12/29/2008

Shredding as Preparation

Christmas in Florida.

I used to dread it. The Christmas Season is supposed to be cold, snowing, warm coats and gloves.

When the kids were young they had grandparents in Florida, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. Always a struggle as to where to spend the holidays.

Time has passed. Christmas is balmy weather,blue skies, sometimes nightly rain. Dogs and cats run around the house and green grass.

Starting on Friday, we begin cleaning out closets, garages, sheds. Getting ready for a new year and a new life. Making straight the pathway to ....?

And, we are shredding.

Websters On-line Dictionary states that the word shred dates from before the 12th century derived from the Middle English shrede, from Old English scrēade; akin to Old High German scrōt meaning a piece cut off.

According to Wikipedia, the first paper shredder is credited to Abbot Augustus Low, an inventor from Horseshoe, New York. His patent for a “waste paper receptacle” offered an improved method of disposing of waste paper. However, his invention was never manufactured.

Adolf Ehinger's paper shredder, based on a hand-crank pasta maker, was manufactured in 1935 in Germany. Supposedly he needed to shred his anti-Nazi propaganda to avoid the inquiries of the authorities. Later, he marketed his shredders to government agencies and financial institutions converting from hand-crank to electric motor. His company, EBA Maschinenfabrik, manufactured the first cross-cut paper shredders in 1959 and continues to do so to this day as EBA Krug & Priester GmbH & Co.

The U.S. embassy in Iran used strip-cut paper shredders to reduce paper pages to strips before the embassy was taken over in 1979 After Colonel Oliver North told Congress that he used a Schleicher Intimus 007 S cross-cut model to shred Iran-Contra documents, sales for that company increased nearly 20 percent in 1987.

Until the mid-1980s, it was rare for paper shredders to be used by non-government entities. However, after the 1984 Supreme Court decision in California vs. Greenwood, in which the Supreme Court of the United States held that the 4th Amendment does not prohibit the warrant less search and seizure of garbage left for collection outside of a home, paper shredders became more popular among US citizens with privacy concerns. Anti-burning laws, concern over landfills, industrial espionage, and identity theft concerns created greater demand for paper shredding.

To shred or not to shred? That is the question.

Anything that had a name, address, social security or account number on it. Into the machine. What comes out is not recognizable as her financial past.

A fan blows on the shredder to keep it cool.

I am the Terminator of shredding and the 90's is the decade that meets its demise.

That said, I will begin the same process when I return home. I find it freeing. Those of us that live in the states know that once one year's tax return is filed, we can shred another.

But, why stop at shredding? Need a wall knocked down? Need closets cleaned out? Call me.

But, keep in mind, if it is your stuff, your memories will not affect what is taken to the Clothing Bank, or Goodwill, or the Public Library.

Now, however, my memories will affect the process. I will remember what occurred, good and not so good.

For me, tearing down is so much easier than building up. My process usually allows for a vacuum to remain and who knows what fills it up. I need to be deliberate about what enters the black hole.

And, I should know this. I am a gardener. I never prepare a garden without knowing what is going to be planted. Why prepare if I am not planting. Sowing and reaping.

A friend, preparing for surgery,writes about getting things done, chores that take two. He also writes that while the head makes lists, the body needs to rest, to store up energy, to prepare for the recovery.

Someone else prepares to leave their home to winter in Florida. Someone else prepares to meet a new friend for lunch.

For who, where, or what do you prepare?


Do I?

12/20/2008

Amen

O day of peace that dimly shines through all our hopes and prayers and dreams,

guide us to justice, truth, and love, delivered from our selfish schemes.

May swords of hate fall from our hands, our hearts from envy find release,

till by God's grace our warring world shall see Christ's promised reign of peace.


(Hymn #597 The 1982 Hymnal Episcopal Church of the USA)

On November 12, I had the opportunity to hear The Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson speaking at Christ Church, Dover, Delaware. Bishop Robinson was in the Diocese of Delaware to meet with the clergy and he graciously opened the gathering to laity and other clergy to be in dialog with him.

I had purchased his book In the Eye of the Storm - Swept to the Center by God and was in the first stages of reading it.

In the introduction, Bishop Robinson writes that his Canon to the Ordinary gave him a piece of calligraphy that said:

Sometimes God calms the storm. And sometimes God lets the storm rage and calms his child."

Storms have been raging around me for the past couple of weeks. Lots of personal issues for those with whom I share my life.

Economic fears, traveling fears, relocation of or health concerns for a parent, couples that breakup, memories that intrude from previous Christmases, fears of being alone, fears of dying.

So, why am I so calm? Must be God.

If I were to actually take the time to reflect on what is happening, or what my "tasks" are, it would be a different story.

But I do not. I have become comfortable, for the most part, with "it is what it is"

I play Christmas music, at work, in the car.

I look forward to the emails that speak to The Birth and Promises.

Or, those that pass along the most current Santa and reindeer jokes.

(BTW, the reindeer are reported to be female, since Santa never gets lost, because they will always stop to ask directions.)

I am sending out Christmas cards, but mostly to Sudan.

Do not think that I have buried my head in the snow. I am aware, and I am praying.

Whether it is quiet or noisy, I pray. For all of you.

For those in the storm and for those whose storm has not yet arrived.

For those who made it through the storm and see the Son.

I pray that your burdens become lighter, your relationships more loving, your work more fulfilling.

I pray that your passions can be central in your life.

Finally, I pray that I continue to pray

Amen.





12/14/2008

Standing on the Water

Why do we surround ourselves with houses and big cars
And try to make out we've got it made
When nothing really belongs to us we're only passing through
We're all a part of a masquerade

When we're standing in the water
Talking to the wall
Making so much matter that's of no matter at all (Andy Fairweather Low)

This past weekend, I was listening to NPR, sitting at home, sidelined by my doctor.

Across the airways came a voice that sounded so familiar. I could not channel surf. I wanted to know who it was. Which male singer was making me pause?

Dang. Richie Havens. A blast from the past, and not an Arctic blast, but more a warm summer breeze. What a voice.

The name of the CD is No one Left to Crown. Not new tunes, but some that are familiar and when re-recorded, take on new meanings.

Not just because over 35 years has passed, but because 35 years have passed.

Life has happened.

Life is still happening.

A struggle to keep in the present, not to wonder what might come next.

Living with someone younger is an adventure.

While I am divesting of stuff, she is gathering.

What leaves my closets goes nto hers. Round and around we go. I have to sneak things out to Goodwill and The Clothing Bank.

There are doubles and triples of so many utensils, pots and pans. Clutter to me, cookware to her.

Food not the same, sleep patterns not the same. Hard to believe that we are related.

This is cycle of life stuff. We come in with nothing and forget, walking store to store, that we leave with nothing.

Except a closet full of life's experiences.

Think of it, donating and recyling our experiences. Head to the local "Experience Bank" . Stock up on a cruise to Alaska, a marriage that lasts a lifetime, a parent that lives to 100, another college degree, president of the US.

Or, sit with the homeless, sick, or hungry. Be a single parent, a stepbrother or sister, or someone living with mental or physical illness.


Store Opens at 8 AM.









11/23/2008

The Beat Goes On

The Beat Goes On" is a song recorded by Sonny and Cher. It was issued as a single and peaked at number 6 on the charts, January 14, 1967.

I awoke Sunday morning to see bruising on the palms of my fingers and hands, physical reminders of an afternoon of fun at the Episcopal Diocese of Delaware’s Parish Life Day.

Ironic.

I traveled half the world and back again only to learn to play an African drum in Middletown Delaware.

An afternoon within the circle.

I have long been in love with the beat of drums. Steady, solid, stomach thumping.

There is something to be said for losing yourself within the beat. Eyes closed, beating your drum, being lead by the facilitator who keeps the beat. At times you move away from the circle, change your beat, lose your way, but are brought back again by the steady rhythm of the mother drum.

The rhythmic drumming allows me to tune into the natural beats of my heart, soul, the movement of the earth, nature.

What a gift to be given.

Within the circle, part of life. Coming full around.

Other phrases come to mind.

Marching to the beat of a different drummer, The Little Drummer Boy, drum set, oil drums.

The novel Bang the Drum Slowly was written by Mark Harris (a relation?) and published in 1956. It was made into a movie starring Robert DeNiro.

In the book, Harris's narrator Henry "Author" Wiggen, a star pitcher, tells the story of a baseball season with the New York Mammoths (a fictional team based on the Yankee's.) DeNiro plays a the catcher who is diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease who struggles to play his last remaining season. Wiggen tries to be supportive of Pearson while concealing his illness. It is a story of courage, loyalty, friendship and death.

The title comes from the song, The Streets of Laredo, sung by one of the ballplayers at a team gathering. That song contains the lyrics, "O bang the drum slowly, and play the fife lowly...."

The opening scenes of the movie show the stars running the track at Yankee Stadium before its 1973 to 1976 renovation, though due to the renovation, the baseball scenes were filmed in Shea Stadium.

Loyalty, friendship and death.

To a New Yorker, the tearing down of the current Yankee Stadium to build another is like losing a friend.

However, it was an article by Tom Verducci, for Inside Baseball, printer September 18, 2008, that really summed it up for me.


What caught my eyes were the words "I am dying."

It continues with "It's O.K. You need not feel sorry for me. I have lived a full life. I was born in 1923, the same year as Maria Callas, Charlton Heston, Roy Lichtenstein and Norman Mailer. All are gone now. They did well in the time with which they were graced to strut about the stage. I'd like to think I have done likewise.

Besides, I really haven't been myself since 1973, when they cut me clean open and for two years rearranged most of my vital organs...., removed some of them and put me back together in such a way that I looked nothing like I did before."

"See, we're just like you, only without the bother of the respiratory and circulatory apparatus. We buildings have a life span too. Time is the undefeated antagonist that takes on all comers. We age and crack and wrinkle and, yes, ultimately die.

(Don't get me started on that darn Colosseum in Rome, which was the inspiration for my very being and even now doesn't look a day over 1,900.)

I don't like to blow smoke, but my death is unlike any loss seen before in America. I am tangible Americana, like Independence Hall, the Alamo or Graceland. I have been about more than baseball. The first papal mass ever celebrated in the Western Hemisphere? That was me. The first overtime game in NFL history? Me. The birthplace of the "DEE-fense! DEE-fense!" chant? Of the Bronx cheer? Of the triple-decker ballpark in this country? The electronic scoreboard, the replay video board, the "Win one for the Gipper" aphorism, what it means to get Wally Pipped, the standing applause on two-strike counts, the running leap onto home plate to punctuate a walk-off homer? Me, me, me, me, me, me, me, me and me.

It's not only the Babe and the Mick and Derek Jeter who played inside my walls. It's Joe Louis and Muhammad Ali, John Philip Sousa and Pink Floyd, Knute Rockne and Vince Lombardi, Billy Graham and Nelson Mandela, John F. Kennedy and George W. Bush."

The article is long and full of remembrances of times before my birth, my youth, and my middle age. About players I am sad to admit, I do not remember, but of those I will not forget.

I remember the summer of 1967, while working at one of the city parks, I happened to take a group of kids into the city to see the Yankees play ball. Oh, how naive I was to think that I could ride the train, get off at the correct stop and voila end up at the stadium.

The first stop was actually the Bowery. Yikes. The kindness of strangers turned us around, headed us in the right direction and we arrived for the game.

However, rain showers interrupted the game.

For reasons not understood by me, several of the boys decided to jump the fence and assist the groundskeepers in pulling the cover over center field. What mayhem.

What to do?

Jump the fence and get them, since at this point they were being chased by security.

Unfortunately, others had the same idea.

What happened?

I ended up standing in front of the Yankee dugout, staring at the players I adored. Mantle, Pepitone, Amaro, Ford, Howard, Stottlemyre.

Soaking wet and a stupid grin.

Or how about a day in October 2001. The 30th. When the world watched the World Series played out in NYC at Yankee Stadium.

"On that night, the wreckage and rubble of the 9/11 terrorist attacks were still smoldering at Ground Zero. People were afraid to fly. The comfort of routine was lost to the anxiety that another attack could come at any moment. People came to Game 3 of the World Series that night with great apprehension. President Bush was scheduled to throw the ceremonial first pitch. What unnerved the fans was that they knew they were either in the safest place in the world at that moment or the absolutely most dangerous place in the world, but they had no way of ruling out either choice with any certainty."

"Snipers perched on my rooftop. Special agents were everywhere, including one in an umpire's uniform gathered with the other umpires at home plate. Then the President came out of the dugout and bounded toward the pitching mound."

The people were crying. These were New Yorkers. They were in tears. ... The leader of the free world, when American soil suddenly felt strangely unsafe, stood alone on my mound. He thrust his right arm into the air and gave a thumbs-up sign. Then he reached back with the baseball, stepped forward, brought his arm around with a natural looseness and let go the most perfect strike you could ever imagine to Yankees backup catcher Todd Greene. The crowd erupted into a chant of "U-S-A! U-S-A!"

"It wasn't just the ceremonial first pitch of Game 3. It was the ceremonial first pitch to America's recovery."

So, I have rambled long enough tonight. I have come full circle, lead by the beat of my heart and soul.

And, as Thanksgiving approaches, I remember those who will not be with me this year; Mom, Dad, Granny, Granda, Greg, Jim.

However, I am comforted remembering the words of Jesus, paraphrased.



The Beat Goes On.


"The Beat Goes On" was sung at Sonny Bono's funeral, and the phrase also appears on his tombstone.

11/16/2008

Out of the Closet

Enliven the faith communities of the world with a rebirth of welcome for all sorts and conditions of humanity, moving us to reorder our lives and our loves to such simplicity and goodwill as to preserve the earth and make for peace

From A Litany for Envisioning a New World, Bennett J. Sims, Bishop Emeritus, Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta

Reorder our lives and loves.

Tall order. How do you start?

Step out in faith.

This weekend, my daughter took it upon herself to open all of her storage boxes that she had brought with her when she moved back home.

She rummaged through closets, cabinets. The result was lots of clothes taken to Goodwill.

A reordering of closets, using her logic, not mine.

This results in a mental exercie designed to keep my brain young. It will be a challenge trying to figure out where everything is now stored.

In addition, there were lots of questions about what is this used for? Do you really need this?

I thought that I had already simplified, a lot, but apparently there is always room for more.

And, I find that this new order brings peace of mind. I must remember to thank her, alot.

Someone else is sweating the "little stuff" so that I can concentrate on the larger issues.

Someone else is now recognizing that an orderly household allows one to be involved in more pressing concerns.

Can organizing closets lead to preserving the earth and make for peace?




I'll let you know.

11/14/2008

Silent Amens

O day of peace that dimly shines through all our hopes and prayers and dreams,

guide us to justice, truth, and love, delivered from our selfish schemes.

May swords of hate fall from our hands, our hearts from envy find release,

till by God's grace our warring world shall see Christ's promised reign of peace.


(Hymn #597 The 1982 Hymnal Episcopal Church of the USA)

On November 12, I had the opportunity to hear The Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson speaking at Christ Church, Dover, Delaware. Bishop Robinson was in the Diocese of Delaware to meet with the clergy and he graciously opened the gathering to laity and other clergy to be in dialog with him.

I had purchased his book In the Eye of the Storm - Swept to the Center by God and was in the first stages of reading it.

In the introduction, Bishop Robinson writes that his Canon to the Ordinary gave him a piece of calligraphy that said:

Sometimes God calms the storm. And sometimes God lets the storm rage and calms his child."

Storms have been raging around me for the past couple of weeks. Lots of personal issues for those with whom I share my life.

Economic fears, traveling fears, relocation of or health concerns for a parent, couples that breakup, memories that intrude from previous Christmases, fears of being alone, fears of dying.

So, why am I so calm? Must be God.

If I were to actually take the time to reflect on what is happening, or what my "tasks" are, it would be a different story.

But I do not. I have become comfortable, for the most part, with "it is what it is"

I play Christmas music, at work, in the car.

I look forward to the emails that speak to The Birth and Promises.

Or, those that pass along the most current Santa and reindeer jokes.

(BTW, the reindeer are reported to be female, since Santa never gets lost, because they will always stop to ask directions.)

I am sending out Christmas cards, but mostly to Sudan.

Do not think that I have buried my head in the snow. I am aware, and I am praying.

Whether it is quiet or noisy, I pray. For all of you.

For those in the storm and for those whose storm has not yet arrived.

For those who made it through the storm and see the Son.

I pray that your burdens become lighter, your relationships more loving, your work more fulfilling.

I pray that your passions can be central in your life.

Finally, I pray that I continue to pray

Amen.









A Beatles Revival

"All you need is love

Ta, Ta. Ta, Ta, Da

All you need is love, love,

All you need is love."

Recently, I had the opportunity to read an excerpt from the Dalai Lama's letter to the world on September 11, 2001. I bring it before you now:

Dear friends around the world:

Today the human soul asks the question: What can I do to preserve the beauty and the wonder of our world and to eliminate the anger and hatred-and the disparity that inevitably causes it- in that part of the world which I touch?

Please seek to answer that question today, with all the magnificence that is You.

What can you do TODAY... this very moment?

A central teaching in most spiritual traditions is: What you wish to experience, provide for another. Look to see, now, what it is you wish to experience in your own life, and in the world.

Then, see if there is another for whom you may be the source of that.

If you wish to experience peace, provide peace for another.

If you wish to know that you are safe, cause another to know that they are safe.

If you wish to better understand seeminly incomprehensible things, help another to better understand.

If you wish to heal your own sadness or anger, seek to heal the sadness or anger of another.

Those things are waiting for you now. They are looking to you for guidance, for help, for courage, for strength, for understanding, and for assurance....

Most of all, they are looking to you for love.

My religion is very simple.

My religion is kindness.

This excerpt was the second reading during the 5th Sunday in the Season of Creation: World Peace.

Lord, make us instruments of your peace.

"Where there is hatred, let us sow love: Being Peacemakers in the created order"


A Season of Creation 2008 - brought to you by St. Francis.

11/09/2008

Favorite Addition

In the past few weeks, I and others have been able to listen to the 10:30 AM Worship Service at my church, The Episcopal Church of Sts. Andrew and Matthew.

When I was recovering from my surgery, this turned out to be a god-send. I could hear the organ, the choir, the congregation and the sermon. The prayers of the people. It was joyous.

So, for those of you living outside of northern Delaware, please click on the link and take a look at SsAM's. Click on the hear the recent service.

I hope you find it as inspirational as I do.

11/01/2008

Scheduled Bleeding

There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. Walter Wellesley "Red” Smith—a now deceased sports writer.

I seem to have a problem scheduling time to write.

While in Sudan, I did my writing each Sunday before church. I actually looked forward to the time alone to reflect on what had happened during the week or the day.

Back in the States, I have yet to find that scheduled time.

I accumulate lots of pictures, sayings, and impressions during the week. I actually have them all stored in Word. or in an actual file on my desk, or written on pieces of paper, the backs of bills, the only thing available when inspiration hit.

Church is a big source.

So, when I heard Keith Olbermann talk about "Red" Smith and read the quote above, I thought "Voila".

All I need is a knife. But, what kind? Too small and my thoughts might be incomplete. Too large, and I might not stop typing.

Or possibly, I need to install an on and off valve that will open and close the appropriate vein. A valve that could be put on a timer.

Instant inspirational insights.

Being honest, I have not yet learned to be apart from the world while being a part of the world.

It was much easier in Sudan.

And, my surgery has put a damper on typing at any time of the day. I have had difficulty in finding the right position for the keyboard.

Tonight, I remembered that Mark had loaned me his spare laptop. He had given it to me to take to Sudan, but I knew that I would probably want to leave one behind in Sudan.

So, I am now sitting upstairs, laptop perched on pillows at the right angle for my shoulder.


Paring knife in hand.




10/31/2008

Opportunities

Happy Halloween.

I have finished lighting my pumpkins, turned on the scary music, filled the cauldron with candy and am waiting.

I love Halloween. It allows me to be legitimately insane. If I had someone else to hand out the candy, I would dress up.

Coming in from outside, Evan the Almighty was playing on the TV. I never saw it in the movie theater.

I was watching Evan dressed as Noah building his ark surrounded by animals gathered in pairs.

His family was just a little stressed out, to say the least. They are still living in the family home, attending school, grocery shopping etc. Evan, he's sleeping in the great outdoors, dressed in long robes with a beard and hair white as snow.

There is a reason I was to watch this movie.

I sat down during the scene of the family, sans Evan, eating in a restaurant. Boys have run to the bathroom. Mom sits alone. She signals the waiter to bring her more of everything.

A woman after my own heart. Stressed is merely desserts spelled backwards.

Of course, God is the waiter played magnificently by Morgan Freeman.

Aside from being a great story,animals, water, God's wrath, here is "Gods" take on the story.

And here are the words I believe, I was meant to hear.

"When someone prays for patience, does God give them patience, or an opportunity to practice patience?"

"When someone prays for courage, does God give them courage, or an opportunity to be courageous?"

"When a family needs to be together, does God make it so, or provide them with an opportunity to be together?"

Today, I was speaking with a woman who has the opportunity to travel overseas next year. She is just a little daunted by this.

So, if she is reading this, she now knows that I was meant to watch the movie for her as well.

Therefore, keep watching and listening, for your opportunity to speak to you.

10/30/2008

"Listen to the Warm"

Being privy to the demise of a relationship is tough stuff.

What role do you play?

What words do you use to comfort, persuade, cajole?

Who do you comfort? Do you choose sides? How can you maintain neutrality?

After the past couple of days, I have new respect for Sweden.

Problems seem so clear to the observer. Why are we not given the ability to view ourselves as an outside observer? Why are certain things hidden from our sight?

Wouldn't life be, well if not simpler, less catastrophic? Not so dramatic? Things would just simmer rather than boil over leaving messes that take a long time to clean up. Sometimes continual scouring does not remove the mess.

At what point, if ever, does a person truly learn and understand themselves? When, or if, do we arrive at the ability to be loving to ourselves and less judgmental? When do we learn to apply that to others?

Must history always repeat itself?

I believe so. Why?

When you are talking over the other person all the time, you are not paying attention to the present to be able to identify it as the past.

What to do?

Listen.

A lot.

And often.

Listen to the Warm recited by Rod McKuen, the RCA years 1965-1968.

10/13/2008

Season of Creation

Sunday, October 12 was the beginning of the Season of Creation at The Episcopal Church of Sts. Andrew and Matthew. During the service, Josh Martin read "The Creation" written by James Weldon Johnson .

I am providing you the opportunity to listen to it, maybe even follow along with the words, enjoy the organ / piano duet with David and Cynthia and the amazing choir response. Wonderful!!

This great piece begins at exactly 33:00 minutes into the service at http://drop.io/SsAM_Worship/asset/101208

So shut the doors, settle in, and let your imagination soar.

The Creation

AND God stepped out on space,
And He looked around and said,
"I'm lonely—I'll make me a world."

And far as the eye of God could see
Darkness covered everything,
Blacker than a hundred midnights
Down in a cypress swamp.

Then God smiled,
And the light broke,

And the darkness rolled up on one side,
And the light stood shining on the other,
And God said, "That's good!"

Then God reached out and took the light in His hands,
And God rolled the light around in His hands
Until He made the sun;
And He set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
And the light that was left from making the sun
God gathered it up in a shining ball
And flung it against the darkness,
Spangling the night with the moon and stars.

Then down between
The darkness and the light
He hurled the world;
And God said, "That's good!"

Then God himself stepped down—
And the sun was on His right hand,
And the moon was on His left;
The stars were clustered about His head,
And the earth was under His feet.

And God walked, and where He trod
His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
And bulged the mountains up.

Then He stopped and looked and saw
That the earth was hot and barren.
So God stepped over to the edge of the world
And He spat out the seven seas;
He batted His eyes, and the lightnings flashed;
He clapped His hands, and the thunders rolled;
And the waters above the earth came down,
The cooling waters came down.

Then the green grass sprouted,
And the little red flowers blossomed,
The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,
And the oak spread out his arms,
The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,
And the rivers ran down to the sea;

And God smiled again,

And the rainbow appeared,
And curled itself around His shoulder.

Then God raised His arm and He waved His hand
Over the sea and over the land,
And He said, "Bring forth! Bring forth!"
And quicker than God could drop His hand.
Fishes and fowls
And beasts and birds
Swam the rivers and the seas,
Roamed the forests and the woods,
And split the air with their wings.

And God said, "That's good!"

Then God walked around,
And God looked around
On all that He had made.
He looked at His sun,
And He looked at His moon,
And He looked at His little stars;
He looked on His world
With all its living things,

And God said, "I'm lonely still."
Then God sat down
On the side of a hill where He could think;
By a deep, wide river He sat down;
With His head in His hands,
God thought and thought,

Till He thought, "I'll make me a man!"
Up from the bed of the river
God scooped the clay;
And by the bank of the river
He kneeled Him down;

And there the great God Almighty
Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
Who rounded the earth in the middle of His hand;

This Great God,
Like a mammy bending over her baby,
Kneeled down in the dust
Toiling over a lump of clay
Till He shaped it in His own image;
Then into it He blew the breath of life,
And man became a living soul.
Amen

10/10/2008

Climate Change

What a beautiful day yesterday. October sun and temperatures near 80. Driving to work, the mist is rising up from meadows, lakes and swamps.

This, in sharp contrast to the beginning of the week when the nighttime temperatures moved into the lower 40's.

I love this kind of evening weather. Add a log to the fireplace.

(Be real people, it is a three hour composite crackling log.)

Climb under multiple bed covers. And, for the first time, shut one bedroom window.

Waking is a different matter. Climbing out of that warm cocoon is challenging. Throw back the covers and run for the shower, shutting the bathroom door behind me. Cats scatter in my path.

Not being one for hot showers, there is the temptation to start during these pre-heat fall mornings. I adjust the temperature upwards, but many people would still insist that it is cold.

One of the only adjustments that I make is footwear. Wood floors can be cold.

Putting on my sandals, it came to me that only months before, I was wearing them to keep my feet off the hot sand of Sudan. And, all the cotton clothes that I wore for modesty in Sudan, were keeping me warm in the States.

My computer is now keeping me close to those I left behind in Sudan. Though I recently wrote a five page handwritten letter to Sami and his mom, I cannot imagine using the mail system to keep in close touch.

What a difference 75 years make in communications between people.

There is something to be said for looking into the eyes of the person you are speaking with.

Being a witness to how your words are perceived and understood.

Not wondering if they are accepted in the same sense as intended.

Not wondering if pardon is needed for an unintended injury.


A Prayer attributed to Saint Francis

Lord, make us instruments of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let us sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is discord, union;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.




9/28/2008

BFF

This morning, I had the opportunity to reflect upon my community of family and friends. Thanks be to God, I am blessed with more than my share.

However, I was not reflecting upon the abundance, but the proximity of how far we live from each other.

My family, aside from my daughter, lives in Florida, Texas, New York, and New Hampshire, not exactly around the corner from Delaware.

My close friends from high school and college all live in the northeast, southeast or California. Again, not exactly a quick trip by car. The train does open up a few possibilities.

The friends that I made when younger are in Florida, Tennessee, California.

I have never experienced growing up and older with the people that I met in kindergarten. I do not know what it is like to run into one of them on the street and see what they were up to yesterday. My conversations would start with asking what they did the past year.

Sure, emails and blogs and pictures allow us to keep in touch, however, it is not the same thing as touching.

In Sudan, the connection between family and friends was present in everything going on. And, families are large. Lots of cousins, aunts and uncles.

Of course, touching is a little difficult in a society that thinks an awful lot about sex and touching or looking, while trying not to think about sex, touching or looking.

The passing of the Peace in church is a little challenging to the Westerner who loves to hug.

So, what are my options?

Join the ranks of women over fifty that bear children? Not.

Give up my house and become a dorm mother? Not.

Search eharmony for someone with time and money to support a lifestyle of travel?


Now, that has opportunity written all over it.

9/27/2008

Perspective Alert

I have not been posting for about three weeks. I kept wondering what was drawing me away from posting, I mean, beside the obvious.

More time involved in work, home, church, family. But, it was more than that, actually.

I kept wondering what the heck I would write about, and why would anyone back in the states care what I was writing, especially with the election activity.

It was while I was returning home this evening that I thought about changing my perspective and audience. Excitement was returning.

And, voila! In my email inbox was further proof. Here is what I received.

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live.

They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, 'How was the trip?'' It was great, Dad.'

'Did you see how poor people live?' the father asked. 'Oh yeah,' said the son.

'So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?' asked the father

The son answered:

'I saw that we have one dog and they had four.

We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.

We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.

Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.

We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.


We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.


We buy our food, but they grow theirs.


We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them.'
The boy's father was speechless.

Then his son added, 'Thanks Dad for showing me how poor we are.'

My hope is that those that will now receive this post, will continue the journey with me, virtually, if not personally.





9/20/2008

The Cold Within

Yesterday morning I attended the 12th Annual Prayer Breakfast at SsAM (The Episcopal Church of Sts. Andrew and Matthew). The speaker was Beatrice "Bebe" Ross Coker a poet, playwright and civil rights activist who came to Delaware during the 1960's to work for the Delaware Division of Social Services.

The theme of the morning's breakfast was Moving to Christ through your gifts.

Ms. Coker spoke about her passion for taking care of and being responsible for children everywhere. Here are several of her remarks, some of which are attributable to her mother who recently died at the age of 102:

If everyone were using their gifts to be Christ's body on earth, why is the world is such a state?

Don't let your talents and skills take you where your character can't keep you.

Speak truth to power because real power is truth.

She spoke about finding your passion and praying/discerning how to use it. To those around me, I am sure that I looked like one of the bobble head's that you find on car dashboards or rear windows. Head nodding up and down with the movement of the car.

That was me, nodding up and down in agreement.

I was passionate about her passion.

However, the poem re-printed below, by James Patrick Kinney, brought tears to my eyes, goosebumps on my arms, and sadness to my heart and soul.


Six humans trapped by happenstance
In black and bitter cold.
Each one possessed a stick of wood,
Or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs,
The first woman held hers back
For on the faces around the fire,
She noticed one was black.

The next man looking cross the way
Saw one not of his church,
And couldn't bring himself to give
The fire his stick of birch.

The third man sat in tattered clothes;
He gave his coat a hitch.
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought
Of the wealth he had in store.
And how to keep what he had earned
From the lazy poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight,
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white.

And the last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain.
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands
Was proof of human sin.
They didn't die from the cold without,
They died from the cold within.


9/13/2008

Disjointed

Well, it has been almost three weeks that I have been home. Certain things are coming together, others not.

The weather difference. The two-story house. The cats, no dog. Long work days.

Different church. Different language.

I had promised myself that I would incorporate the good behaviors that I had learned in Sudan.

It is harder than I expected.

Since I have been back, I had to have Miss Kitty put to sleep. Her kidneys had stopped functioning.

Rough re-entry.

And, I have the answer about my shoulder injury. Torn tendons around my rotator cuff. Surgery is scheduled for Oct. 15. Ouch. Pain at night disturbs sleep.

Rough re-entry.

Today, I played in the front gardens. Weeding, clipping back bushes, dead heading black-eyed susans. I filled four garbage cans with leaves, branches, etc. It felt really good to dig in the dirt and grass. Muddy hands and feet.

Yesterday, I traveled to NYC to meet with individuals in the mission department of the Episcopal Church. More about that to follow later.

The pace in the states is so much faster than I remembered, even overwhelming.

Here, I have to drive. The area I live and work in is so much larger than in Sudan. Phone calls rather than email. No pacing of response time.

Here, I worry about those I left behind in Sudan and those I live with in the states.

However, I know that each day it will get better.


Right?

9/09/2008

Judi's Big Adventure

The last Tuesday prior to leaving Sudan was the day of my last big adventure, and here is the catalyst.


That day, I asked Tito to take me driving down Street 41. I wanted to take pictures of all the entrance gates that I viewed each day on my way home. Twenty minutes tops and I would buy him lunch.

Food. Works every time.

So off we go, camera, wallet, phone. Tito driving and me snapping away. My plan is to make up 2009 Calendars featuring these architectural designs. I will sell them as fundraisers to support All Saints Cathedral in Khartoum.

As you can see, I managed to capture the side view mirror and Tito's profile.




Cropping is a learned skill.



So, we are casually moving down the street when we get to the point where the picture at the top was taken.

I had been passing these cobalt blue gates/fence with the wonderful flower gardens for four months. Everything yelled at me to "Take my Picture".

So, I did. Snap and then walked down the street to where Tito was waiting for me in the car. This was the last picture and I asked what he wanted to eat and where. But, instead of answering my question he says "Uh, Oh."

"What?"

"We are in trouble." "Why?"

"I think it is the camera." "What?" "Why?"

Then, this gentleman appears at my window, another at Tito's window and motions him to back up into the side street and park.

"Why?" No answer.

"Why?" No answer for me, one for Tito. This happened twice, till the answer hit me over the head.

Me man, you woman. You woman do not exist.

Ok. I have to admit, I was not afraid, nor intimidated. Maybe I should have been, but I was annoyed. Who are these guys?

Well, it appears that they work at the Saudi Arabian Embassy, located conveniently to my right.

Oops.
(Disclaimer: Please do not try this at home.)

The discussion centers around me showing them the last picture that I took. I show them the picture of the garden.

Not that picture, the last picture. This is the last picture. Where is the picture of the embassy.

No picture of the embassy.

Well, by now I am annoyed. So, I deliberately yet casually mention that I am an American citizen and extract my passport from my purse, mentioning that I thought our two countries had good relations. In fact, so good, that our president holds hands with one of your princes.

Yep, I was that annoyed.

Well, that worked so well, that we proceeded to add two additional passengers to the car. One Saudi Embassy employee and a gentleman dressed in fatigues carrying an AK47.

Ok, now throw in bewildered and anxious to annoyed.

As the car moves along and I ask where we are going, I get no comments. Just a lot of conversation in Arabic that only Tito understands. Time to call in the troops.

I retrieve the "business card" that I received when I checked in with the US Embassy when I arrived in Khartoum.

I placed the phone call, letting them know what was going on and receiving some information about what to expect. Detainment, possibly for a couple of hours, possible removal of the entire disk or confiscation of my camera.

Yikes, all this for taking a picture of blue gates. This is so far out of my reality.

At the end of the day, the Saudi embassy employee is disappointed. The one-star general has been verbally chastised. The two star general is another thing.

This two-star general began his conversation with me by wondering who I am voting for in the upcoming election. The twilight zone continues.

That question is followed with ones regarding America's role in slavery, America's attacks on innocent nations, and a statement about the most used words in Americas language. Words, that not only do I not use on a day to day basis, but words that I cannot print here.

Oh...........Kay.

Obviously, I should keep my mouth shut. Equally as obvious, my family and friends know that I did not.

To the question about slavery, I deferred to him since he was in uniform and carrying a gun.

To the question about attacking innocent nations, I deferred to him since he was in uniform and still carrying a gun.

To the statment about American language, that I did not defer. After disagreeing with him, I asked him if his confrontational attitude was just for me, an American woman, or was he always like this. He actually smiled and said that it was his personality.

He smiled. The twilight zone continues.

When I mentioned that it did not seem fair that his impression about America would be affecting his decision about my leaving, he told me that he was not part of the discussion, he merely wanted to have a conversation with me.

He than asked me my age. My age.

What the heck.

So I told him. And, he told me that I was still young.

Then, he asked me if I wanted to have coffee with him.

Hello?

I told him that it would only be possible if he were out of uniform and not carrying a weapon. (My mother always taught me to be polite.)

He told me to return another day when he was off duty. I told him that when I left this building, I would not return here. He smiled and exited the room.

Next up the three star general. Now we are cooking.

In Arabic, which Tito translates later, he tells the one star general that there is no reason why this "woman" is being detained. Let her go. Give her back her camera.

Yippee.

Of course, I am slightly reprimanded about not checking about photography rules and am admonished not to take any more pictures until I leave.

I promise him of course. Scouts honor.

However, I do have more pictures from the last two days in Khartoum.