Jeopardy in the Afternoon

 Does anyone know what God is?

A great philosophical question fit for hours of discussion with friends while consuming large amounts of coffee and huge amounts of available time.

This is the question coming through my hedge this afternoon.

The hedge separating me from the neighbors that couldn't use the word God without combining it with a swear word.

This is the question I heard repeated over and over and then shouted while floating in my pool chair.

Does anyone know who God is?

Yeah.  Yep.  Shut up.

How about Elijah?

They definitely have my attention now.

Answers, I want answers.

Finally I hear.

They do not teach you religion in the public schools.

That's why you do not know what God is.

The Jeopardy answer... What are Sunday Schools?


Bishop speaks about War Waging in Nuba Mountains

Here is the link to the article in Episcopal Life Online.Episocpal Life Bishop Andudu

Bishop Andudu was with the American Friends of The Episcopal Church of Sudan (AFRECS) this past weekend in Glen Allen, VA (outside Richmond).

He is asking that we all FAST and PRAY this Sudan.  Pray for Peace in the Nuba Mountains.  Pray for Peace in Sudan.

June 8, 1968

Do you remember what you were doing on June 8, 1968?

If you are reading this, some of you now are Googling the date and are rewarded with information about the funeral of Robert Kennedy, Bobby.

I have just watched a wonderful documentary of pictures taken from aboard the train that carried Bobby's body back to Washington, DC for burial.

One Thousand Pictures is the name of this wonderful documentary, shown on HBO, that is filled with pictures from 1968 and follow-up interviews given 43 years later.

So I do remember what I was doing, I the junior in HS that was deciding to join the Peace Corp after graduation.  

Much to the chagrin of my parents, my friends and I were gathered around the TV to watch the funeral and weeping.

Here is the ending excerpt from Edward Kennedy's eulogy.  The full eulogy can be found here.  Edward Kennedy Eulogy

The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of new ideas and bold projects. Rather it will belong to those who can blend vision, reason and courage in a personal commitment to the ideals and great enterprises of American Society.

Our future may lie beyond our vision, but it is not completely beyond our control. It is the shaping impulse of America that neither fate nor nature nor the irresistible tides of history, but the work of our own hands, matched to reason and principle, that will determine our destiny. There is pride in that, even arrogance, but there is also experience and truth. In any event, it is the only way we can live."

That is the way he lived. That is what he leaves us.
My brother need not be idealized, or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life; to be remembered simply as a good and decent man, who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.
Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will some day come to pass for all the world.

As he said many times, in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him:

"Some men see things as they are and say why.
I dream things that never were and say why not."


What moves a Blessing into a Curse

Yesterday morning someone emailed me with some thoughts and then told me to Be Well.

Be Well.  Wow, someone wanted me to be well.

Well then, why has my life gone to pot since then?

What was really behind those two words that once written, the universe snapped up and turned them around?

Who was lurking in the shadows, gleefully rubbing hands together in devilish anticipation of the mischief they could now cause?

And, where was my guardian angel?  Out for a smoking break?  In line at Starbucks?  Tweeting another?

How long am I supposed whine and wail?

How long before normal returns and I never need kleenex? 


Or I want to eat again?

Okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.... that could be a good thing.

I was raised knowing that sticks and stones  yada yada yada, but well wishes?

Words of inspiration?

Acts of kindness?
What is this world coming to?


Me and Obama

How many people can say that the President is with them every minute of the work day?

Ok, probably a lot of people inside the beltway, but outside?

And, even when he travels abroad?

When a person retires sometimes they provide you with gifts.

Last week a colleague and friend retired after working for the church for seven years.  Now friends get to sit side by side in the pews.

In her office was a life-sized cut out of President Obama that stood behind her office door.  Once a visitor shut the door the usual response was YIKES and then a smile. 

And the eyes, they follow you where ever you walk.  Great eyes. 

However, she knew I loved that cut out and she gifted it to me.

So now the President smiles at me from across the room.

Eat your heart out Michelle.


The Music Is In Me

Finally, the music is playing again.

It has been 18 months of silence.

Oh, the music has been around, but not everywhere.  A few select places.  Everywhere else silence.  Random songs, stanzas that stayed for a while and then left. 

Sometimes the music was present only once a week, eagerly gulped down as if I were afraid that if I took too long in the listening someone else would steal the sound away from me.

How does one make the choice to leave the music?  Is it a one major conscious choice or many small random unrecognizable choices.  Isn't it rather like choosing not to breathe?

That is what the past eighteen months have been like.  Holding my breath.  Forgetting to exhale.

When I finally remembered to breathe, to exhale air and inhale sound, I took massive deep gulps of air.  The music tripped over my tongue, tickling my tonsils, down into the belly moving into the blood and back into my heart, brain and sole. 

How had I ever lasted this long?

How did I manage to commute without song?

To clean house without song and dance?

Friday afternoons without Janis?  Singing with Judy?

Maybe the music started again with the sound of drums, and naked ladies and one Jonathan.

I got the music in me.