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.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Pray With Me?
Today the immigrant day laborers I visit with every week and I had a good laugh. It's the kind of laugh that is born of deep pain and anxiety. You know, the kind of laugh so you don't cry.
Work has been desperately hard to come by. Day labor by its nature is an incredibly vulnerable way to make a living, and in this economic crisis, even more so. Workers go days without work, weeks with only a day or two here and there.
They had told me before that they don't like it when it rains because there's even less work (although they're still there, waiting faithfully...just like last week, in a cold drizzle). But at least when it snows, there's work shoveling driveways and parking lots and such.
So I asked the guys today, are they hoping it snows? Should we start praying for snow?
Well, it all depends. Most of the time the snow here in Denver is a few inches, then the sun comes out the next day and melts it off in a few hours. No need to shovel.
But if we pray for more, well, you have to be careful there, too -- if it's too much, like waist-high or more, then you can't get out to go get the shoveling jobs (and the shoveling jobs can't get to you).
Then we began to giggle. What kind of snow should we be praying for? What would bring in shoveling jobs, and let them get out to find the jobs, on a steady basis? Everybody was measuring on their bodies -- here? this high? 3 weeks? 1? Finally we figured it out:
Knee-high snows, every two weeks. That should be good. So I will be praying for that. And that they get paid for their work, as there is rampant wage theft in day labor. So that, too.
I hope you'll join me.
Work has been desperately hard to come by. Day labor by its nature is an incredibly vulnerable way to make a living, and in this economic crisis, even more so. Workers go days without work, weeks with only a day or two here and there.
They had told me before that they don't like it when it rains because there's even less work (although they're still there, waiting faithfully...just like last week, in a cold drizzle). But at least when it snows, there's work shoveling driveways and parking lots and such.
So I asked the guys today, are they hoping it snows? Should we start praying for snow?
Well, it all depends. Most of the time the snow here in Denver is a few inches, then the sun comes out the next day and melts it off in a few hours. No need to shovel.
But if we pray for more, well, you have to be careful there, too -- if it's too much, like waist-high or more, then you can't get out to go get the shoveling jobs (and the shoveling jobs can't get to you).
Then we began to giggle. What kind of snow should we be praying for? What would bring in shoveling jobs, and let them get out to find the jobs, on a steady basis? Everybody was measuring on their bodies -- here? this high? 3 weeks? 1? Finally we figured it out:
Knee-high snows, every two weeks. That should be good. So I will be praying for that. And that they get paid for their work, as there is rampant wage theft in day labor. So that, too.
I hope you'll join me.
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.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
the one with the collar
the one
with the collar
is the one
who gets to go
to the jail
and talk to
the lady cop
who booked
her
almost
2 years ago now
imagine
and she still
remembers
although
the lady cop
sees only the collar
and is not mean
this time
the one
with the collar
is the one
who gets
all the information
and assures
the husband
it will all be ok
slow, but ok
nerve-racking, but ok
cost a little money, but ok
the one
with the collar
realizes
as she slides
the white notched
plastic
into place
that this
is their life now
naps interrupted
with emergencies
Saturday nights
interrupted with
crises
much needed self-care
interrupted
with
much needed other-care
the one
with the collar
is tired
hormonal
slightly sick
but must keep
the collar handy
more calls to make
tonight
to get a loved one
out of jail
with the collar
is the one
who gets to go
to the jail
and talk to
the lady cop
who booked
her
almost
2 years ago now
imagine
and she still
remembers
although
the lady cop
sees only the collar
and is not mean
this time
the one
with the collar
is the one
who gets
all the information
and assures
the husband
it will all be ok
slow, but ok
nerve-racking, but ok
cost a little money, but ok
the one
with the collar
realizes
as she slides
the white notched
plastic
into place
that this
is their life now
naps interrupted
with emergencies
Saturday nights
interrupted with
crises
much needed self-care
interrupted
with
much needed other-care
the one
with the collar
is tired
hormonal
slightly sick
but must keep
the collar handy
more calls to make
tonight
to get a loved one
out of jail
Friday, July 3, 2009
Morning Chores
I got up at 6am to go up to the farm this morning to do chores as Goat Mama is out of town. I'd not done "wake up" chores before, just "putting to bed chores," but it's about the same stuff, just in reverse sort of, without the stress of "will you PLEASE just go in the right house? PLEASE? Before it gets dark?"
I really enjoyed it. I am SOOOO not a morning person, but I liked being up and watching the sun rise over the meadow, which is lush green from all the rain we've been having. Barn swallows swooped around and even sat just right on the gate out to the goat pens, and let me walk right up to them. All was quiet, except for Darby the foster goat bleating like crazy for his milk. I just took my time and enjoyed the morning.
Even the roosters tottered off without bothering me...a nice change from last night, when the two meanies flew at me, talons bared, until I had to back out of the pen and think up a new game plan (hint: an old screen window comes in handy as a shield...).
I'll take the goats any day...
I really enjoyed it. I am SOOOO not a morning person, but I liked being up and watching the sun rise over the meadow, which is lush green from all the rain we've been having. Barn swallows swooped around and even sat just right on the gate out to the goat pens, and let me walk right up to them. All was quiet, except for Darby the foster goat bleating like crazy for his milk. I just took my time and enjoyed the morning.
Even the roosters tottered off without bothering me...a nice change from last night, when the two meanies flew at me, talons bared, until I had to back out of the pen and think up a new game plan (hint: an old screen window comes in handy as a shield...).
I'll take the goats any day...
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!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Baby Goats!!!
Springtime is baby goat time at Westfarm! We went up yesterday to see the triplets who were born last week -- and for me to help out with chores, of course. We came into the goat yard and peeked into the first house to see this:
We began oohing and ahhing and GoatMama Lori poked her head in and said, "Hey, wait a minute! You're new!" These triplets, from mama Annie, had been born just a couple of hours before we arrived -- Lori didn't even know as she'd just gotten home herself, and Annie wasn't due til next week anyway. They are so new you can still see the fresh placenta over there on the right. 2 boys and a girl; the girl is the solid blondish one.
These are Mattie's triplets, the ones we had come up to see. Mattie is in front, Gingerbread is the doting and protective auntie in the red collar. Also 2 boys and a girl.
Lori and the girl, Robin. Lori says the goats told her all the babies should have bird names this year...
Me with Robin. Very soft!
Arlo checks in on the brand-new babies.
Part of today's chores included pouring iodine on the babys' bellybuttons to prevent infection, giving the pregnant girls (and Annie) shots to help assure their immunity passes on to their kids, and providing Annie with molasses water and extra alfafa.
Here's me with Annie's baby girl. Isn't she cute! We thought maybe her name might be Sparrow, but we're waiting to see if she agrees.
And of course, the chores must go on...Anderson and Tinkerbell looooove to play ring-around-the-house...
We began oohing and ahhing and GoatMama Lori poked her head in and said, "Hey, wait a minute! You're new!" These triplets, from mama Annie, had been born just a couple of hours before we arrived -- Lori didn't even know as she'd just gotten home herself, and Annie wasn't due til next week anyway. They are so new you can still see the fresh placenta over there on the right. 2 boys and a girl; the girl is the solid blondish one.
These are Mattie's triplets, the ones we had come up to see. Mattie is in front, Gingerbread is the doting and protective auntie in the red collar. Also 2 boys and a girl.
Lori and the girl, Robin. Lori says the goats told her all the babies should have bird names this year...
Me with Robin. Very soft!
Arlo checks in on the brand-new babies.
Part of today's chores included pouring iodine on the babys' bellybuttons to prevent infection, giving the pregnant girls (and Annie) shots to help assure their immunity passes on to their kids, and providing Annie with molasses water and extra alfafa.
Here's me with Annie's baby girl. Isn't she cute! We thought maybe her name might be Sparrow, but we're waiting to see if she agrees.
And of course, the chores must go on...Anderson and Tinkerbell looooove to play ring-around-the-house...
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.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Conversation In My Head
Towanda leaves her meeting where the architects' plans show double the size of the space she'd actually asked for for the church...which means double the rent. She is not entirely comforted by the fact that they will change it...is anyone listening to what she's saying? And, there's the whole basement as shared space which hasn't been factored into the rent cost...good lord, will I ever know how much this is actually going to cost us? Oh, and I will I have a job at the non-profit or are we seriously going under?? Oh god...
Towanda finds herself in the wrong lane and having to turn in to the parking garage of the snooty mall she hates. She pulls a u-turn to get out as quick as possible, stops and waits at the next light.
She realizes she's forgetting to breathe. She breathes. Sort of.
God: Don't panic.
Towanda: Oh, I'm panicking.
God: Well, don't.
Towanda: Easy for you to say. You're not going to pull that "let go and let God" crap on me, are you?
God: Uh, no. Just don't want you to panic. It'll all be ok.
Towanda: (dubious) It will.
God: Yes. Have I let you down before?
Towanda: Let's not go there.
God: I mean over the long haul. You watch for the signs, you know.
Towanda: I know. (pause) You're right, you've never let me down.
God: And today, you noticed the sign today, didn't you.
Towanda: Actually yes. Nicely played, having the organization I'd never heard of before until yesterday but that sounded like a great possibility for working together on detention center stuff appear out of the blue on the architects' plans and then show up for today's meeting. And wanting to meet me. Yeah, nicely played. Wasn't expecting that one at all.
God: You know I like surprises. And what about your new friend and co-worker, Quixote, who's decided he doesn't really need me, which is fine, and is completely suspicious of churches, which I totally understand...and he's helping you get started in Aurora. What about that?
Towanda: That was you? I hadn't even thought of that.
God: Of course. So you see, it'll all work out well.
Towanda: How?
God: I don't know. It's a mystery.
Towanda: That's not funny.
God: Why not? You love that line in the movie. You even used it in your theology final!
Towanda: Well, yes, but my life is not a movie, you see.
God: You're not in a very good mood today.
Towanda: You noticed.
God: Ok, Ok. Look, all I want to say is, don't panic. You're doing fine. I know there are times -- at leat 50 today -- that you want to quit --
Towanda: -- but just when I think I'm out you pull me back in!
God: What, you can quote movie lines but I can't? That hardly seems fair.
Towanda: Sorry.
God: That's ok. Look, you're almost home, just go lay on the couch for a bit, read the rest of the Sports Illustrated Baseball Preview issue, try not to get worked up that they picked the yankees to win the AL East, drink some water, try to get a handle on your breathing. Really, don't panic. Don't panic.
Towanda: Can you believe they picked the yankees?
God: I know, right? But...not helpful right now. Just breathe. Lay back in the boat. It's going to be fine.
Towanda: (deep sigh) Fine, okay. Okay.
Towanda finds herself in the wrong lane and having to turn in to the parking garage of the snooty mall she hates. She pulls a u-turn to get out as quick as possible, stops and waits at the next light.
She realizes she's forgetting to breathe. She breathes. Sort of.
God: Don't panic.
Towanda: Oh, I'm panicking.
God: Well, don't.
Towanda: Easy for you to say. You're not going to pull that "let go and let God" crap on me, are you?
God: Uh, no. Just don't want you to panic. It'll all be ok.
Towanda: (dubious) It will.
God: Yes. Have I let you down before?
Towanda: Let's not go there.
God: I mean over the long haul. You watch for the signs, you know.
Towanda: I know. (pause) You're right, you've never let me down.
God: And today, you noticed the sign today, didn't you.
Towanda: Actually yes. Nicely played, having the organization I'd never heard of before until yesterday but that sounded like a great possibility for working together on detention center stuff appear out of the blue on the architects' plans and then show up for today's meeting. And wanting to meet me. Yeah, nicely played. Wasn't expecting that one at all.
God: You know I like surprises. And what about your new friend and co-worker, Quixote, who's decided he doesn't really need me, which is fine, and is completely suspicious of churches, which I totally understand...and he's helping you get started in Aurora. What about that?
Towanda: That was you? I hadn't even thought of that.
God: Of course. So you see, it'll all work out well.
Towanda: How?
God: I don't know. It's a mystery.
Towanda: That's not funny.
God: Why not? You love that line in the movie. You even used it in your theology final!
Towanda: Well, yes, but my life is not a movie, you see.
God: You're not in a very good mood today.
Towanda: You noticed.
God: Ok, Ok. Look, all I want to say is, don't panic. You're doing fine. I know there are times -- at leat 50 today -- that you want to quit --
Towanda: -- but just when I think I'm out you pull me back in!
God: What, you can quote movie lines but I can't? That hardly seems fair.
Towanda: Sorry.
God: That's ok. Look, you're almost home, just go lay on the couch for a bit, read the rest of the Sports Illustrated Baseball Preview issue, try not to get worked up that they picked the yankees to win the AL East, drink some water, try to get a handle on your breathing. Really, don't panic. Don't panic.
Towanda: Can you believe they picked the yankees?
God: I know, right? But...not helpful right now. Just breathe. Lay back in the boat. It's going to be fine.
Towanda: (deep sigh) Fine, okay. Okay.
The thin horizon of a plan is almost clear
My friends and I have had a tough time
Bruising our brains hard up against change
All the old dogs and the magician
Now I see were in the boat in two by twos
Only the heart that we have for a tool we could use
And the very close quarters are hard to get used to
Love weighs the hull down with its weight
But the wood is tired and the wood is old
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go
No way construction of this tricky plan
Was built by other than a greater hand
With a love that passes all our understanding
Watching closely over the journey
Yeah but what it takes to cross the great divide
Seems more than all the courage I can muster up inside
Although we get to have some answers when we reach the other side
The prize is always worth the rocky ride
But the wood is tired and the wood is old
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go
Sometimes I ask to sneak a closer look
Skip to the final chapter of the book
And then maybe steer us clear from some of the pain it took
To get us where we are this far yeah
But the question drowns in its futility
And even I have got to laugh at me
No one gets to miss the storm of what will be
Just holding on for the ride
The wood is tired and the wood is old
We'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go
My friends and I have had a tough time
Bruising our brains hard up against change
All the old dogs and the magician
Now I see were in the boat in two by twos
Only the heart that we have for a tool we could use
And the very close quarters are hard to get used to
Love weighs the hull down with its weight
But the wood is tired and the wood is old
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go
No way construction of this tricky plan
Was built by other than a greater hand
With a love that passes all our understanding
Watching closely over the journey
Yeah but what it takes to cross the great divide
Seems more than all the courage I can muster up inside
Although we get to have some answers when we reach the other side
The prize is always worth the rocky ride
But the wood is tired and the wood is old
And we'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go
Sometimes I ask to sneak a closer look
Skip to the final chapter of the book
And then maybe steer us clear from some of the pain it took
To get us where we are this far yeah
But the question drowns in its futility
And even I have got to laugh at me
No one gets to miss the storm of what will be
Just holding on for the ride
The wood is tired and the wood is old
We'll make it fine if the weather holds
But if the weather holds well have missed the point
That's where I need to go
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!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Update: 25 Random Baseball Things
Well, I heard back from my dad about this post. He has some clarifications to offer:
So there you go!
#1 (my first ballgame) Your first game was Wrigley Field in 1971. We came up over the 4th of July weekend from Bloomington, Indiana, where we were spending the summer at IU. It was my last summer for course work there. The game was a complete sellout, with over 40,000 fans. There were fewer seats then and I think it was the largest crowd to date in the ballpark. You had just learned to walk and did not stay in your seat. We got lots of requests from standing room only's for your seat, but we never gave it away. We also came up to Chicago in the summer of 1969 over the 4th. It was our first visit to the city. Almost without a doubt you were conceived during that trip in a Howard Johnson's in Hammond, Indiana. We could not afford to stay in the city. The next summer we were again in the city for the 4th, having come up from Bloomington. We were driving up Lakeshore Drive and your Mom was nursing you. We noticed a school bus along side the car with the name of some retirement center on the side. It was filled with retired men and they were all taking a peek. The bus stayed steady beside us until we came to the Belmont exit, then they turned off because that is how one goes to Wrigley Field from there. I remember we then continued to the end of the Drive and wondered if we should go on up to see Evanston and Northwestern University. (I had been accepted there for graduate school but chose IU instead.) We decided we had seen enough, so Evanston could wait until some later time. Well....it arrived! (towanda notes: Daddy works in Evanston now)
#2 (my early baseball memories) Yes
#10 (the family baseball pantheon) Stan Musial also
#11 (my grandmother's threat) She meant it! (towanda notes: I was afraid of that!)
#17(metal bats being an abomination) Absolutely
And finally: According to your mother real baseball is played north and east of Saint Louis, in the daylight, on grass, and the PITCHER BATS.
So there you go!
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.
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