.
Plus, they're just cute!! I mean, look at this face! Who wouldn't love this face??!!
If you could own any piece of baseball memorabilia in the world,
what would it be?
what would it be?
Anything? Really? Wow, hmm. How about one of the home plates that Jackie Robinson stole (I'm not even sure if one is extant, but I can dream)? George Brett's pine tar bat (man, that would make my brothers jealous)? A game ball from the 1985 World Series signed by all the Royals (we lived in Kansas then and followed them closely)? An original, mint condition, Ted Williams baseball card? Oh, Tess, don't get me started!
If you'd like to be interviewed by me, leave me a note in the comments!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Ordination Eve
My parents, my youngest brother (TBro) and my aunt and her husband all got here fine today. We went out and stuffed ourselves on great Mexican food and toasted being together. Then we came back to our and played "the mother of all hearts games" per my brother's request. It was a blast. My aunt hates to lose, see, every since she was little she has been famous for it, and then there's a long history of Daddy always winning in our family games when we were growing up, and what joy it gave us to toss down the queen on Daddy. So there was much fun to be had when Auntie would set up Daddy to get the queen -- but then Auntie ended up losing the whole thing and much glee was expressed by all...especially my Daddy.
My niece -- all of her own accord, without prompting -- handed TBro a hand-made card and a baseball (tossed to her by a coach at the game they went to Wednesday...they have season tickets to the AA team in town, right down by the field, so she gets balls all the time) to bring to me, which I thought was very sweet. The card has big hearts drawn on it and "I Love You" written on the front.
My niece -- all of her own accord, without prompting -- handed TBro a hand-made card and a baseball (tossed to her by a coach at the game they went to Wednesday...they have season tickets to the AA team in town, right down by the field, so she gets balls all the time) to bring to me, which I thought was very sweet. The card has big hearts drawn on it and "I Love You" written on the front.
I feel good about tomorrow. I can feel the adrenaline starting to pump already, which I hope doesn't mean I won't be able to sleep! But it's not anxiety, it's more of an
kind of feeling.
The bulletin's done, my stuff is together, there's nothing left to do but show up!
oh
my
God.
UPDATED to add -- My cielo wants it to VERY clear that SHE WON THE GAME. She's only played maybe 4 times in her life...also, I should note that I got a better score than TBro, which is pretty much my only goal...
ohmygoodnessohmygoodnessohmygoodnessohmygoodness
kind of feeling.
The bulletin's done, my stuff is together, there's nothing left to do but show up!
ohmygoodnessohmygoodnessohmygoodnessohmygoodness
oh
my
God.
UPDATED to add -- My cielo wants it to VERY clear that SHE WON THE GAME. She's only played maybe 4 times in her life...also, I should note that I got a better score than TBro, which is pretty much my only goal...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Retreat Photos
My retreat really was wonderful. Restful, rejuvenating, healing. Did some hard, good, work. When I got home yesterday, my cielo said I was glowing. And it wasn't just from the snow/sun. I feel lighter, like I can breathe all the way through my body again. And very, very loved, by God and by the people who walk with me.
I'm still figuring how to talk about it, if I need to even. Some of it seems too intimately sacred to share, yet. But here are some photos in the meantime.
My hermitage, "Dorothy Day." (Appropriate, no?) She is nestled into the side of a ridge (as are almost all the monastery buildings, fitting the architecture into the landscape rather than vice versa), with the big windows facing south. I had a fabulous view; on clearer days I swear I could see New Mexico. That woodpile would come in handy. This was taken the afternoon I arrived.
The very next morning (Friday). Look what blew in! It kept snowing until mid-afternoon on Saturday. Gorgeous, really. My little wood stove made plenty of heat.
The monastery building, which also houses the common library and kitchen. Sangre de Cristo mountains behind, still quite snowy.
Cards and notes from friends for my birthday (Saturday was my birthday). These and the ones from my cielo were in the east window.
The monastery chapel, looking west towards the Rockies (waayyy off in the distance, on the other side of the San Luis Valley). The little bridge connects the monastery and the chapel and offers some amazing views.
Coyote (I think) prints outside my kitchen window. After the snow stopped, I would hear them every night. On the last night, a herd of mule deer came right up into my "front yard" outside the south windows but it was too dark for a good photo. I sat out on the step and watched them munch for about 10 minutes before they wandered off.
Station #11 of the Way of the Cross. Looking up (appropriately) into the Sangre de Cristo (blood of Christ) mountains. Not being Catholic and so not knowing these things very well, I had to look up #11. It's the crucifixion.
The sunset on my last night.
By the way, I highly recommend Nada if you're looking for a retreat. The hospitality is warm and genuine, the solitude well provided for (the hermitages are placed so that you cannot see one from another. Mine was at the end of the path, so no one ever came by...except once, to shovel the snow), and the landscape breathtaking.
I'm still figuring how to talk about it, if I need to even. Some of it seems too intimately sacred to share, yet. But here are some photos in the meantime.
My hermitage, "Dorothy Day." (Appropriate, no?) She is nestled into the side of a ridge (as are almost all the monastery buildings, fitting the architecture into the landscape rather than vice versa), with the big windows facing south. I had a fabulous view; on clearer days I swear I could see New Mexico. That woodpile would come in handy. This was taken the afternoon I arrived.
The very next morning (Friday). Look what blew in! It kept snowing until mid-afternoon on Saturday. Gorgeous, really. My little wood stove made plenty of heat.
The monastery building, which also houses the common library and kitchen. Sangre de Cristo mountains behind, still quite snowy.
Cards and notes from friends for my birthday (Saturday was my birthday). These and the ones from my cielo were in the east window.
The monastery chapel, looking west towards the Rockies (waayyy off in the distance, on the other side of the San Luis Valley). The little bridge connects the monastery and the chapel and offers some amazing views.
Coyote (I think) prints outside my kitchen window. After the snow stopped, I would hear them every night. On the last night, a herd of mule deer came right up into my "front yard" outside the south windows but it was too dark for a good photo. I sat out on the step and watched them munch for about 10 minutes before they wandered off.
Station #11 of the Way of the Cross. Looking up (appropriately) into the Sangre de Cristo (blood of Christ) mountains. Not being Catholic and so not knowing these things very well, I had to look up #11. It's the crucifixion.
The sunset on my last night.By the way, I highly recommend Nada if you're looking for a retreat. The hospitality is warm and genuine, the solitude well provided for (the hermitages are placed so that you cannot see one from another. Mine was at the end of the path, so no one ever came by...except once, to shovel the snow), and the landscape breathtaking.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Busy Times!
Got a lot on my plate these days:
- At my part-time nonprofit job, I'm crazy trying to get a new online donation site up and running and planning for our big event, along with my regular stuff. I'm also working extra hours to make up for being away while we were in Tucson and for when I go on retreat in mid-April.
- Things are cooking with the faith community I started: we are about to move into our very own space, a multi-tenant center that a coalition of human rights-oriented groups in the area are founding. Very exciting! But...or And...it means stepping up fundraising in a big way, as we are new and very tiny. So a grant application went off today for a justice-y denominational-level grant, there are appeal letters to write and phone calls to make and meetings to have with the conference minister when he returns from sabbatical (not great timing for us!) to talk about getting new church start funding. Plus, there are coalition meetings to talk about how we'll collaborate, to look at architect plans, and vary and sundry other details. It all rather makes my head spin. But it will be *fantastic* for us when this happens.
- Planning for my ordination! Whee! Today I met with JT to start planning the service, and I've already met twice with BlueEyes who is making my ordination stole and vestments. OK, the vestments are black pants and a black tunic, but my cielo wants to call it something fancier than "my preacher clothes." We bought the black linen yesterday, and very cool Celtic buttons for the tunic. The stole will be red on one side and black on the other. The red will have a butterfly appliqué that belonged to my/our dear friend and mentor Amy when we lived in Tucson on the right lower side, and a Salvadoran cross similar to these on the left. In the center of the cross will be Jesus wearing blue jeans, inspired by a quilt square made by my abuelita, which she gave to me when we were there and which I cannot bear to alter. The black side will have red flames coming up from the bottom. There may be more -- my mother sent me fabric pieces from special items to include as well.
- Softball season has started! Our first game was last Tuesday, in the bitter cold. I went 1-for-2 and got an RBI. Tonight we were to have a double-header, but the dregs of last week's blizzard and yesterday's morning snowstorm have apparently made a soup of the infield.
- And, I'm doing the Good Friday service at HappyChurch, which will require working up the liturgy and a sermon.
- And, I'm trying to have a life! My cielo is in her last quarter at Iliff, and has a full load to keep her busy, but I want to be available for her study breaks!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Surviving In Beauty
(saguaro, wildflower, and bee)I first visited Tucson and thus the Sonoran Desert in the spring of 1993. I was teaching in eastern New Mexico and had met some folks from Tucson at a conference at Ghost Ranch (another land I love, a post for another day) who invited me to come out for spring break. So I did.
I had never seen anything like it. My new friends took me hiking and reveled in showing me the vast variety of desert life; I also spent a day at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, where I learned how plant life in particular had adapted to the harsh environment and delighted in rocks, javelinas, a whirring hummingbirds.
Here is what you may not know about the Sonoran Desert: It is lush. It is vibrant. It is massive and delicate all at the same time, and abounding in variety. It can be astoundingly green.
And what tugs at my heart, is the fact of the beautiful adaptations for survival, for life. Of course all ecosystems are built around these same needs to adapt to the environment, but there is something about the Sonoran desert where the line between life and death is so stark that makes the choice for survival that much more beautiful to me.
Here, for example, is a palo verde tree, one of my favorite desert flora.
I think if you click on it you can get a bigger version. Palo verde means "green stick" in Spanish, which is the perfect description for this tree. These trees tend to be lower and spread out wide, providing, incidentally, bits of shade and thus relief for other plants and animals. The "green stick" part of it is this: The leaves on this tree are tiny, so much so that you might think from even a small distance that there are no leaves at all -- just a tree of sticks. This is to protect the leaves from being burned by the sun. In other trees, of course, like oaks and maples and whatnot, the leaves are where the photosynthesis happens...so what does the palo verde do? Why, the bark itself is green, all year round. Green Stick. Brilliant.Here is more desert beauty:
Fish-hook barrel cactus, with fruit.
Entertwined palo verde and prickly pear...who's sheltering whom?
Purple prickly pear and purple wildflower.
Prickly pear and red flowers, a favorite of hummingbirds.
A phainopeplas, or black cardinal. S/he had a lovely little song that we whistled back and forth to each other for a bit. S/he has a delightful little feather-crown. I had never seen one before.
Baby saguaro and mesquite tree. And something else flowering in the front.
An agave getting ready to shoot up its stalk.
A type of cholla in the front, palo verde in the back.
A magnificent saguaro...there are holes for bird's nests in there. Saguaros can get even huger than this.
All kinds of desert goodness here.
Cholla up close and personal. You don't want to back into this by accident!
Wait, that's not desert fauna. That's Todd Helton at a Rockies/Rangers spring training game!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
25 Random Baseball Things About Towanda
Loved this idea from ShysterBall.
1. I was trying to think what would be the first major league game I ever went to would be. I think I might have gone to a Cardinals or White Sox game as a baby when my folks were on vacation, but I'm not sure.
2. I do have vague memories of going to a Cardinals game when I was little, and also to see the Orioles on a trip to Baltimore/DC when I was 8.
3. I have been to the following ballparks (in my family we refuse to call them stadiums...you play ball in a PARK): Cardinals (pre-their new ballpark), Texas (also pre-new ballpark), Houston (Astrodome), Royals (love the fountains!), Wrigley, Comiskey (original), Baltimore (pre-Camden Yards), Rockies, Seattle. I have walked around outside of Jacobs Field while on a trip to the Church House in Cleveland, but they weren't playing...it was the playoffs, and they weren't in 'em. I've also been to minor league games in Portland, Louisville, Little Rock, and Ashville. I'd like to visit all the ballparks before I die.
4. The one and only time that my brothers and I were ever taken out of school (besides for illness or orthodontist appointments...) was to go to the Royals Worlds Series parade in 1985 (we were living in Kansas at the time). We gathered up ticker-tape, which I kept in a bag in my closet for years afterwards.
5. We had a fairly good-sized backyard in Kansas, and we would play ball out there, my brothers and I and any neighborhood kids who were around. The bigger of the two apple trees was second base. Sometimes we'd put the radio in the window when the Royals were playing and pretend we were them. I always thought the jingle "Royals Baseball: Go for the Action!" was better than "Royals Baseball: Something Special In the Air!" They sounded almost exactly the same, but the second one was just cheesy.
6. I used to be able to rattle off the whole lineup of the 1985ish Royals. I still remember some: Bret Saberhagen, Mark Gubizca, Frank White, Dan Quisenberry, George Brett, Willie Wilson, Amos Otis, Steve Balboni. My brothers will chide me for the ones I've forgotten.
7. I distinctly remember the Pine Tar Incident. We could not believe George Brett had been robbed! The next day, we were taking a family trip to somewhere (it may even have been Kansas City), and Mom read every bit of reporting on it out loud from the paper.
8. In spite of all these Royals memories, I am not a die-hard Royals fan...I do have a soft spot for them, though, and am loving that my neice is such a big fan (here she is running the bases at the Royals ballpark with my brother TBro):
9. My neice's favorite player is this guy. She LOOOOOVES him. The Royals' AA team plays where they live, see, and my brother has season tickets, good seats, close enough that Kila would toss balls and stuff to her all the time. TBro says he thought Kila got to where he'd recognize when my neice hollered his name. Pretty cool. We have a deal that when he starts playing regularly in KC (you can see he has just had a few ABs in the bigs), we will all meet there for a game.
10. Baseball is a family love, in case you hadn't noticed. The family pantheon is Ted Williams, George Brett, and Willie Mays. Mom and Dad went to a Cardinals game for their honeymoon.
11. yankeehating also runs deep in the family. My grandmother once threatened to throw me out of the car when I said I wanted to be a yankee fan. I was 7 or 8, maybe. I don't think she meant it...
12. My dad, brothers, and I have run a family baseball "pool" now for several years. We pick division winners, wildcards, pennant winners, and the World Series winner. The person running the pool then can add whatever other picks s/he likes, such as who will win the AL MVP and will Curt Schilling pitch this season or not. My mom is the judge in case of disputes. Which there are on occasion, such as the time TBro's category was "how many 'roid busts this year" (you had to guess a number), but then started counting any kind of drug bust. Exegete that I am, I had to call him on it.
13. The loser of the pool has to wear a yankee hat to a major/minor league ballpark the next season, and provide photographic evidence of such. Yours truly, last June:
That's right, I won't even show my face. The shame! Thankfully, I get to pass the hat off to SBro this year.
14. If you ever go to a ballgame with me, you should know I will want to get there as soon as the gates open to watch batting practice. As evidenced by above photo, at the Rockies ballpark, with Giants players in the background warming up.
15. We always eat peanuts (in the shell, half the fun is shelling them), in memory of my grandfather, who always shelled and ate peanuts at ballgames.
16. Last year for an assignment on embodied theology, I did a project on baseball. On my birthday, I had a bunch of friends over to watch the Rockies on TV. We ate ballpark food (including peanuts, of course!) and reflected periodically on the theological aspects of baseball. Some folks wrote their thoughts in a booklet which I had created, which I turned in with my own reflections, and a ziploc bag of peanuts for the prof. I made an A.
17. Metal bats are an abomination unto the Lord.
18. Remember those commercials, "chicks dig the long ball"? Not me. I love "small ball" -- good baserunning, steals, hustle. I think it's much more exciting. A home run should be a suprise, not just something you sit around waiting for, like the inevitable.
19. The closest I've gotten to a World Series game is a sports bar a few blocks from the Rockies ballpark, when they lost Game 4 to the Red Sox. The bar was full of Sox fans, including my friend JT. We walked back to the train through the crowds and by the ballpark, and I tried to imagine what was going on in the Red Sox locker room, not very far away from me at all.
20. BlueEyes has a friend who works for the Rockies, and I got to hold her NLCS ring. It's heavy! She gets us good tickets, too. Here's the view from the hand-operated scoreboard in right field, where she took my cielo and I on a tour last summer:
During BP, natch. And yes, I did get to change the score for a game!
21. A friend and I went to hang out at the D-Backs spring training in Tucson in 2000. We watched Matt Mantei and Randy Johnson take batting practice. Randy really is like a foot taller than everyone else. My cielo and I are going to Tucson next month and hope to catch a Rockies Srping Training game.
22. Astroturf is an abomination unto the Lord.
23. My mother thinks the DH is an abomination unto the Lord (as well as baseball played west of St. Louis), but I am a bit more ambivalent. I really enjoyed watching Edgar Martinez hit when we lived in Portland and the Mariners were on TV every day (except days off), and that wouldn't have happened without the DH. But the purist in me does believe that the pitcher should have to hit.
24. Annie Savoy's speech is just about the best thing ever:
25a. I believe that heaven will include lots and lots of ball fields, and endless games, and anyone can play. And there'll be choir practice between innings.
25b. Baseball heals. I believe this, too.
1. I was trying to think what would be the first major league game I ever went to would be. I think I might have gone to a Cardinals or White Sox game as a baby when my folks were on vacation, but I'm not sure.
2. I do have vague memories of going to a Cardinals game when I was little, and also to see the Orioles on a trip to Baltimore/DC when I was 8.
3. I have been to the following ballparks (in my family we refuse to call them stadiums...you play ball in a PARK): Cardinals (pre-their new ballpark), Texas (also pre-new ballpark), Houston (Astrodome), Royals (love the fountains!), Wrigley, Comiskey (original), Baltimore (pre-Camden Yards), Rockies, Seattle. I have walked around outside of Jacobs Field while on a trip to the Church House in Cleveland, but they weren't playing...it was the playoffs, and they weren't in 'em. I've also been to minor league games in Portland, Louisville, Little Rock, and Ashville. I'd like to visit all the ballparks before I die.
4. The one and only time that my brothers and I were ever taken out of school (besides for illness or orthodontist appointments...) was to go to the Royals Worlds Series parade in 1985 (we were living in Kansas at the time). We gathered up ticker-tape, which I kept in a bag in my closet for years afterwards.
5. We had a fairly good-sized backyard in Kansas, and we would play ball out there, my brothers and I and any neighborhood kids who were around. The bigger of the two apple trees was second base. Sometimes we'd put the radio in the window when the Royals were playing and pretend we were them. I always thought the jingle "Royals Baseball: Go for the Action!" was better than "Royals Baseball: Something Special In the Air!" They sounded almost exactly the same, but the second one was just cheesy.
6. I used to be able to rattle off the whole lineup of the 1985ish Royals. I still remember some: Bret Saberhagen, Mark Gubizca, Frank White, Dan Quisenberry, George Brett, Willie Wilson, Amos Otis, Steve Balboni. My brothers will chide me for the ones I've forgotten.
7. I distinctly remember the Pine Tar Incident. We could not believe George Brett had been robbed! The next day, we were taking a family trip to somewhere (it may even have been Kansas City), and Mom read every bit of reporting on it out loud from the paper.
8. In spite of all these Royals memories, I am not a die-hard Royals fan...I do have a soft spot for them, though, and am loving that my neice is such a big fan (here she is running the bases at the Royals ballpark with my brother TBro):
9. My neice's favorite player is this guy. She LOOOOOVES him. The Royals' AA team plays where they live, see, and my brother has season tickets, good seats, close enough that Kila would toss balls and stuff to her all the time. TBro says he thought Kila got to where he'd recognize when my neice hollered his name. Pretty cool. We have a deal that when he starts playing regularly in KC (you can see he has just had a few ABs in the bigs), we will all meet there for a game.10. Baseball is a family love, in case you hadn't noticed. The family pantheon is Ted Williams, George Brett, and Willie Mays. Mom and Dad went to a Cardinals game for their honeymoon.
11. yankeehating also runs deep in the family. My grandmother once threatened to throw me out of the car when I said I wanted to be a yankee fan. I was 7 or 8, maybe. I don't think she meant it...
12. My dad, brothers, and I have run a family baseball "pool" now for several years. We pick division winners, wildcards, pennant winners, and the World Series winner. The person running the pool then can add whatever other picks s/he likes, such as who will win the AL MVP and will Curt Schilling pitch this season or not. My mom is the judge in case of disputes. Which there are on occasion, such as the time TBro's category was "how many 'roid busts this year" (you had to guess a number), but then started counting any kind of drug bust. Exegete that I am, I had to call him on it.
13. The loser of the pool has to wear a yankee hat to a major/minor league ballpark the next season, and provide photographic evidence of such. Yours truly, last June:
That's right, I won't even show my face. The shame! Thankfully, I get to pass the hat off to SBro this year.14. If you ever go to a ballgame with me, you should know I will want to get there as soon as the gates open to watch batting practice. As evidenced by above photo, at the Rockies ballpark, with Giants players in the background warming up.
15. We always eat peanuts (in the shell, half the fun is shelling them), in memory of my grandfather, who always shelled and ate peanuts at ballgames.
16. Last year for an assignment on embodied theology, I did a project on baseball. On my birthday, I had a bunch of friends over to watch the Rockies on TV. We ate ballpark food (including peanuts, of course!) and reflected periodically on the theological aspects of baseball. Some folks wrote their thoughts in a booklet which I had created, which I turned in with my own reflections, and a ziploc bag of peanuts for the prof. I made an A.
17. Metal bats are an abomination unto the Lord.
18. Remember those commercials, "chicks dig the long ball"? Not me. I love "small ball" -- good baserunning, steals, hustle. I think it's much more exciting. A home run should be a suprise, not just something you sit around waiting for, like the inevitable.
19. The closest I've gotten to a World Series game is a sports bar a few blocks from the Rockies ballpark, when they lost Game 4 to the Red Sox. The bar was full of Sox fans, including my friend JT. We walked back to the train through the crowds and by the ballpark, and I tried to imagine what was going on in the Red Sox locker room, not very far away from me at all.
20. BlueEyes has a friend who works for the Rockies, and I got to hold her NLCS ring. It's heavy! She gets us good tickets, too. Here's the view from the hand-operated scoreboard in right field, where she took my cielo and I on a tour last summer:
During BP, natch. And yes, I did get to change the score for a game!21. A friend and I went to hang out at the D-Backs spring training in Tucson in 2000. We watched Matt Mantei and Randy Johnson take batting practice. Randy really is like a foot taller than everyone else. My cielo and I are going to Tucson next month and hope to catch a Rockies Srping Training game.
22. Astroturf is an abomination unto the Lord.
23. My mother thinks the DH is an abomination unto the Lord (as well as baseball played west of St. Louis), but I am a bit more ambivalent. I really enjoyed watching Edgar Martinez hit when we lived in Portland and the Mariners were on TV every day (except days off), and that wouldn't have happened without the DH. But the purist in me does believe that the pitcher should have to hit.
24. Annie Savoy's speech is just about the best thing ever:
I believe in the Church of Baseball. I've tried all the major religions, and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance. But it just didn't work out between us. The Lord laid too much guilt on me. I prefer metaphysics to theology. You see, there's no guilt in baseball, and it's never boring... which makes it like sex. There's never been a ballplayer slept with me who didn't have the best year of his career. Making love is like hitting a baseball: you just gotta relax and concentrate. Besides, I'd never sleep with a player hitting under .250... not unless he had a lot of RBIs and was a great glove man up the middle. You see, there's a certain amount of life wisdom I give these boys. I can expand their minds. Sometimes when I've got a ballplayer alone, I'll just read Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman to him, and the guys are so sweet, they always stay and listen. 'Course, a guy'll listen to anything if he thinks it's foreplay. I make them feel confident, and they make me feel safe, and pretty. 'Course, what I give them lasts a lifetime; what they give me lasts 142 games. Sometimes it seems like a bad trade. But bad trades are part of baseball - now who can forget Frank Robinson for Milt Pappas, for God's sake? It's a long season and you gotta trust. I've tried 'em all, I really have, and the only church that truly feeds the soul, day in, day out, is the Church of Baseball.
25a. I believe that heaven will include lots and lots of ball fields, and endless games, and anyone can play. And there'll be choir practice between innings.
25b. Baseball heals. I believe this, too.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
And It's Final!
So HappyChurch approved the call letter unanimously today at their congregational meeting. Everyone was so happy -- including me, of course!
The pastor preached on the unclean spirit text from Mark, and finished up by saying that those whom our culture says are not "enough" -- not smart enough, to sane enough, not straight enough, not normal enough, not good enough, not...enough -- that HappyChurch is the place where those folks can come and know that they are enough, that they can come and be truly loved and welcomed and included.
There are many folks at HappyChurch already who are there precisely because they have been called "not enough" for whatever reason elsewhere. And my own experience of being their pastor speaks to that, as it was at HappyChurch where I learned that I am "enough" to be a pastor. I've said that before, here, but I was just struck that whithout having ever really talked about it, this theme was lifted up today.
I also thought it was cool that our communion liturgy (PDF) celebrated UCC Women's Week which celebrates the gifts of women in the church (I didn't even know we had such a thing in the UCC!), as well as St. Brigid's feast day (and the lunar new year!). Again, the pastor and I had not talked about any of this, and I don't know if he intentionally picked this because I was there today or he used it simply because it was a resource he discovered for this Sunday. Whatever the reason, I loved that we used that liturgy celebrating women on the day they approved my call.
Don't you just love how God works sometimes!?!
The pastor preached on the unclean spirit text from Mark, and finished up by saying that those whom our culture says are not "enough" -- not smart enough, to sane enough, not straight enough, not normal enough, not good enough, not...enough -- that HappyChurch is the place where those folks can come and know that they are enough, that they can come and be truly loved and welcomed and included.
There are many folks at HappyChurch already who are there precisely because they have been called "not enough" for whatever reason elsewhere. And my own experience of being their pastor speaks to that, as it was at HappyChurch where I learned that I am "enough" to be a pastor. I've said that before, here, but I was just struck that whithout having ever really talked about it, this theme was lifted up today.
I also thought it was cool that our communion liturgy (PDF) celebrated UCC Women's Week which celebrates the gifts of women in the church (I didn't even know we had such a thing in the UCC!), as well as St. Brigid's feast day (and the lunar new year!). Again, the pastor and I had not talked about any of this, and I don't know if he intentionally picked this because I was there today or he used it simply because it was a resource he discovered for this Sunday. Whatever the reason, I loved that we used that liturgy celebrating women on the day they approved my call.
Don't you just love how God works sometimes!?!
Monday, January 26, 2009
One Step Closer
In December of 1994 I made my first trip to Guatemala, for a meeting about the program I coordinated for the Presbyterian Church. After the meeting, some of us did a little tour to a few parts of the country, spending the night in Panajachel on Lake Atitlán. We arrived in the afternoon while all the little outdoor stalls were still open selling their beautiful wares. My co-workers and I wandered through the streets trying not to buy everything in sight.
It was on towards sunset when we came up to a stall near the lakeshore, hung all over with woven stoles. My boss and I stopped and looked for a long time. Finally, I said, "I'm going to buy one. You know, just in case I might need it some day." She smiled. We both knew the possibility of me being ordained in the PC(USA) was unlikely, unless I stayed stuffed in a closet, which we also both knew was unlikely. Nevertheless, I bought one, in an extreme act of hope I suppose, a bright rainbow-y one that laid across the top of my desk for the next 6 or so years.
I gave that stole away in May 2000. I gave it to the pastor in Portland as a gift for being so kind to my cielo. Plus, I figured that I would not actually need it, having been unceremoniously dumped from my job at that same time, making clear to me that my person, my self, was not wanted. I didn't even know yet, then, that I would leave the PC(USA) for the UCC. I didn't know that I would come to love the UCC, that I would heal from the pain of leaving my childhood denomination, that I would find my way back to my path that would eventually lead me to where I am now.
Now, I have a whole set of Guatemalan stoles -- bright green/blue, darker green/black (for fall ordinary time!), deep purple, white, red, and yes, another rainbow-y one -- hand-picked by my cielo's brother in Guate and sent to me at my request before I began working at HappyChurch. HappyChurch allowed me to wear stoles as a sign of my ministerial authority even though I am not yet ordained, and I have also worn them at my new church. The red one graced BlueEyes' neck and the rainbow-y one TheologyBabe's during the great Transform columbus day Protest of 2007:
The red one is now my "official" protest stole, which I wear in marches and speaking at city council meetings...and which I carried at my trial. I also have a massively large red stole from Mexico, whichI bought from the weaver in Cuernavaca and which I wore at the 2007 protest:
I'm digressing, slightly: The point is, back in 1994 I bought a stole, in absurd hope, which I then gave away, having lost hope. And now here I am just a few more steps from being ordained.
Tonight, the HappyChurch council voted to approve the partnership between my church and theirs, which will make it possible for them to call me as the new church start pastor. The conference meets on Saturday (note to UCC polity geeks, my conference doesn't have any associations, in which this responsibility usually lies) and will vote whether or not to approve. And Sunday HappyChurch has its congregational meeting to vote to approve my call. No one expects any hiccups. One woman on the HappyChurch council said, "If the congregation doesn't approve this, I will fall down in a dead faint."
So. There you go.
It was on towards sunset when we came up to a stall near the lakeshore, hung all over with woven stoles. My boss and I stopped and looked for a long time. Finally, I said, "I'm going to buy one. You know, just in case I might need it some day." She smiled. We both knew the possibility of me being ordained in the PC(USA) was unlikely, unless I stayed stuffed in a closet, which we also both knew was unlikely. Nevertheless, I bought one, in an extreme act of hope I suppose, a bright rainbow-y one that laid across the top of my desk for the next 6 or so years.
I gave that stole away in May 2000. I gave it to the pastor in Portland as a gift for being so kind to my cielo. Plus, I figured that I would not actually need it, having been unceremoniously dumped from my job at that same time, making clear to me that my person, my self, was not wanted. I didn't even know yet, then, that I would leave the PC(USA) for the UCC. I didn't know that I would come to love the UCC, that I would heal from the pain of leaving my childhood denomination, that I would find my way back to my path that would eventually lead me to where I am now.
Now, I have a whole set of Guatemalan stoles -- bright green/blue, darker green/black (for fall ordinary time!), deep purple, white, red, and yes, another rainbow-y one -- hand-picked by my cielo's brother in Guate and sent to me at my request before I began working at HappyChurch. HappyChurch allowed me to wear stoles as a sign of my ministerial authority even though I am not yet ordained, and I have also worn them at my new church. The red one graced BlueEyes' neck and the rainbow-y one TheologyBabe's during the great Transform columbus day Protest of 2007:
The red one is now my "official" protest stole, which I wear in marches and speaking at city council meetings...and which I carried at my trial. I also have a massively large red stole from Mexico, whichI bought from the weaver in Cuernavaca and which I wore at the 2007 protest:
I'm digressing, slightly: The point is, back in 1994 I bought a stole, in absurd hope, which I then gave away, having lost hope. And now here I am just a few more steps from being ordained.Tonight, the HappyChurch council voted to approve the partnership between my church and theirs, which will make it possible for them to call me as the new church start pastor. The conference meets on Saturday (note to UCC polity geeks, my conference doesn't have any associations, in which this responsibility usually lies) and will vote whether or not to approve. And Sunday HappyChurch has its congregational meeting to vote to approve my call. No one expects any hiccups. One woman on the HappyChurch council said, "If the congregation doesn't approve this, I will fall down in a dead faint."
So. There you go.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Towanda Prays In The Dark
Tonight I got done setting up for our church gathering a bit early, so I wandered upstairs to see how the renovations at HappyChurch are going. I like to check in on their progress every week if I have time, and helps me feel connected to them.
It's getting on towards two years since I discovered HappyChurch. Kind of hard to believe. My first sermon was Palm Sunday, 2007, and then I did the 4-month interim while their pastor was on sabbatical, and then I did my field ed. internship with them, and then once my own new church started meeting last June (in HappyChurch's basement for free), I still have kept coming once a month, on the 4th Sunday, contributing to worship leadership and preaching occasionally.
When I walked into the sanctuary tonight, I suddenly felt moved to sit down in a pew, and just be still. So I did. I thought about the first day I came "to the office" as interim, after the pastor had gone, and it was just me. I was alone in the church, and I wandered around getting my bearings, figuring out the space and how to feel in it. I came into the sanctuary and felt a little overwhelmed, suddenly, by what seemed like a huge and sudden responsibility. So I knelt on the steps leading up to the dais (which aren't there anymore with the renovation) and prayed that I would do a good job, and that everything would be ok.
Which it was. It was HappyChurch that helped me believe that I could be a pastor. They didn't freak out when I got arrested. They've supported this vision for this base community, egalitarian model, liberationist, bilingual church from the beginning. I'm blessed to have found them.
Sitting there, I began to pray, and cry a little. I feel very thankful, and aware that big things are underway, and soon. Tomorrow we should find out if we'll get the space in Aurora, which we've been praying about for months. Tomorrow we'll finalize the partnership agreement and call letter between HappyChurch and my church and me...which means ordination is that much closer.
There are times when all of this is so frightening, when I have no idea if what I'm doing is the right thing, what God would have me do. I've struggled with not having a good metaphor/image to hold on to to keep me going.
So I was praying, really just saying "thank you" and "I hope I'm doing the right thing." I tried to meditate on the image of St. Francis building the church that my spiritual director suggested. Brick by brick. Create the space. They'll come.
I made myself giggle a bit when I realized that I'm pastoring the "field of dreams" church...if you build it, they will come. Of course, when Ray first starts building the field, no one is there, it's just a voice urging him on...but then little by little....
(I should add, we have a core group of folks, who find it very hard to come on Sunday nights...so sometimes no one's there but me and my cielo. The move to Aurora should change that, since we'll be able to meet on Sunday mornings. Had two new folks come to our info meeting tonight.)
The field of dreams church. Well, makes sense considering how much I love baseball, no?
Anyway, in my praying/meditating/whatever, I began to think about my little boat and paddle, why that image was not working for me, seemed to have disappeared from helpfulness. Then suddenly, there it was. Me and my paddle and Jesus. On the water, in the dark, no moon.
That's what it is right now. In the dark, no moon. No way to tell what's coming. Going forward (as far as we can tell...after all it's dark) anyway.
Back in the spring when I was shooting the class-five rapids, it was bright daylight. Then after graduation, Jesus made me get out of the boat and sit on the bank under the trees. It was dusk/dark, and he cooked fish over the fire, and gave it to me to eat, and told me to rest. I spent some time laying back in the leaves watching the starry sky.
I'm not sure when I got back in the boat, but I think I didn't realize it because I kept trying to imagine it in daylight. But it's not.
On the water, in the dark, no moon. It's not class-five rapids, but I can't tell where we going, no way to know if there's disaster ahead, or glory.
As I prayed, it was clear: Jesus is still in the back of the boat. Keep paddling. Yes, it's scary, but keep going anyway. And it's ok to go slowly.
And I realized, no moon means it's a new moon...new things, new creation. And, no moon means new moon and she'll come back out full again.
Praying there in the dark, in this sweet little sanctuary of this sweet little church, I felt more centered than I have in many weeks.
Me and my paddle and Jesus. Building the field of dreams.
OK, it's mixed metaphor, but whatever works, right?
Peace, y'all --
It's getting on towards two years since I discovered HappyChurch. Kind of hard to believe. My first sermon was Palm Sunday, 2007, and then I did the 4-month interim while their pastor was on sabbatical, and then I did my field ed. internship with them, and then once my own new church started meeting last June (in HappyChurch's basement for free), I still have kept coming once a month, on the 4th Sunday, contributing to worship leadership and preaching occasionally.
When I walked into the sanctuary tonight, I suddenly felt moved to sit down in a pew, and just be still. So I did. I thought about the first day I came "to the office" as interim, after the pastor had gone, and it was just me. I was alone in the church, and I wandered around getting my bearings, figuring out the space and how to feel in it. I came into the sanctuary and felt a little overwhelmed, suddenly, by what seemed like a huge and sudden responsibility. So I knelt on the steps leading up to the dais (which aren't there anymore with the renovation) and prayed that I would do a good job, and that everything would be ok.
Which it was. It was HappyChurch that helped me believe that I could be a pastor. They didn't freak out when I got arrested. They've supported this vision for this base community, egalitarian model, liberationist, bilingual church from the beginning. I'm blessed to have found them.
Sitting there, I began to pray, and cry a little. I feel very thankful, and aware that big things are underway, and soon. Tomorrow we should find out if we'll get the space in Aurora, which we've been praying about for months. Tomorrow we'll finalize the partnership agreement and call letter between HappyChurch and my church and me...which means ordination is that much closer.
There are times when all of this is so frightening, when I have no idea if what I'm doing is the right thing, what God would have me do. I've struggled with not having a good metaphor/image to hold on to to keep me going.
So I was praying, really just saying "thank you" and "I hope I'm doing the right thing." I tried to meditate on the image of St. Francis building the church that my spiritual director suggested. Brick by brick. Create the space. They'll come.
I made myself giggle a bit when I realized that I'm pastoring the "field of dreams" church...if you build it, they will come. Of course, when Ray first starts building the field, no one is there, it's just a voice urging him on...but then little by little....
(I should add, we have a core group of folks, who find it very hard to come on Sunday nights...so sometimes no one's there but me and my cielo. The move to Aurora should change that, since we'll be able to meet on Sunday mornings. Had two new folks come to our info meeting tonight.)
The field of dreams church. Well, makes sense considering how much I love baseball, no?
Anyway, in my praying/meditating/whatever, I began to think about my little boat and paddle, why that image was not working for me, seemed to have disappeared from helpfulness. Then suddenly, there it was. Me and my paddle and Jesus. On the water, in the dark, no moon.
That's what it is right now. In the dark, no moon. No way to tell what's coming. Going forward (as far as we can tell...after all it's dark) anyway.
Back in the spring when I was shooting the class-five rapids, it was bright daylight. Then after graduation, Jesus made me get out of the boat and sit on the bank under the trees. It was dusk/dark, and he cooked fish over the fire, and gave it to me to eat, and told me to rest. I spent some time laying back in the leaves watching the starry sky.
I'm not sure when I got back in the boat, but I think I didn't realize it because I kept trying to imagine it in daylight. But it's not.
On the water, in the dark, no moon. It's not class-five rapids, but I can't tell where we going, no way to know if there's disaster ahead, or glory.
As I prayed, it was clear: Jesus is still in the back of the boat. Keep paddling. Yes, it's scary, but keep going anyway. And it's ok to go slowly.
And I realized, no moon means it's a new moon...new things, new creation. And, no moon means new moon and she'll come back out full again.
Praying there in the dark, in this sweet little sanctuary of this sweet little church, I felt more centered than I have in many weeks.
Me and my paddle and Jesus. Building the field of dreams.
OK, it's mixed metaphor, but whatever works, right?
Peace, y'all --
Towanda Makes Soup
I made vegetable soup today, for a church gathering we had tonight. I'd never made soup before and my cielo thought I should write the recipe down, so here you go.
First, think about what you want to have in your soup. Think about how they always start soups on Iron Chef: Carrots, Onions, Celery (the fancy-pants name for that is Mirepoix, which I never would have known without Iron Chef). So I'll have to have carrots, onions, celery.
And garlic. Gotta have garlic.
And beans. Maybe one of this multi-bean mix things (without the seasoning packet).
And a parsnip. I don't know why, but it should have a parsnip. Mostly because I just like saying "parsnip."
And corn. And tomatoes, for a splash of bright color.
Oh, I have fresh rosemary...frozen in the freezer, but still fresh. That might be good. And some other herbs, whatever we've got over there in the spice rack.
And I should get some vegetable broth. Don't want a watery-tasting soup.
OK.
Now I go to the local Sunflower. We have carrots and onion and garlic at home, so I don't need those.
Get the celery, and the parsnip. Remember that you forgot about potatoes -- what's a veggie soup without potatoes? Get potatoes (3 yukon golds).
Get two box-thingies of organic veggie broth. Wonder if that'll be enough. Tell yourself you can add some water if necessary.
Get a can of whole tomatoes.
Go to the frozen section because you know they have fresh-frozen veggies from Oregon (I'm blanking on the name now), organic from sustainable farms. Pick up corn. Look at the spinach. Think about it. Decide not to.
Go hunting for beans. They have multi-bean selections in the bulk section. Hmm...7 bean or 10 bean? 10 bean also has pearled barley...that'd be a nice addition. Get the 10-bean. The colors are also brighter, some red lentils and red beans brighten it up. Probably about 1.5 cups.
Talk with my cielo -- can you think of anything else? What about spinach? Decide to get the spinach.
Buy the stuff. Go home. Soak the beans overnight.
OK.
Now, chop the carrots, onion, celery. Not to fine, just chunky, cuz it's soup. I have no idea how much of each, I figure about equal amounts of each should do it. Probably about 1.5 cups each. Less onion than that actually.
Turns out the onion was a purple onion...I was imagining yellow, but purple will be really nice.
Chop up 3 cloves garlic.
Pour extra-virgin olive oil in the bottom of the stock pot, enough to coat the bottom pretty well. Dump in the MIREPOIX and let that cook on...medium-ish heat? Oh, salt, and pepper (but not too much pepper). Be amazed at how good that smells, and it's just carrots, onions, celery.
Chop up the other stuff, except the corn and spinach which are already ready. Discover there's a small zucchini in the fridge, chop that up, too. Stir the mirepoix every so often.
By the way, don't peel any of the vegetables. Daddy always says most of the nutrition is in the peel, plus it looks more rustic.
When the onions start to look translucent and the carrots and celery look...uh, sweaty, toss in the rosemary. Then add other stuff in the spice rack: oregano, parsley, basil, savory, thyme, saffron. A little more salt. Let the herbs cook in there a few minutes.
Look at the crockpot. Is it big enough? My cielo thinks so.
Put beans in the crockpot. Add the other chopped veggies, top with the mirepoix/herb mix. Realize there is no room to add any liquid, much less the corn and spinach and tomatoes. Put it all back in the stock pot, add the corn, spinach, tomatoes, and stock. Stir. Add a little more salt.
Add a little water to the veggie stock box-thingies to swirl out the veggie goodness still in the bottom. Pour that in the pot.
Let it all come to a boil, and boil a bit. Then turn it down to low to simmer until it's time for the meeting. Which was, like, 6 hours.
Somewhere along the line discover there's a little bit of pasta in the cabinet, little multi-colored spiral-things, not enough to call a meal. Toss those in.
Have your cielo taste it, tell her to go ahead and add more salt since she thinks she needs it.
Enjoy the smell all afternoon while you watch the inauguration concert at the Lincoln Memorial.
Enjoy with bread and interesting conversation. Look forward to having it again tomorrow.
Towanda's Veggie Soup
First, think about what you want to have in your soup. Think about how they always start soups on Iron Chef: Carrots, Onions, Celery (the fancy-pants name for that is Mirepoix, which I never would have known without Iron Chef). So I'll have to have carrots, onions, celery.
And garlic. Gotta have garlic.
And beans. Maybe one of this multi-bean mix things (without the seasoning packet).
And a parsnip. I don't know why, but it should have a parsnip. Mostly because I just like saying "parsnip."
And corn. And tomatoes, for a splash of bright color.
Oh, I have fresh rosemary...frozen in the freezer, but still fresh. That might be good. And some other herbs, whatever we've got over there in the spice rack.
And I should get some vegetable broth. Don't want a watery-tasting soup.
OK.
Now I go to the local Sunflower. We have carrots and onion and garlic at home, so I don't need those.
Get the celery, and the parsnip. Remember that you forgot about potatoes -- what's a veggie soup without potatoes? Get potatoes (3 yukon golds).
Get two box-thingies of organic veggie broth. Wonder if that'll be enough. Tell yourself you can add some water if necessary.
Get a can of whole tomatoes.
Go to the frozen section because you know they have fresh-frozen veggies from Oregon (I'm blanking on the name now), organic from sustainable farms. Pick up corn. Look at the spinach. Think about it. Decide not to.
Go hunting for beans. They have multi-bean selections in the bulk section. Hmm...7 bean or 10 bean? 10 bean also has pearled barley...that'd be a nice addition. Get the 10-bean. The colors are also brighter, some red lentils and red beans brighten it up. Probably about 1.5 cups.
Talk with my cielo -- can you think of anything else? What about spinach? Decide to get the spinach.
Buy the stuff. Go home. Soak the beans overnight.
OK.
Now, chop the carrots, onion, celery. Not to fine, just chunky, cuz it's soup. I have no idea how much of each, I figure about equal amounts of each should do it. Probably about 1.5 cups each. Less onion than that actually.
Turns out the onion was a purple onion...I was imagining yellow, but purple will be really nice.
Chop up 3 cloves garlic.
Pour extra-virgin olive oil in the bottom of the stock pot, enough to coat the bottom pretty well. Dump in the MIREPOIX and let that cook on...medium-ish heat? Oh, salt, and pepper (but not too much pepper). Be amazed at how good that smells, and it's just carrots, onions, celery.
Chop up the other stuff, except the corn and spinach which are already ready. Discover there's a small zucchini in the fridge, chop that up, too. Stir the mirepoix every so often.
By the way, don't peel any of the vegetables. Daddy always says most of the nutrition is in the peel, plus it looks more rustic.
When the onions start to look translucent and the carrots and celery look...uh, sweaty, toss in the rosemary. Then add other stuff in the spice rack: oregano, parsley, basil, savory, thyme, saffron. A little more salt. Let the herbs cook in there a few minutes.
Look at the crockpot. Is it big enough? My cielo thinks so.
Put beans in the crockpot. Add the other chopped veggies, top with the mirepoix/herb mix. Realize there is no room to add any liquid, much less the corn and spinach and tomatoes. Put it all back in the stock pot, add the corn, spinach, tomatoes, and stock. Stir. Add a little more salt.
Add a little water to the veggie stock box-thingies to swirl out the veggie goodness still in the bottom. Pour that in the pot.
Let it all come to a boil, and boil a bit. Then turn it down to low to simmer until it's time for the meeting. Which was, like, 6 hours.
Somewhere along the line discover there's a little bit of pasta in the cabinet, little multi-colored spiral-things, not enough to call a meal. Toss those in.
Have your cielo taste it, tell her to go ahead and add more salt since she thinks she needs it.
Enjoy the smell all afternoon while you watch the inauguration concert at the Lincoln Memorial.
Enjoy with bread and interesting conversation. Look forward to having it again tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Thinking About the New Year, and Goats
The cats are curled up in their basket together by the heating vent. Punkinseed is licking Dodger's head, and vice versa. It's rather sweet. BearGoddess once told us she'd never seen two cats who were so cuddly with each other. But pretty soon, one will have had enough and will jump out of the basket to nap elsewhere. For a while.
The new year is starting off with great promise for me/us, even though so much is unknown. I'm rather quite thankful to have 2008 over with, and whatever 2009 may bring, certainly it can not be anywhere near as stressful as last year. Or even the first 6 months of last year, which took the next 6 months to get over.
I started going to spiritual direction again a couple of weeks ago. I think in many ways I was just worn out, spiritually, emotionally...but I thought I should be better. My guide reminded me that we passed the anniversary of the arrest in October, and in her listening it sounded like my energy dropped significantly after that. Which it did. You can tell that here at the Window, too.
This is why you go to spiritual direction, see. For someone to listen to what is being said underneath the saying of it. She offered me St. Francis as a model -- St. Francis quietly building the church (the church, and maybe myself) back together, even when it was just him and the birds and the sun and the moon, St. Francis talking and singing with the animals. I liked that. I remembered that I have a St. Francis carving, from New Mexico, which sat in my carrel but has been in the bag into which I packed all my carrel stuff back in June, and has yet to be unpacked. Still. Even though I told her I would.
But I like imaging St. Francis and the animals, and I think it's what I like about going to the farm to hang out with the goats. It's just simple, and quiet, and I feel so calmed down because I have to slow down -- I get to slow down -- because you can't be all rowdy with goats, you have to be quiet or they get all riled up and then it's nearly impossible to put them to bed at night. Anyway, I get to slow down and just speak sweet to the mamas when I try to milk them, and talk to the little ones, and move slowly among them and scratch their heads and look into their surprisingly tender eyes. I thank the mamas for their patience with me for being so new and unskilled at milking. I thank the chickens for their eggs. I tease Arlo for being spoiled. I inhale the clean, manure-y smell of the barnyard and pray the bears and mountain lions leave these sweet animals alone.
Here's a story: When I was about 9 years old, my family all went to the grocery store in Austin, TX. We'd just moved there from Arkansas so daddy could go to seminary. Anyway, we went to the store, and when we came out, there was a family there selling baby goats. I don't really remember what they looked like, but I do remember that I wanted one. Badly. I still remember the little chant I made up and hollered in the back of the car all the way home:
I want a little baby goat!
I want a little baby goat!
I don't care what anybody says,
I want a little baby goat!
Well I guess I sort of have my own, adopted, little baby goat now, Arlo -- who is not quite so little now but who has his own byline on the Westfarm blog...isn't he cute!
I have been thinking about my prayers for 2009 -- not my resolutions or even my intentions, but my prayers. One of my prayers is to spend more time up at the farm. It's good self-care for me (and it helps support local, sustainable agriculture).
Other prayers I have for 2009:
--My little base community that we started in June is planning some big steps, particularly moving from a space that's free to a space we would have to pay for, so that we can be in the neighborhood where we feel called to be, the latino immigrant neighborhood where people are really suffering from anti-immigrant sentiment and prejudice. We have to find the money to be able to do this. So we're doing the work we need to do, and praying.
-- I should be ordained within the next few months. HappyChurch has agreed to partner w/my community, naming it has a ministry of theirs so that they can call me and I can be ordained. We are finalizing the partnership agreement and call letter over the next couple of weeks, and then HappyChurch will vote on it all at their congregational meeting on February 1. I am so thankful for their support.
-- I enjoy my part-time work and am thankful that it pays me just enough to pay my bills plus a little extra. School loans begin coming due this month, and I am also thankful that I was able to consolidate almost all of them and will end up paying about half of what I was originally going to. HUGE relief!
-- I pray that as the year unfolds, I'll continue to be able to balance my job, my ministry, and my activism, and still protect time for self-care and for cielo-care. So far I think we are doing well at this, although things got a little wacky in December.
-- I am looking forward to celebrating my cielo's graduation from Iliff in June. I am so proud of you, mi amor!
-- We are praying for a new house, discerning whether we should buy (for the first time) or rent again. We just know that we are ready to be out of this house. This house has served us well but having a basement neighbor has been trying. It's not really the person's fault, but it has been months since we've slept a full night through because she gets up very early to let the dog out, and the stairs and door are right next to our bedroom. We hear everything. The bathroom fan downstairs rattles our bedroom floor, for example. Anyway, we are just done, and we are "praying in" a new home. Here are some specifics, in case you want to help: 3 bedrooms, a place for the kitties' box that's not in our living space (like a basement or something), lots of windows for light but with windows that are energy-efficient and raise up-and-down for using window fans (not these ancient crank windows like we have now), wood floors, decent-sized kitchen, yard, not too close to the street, off-street parking. And, of course, in our price range.
-- I'm praying for better health this year. I had colds at least 4 times that I can think of in 2008, including during my trial and the last two weeks of the year, as well as bad allergies. I usually am good for maybe one cold a year. I want to take better care of myself physically, take my vitamins, start doing yoga again, start walking.
-- I guess, too, I'm just praying for faithfulness as things unfold, praying for my "hope muscles" to regain their strength and suppleness, praying for tenderness and strength for myself.
-- And peace, so many prayers for peace.
Amen.
The new year is starting off with great promise for me/us, even though so much is unknown. I'm rather quite thankful to have 2008 over with, and whatever 2009 may bring, certainly it can not be anywhere near as stressful as last year. Or even the first 6 months of last year, which took the next 6 months to get over.
I started going to spiritual direction again a couple of weeks ago. I think in many ways I was just worn out, spiritually, emotionally...but I thought I should be better. My guide reminded me that we passed the anniversary of the arrest in October, and in her listening it sounded like my energy dropped significantly after that. Which it did. You can tell that here at the Window, too.
This is why you go to spiritual direction, see. For someone to listen to what is being said underneath the saying of it. She offered me St. Francis as a model -- St. Francis quietly building the church (the church, and maybe myself) back together, even when it was just him and the birds and the sun and the moon, St. Francis talking and singing with the animals. I liked that. I remembered that I have a St. Francis carving, from New Mexico, which sat in my carrel but has been in the bag into which I packed all my carrel stuff back in June, and has yet to be unpacked. Still. Even though I told her I would.
But I like imaging St. Francis and the animals, and I think it's what I like about going to the farm to hang out with the goats. It's just simple, and quiet, and I feel so calmed down because I have to slow down -- I get to slow down -- because you can't be all rowdy with goats, you have to be quiet or they get all riled up and then it's nearly impossible to put them to bed at night. Anyway, I get to slow down and just speak sweet to the mamas when I try to milk them, and talk to the little ones, and move slowly among them and scratch their heads and look into their surprisingly tender eyes. I thank the mamas for their patience with me for being so new and unskilled at milking. I thank the chickens for their eggs. I tease Arlo for being spoiled. I inhale the clean, manure-y smell of the barnyard and pray the bears and mountain lions leave these sweet animals alone.
Here's a story: When I was about 9 years old, my family all went to the grocery store in Austin, TX. We'd just moved there from Arkansas so daddy could go to seminary. Anyway, we went to the store, and when we came out, there was a family there selling baby goats. I don't really remember what they looked like, but I do remember that I wanted one. Badly. I still remember the little chant I made up and hollered in the back of the car all the way home:
I want a little baby goat!
I want a little baby goat!
I don't care what anybody says,
I want a little baby goat!
Well I guess I sort of have my own, adopted, little baby goat now, Arlo -- who is not quite so little now but who has his own byline on the Westfarm blog...isn't he cute!
I have been thinking about my prayers for 2009 -- not my resolutions or even my intentions, but my prayers. One of my prayers is to spend more time up at the farm. It's good self-care for me (and it helps support local, sustainable agriculture).
Other prayers I have for 2009:
--My little base community that we started in June is planning some big steps, particularly moving from a space that's free to a space we would have to pay for, so that we can be in the neighborhood where we feel called to be, the latino immigrant neighborhood where people are really suffering from anti-immigrant sentiment and prejudice. We have to find the money to be able to do this. So we're doing the work we need to do, and praying.
-- I should be ordained within the next few months. HappyChurch has agreed to partner w/my community, naming it has a ministry of theirs so that they can call me and I can be ordained. We are finalizing the partnership agreement and call letter over the next couple of weeks, and then HappyChurch will vote on it all at their congregational meeting on February 1. I am so thankful for their support.
-- I enjoy my part-time work and am thankful that it pays me just enough to pay my bills plus a little extra. School loans begin coming due this month, and I am also thankful that I was able to consolidate almost all of them and will end up paying about half of what I was originally going to. HUGE relief!
-- I pray that as the year unfolds, I'll continue to be able to balance my job, my ministry, and my activism, and still protect time for self-care and for cielo-care. So far I think we are doing well at this, although things got a little wacky in December.
-- I am looking forward to celebrating my cielo's graduation from Iliff in June. I am so proud of you, mi amor!
-- We are praying for a new house, discerning whether we should buy (for the first time) or rent again. We just know that we are ready to be out of this house. This house has served us well but having a basement neighbor has been trying. It's not really the person's fault, but it has been months since we've slept a full night through because she gets up very early to let the dog out, and the stairs and door are right next to our bedroom. We hear everything. The bathroom fan downstairs rattles our bedroom floor, for example. Anyway, we are just done, and we are "praying in" a new home. Here are some specifics, in case you want to help: 3 bedrooms, a place for the kitties' box that's not in our living space (like a basement or something), lots of windows for light but with windows that are energy-efficient and raise up-and-down for using window fans (not these ancient crank windows like we have now), wood floors, decent-sized kitchen, yard, not too close to the street, off-street parking. And, of course, in our price range.
-- I'm praying for better health this year. I had colds at least 4 times that I can think of in 2008, including during my trial and the last two weeks of the year, as well as bad allergies. I usually am good for maybe one cold a year. I want to take better care of myself physically, take my vitamins, start doing yoga again, start walking.
-- I guess, too, I'm just praying for faithfulness as things unfold, praying for my "hope muscles" to regain their strength and suppleness, praying for tenderness and strength for myself.
-- And peace, so many prayers for peace.
Amen.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Happy New Year From Arlo
This is Arlo, with his human mama, Lori, and Cap over there in the corner. Isn't Arlo cute? Remember when I held him when he was just one week old? Now he's a bigger boy, and very cute!
We went up to the farm last Sunday, and I got to help Lori put the goats (and the sheeps and the chickens) to bed. I got to try my hand at milking the goats, including Arlo's grandma, but I was not very good at it. And they noticed! One of the girls tried to sit on me, gradually leaning over until she was almost laying across my back -- her way of saying, "I know you are not my mama, would you please let go?"
I loved hanging out with Lori and the goats, talking to them quietly so they wouldn't be freaked out by my appearance in the middle of their routine. We rounded them up into their "apartments" for the night, tossing in fresh hay and grain and closing up the doors so they'd stay warm and toasty and safe from the bears and mountain lions that live nearby. I found very calming walking among them and and talking to them and taking part in the whole routine.
Lori makes goat's-milk soap and cheese, both of which we love, and soon will be starting up a blog to promote her products and talk about the lives of the goats and other farm doings. I'll put up the link as soon as it's ready.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Seeing Arlo
I got to go up to the farm today and see Arlo, the little premature goat I got to hold when he was just two weeks old (see the photo here). He's a bigger boy now; he'll never get to the full size since he was a preemie, but he's almost as big as his momma now.
I haven't seen him since then but I think he remembered me. He nibbled on my zipper pulls, head-butted my thighs, even jumped up to put his front hooves on my shoulders, like to hug me. When we left he clambered his front hooves up on the top of the gate so I could reach over and hug him around the neck.
I love Arlo.
I love goats, actually. I loved being out with all of them (although most of my attention was on Arlo, of course) and watching their big, beautiful, wise, and slightly mischievious eyes. For some reason I find it very calming.
P.S. Dodger would like me to note for the record that he is better than a goat. After all, he says, the goats don't paw mama awake at 4 in the morning like he does!
I haven't seen him since then but I think he remembered me. He nibbled on my zipper pulls, head-butted my thighs, even jumped up to put his front hooves on my shoulders, like to hug me. When we left he clambered his front hooves up on the top of the gate so I could reach over and hug him around the neck.
I love Arlo.
I love goats, actually. I loved being out with all of them (although most of my attention was on Arlo, of course) and watching their big, beautiful, wise, and slightly mischievious eyes. For some reason I find it very calming.
P.S. Dodger would like me to note for the record that he is better than a goat. After all, he says, the goats don't paw mama awake at 4 in the morning like he does!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
"I Don't Like It"
So, my mom has been in the hospital for a week.
She first went to the ER last Monday with extreme back pain, and they sent her home with vicodin and a muscle relaxant which helped not at all. Daddy took her back in to the ER (at the hospital where he is chaplain) last Wednesday morning. They ended up admitting her.
They first ran all the tests making sure it wasn't her heart (she has high BP and cholesterol and a family history of heart trouble) which were fine. Tests on her back -- XRays, MRIs -- also normal. Then her lips became swollen and numb, which she thought was due to the morphine, but this concerned the doctors so the ran tests for stroke and TIA...also fine. The numbness spread to her eyelids and eyebrows (I know, weird), while the back pain began to get better. But they moved her into the surgical heart ICU so they could constantly monitor her, being concerned that the numbness/swelling could travel down her throat and stop her breathing.
They ran more tests and could not find anything. I talked to Mom on Sunday and she said the doctors said they'd never seen anything like it. They were even checking things like West Nile Virus and Lyme Disease.
By Tuesday morning, she was doing a lot better. I talked to her and she was alert, perky, in very little pain, the swelling had gone done and her speech was normal. They were going to run one more CT, and if she continued to improve, they would send her home today.
And then, she started having muscular problems in one of her arms. Then this morning my youngest brother emailed (he's the contact point for all this, bless his heart) that mom was now having weakness in her legs...and it's not because she's been laid up in a hospital bed for a week. So they kept her for more tests.
This afternoon, another email from TBro, that they were taking mom for a spinal tap because they now are thinking she might have this, Guillain-Barré syndrome. Sounds scary and it is, but if that's what she has, I think they've caught it early or she doesn't have what's described as the most severe case. At any rate, if the spinal tap is positive, they can start treating her right away. I'm also encouraged that there seems to be complete recovery even in the most severe cases.
She's getting good care there, which I'm thankful for. Daddy is tired, of course.
The "I don't like it" quote in the title is what I said to my cielo after seeing the fact sheet on Guillain-Barré and burrowing into her shoulder. I don't like that mom might have this, I don't like that I'm far away, I don't like that she's mortal, after all. I don't like it.
If you're the praying type, please say a good word for my mom and dad.
Peace.
She first went to the ER last Monday with extreme back pain, and they sent her home with vicodin and a muscle relaxant which helped not at all. Daddy took her back in to the ER (at the hospital where he is chaplain) last Wednesday morning. They ended up admitting her.
They first ran all the tests making sure it wasn't her heart (she has high BP and cholesterol and a family history of heart trouble) which were fine. Tests on her back -- XRays, MRIs -- also normal. Then her lips became swollen and numb, which she thought was due to the morphine, but this concerned the doctors so the ran tests for stroke and TIA...also fine. The numbness spread to her eyelids and eyebrows (I know, weird), while the back pain began to get better. But they moved her into the surgical heart ICU so they could constantly monitor her, being concerned that the numbness/swelling could travel down her throat and stop her breathing.
They ran more tests and could not find anything. I talked to Mom on Sunday and she said the doctors said they'd never seen anything like it. They were even checking things like West Nile Virus and Lyme Disease.
By Tuesday morning, she was doing a lot better. I talked to her and she was alert, perky, in very little pain, the swelling had gone done and her speech was normal. They were going to run one more CT, and if she continued to improve, they would send her home today.
And then, she started having muscular problems in one of her arms. Then this morning my youngest brother emailed (he's the contact point for all this, bless his heart) that mom was now having weakness in her legs...and it's not because she's been laid up in a hospital bed for a week. So they kept her for more tests.
This afternoon, another email from TBro, that they were taking mom for a spinal tap because they now are thinking she might have this, Guillain-Barré syndrome. Sounds scary and it is, but if that's what she has, I think they've caught it early or she doesn't have what's described as the most severe case. At any rate, if the spinal tap is positive, they can start treating her right away. I'm also encouraged that there seems to be complete recovery even in the most severe cases.
She's getting good care there, which I'm thankful for. Daddy is tired, of course.
The "I don't like it" quote in the title is what I said to my cielo after seeing the fact sheet on Guillain-Barré and burrowing into her shoulder. I don't like that mom might have this, I don't like that I'm far away, I don't like that she's mortal, after all. I don't like it.
If you're the praying type, please say a good word for my mom and dad.
Peace.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Towanda Does A Wedding
So, our new little church community celebrated its first wedding tonight, of a very sweet couple from Mexico. I was humbled and honored to be asked to do the ceremony. It was a simple ceremony -- they had already done the civil part, so we got to focus on the love, which, if you ask me, is how it should be.
They were so shy, from all the fuss, I think. But they loved it, loved the promises I had written for them after listening to them and watching them, both together and how they are in the community.
I feel very moved that my first wedding was for a couple from Mexico who are immigrants. Seems very right to me, considering my own journey to where I am today began in large part on the Mexican border so many years ago.
I'm very content tonight, and I wish E. and F. all the best in their partnership.
They were so shy, from all the fuss, I think. But they loved it, loved the promises I had written for them after listening to them and watching them, both together and how they are in the community.
I feel very moved that my first wedding was for a couple from Mexico who are immigrants. Seems very right to me, considering my own journey to where I am today began in large part on the Mexican border so many years ago.
I'm very content tonight, and I wish E. and F. all the best in their partnership.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Staring Out The Window
Life is...interesting...right now. Working part-time, and doing the new church, juggling schedules and trying to have a life. It's all good. Trying to figure out how to make time to write, cuz there's things I want to say, reflect about, stuff like that. Good stuff I'm doing, although I find myself rather pensive, struggling with cynicism. Maybe my hope muscles are just tired after the last year.
Playing ball tonight -- we were supposed to play last week, semifinal "playoff" and if we won that the final, but we had weather as bad/worse as what Philly had last night, plus a bit of snow and lots of lightning.
So, we're playing tonight instead. It'll be brisk, but at least it won't be wet. It's a gorgeous day.
Hope y'all are well.
Here are a few pics from the Transform columbus day Protest this year:
Gathered on the Capitol Steps.
13 Indigenous Women going through the police barrier (the police let them...go figure) to present a Treaty of Transformation to the paraders (that's one there on the left with the striped shirt).
The 13 Women reading the Treaty. The paraders threw it on the ground.
Back at the capitol...with all these cops. Cuz we're so scary, I guess.
Playing ball tonight -- we were supposed to play last week, semifinal "playoff" and if we won that the final, but we had weather as bad/worse as what Philly had last night, plus a bit of snow and lots of lightning.
So, we're playing tonight instead. It'll be brisk, but at least it won't be wet. It's a gorgeous day.
Hope y'all are well.
Here are a few pics from the Transform columbus day Protest this year:
Gathered on the Capitol Steps.
13 Indigenous Women going through the police barrier (the police let them...go figure) to present a Treaty of Transformation to the paraders (that's one there on the left with the striped shirt).
The 13 Women reading the Treaty. The paraders threw it on the ground.
Back at the capitol...with all these cops. Cuz we're so scary, I guess.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Anniversary Week
I wrote a few days ago that a few of my friends, arrested with me, would be marking the anniversary of our arrest by going to the intersection for a remembrance, then to the courthouse for some ritualized profanity (see Psalm 10 and 109, which go nicely with some other choice words).
Turned out that just my cielo, JT, and I were able to make it. We met at the intersection -- I have stopped by there several times since we go downtown with some frequency and actually park most often at the lot that's right there, so it was not the first time. JT and my cielo were both disoriented, a little. JT had no memory of the convention center looming near us. My feeling was that the street seemed so small now. We remembered our friends who couldn't be with us.
Then JT and I walked down to the courthouse (my cielo had to work on a paper), and sat on the steps, and just talked. Talked about all the trials and hearings. Talked about both of us being called for jury duty in the winter (yes both!), and the weird experience of sitting in the jury room, where we had been processed for our arrests just a couple months before. My strange response to seeing people in wedding attire having their picture taken on the steps one afternoon when I came down for a trial -- you mean something good happens in this building? Her sudden outburst of songs from Godspell. Our shared cynicism, with which we struggle, after the way the city treated us.
I read Psalm 10, and 109, and then JT mentioned 137 so I read that one, too. Then I decided I wanted to go see the columbus statue in the park in front of us. I wanted to see if the graffiti a certain person in her clergy collar had written on the base of the statue while we were waiting for my verdict (unbeknownst to me) was still there.
It still is.
columbus kills, it says.
Freshened up a bit now, shall we say. And translated into Spanish.
That's all you need to know.
We shared brie and crackers and an apple and chocolate, and laughed together. I'm so thankful for JT, what a good friend I have found. Generous and funny and encouraging.
After our snack we headed over the CIW vigil, which was lovely. We had CIW activists come to my church the night before, and they invited me to lead one of the songs we did in worship for the vigil, which I was happy to do. We prayed together underneath Chipotle's offices. When they mentioned that they would be sleeping on the street that night in front of the building, when the temperature was supposed to drop into the 30s, I did a quick check with my other church members who were there and we decided to use some of our money to bring hot chocolate later.
But how does one do that?
JT had the brilliant idea of stopping at a Starbucks and asking for those gallon-size cardboard jug-things they have, just the jug. So we did, and managed to get two. I stopped by the store and bought trail mix, fruit, hot chocolate and hot cider mixes, and lara bars. Then I went home and boiled water and filled up the jugs with hot water. Then my cielo and I went back over to the vigil site, and delivered the goods, at about 11:30.
On the way, we remembered where we were the year before -- me in jail, her waiting outside in the cold. Suddenly I began to choke up..."Did anyone bring you something warm to drink in the middle of the night?" I asked her. "Yes, they did, they did," she said. And we talked about how important it felt, on the anniversary of that day, of that long night, to be attending to others in this way.
It was a good day.
The rest of the week has been interesting. Mostly good, settling in to my new job (I have a new job...I think I've forgotten to mention that...) and doing church stuff and getting ready for this weekend. There have been a few things that let me know it's an anniversary time, though.
Turned out that just my cielo, JT, and I were able to make it. We met at the intersection -- I have stopped by there several times since we go downtown with some frequency and actually park most often at the lot that's right there, so it was not the first time. JT and my cielo were both disoriented, a little. JT had no memory of the convention center looming near us. My feeling was that the street seemed so small now. We remembered our friends who couldn't be with us.
Then JT and I walked down to the courthouse (my cielo had to work on a paper), and sat on the steps, and just talked. Talked about all the trials and hearings. Talked about both of us being called for jury duty in the winter (yes both!), and the weird experience of sitting in the jury room, where we had been processed for our arrests just a couple months before. My strange response to seeing people in wedding attire having their picture taken on the steps one afternoon when I came down for a trial -- you mean something good happens in this building? Her sudden outburst of songs from Godspell. Our shared cynicism, with which we struggle, after the way the city treated us.
I read Psalm 10, and 109, and then JT mentioned 137 so I read that one, too. Then I decided I wanted to go see the columbus statue in the park in front of us. I wanted to see if the graffiti a certain person in her clergy collar had written on the base of the statue while we were waiting for my verdict (unbeknownst to me) was still there.
It still is.
columbus kills, it says.
Freshened up a bit now, shall we say. And translated into Spanish.
That's all you need to know.
We shared brie and crackers and an apple and chocolate, and laughed together. I'm so thankful for JT, what a good friend I have found. Generous and funny and encouraging.
After our snack we headed over the CIW vigil, which was lovely. We had CIW activists come to my church the night before, and they invited me to lead one of the songs we did in worship for the vigil, which I was happy to do. We prayed together underneath Chipotle's offices. When they mentioned that they would be sleeping on the street that night in front of the building, when the temperature was supposed to drop into the 30s, I did a quick check with my other church members who were there and we decided to use some of our money to bring hot chocolate later.
But how does one do that?
JT had the brilliant idea of stopping at a Starbucks and asking for those gallon-size cardboard jug-things they have, just the jug. So we did, and managed to get two. I stopped by the store and bought trail mix, fruit, hot chocolate and hot cider mixes, and lara bars. Then I went home and boiled water and filled up the jugs with hot water. Then my cielo and I went back over to the vigil site, and delivered the goods, at about 11:30.
On the way, we remembered where we were the year before -- me in jail, her waiting outside in the cold. Suddenly I began to choke up..."Did anyone bring you something warm to drink in the middle of the night?" I asked her. "Yes, they did, they did," she said. And we talked about how important it felt, on the anniversary of that day, of that long night, to be attending to others in this way.
It was a good day.
The rest of the week has been interesting. Mostly good, settling in to my new job (I have a new job...I think I've forgotten to mention that...) and doing church stuff and getting ready for this weekend. There have been a few things that let me know it's an anniversary time, though.
- My right hand and arm/shoulder are hurting more. The pain in my right thumb has never completely gone away, although, as Crimson Rambler noted, my softball playing does not seem to be affected, thank goodness. I still make perfect cutoff throws. Mostly I don't notice the pain. But this week the pain has increased, for no apparent reason, so I'm sure it probably anniversary-related.
- My cielo has a busy day tomorrow -- in addition to the protest-related stuff -- and as we were trying to figure out the day's logistics a couple of nights ago, I said it was important to me that we march together...and then began to tear up. Part of my emotion: fear that "something" will happen to us, and she wouldn't be there. Rationally, nothing is going to happen, there is no plan for any kind of confrontation like last year...but still...that fear is there.
- Today we were back downtown, to do a couple of errands after work. We had parked at that same intersection. When we headed back, she went on across the intersection with a group of people, but against the walk sign. Since yours truly still has probation to contend with, I waited for the walk signal. While waiting, I saw a cop car in the intersection, across the street from me on the street I was about to cross (does that make sense?). No big deal. I got the walk signal and headed across the street, and about half-way across, suddenly I heard the siren behind me. I jumped, walked more quickly, checked behind me. What had I done? The cop was pulling over a bicyclist, and had to have come across the intersection against the red light to have been behind me like that. I was spooked, I tell you. I went to the car, got in, shaking, and began to cry. We just stayed put for a few minutes, my cielo comforted me, and we drove away once I'd calmed down. I've been a little shaky ever since. I'm supposed to speak at the rally tomorrow, and every time I tried to write down my remarks, I'd start to cry. I'm better now, thanks to my cielo and a call from JT.
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