Green Room Serenade

On Assimilation, Adaptation, and Adoption

2010-06-08T01:32:00.003-05:00

I've been comparing assimilation as it occurred in reference to Native American people with the concepts of adoption and adaptation. Assimilation is, in itself, a neutral word that doesn't necessarily connote a forced change in the adaptation of the minority to the lifestyle of the dominant culture. We, of course, experienced a forced change due to an imperative to maximize financial return in any way necessary that seemed to take root not too many years after the country was officially formed. In the Standing Bear biography "I Am a Man", Joe Starita begins his description of the downward evolution of American Indian policy with the change of heart that Thomas Jefferson underwent in the process of growing more enamored with his picture of turning the huge land expanse into a productive agrarian gridwork of privately owned land tracts.

There were a variety of opinions being offered that influenced this process. I recently heard commentary on the well-placed concerns of the Pilgrims over the fact that they were of necessity sharing the Mayflower with entrepreneurial folks who had less concern for obedience to God than for that profit maximization. We need to be careful when discussing a return to the roots of America to specify which roots we're discussing. Even in parts of the faith community, there were such glaring departures from scriptural teachings as the Doctrine of Discovery in place in both Catholic and Protestant monarchies since it was issued in a papal encyclical in the 15th century. This licensed "Christian" invasion forces to annihilate indigenous people that were contacted if they were less than cooperative with spiritual and cultural assimilation. The unsupportable notion that the church had permanently replaced Israel in the divine favor and, subsequently, had carte blanche to destroy all "Canaanites" (i. e., different and not overtly Christian peoples) encountered similar to that recorded in the account of the original occupation of their homeland due to pronounced corruption of the existing cultures was part of this concept.

I seem to remember something in the Seven Fires Prophecies of the Ojibway that discussed the fact that there were two possible outcomes from the integration of the immigrants said to be coming: they could either blend with the Native culture and become part of a respectful exchange ideas to the mutual benefit of both, creating a nearly utopian society, or they could cop an attitude and proceed to wreak havoc on the indigenous people by virtue of superior numbers and technology. Reuben Snake often drew comparisons between the "cyclic" though of the indigenous people and the "linear" thought of the Europeans. It's possible to imagine how the respect for the balanced cyclic processes of both nature and human interaction could have mitigated the destructive effects of unchecked economic development on both the land and the "less fortunate", and the European love of research, development and improvement could have broadened the capabilities of the indigenous cultures. The various tribes already exchanged cultural and technical knowledge among themselves; new ideas weren't rejected out-of-hand. It's interesting that melding the two images creates the picture of a wheeled vehicle rather than a stationary wheel or a deconstrutionist projectile of progress that disassembles bodies and objects in its path. Balanced and orderly progress that doesn't create environmental devastation, a large disparities in means and class conflict is conceivable in the intermingling of the two extremes. (These are, of course, generalizations. There were individuals in both groups that defied the philosophy of their own culture in favor of what they felt to be either higher spiritual truth or lower self-indulgence.)

If we move from public policy as developed by the church during a period where the imperative in the development of doctrine was more economic and political than governed by adherence to the teachings of Jesus, we encounter the idea of adoption. Relationships that originated from pacts or covenants rather than blood ties were demonstrated in Hebrew culture in the Old Testament, and discussed by the Apostle Paul in several places in the New Testament as an illustration of reconciliation to God through Christ. This was also an important theme among the Native people. Relationships held a very important position in society, and were sometimes based on demonstrations of compelling loyalty and friendship between individuals who had previously had been strangers. We might call this bond "love" or "mutual respect" in all cases. This is the essential difference between assimilation as experienced in the history of American Indian and African slavery policy, and the mutually advantageous process of covenanting together with integrity for mutual benefit that takes place in adoption and other alliances between individuals and people groups.

Song for Little Mother

2010-03-28T21:52:00.005-05:00

Mama-zhiNga!

When I came to help,
You had eyes to see
Past skin to heart.
You called me, "Niece".
Every day I am grateful.

You told me what your father said
As he was passing to Spirit World--
"Always help your people,"
He told you.
Now, you join him.

Watch from the top of Star Bridge,
Make sure that I
Always help the people.
It shows little respect
To learn but not to follow.

When you see WakoNdi-zhiNgi,
Ask Him to give us eyes to see
Past skin to heart
So we have a chance for peace.
Every day I will be grateful.

In tribute to Viola "Tina" Walker Promes, a member of the Omaha Nation who passed into the presence of Jesus on March 27, 2010, from her adopted niece.

Heart

2010-03-12T11:47:00.002-06:00

Creator, hear my voice!

I see the pictures you paint and the songs that you sing all around me, but I cannot feel the love from you that I know is in them.

It's as though someone has taken the heart out of me. Remember its shape, and the rhythm of its drumming and build it again in me.

Then, Wacondi-zhingi, you can dance for joy as I love you from a child's heart that is soft and new~another gift from your Father.

*********************************************************************

(from Wikipedia): "Dissociation is an unexpected partial or complete disruption of the normal integration of a person’s conscious or psychological functioning . Dissociation is a mental process that severs a connection to a person's thoughts, memories, feelings, actions, or sense of identity. Dissociation can be a response to trauma, and perhaps allows the mind to distance itself from experiences that are too much for the psyche to process at that time."

"In that same hour He rejoiced and gloried in the Holy Spirit and said, I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have concealed these things [relating to salvation] from the wise and understanding and learned, and revealed them to babes (the childish, unskilled, and untaught). Yes, Father, for such was Your gracious will and choice and good pleasure." (Luke 10:21 AMP)

For Christmas 2009

2009-12-20T15:49:00.000-06:00

Remembering....
The steps near the end of the porch:
A refuge from being alone and misunderstood,
A place to watch heaven filling earth
In the art and harmony of life everywhere.

Reaching....
From a cave at the edge of society,
God emptying Himself, alone and misunderstood.
In the desperation to recapture perfect love,
Priming the flow of life from heaven to earth.

Resurrecting....

Merry Christmas!

The Becoming

2009-03-16T15:02:00.001-05:00

I breathe in The Becoming
Who breathed into me
In the beginning, changing
A corner of eternity.

I glimpse The Becoming
As through a glass darkly.
The color is still true
And bright enough to see.

I hear The Becoming
In a small voice that I perceive
Sending me toward daring
With assurance I believe....

He is imaging again
The dream that He did not duplicate,
The secret that He reserved
To bring to me and intimate.

In the night,
He is flame again,
Refusing to let die
What He began.

A road in a dream
Straightens along the way
Toward the familiar sound of music
In a faintly stirring day.

In the cold,
A tree the color of fire
Blanketed seed on hard ground
So the new stand will spring to life.

Death's color was bold
But still served the cause
Of regenereation; the snow
Wept brith waters from its thaw.

In this awakening,
Green comes softly through intimidation
Of stony earth; wings of butterflies unfold like hopes
Stirring from the still chrysalis of imagination.

Wrapped in all of this reminder
Against the threat of futility,
I defy the doom of tormentors
To see, hear, and believe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This piece started with the image of the chrysalis in Stanza 9. I wrote it with a certain human condition in mind: opposition so fierce and persistent that leads to a crossroad of trying to go on despite the weariness, or giving up and going down in despair. Nature itself teaches us that, on this earth, the trappings of death can actually be part of the mechanism that brings new life, and shouldn't cause us to cast aside all hope that God can indeed do a new thing. Here, He's represented as The Becoming, on the presumption that the information that I received on The Becoming One being a more accurate translation of I AM THAT I AM is correct. The imperative of life and creation still prevails in the end.

I think it's ironic that the inspiration first came in autumn (I encountered the tree casting maroon leaves in the cold wind not long after the first image developed), and it finally all came together and insisted on being written right before spring. Although I've got some discomfort with the cadence of the poem, I think the message is important enough to pass on, however imperfectly it may be packaged.

"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." John 12:24

The Unfolding

2009-02-27T02:19:00.000-06:00

Like any parent of more than one child, the Father sees in each of us some unique piece of Himself, a rib that still fits into His chest. We are irreplacably connected. Since He sees the end from the beginning, He's able to trace the way that the rose will open, even when it's tightly clenched with full light not yet at its center. The finished picture remains in His mind, and the process of unfolding is expected and doesn't drive Him away. He is light without darkness, and has also endowed us with the instinct to progress toward day fully realized.'

“Listen to advice and accept instruction, and in the end you will be wise. Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails.”- Proverbs 19:20-21

A Day at the Rez--December 30, 2008

2009-01-24T12:34:00.001-06:00

Brandon and I had a landmark day going to the Omaha and Winnebago reservations as part of his Christmas gift. He experienced as sense of connection, since he actually has a bit of Native ancestry (he's 1/16th Cherokee), and got to see old friends and meet new ones in the process of doing some Mi'Jhu'Wi Ministries administration.

The trip actually started for me with some passages from Is. 63 that our pastor read at church. You know you're in the right place when the Holy Spirit talks to you through the sermon BEFORE you tell your pastor what you're doing. Several passages stood out to me as concerning the trip and the ministry on the res, particularly v. 17b:
"....Return for the sake of your servants,
the tribes that are your inheritance."
The Omaha Nation adopted Christianity about 150 years ago or so according to what I've been reading, and you still find quite a few that equate Jesus with Waconda/Creator on both reservations. I have a feeling that He's aware of the challenges they're facing and wanting to intervene, with our cooperation.

We asked several people to pray for us as we went up, since the car has been needing some attention, it's winter, it was really windy, and, welI....I seriously hoped not to offend or concern anyone by our presence. We hooked up with Karen at her mother's house when we reached Walthill, so that wasn't an issue. I feel pretty loved up there, actually, among the people that I've met so far, but we take care to be respectful and go about things correctly. We specifically called our friends, Lee and Andy, for prayer as we pulled out of town only 15 minutes after our goal departure time despite having to reload all of the stuff that we'd collected for a mom that had been called to our attention by her manager at the hospital in Winnebago. It was a good thing, too, since there was some frost on the road. His Social Security attorney called about a mile before the exit, and I handed him the phone. She was reassuring him that she'd secure his arrearage payment (HELLO, YWAM MINISTRY TRAINING AFTER JOB CORPS!) as I got onto the ramp and swerved toward the 15' dropoff. We swerved the other direction, in front of the car that had pulled off to let us have the dance floor, and finally got corrected and onto the highway. I'd unloaded part of the Pepsi I'd been drinking for energy into my lap during this process, which led to our adventure in Fremont.

We got to Fremont, and stopped to get some dish soap for the mother who was getting eight boxes of dishes (which ended up under the seat and hasn't gotten to her yet), and generally regroup. I noticed that the Pepsi was more noticeable when I walked around in the January wind outside of McDonald's. All of a sudden, I receivedeth a word of wisdom from the Holy Spirit, I think--I took my inconvenience to the ladies' room and resolved it with five or six cycles of the hand dryer! I call it a word of wisdom, since you don't find any guidance in Acts in the missionary journeys of Paul concerning a stop at the Damascus McDonald's to dry the Pepsi out of his prayer shawl with the air dryer in the men's room.

We checked in with Karen (who was charged up to get us there, and was making me feel loved again), and took off. About halfway between Fremont and Walthill, we got to be grateful for our prayer cover again as we saw a van on its top down another 15' embankment. I was granted some clear-headed wisdom and discretion on our speed, and we avoided that fate.

Brandon got some revelation of humility and attitude correction an hour or so later as we crossed the southern border of the res and came into those gorgeous hills. There is a sweet, peaceful presence of God there. I've felt as though I followed Him there to accomplish some good things, based on some mental pictures I've run across during prayer times. We pulled into Walthill, and just spent some time catching up with John and Karen about the ministry and our lives in general since they moved up there to take care of her mother. Holidays are about family, and I consider our friends to be family in the ways that count.

We took some of the boxes out of my car to get Karen to fit and put them into her Rover. From there, we headed up to the AllNative store in Winnebago to get Brandon's Christmas hat. It looked like Stevie Ray Vaughn's (minus the band, which he'll search for), and the money went into the Winnebago tribal coffers. We confined our shopping to just that store, and left to one a few doors down for another day. It's a little bit like going through an art gallery to go in there, since all of the product is produced by Native artisans. We did go around the circle of wooden statues depicting members of the twelve clans of the Winnebago that's in front of that store, which is a majestic sight. While we were shopping, I called Audrey at the hospital to see if we could visit with her that afternoon which she was more than happy to do.

Karen had wanted to show us some of the art in the hospital, so we sort of wandered slowly toward the reception desk. As with the Indian Center in Lincoln, there is a rounded opening that extends to the roof that's pretty breathtaking. Not only did Audrey receive us, but she introduced us to the mom she'd asked us to help, who'd gotten the two little ones recovered enough from surgery to return to work. She also brought out a few other ladies, and we had quite a meeting there in the hall for about a half-hour or so. We'll be working with them to help some of the families that come through the system there (I just sent out the first list). I love to instantly connect with people in the way that we did! She then took us upstairs to see the Spiritual Room. Karen mentioned that she'd have to ask the relatives for funeral guidance when Mom's time came, and then remembered later in the day that she'd actually been talking to an in-law! We spent awhile longer just looking at the art, including a painting called "Friends" that I loved, because it concerned Natives and whites working together.

From there, we went to Macy, which is the Omaha tribal headquarters. The tribal office building is distinctive in that it has some extra sides (I'm trying to recall for sure if it's seven). We went inside to see the pillars representing the seven clans of the Omaha, and take a quick look around to see if we could locate some people that we knew with a few minutes on their hands. That didn't happen, so we headed back to Walthill to do some delivering.

The first step was to do some locating. We had an address and now a set of directions, but it took us awhile to put it together. We got to get better acquainted with the town that way, at least. We finally got there and unloaded what we had in the car, and went back for the rest. I'll send a quick thank you here to everyone who sent something along with me or through the mail, with official thank you letters to follow.

On that note, we headed home. The fatigue disorder that I've been battling for a few years was asserting itself by then. We had another windy drive home with no difficulties that we took at our own pace so that we could talk and compare notes. I think we came over the hill to a panorama of the lights of Lincoln just as the sun had gone down, which is a dramatic change after being in a largely pastoral environment. Many things are different between those two places, but the same basic things are true and important in both.

Thursday Thirteen #10: The Bucket List

2008-05-28T22:30:00.003-05:00

Recently, a movie called The Bucket List illustrated the goals that two terminal patients wanted to achieve before the end came and they "kicked the bucket". I'm not writing mine because I expect to die anytime soon, since the chronic malady of whatever nature seems to be waning on the whole, but because I had this question in my heart for some time that keeps asking me 'what do you want?' rather persistently. In the past, interesting things that shouldn't have been possible (or simple, at least) have unfolded before my wondering eyes when I've dared to ask for some of the things that I deeply wanted to experience. I'm thinking that I should step over the disappointments and start asking again.

1. I want to go back to school, and get a degree that's an active choice rather than the best of a small and limited selection of choices. The longer I go, the more I lean toward some sort of human service or Sociology degree. There are a lot of people who need a lot of help. I would like to become a licensed clergyperson, whatever major I took. For a lot of the things that I want to do, it might be a helpful door-opener. I would also love to pick up whatever study tools they could show me. A lot of the people I've known have done that through correspondence.

2. I'd like to have the energy to get out all the instructional material that I've got for such things as guitars and piano and various languages and put them to use. I think I'll make that one happen to some degree, eventually.

3. I would like to be healthy again--enough said there. I would particularly like to be at a healthy weight. I've actually found some things that substantially help, so that's encouraging.

4. I would like to meet all of my online friends in person, at least once.

5. I would like to have a stable, secure living situation that "felt right". I'm very grateful for the present degree of stability that I have after what's happened in the last two years of my life, but it's not the best fit. I hope that's not too terribly ungrateful.

6. I would like to put my feet on two lands for which I've done a lot of prayer: the Omaha reservation, and Israel. The former may happen within the next few weeks!

7. Appropriately in the "7" slot is my dream of seeing the 77s live and fully staffed, and getting a copy of the new album as the moment unfolds. That also actually has a chance of happening if I can find a way to get to Ames, IA on June 24th!

8. I would like to see my son in a stable and enjoyable career. I put this in the "8" slot, because it's said to be symbolic of new beginnings.

9. I wouldn't mind being in a stable career myself. I'd like to have one that complemented the type of ministry into which so much of my heart has been invested.

10. I would like for the isolation created by the astronomical gas prices and my income of late to be resolved. It somehow doesn't feel right to be missing this much of people, events, opportunities, etc.

11. As my father's child still, I would love to own a good horse that lived right outside my window.

12. I want to have my inner man strengthened to know the height, depth, breadth and length of the love of Christ, according to Eph. 3. I'd really like to be so convinced that it never entered my mind to question it. When I read the life of Paul and some others that were 110% serious about God, I find it easier to grasp that He loves despite all the things that have happened.

13. I would like to figure out the nature of this vast, unmet, nameless need in the depths of my being, and have it fulfilled.

Thursday Thirteen #9: Lively Stones

2008-05-15T16:23:00.004-05:00

1 Peter 2:5
"you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ."

I was thinking the other day about how some of the people I've met have seem to stick. That's not happened with everyone I've met, but some have gone the distance. I wanted to list thirteen characteristics that I think are important to building relationships that last.

1. Honesty--You know when someone's not being straight with you (or find out in unhappy ways), and it creates discomfort and distrust.

2. Consideration--Paul tells us in Eph. 4:15 to speak our truth in love. Love thinks the best, and puts things in the most harmless light that it can.

3. Listening--Another good scripture on relationships is James 1:19. It starts out, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak...."

4. Patience--The rest of the verse says, "....and slow to become angry." A valuable person merits some self-control on our part when they're not at their best.

5. Loyalty--We can sometimes hear unflattering things about our friends in the oddest places. It behooves us to present their good side, whether or not it leaves the conversation comfortably flattering to us.

6. Diligence--Our circumstances sometimes make it hard for us to do a good job of keeping regular contact, but the effort that someone takes to send the briefest greeting are so appreciated!

7. Helpfulness--Life can be a handful. Coming alongside a friend that's struggling tells them that they're not alone. I'll be at a horse funeral this weekend for a friend that's had the old guy for well more than 20 years, because that's what friends do. Friends also help put the fence back up after the backhoe leaves.

8. Sharing--Among my most meaningful possessions are my books and albums. I've passed out copies of several friends' albums to several friends so that they could share the experience.

9. Laughing--I love the times when a conversation takes off into gales of glee. Those moments get remembered long after others are forgotten. I have a sense of humor that ranges deep into the theatre of the absurd at times, and I value the people in my life that don't look at me funny when I'm weaving strange tales.

10. Weeping--True friends are the ones that don't leave when things aren't fun anymore. I it when I have people suffering states away that I can't be near.

11. Planning--Fun is often more fun in groups. I have a concert coming up next month that I just might be able to make if all goes ideally, and am wondering if I should seek out a travelling companion.

12. Remembering--It's possible to rehash the event for years after the fact, particularly if someone brings the camera.

13. Praying--I try to wrap prayer in and through everything. With prayer, we form the threefold cord that's not easily broken. We help carry the weight of career transitions and troubled children, and draw farther into the presence of God together. He is the best friend that makes it possible for us to know how to be good friends. We become His lively stones, built into the temple of His immediacy in us and among us.

Thursday Thirteen #8: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

2008-05-07T23:57:00.003-05:00

I was trying to think of something that I could write quickly, due to the brevity of time available. After spending six or seven years on the Internet, I thought that it would be very easy to come up with thirteen advantages and disadvantages of e-mails, blogs, and message boards.

1. IT'S GOOD!--You can go all over the world from your typing chair.

2. IT'S BAD!--People that you don't even know and that have no frame of reference for your remarks can completely misconstrue what you're trying to say can erupt into a ball of flames (which is why it's called "flaming") and denounce you for having an idea that you would never even consider.

3. IT'S GOOD!--Depending on how you're set up, it can be a lot cheaper than calling.

4. IT'S BAD!--Spammers can use your carefully crafted message board for cheap advertising. Some of the things that they're selling are pretty tough to look at, much less endorse.

5. IT'S GOOD!--You can do mass e-mails and tell a group your wonderful news with one note and one SEND.

6. IT'S BAD!--If they don't check their e-mail for awhile, or there among those that regard their e-mail as being more like a newspaper than a phone call, you may never know what they thought about the wonderful news, or if they ever got it.

7. IT'S GOOD!--Sometimes, people are more candid when they don't have a face in front of them to intimidate them. Some of the deepest and most personal conversations that I've ever had have been held over the Internet.

8. IT'S BAD!--The opposite is also true--caution gets thrown to the wind when you don't have to look at a pained reaction (see #2).

9. IT'S GOOD!--You can throw a question onto a forum and have a variety of people from all walks of life look at it. Your odds of finding an answer to a question increase.

10. IT'S BAD!--There seem to be some in every crowd that can't imagine how a functional human being wouldn't have that information already, and they feel the need to be insulting (see #2 and #8).

11. IT'S GOOD!--It's the cheap and easily accessible venue for publishing your writings.

12. IT'S BAD!--It's also a cheap and easily accessible venue for misinformation. You have to learn to check out the veracity of some of the amazing and shocking bulletins that you receive before you forward them to everyone that you know.

13. IT'S GOOD!--During a particularly introverted time in my life, I collected some of my best friends ever through my message board involvement. The healing and guiding presence of God in our life can tip the scales in our favor!

Thursday Thirteen #7: Why I Say It

2008-04-30T22:54:00.004-05:00

Today, I was thinking of one of those distinctive things that I do that make me a little bit different. I wanted to give thirteen reasons why I do it, even though I have to accompany it with a lot of musing on what's appropriate in a given situation, and occasionally end up being misunderstood.

I tell the people in my life "I love you" as often as I can.

That doesn't sound all that strange, until you realize that very few of the people in my life are blood relatives, and that about half of my platonic friends are male, and that none of the males in my life are "relationships"--I don't see where "relationships" would fit into the present dynamic, and I'm not actively seeking for such. I try not to use those words specifically with those that seem uncomfortable with the phrase, since there are other ways to express it, but I do try to convey the idea. Part of being quick to hear and slow to speak is the search for wisdom that goes on in the interim.

1. One thing that got the ball rolling is when a young man that's more like a brother than a friend said "I love you" to me on the message board in his typical uninhibited Latin manner. We both knew that he didn't mean it "that way". (I generally have the brains not to do such an exchange with someone that might take it "that way".) He has a highly developed concept of the family of God, and an appreciation for the people that God's put in his life.

2. Another issue that came up at about the same time was the stories I would hear about people on their deathbed that expressed their regret that they hadn't told the people in their life more often that they loved them. Well, that's easy enough to fix. You have to be willing to take the risk of making a moment uncomfortably real, but that's probably better than having last-moment regrets.

3. Peter tells us "....see that ye love one another with a pure heart fervently...." (I Peter 1:22). That would probably surface somewhere. We may as well let it out.

4. I know from experience how much random acts of kindness mean to someone who's feeling empty and alone. That also makes it worth the risk.

5. Every day is full of put-downs from many different sources, some of them internal. It's good to give someone a place to come in out of the rain with a few words.

6. Love has to be the purest reflection and glory of a God who is not described as having love, but as being love. Of course, our actions have to match our words, and we have to have the humility to apologize when they don't.

7. One of the greatest ways to demonstrate to the world that something genuinely different is going on is to live out the one big, happy family concept. "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:35).

8. In the middle of the night, when life is trying to crash in on their heads, people know that they can probably get you out of bed without a rebuke if you care enough to actually say the words. Trust me on that one.

9. We tend to assume that those we love will assume that we love them. We should instead assume that most would rather not be left just to assume. I think that this is particularly true of women, but is probably the case with everyone to some degree.

10. Love heals. I've watched it happen. Those most damaged most need to not be left to assume.

11. Love casts out fear. It's harder to feel alone and helpless with the words of community still freshly filling your soul.

12. Love takes us beyond self-interest. We can choose to be more focused on the needs of the person that we love for affirmation than our trepidation that we may lose face.

13. Love never fails. It's stronger than death. We can breathe more real life into the living with three simple words. Who wouldn't want to do that?

Thursday Thirteen #6: Transported

2008-04-09T15:23:00.006-05:00

It's time I got back on the horse with my Thursday Thirteen list!

The subject of art having a satisfying depth sent me on a quest to identify 13 songs that have that something extra that actually transports me as I listen. I hope there's a song in there that will either be one to which someone else can also relate, or discover one among the lesser-known titles that can transport them.

1. "Hold Dearly to Me"

This one has held the position as my favorite for years....hide me, drape me, closely and safely. The place of connection to God with all of our heart and mind is the safest one that we'll ever find. We have these comments from Mike on the 77s message board: "This song was a desperate prayer written at 3 AM in a very frightened frame of mind. For some reason, I decided to try and perform it as a Van Morrison "period piece" circa 1970-72, so the whole approach to the guitars sprang from that vision. I was fortunate enough to have seen Van's live show a number of times in the early 70's so I remember the vibe very clearly.The electric guitar part is pure John Platania, his guitarist from back then, while the acoustic strumming is a direct inspiration from Van The Man himself. The piano and horns were arranged and mixed accordingly."

2. "Carry on Wayward Son"

Besides being representative of Kansas' unusual and intricate arrangements, the song also carries an important message --in a very superficial world that puts pressure on you to put on your own charade, remember Whose opinion really counts in the end.

3. "Lean on Me"

It's another one of my all-time favorites. When I hear this one, I remember moments of give and take with friends that are the stuff that give life depth.

4. "Drift Away"

Dobie Gray performs one of the two songs that I've included that are directly on the subject of the power of music to lift the listener out of a dark state of mind. For me, it not only discussed but achieves that end.

5. "Jazzman"

Carole King does an extended live performance of "Jazzman" that describes the transporting quality of good music as a spiritual encounter. It's rather telling that she relates to scenarios from Christian revival meetings, which haven't to my knowledge ever been part of her own philosophical outlook.

6. "Baker Street"

The bridge, and really the arrangement as a whole, is a launch pad to some amazing place. The lyric is about the practice of "busking", or street performance. It's an interesting commentary on the uneven process of recreating hope from disappointment with ourselves and how our goals have materialized. It's a shame that Gerry Rafferty and Stealer's Wheel bogged down in legal battles--it gives a vaguely prophetic quality to the lyric.

7. "The Road"

The link contains the original lyrics by Terry Talbot and clips of a recorded version by our friend Kyle Knapp that illustrate the haunting quality of the music behind stories of offering Jesus to tired runaways that haven't found that for which they went searching.

8. "The Theme from 'Peanuts' "

I get happy every time I hear the opening bars of this piano piece.

9. "Love Like Gold"

I have some complicated mixed feelings on the subject of romance. I remember thinking the first time that I heard that song that I'd found some empathy. It gets me on a train of thought about what could be.

10. "Summer Breeze"

Here's another one on the simple joys of living in a romance that speaks to me even though I've never had the experience.

11. "Shine"

Besides the fact that it contains some really hot guitar licks in my humble opinion, it puts me much in mind of the search that's described in this passage in Acts 17:24-28:

"The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands. And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else. From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us. 'For in him we live and move and have our being.' As some of your own poets have said, 'We are his offspring.'

12. "Grace Like Rain"

Todd Agnew's takeoff of the classic "Amazing Grace" has afforded me an emotional connection to the acceptance communicated in the grace of God to us every time I've heard it. I thought that the set of slides on this video carried some compelling images.

13. "Do It for Love"

I wish I could find a sound clip for this one--it's full of contagious joy, and will really get a live show audience up and moving. It reminds me of Jesus' exhortation to the disciples to throw that net out just one more time, even though they were tired of trying. Sometimes we have to choose to grab onto hope again after a long dry spell, because we are well-loved.

Healing America's Wounds

2008-04-04T22:15:00.014-05:00

"A simple apology was all that was needed, but that would have required some humility... "

Today marks the 40th anniversary of the death of civil rights leader Martin Luther King. I think it was no coincidence that we were discussing the seemingly contradictory topics of personal dignity and reconciliation with those who would try to take it from us.

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In a passage from John, Jesus is seen answering accusations from the teachers of the Jewish Law. John 8:14-18 NIV says, "Jesus answered, 'Even if I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is valid, for I know where I came from and where I am going. But you have no idea where I come from or where I am going. You judge by human standards; I pass judgment on no one. But if I do judge, my decisions are right, because I am not alone. I stand with the Father, who sent me. In your own Law it is written that the testimony of two men is valid. I am one who testifies for myself; my other witness is the Father, who sent me...." By their own standards, He had a viable reason to believe in His own value to a extent that He didn't feel it necessary to do anything beyond disagreeing with their assertion. He was merely standing His ground instead of wrestling with a legitimate threat to His identity.

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As hatred escalated to an unfounded execution by the cruelest means practiced in the Roman culture that governed the Jewish people of that time, He used His dying breath to ask forgiveness for them as He experienced the end result of their ignorance of His value. As He had said, they and no one else had the power to take His life from Him, so nothing was done outside of His consent; it was instead offered willingly to make a new start possible for those who had lost that inner place of peaceful assurance and had turned to outward posturing to try to satisfy the pull of the void. Still, He was proven right in the end to have trusted the scriptures that foreshadowed His resurrection--"For You will not abandon me to Sheol (the place of the dead), neither will You suffer Your holy one [Holy One] to see corruption." Ps. 16:10 AMP. One who trusts and His God are a majority, no matter who or how many may cast doubt. Truth is indestructible. One who does not trust and does not know where they've come from or where they're going is somewhat at the mercy of the opinions of men.

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How do men form their opinions of each other? Paul says, "Consequently, from now on we estimate and regard no one from a [purely] human point of view [in terms of natural standards of value]. [No] even though we once did estimate Christ from a human viewpoint and as a man, yet now [we have such knowledge of Him that] we know Him no longer [in terms of the flesh]." (II Cor. 5:16 AMP). Men, without the benefit of their Creator's perspective, evaluate each other's worth in terms of what may be personally gained or lost by themselves in temporal matters.

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James, thought to be the first bishop of Jerusalem, instructs his flock in the passage from James 2:
1MY BRETHREN, pay no servile regard to people [show no prejudice, no partiality]. Do not [attempt to] hold and practice the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ [the Lord] of glory [together with snobbery]!
2For if a person comes into your congregation whose hands are adorned with gold rings and who is wearing splendid apparel, and also a poor [man] in shabby clothes comes in,
3And you pay special attention to the one who wears the splendid clothes and say to him, Sit here in this preferable seat! while you tell the poor [man], Stand there! or, Sit there on the floor at my feet!
4Are you not discriminating among your own and becoming critics and judges with wrong motives?
5Listen, my beloved brethren: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and in their position as believers and to inherit the kingdom which He has promised to those who love Him?
6But you [in contrast] have insulted (humiliated, dishonored, and shown your contempt for) the poor. Is it not the rich who domineer over you? Is it not they who drag you into the law courts?
7Is it not they who slander and blaspheme that precious name by which you are distinguished and called [the name of Christ invoked in baptism]?
8If indeed you [really] fulfill the royal Law in accordance with the Scripture, You shall love your neighbor as [you love] yourself, you do well.
9But if you show servile regard (prejudice, favoritism) for people, you commit sin and are rebuked and convicted by the Law as violators and offenders.

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Love is the fulfilling of the law, and love values the image of the God that created it, who is Himself love.

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Yet God says of us in Ps. 139:
1O LORD, you have searched me [thoroughly] and have known me.
2You know my downsitting and my uprising; You understand my thought afar off.
3You sift and search out my path and my lying down, and You are acquainted with all my ways.
4For there is not a word in my tongue [still unuttered], but, behold, O Lord, You know it altogether.
5You have beset me and shut me in--behind and before, and You have laid Your hand upon me.
6Your [infinite] knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high above me, I cannot reach it.
7Where could I go from Your Spirit? Or where could I flee from Your presence?
8If I ascend up into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol (the place of the dead), behold, You are there.
9If I take the wings of the morning or dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10Even there shall Your hand lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me.
11If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me and the night shall be [the only] light about me,
12Even the darkness hides nothing from You, but the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You.
13For You did form my inward parts; You did knit me together in my mother's womb.
14I will confess and praise You for You are fearful and wonderful and for the awful wonder of my birth! Wonderful are Your works, and that my inner self knows right well.
15My frame was not hidden from You when I was being formed in secret [and] intricately and curiously wrought [as if embroidered with various colors] in the depths of the earth [a region of darkness and mystery].
16Your eyes saw my unformed substance, and in Your book all the days [of my life] were written before ever they took shape, when as yet there was none of them.
17How precious and weighty also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How vast is the sum of them!
18If I could count them, they would be more in number than the sand. When I awoke, [could I count to the end] I would still be with You.

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The first quote is from a friend of mine with whom I share time on a message board. It describes the power to forgive as originating in humility. The English word humility derives from the Latin humilitas, recalling the humus, or earth, from which our seen component is drawn. This is not an incentive for God to ignore us; it arouses His compassion: "....he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust." (Ps. 103:14 NIV). It surely should not cause us to direct contempt for each other, since we are in a common state. We dare not forget that we are made of the same stuff as those we may be tempted to cast beneath our feet. The breath of God has transformed dust in ways as diverse as His own personality into creatures who can in small ways touch His artistry, His nurture, His excitement--or pervert the image of His omnipotence into the delusion of unanswered exploitation, thinking that the eternal eyes that made our own have closed.

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What do we do with those whom we've answered that persist in disagreeing with our Creator's affirmation? Matt. 18 describes the process of bringing the matter to them privately, then with another if they won't relent, then another, then the community of God. If they still won't restore their agreement with our dignity, we practice our forgiveness--our cry for mercy rather than punishment on such vulnerable stuff as we ourselves are made--from a safe distance.

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Unfortunately, this doesn't always remedy the emotional weight of the words. In the book Healing America's Wounds by John Dawson, the process of "identification repentance" is described. A representative member of the group that committed the offense that better recognizes the value of the one made seemingly small by words admits that the words were wrong, and the pressure against their trust in their Creator's affirmation is removed. His presence can then fill groups that had previously been keeping Him at arms length with contradictions to His love. Dawson illustrates the principle with numerous examples of how Caucasians and blacks, the children of immigrants and indigenous people, men and women, and others from the spectrum of God's imagination have chosen to say with Him that man was very good, and have experienced His peace at last.

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Joshua, in his instruction to the survivors of the Exodus, said "Choose ye this day...." In our own lives, we can choose to begin to live Dr. King's dream of harmony today.

A Reason, A Season, and a Lifetime

2008-03-27T23:06:00.007-05:00

I’ve been thinking for a couple of weeks now that I need to assemble some thoughts on several different subjects and revive the blog. Tonight, since I’ve felt sort of disconnected despite the many people that I would consider friends in the world, I think I’ll dive back in with a concept that injected reason into one particular difficult process in my life, and added perspective to others. I think the realm of human relationships is fraught with assumptions; we would benefit from not jumping too quickly to conclusions. I hope that taking time to examine and journal the concept will prove the theory of a young pastor in this area that loneliness is disconnection from purpose rather than disconnection from people, and that returning to the process of journaling that has always been such an important part of my life will resolve the matter.

I emerged from eight years in an abusive marriage that followed many years as a sickly, lonely young person with very damaged self-esteem, and some very unrealistic ideas about how men and women get along. I can remember watching a friend get into the car with her husband and wonder if she’d be safe with a guy so much bigger than her once they pulled out of the parking lot. In all reality, I’m sure their ride home was quite pleasant. I had made my experience much too universal. Still, God has his ways of healing and retraining errant perceptions.

Shortly after I finally fled the marriage with my son and filed for divorce, I made a friend in the church that I was attending. Some people thought that our friendship was comical, since he was quite good-looking and my motivation from the start should be obvious. Others thought that he was once again wielding his nefarious charms on a woman. After all, he’d abused his first wife so badly that she divorced him, and he was probably setting the same thing up again, since people don’t change—by the way, why do we say this in Christian churches that talk about the new creature? I’d like to think that there was quite a bit more going on with the relationship than met the eye. We were friends, which had a great deal more meaning to me than being asked out. One unusual feature of my life is that I’ve always had almost as many, if not more, platonic male friends than female ones. I certainly would have fled at the first sign of any stalking or other manipulative behavior. He was, in fact, the guy that defied the odds and humbled himself before God for correction for as long as it took to genuinely fix the condition of the heart that had led him to intimidate and terrorize his family. He had won my profound respect for this, and I had won his through the kind of involvement and compassion that leads someone to spring out of a chair because someone across the room is struggling to pull a large rack through a doorway by themselves while everyone minds their own business.

We got together to talk now and then, so I didn’t think that being asked over was too remarkable. He floored me by sitting down with a notebook and pen to ask me what I would want out of a dating relationship. I was a little shocked, but certainly felt safe discussing it with him. He never expressed disapproval for my confusion and misgivings on the subject. We’d had the time as friends to build some trust. Being paid that compliment restored some of the dignity that I’d lost through being told that I would never be good enough for anyone. It was good to feel that safe and that wanted with someone male, since I’d always been more comfortable with men anyway as a definite Daddy’s girl. It went a long way to rebalancing my world, as did our subsequent conversations and visits. Then, things got confusing.

He’d forewarned me that, if the nearly impossible phenomenon of a reunion with his ex-wife ever took place, he would feel obligated to return to that marriage. He was speaking more in theory than actual concern that it would happen when he said it. In the unpredictable way things sometimes unfold, though, that’s exactly what began to happen shortly after our dating conversation. He had never pressed the matter of visitation with his daughters in hopes of them wanting on their own to see him if he allowed them to heal, and this did happen due to a combination of economic pressure on their mother and the curiosity of the baby of the family about the father that she was too young to remember when he left. She became willing to explore visitation as she filed for child support modifications. One thing led to another over the course of time. The day that I heard the recording that announced that his number had been disconnected, I knew that they’d reconciled. The phone call before that had been answered by a woman, and I’d taken the coward’s way out by claiming that I’d gotten a wrong number.

The pain that I experienced during that time was excruciating. I remember watching the lights in the room seem to dim. I wondered at times if I was going mad. I’m sure most people don’t break up with this much pain, but this was a separation not only from a person, but from a restored hope for wholeness that I’d rested on the frail shoulders of a well-intended but finite fellow human being. I couldn’t understand why God had allowed such profound suffering to occur—why did we get together in the first place if it wouldn’t mean anything in the end? What hurt the most is the fact that there was no final opportunity to know what was happening. He’d said some vague things, since he worried about hurting me, that hadn’t clearly prepared me for what he’d chosen to do.

In the midst of the vacillating pain, hatred alternating with unrequited love, missed moments of the conversation of people of like mind and endless choices to forgive as the cycle repeated itself over and over, I went to a Bible study on the topic of relationships. The hostess read a piece that I desperately did not want to hear, and I really didn’t want a copy of it to take home. I did need what I didn’t want, though. I knew in my heart that it spoke to my questions. I knew that God had given me a hand to lift me out of the mire so that I had the strength to go on to the next things in my life, not an opportunity to give my hand in a marriage that I was far from ready to deal with anyway.

I did some looking, and managed to find a copy of the piece that we read at the Bible study that evening:

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When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.

When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person or people involved; and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships, and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

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God is faithful.

A Brief Word from the Hiatus

2008-03-16T16:22:00.003-05:00

After promising to loyally post my Thirteen on Thursdays and keep up the original composition, I've lapsed due to a couple of circumstances beyond my control. There is, however, a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. I just completed a move that featured God showing up at the eleventh hour to provide a place, and the IT whiz that's been working on my laptop thinks that he can cut out and rewire the section of the cord that's shorting out and not doing its job. Hopefully, I will be back on track with all of it within the next week or two. I made yet another promise to a friend going through some seeking on the subject of personal identity that I would address that subject further. Part of growing up into the image of Christ is learning to keep our word, and I will follow through.

Mosaic

2008-02-20T15:18:00.007-06:00

The arms of my childhood stretched from the window of the chapel,

a cavern long cleared of benches and other trappings.

Only waifs and wayfarers found it,

who had fled for sanctuary from the arm of the flesh

striking out in retribution

against the failure of fate to fulfill dreams,

as expressed in such transgressions as soiled shoes

and unsatisfactorily completed chores.

Christ's banner called, "COME UNTO ME,"

no matter how deep the fall from grace:

through lost Little League games to failed tests

to dates that traded up to shun transgressing disappointment.

Evidently, He did not see it,

or at least was not so startled.

He always reached; He always called.

II.

I could now see the top of the window sill,

full of the dust of stone, of me,

and of those before me whose legacy was retained below mine.

Christ reached in the half-light as a dove mourned and mist fell,

causing the whole window to weep.

How did this quiet place understand

the momentary light affliction of mortals

finding that filling larger shoes did not equal stepping into invincibility?

Shadows in the corner drew my eyes~

I didn't see the stone,

but heard the ring and dance of glass across the floor

through the throb of adrenaline,

and the clicking as it skipped to a resting place out of sight.

It was forgotten in the distress of random color

that had lost its form that lay across the floor.

The window still wept, I wept,

and the dove still mourned.

I sifted through the shards, touching some familiar form,

red branches spreading through the tears of the window,

and the window's requiem.

III.

Light broke through the heavy air,

the clouds spent in the mist.

The laughter of the sunlight on the ceiling

in greens and blues and reds shed long before that day

had not been told that Christ lay shattered.

Perhaps it saw what I had not~

as I lifted my gaze to the stream through the window,

I saw that He still called, "COME UNTO ME."

He called still!

I remembered kindly coaches,

invested teachers,

and just-friends who resisted the scorning

of those no less than themselves:

mosaics of similar tesserae.

The had colors like to Christ's,

who knows that the broken speak more the freely

because they have flown from their original framework

to fill a larger place.

The dove mourned one last time that I had not see Him as He was,

and fell silent.

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Free verse allows a pivotal moment in time to be set up and all of its colors and textures examined in-depth without concern that the couplets be forced to rhyme. Sometimes happy accidents of rhyme (red/shed) or alliteration (failure/fate/fill and freely/flown/framework/fill) occur naturally as the narration unfolds.

Thursday Thirteen #5: The Innovation Superhighway

2008-02-20T14:10:00.006-06:00

I'm without my trusty laptop until the AC adaptor can be replaced with the kindly assistance of the tax return sometime around the first of the month, so I needed a fairly simple topic for TT that I could bang out quickly on a friend's computer. I got to thinking about some of the ways that the information superhighway has bettered my life, and came up with the requisite thirteen improvements.

1. It's provided me with virtual travel opportunities. I've physically visited eight states during the course of my lifetime, but have friends or friendly acquaintances in eighteen states and the United Kingdom. If you count our UK scholar's home state of New York, it's nineteen states. The North Carolina friend was actually on an extended missions trip to Japan when we started to correspond, but she's been a stateside pastor for awhile now (and recently married--congrats again, Joe and Pastor Parato, if you're reading!)

2. These far-flung contacts built my confidence, since this bunch thinks I'm pretty cool. It gave me a foundation to develop more friendships with people that I could see!

3. It's sometimes easier to reach the busy local friends by e-mail than it is by phone. E-mail also doesn't cost three dollars a gallon to transport.

4. I've written a lot of confessional passages that have taught me some things about myself that I hadn't allowed to surface. It seems to be easier without a face there.

5. We used to spend all kinds of time wondering what our "ministry calling" was years ago. I found out what mine was through a combination of all of the things that I just said--finding people who asked my opinion and helped me to develop confidence as I fielded prayer requests, provided encouragement, and taught on prayer or the subject at hand from the scriptures as the situation may have warranted.

6. When you're up in the Midwest at 1 AM thinking troubled thoughts, West Coast friends are just getting warmed up for an evening online. I have one that's particularly good at showing up and talking about anything and everything to fill the void and restore tranquility.

7. I love research, and I can do more quicker with less clutter by just Googling whatever topic inspires burning questions.

8. I've used my experiences online as a message board member and moderator as references on applications that show that I have marketable skills related to the Internet.

9. Prospective writers have a number of places to publicly display their latest works. If you're brave enough to start trying to sell them after some positive feedback, you can always register with a site like Helium.com.

10. Another expression of artistic sensibility you can develop online, if you're good at visualizing images related to an idea and manipulating the applicable tools, are computer graphics using various programs and languages like HTML, CSS, etc.

11. You can get a lot of news from various sources, including your friends' forwards of the latest alarming information that they received. If it looks a little too farfetched, you can always go check out how verifiable the information has been found to be on Snopes.com.

12. When the news gets on your nerves, you can get a greater variety of radio stations than are probably available for you locally (or that seems to be the case in the rural Midwest, by a large margin), as well as webcasts of topics that may not interest enough of the masses to end up on plain ol' TV. Some of them are on plain ol' satellite stations, but I don't have access to those right now.

13. I will have to doff my cap at this point to Blogger, where it's possible to pull together several of these experiences at the same time--posting original writing, modifying the layout, and communicating with folk far and near that you may not have otherwise ever gotten to meet.

Next week's TT will be some other expeditious topic, and then maybe we'll be back to exciting layouts with photos that take hours to dream up and assemble. Happy TT!

A Chicken, A Kaleidescope, and the Pottery Barn

2008-02-16T00:21:00.008-06:00

There was a hen with a tube of mosaics
That made watchers cry, "Goodness sakes!"
So it caused some alarm
At the Pottery Barn
When a salesmen showed how well chicken bakes.

Where should I begin? The limerick above was a case of rising to a challenge to compose, with $10 on the line. I probably won't collect the prize; somehow, getting a chicken and a kaleidescope to converge at The Pottery Barn is its own reward.

The dare came forth on a message board thread about Edward Lear that was a spinoff from a thread about tears that was a spinoff from something else. Edward Lear's "The Owl and the Pussycat" was quoted, as well as several poems that I'd never encountered. He felt pretty free to improvise when trying to get couplets to rhyme. Our crowd can do some improvisation of its own, since there were several other things going on that had nothing to do with Edward Lear before we got to The Pottery Barn. I still haven't figured out how the chicken and the kaleidescope made it into the conversation.

Today, a friend who makes his living by his right-brained wits and I discussed the role that commissions by patrons played in both classical composition and art. In that day, royals and other wealthy folk rather than publishing companies and record labels came up with the cash to fund these projects. They probably offered opinions on how they wanted the final result to sound as they signed the cheques. The creative juices would have to find a way to flow down the given sluice.

There are still instances where composition is called upon to take a certain shape. A regular feature on The Mac Davis Show involved the star sitting in front of the audience with his guitar, attempting to instantly put together a verse from odd suggestions called out to him. One instance in particular must have really made an impression on me, because I still remember the lyric.

The topic was bleu cheese.

What happened was as follows:

My cheese fell in love with my banana
As sometimes cheeses do.
This morning, I ate my banana.
Then, my cheese was blue.

Let's hear it for the flow of the juices down the sluices!

Thursday Thirteen #4: Writers' Workshop

2008-02-13T21:51:00.005-06:00

The first poem that I posted here was written based on an exercise that we did in a writing class that involved handling a series of objects with our eyes closed in order to experience the details more individually through the sense of touch rather than taking it all in as a single picture. I thought that it would be interesting to find thirteen things that I would put in my box to bring to class if I taught a writers' workshop, and what might be discerned through touching them.

1. This was my first thought: the milkweed pod. There's such and endless catalog of things going on there--rough walls, silky strands ending in hard seeds, the hinge on which it opens, the flight that initiates when the strands detach.

2. I thought this violin was an great combination of lines and curves. It would be fun to receive this blindfolded and discover the sound unexpectedly rather than knowing it would be there when you plucked a string. (That, and it made me think of mom huebert, who usually drops by!)

3. Would a flower still feel like a flower if the velvet sloped down from the spines rather than up around them?

4. Could a dry winter leaf fool us into thinking that it was a thin piece of parchment for a moment? What took place beneath the tree that would appear on a page of its history?

5. After another hundred years, would a section of this window sill be so light and porous that it felt more like cork than wood?

6. Would man-made beads feel like God-made seeds if you couldn't see the colors, particularly if they weren't all round? What was in the mind of either creator when they were made?

7. Does down feel more like feather or like fur?

8. Wet feathers might seem more like moss. What path does a feather take to find itself in a river with fins and moss?

9. Men have learned to weave spiders' webs. Would any part feel like the original? What do men catch in their webs?

10. Would there be enough variations in the height of the features to piece together the details of Thomas Kincade's wharf in your mind before seeing it, or would it be a surprise?

11. Is the soapstone bear just a very bold wax casting? It would be interesting to see how much difference the theme of the shape made in discerning its nature.

12. Most of us had a doll or bedtime toy when we were very young. Could an old Coke bottle wrapped in a blanket stir up a memory before we reached the top and realized what we actually held?

13. Okay--before complete hysteria sets in, I want to acknowledge that I know that the elephant would definitely NOT fit in the box.

It does remind me of a story about touching what can't be seen. Some blind men were given an object to identify using only their sense of touch. One thought that he had a rope in his hand, when in fact it was the elephant's tail. Another was convinced that he was hugging a tree, when in fact it was the elephants leg. Each misdiagnosed their target. From them, we learn to take a little extra time to look beyond appearances to see the full picture, even with our eyes wide open.

The Way It Should Be

2008-02-12T12:40:00.001-06:00

I made some decisions early in my life. I decided that I was enraptured with Christ and the scriptures. I decided that the church that I grew up in didn't reflect what I saw in the scriptures, and horrified my family by refusing to go through the rite of confirmation. In God's redemptive economy, I did go back to a service in a church of this type (albeit in a different synod), and received what was probably the most dramatic inner healing that I can remember. God can show up and do something real wherever He is honored; the choice lies with the people there that day.

I've been on a quest throughout my life to see the real thing spiritually. The failure to be impressed with unsubstantiated appearances has been a universal principle in my life. I remember commenting on an awards ceremony as a young child that it was silly to make that big of a fuss over people who put their pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else. It's led me in some unexpected directions, but nothing succeeds like success. I know the real deal when I see it.

One of my favorite scriptures is one that I've mentioned elsewhere: "God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing...." (Ps. 68:6a). God has set a number of people in my life to replace the side of the family that had taken their leave that function more like family than the departed ones did--may God have mercy on them. They're too numerous to list here, but this weekend we got to see several of them.

The Guitar Player is my son's big brother from God. I got to know him when I was one of three people that made it to one of his coffee house shows (the other two being his parents). He's a former pastor that came to feel that there was not enough of the real thing in his denomination, leading he and his wife to become part of the house church movement. My son was a fairly faithful regular at their Tuesday evening Bible studies when he lived in their neck of the woods.

The Equestrienne is a friend that has been more like a big sister to me since I was 18, and actually finished raising me. She taught herself horsemanship, with a little help from my Dad at the beginning. He was vastly different than the misguided father she had known. For all intents and purposes, he adopted her. She trains both horses and riding students.

The Linguist is someone whose path I was thrown into until we finally bonded. When her sister disowned her during a period when her family was not being present during a difficult time in her life, I adopted her. She shares my love of art and multiculturalism, and makes me feel less alone in the world. Her career as a self-employed translator brings her into contact with an array of different people.

The Helper is always there when you need something. She calls once a week or so just to let you know that she remember that you're there, which has been critically important during these months of relative isolation. She and her husband attended Christ for the Nations Institute not long after they married, and came to view service to the people around you as an important expression of faith. She does a lot of uncompensated tasks in her position as church secretary.

The Liaison finds herself guided into tasks that involve bridging gaps. She just finished a year in the VISTA program bringing a women's transitional shelter's needs to the community. Now that she's done, she seems to be inundated with information supporting what is probably her real calling--bridging the gap between the culture in which she was raised and her birth culture on the Native reservations.

The Soldier's Mom has this ability to find the path amid the smoke, and I'm grateful to have her in my life. She can find a forward-moving perspective in some pretty deep murk. Most of our conversations have to do with sorting out for each other what's actually going on and how to handle it. It's ironic how much easier it sometimes is to assess someone else's situation and to lose the forest for the trees in your own. The family of God is constructed so that we need each other.

Everybody's Mom has taken care of her own kids, raised her friend's grandchildren, and taken in strays with various degrees of formality and duration. One of the strays was my son, who she helped to get to school back in the days when I left for work at 6 AM, and for several weeks last year when our family was at such loose ends. She loves you even when you feel that most other people have had it with you.

The Entrepreneur learned risk-taking in her former days in a religion that requires door-to-door recruiting. She built her cleaning business knocking on random doors and taking referrals. Her other forays are into the prisons to aid reintegration of inmates into society, and into the troubled lives of domestic abuse victims. She's under the impression that these things require more going and fewer committees to discuss the subject.

The Comedienne was not present, but was certainly discussed and missed. I would love to see her enter a position that would appreciate her ability to facilitate group communication and lift the mood of any room that she enters with her professionally-honed improvisational skills, rather than laboring under collective stress in a struggling marketing firm. She's probably much on my mind because I need to call her after her first day back to work for the week. Even the cheerful need some cheering sometimes.

The occasion was my son's departure to Job Corps. It was a long time coming, but the date was finally announced. The six days between the call and the actual trip to the bus station involved packing, sorting, and as many goodbyes in person as could be managed.

Friday was Grandma's day. We do actually have some blood relation that still acknowledge us. My Mom has put up with a lot of turmoil, and has been there for us through thick and thin. Some still see that as the role of family and community, thank God. She gave him some party money for the next day, as well as some of his beloved hot buffalo chicken. Without Grandma, we never would have made it.

We did leave for a few hours to get my stuff out of Mrs. Everybody's Mom's garage. It was stashed there when she followed me down to take the last car to the salvage yard, and has been shuffled around this last year until I got another car that had an empty trunk. We had to catch up on the latest news about her granddaughter that has been the subject of an abuse case because of her commentary on her visitations with her mother. I don't know many people with simple, problem-free lives. It helps us empathize with each other.

The next day started early. We went to see the young assistant pastor from the area that was speaking down the road at our former church. He can draw quite a crowd, partially because he combines very diligent scholarship with authenticity. He ain't from here, and hasn't picked up some of the conventional just-because-we-do moves. The most encouraging thing for me personally was to hear about his plans to return to his native Zambia next month to set up a prayer center and apartment community in which widows and orphans can live interdependently. His value for prayer is seen in his willingness to pay these women to staff the prayer center. The other encouraging thing was getting to talk to Mrs. Soldier's Mom for a few minutes. My son left with a number of questions, which we discussed on the way to our next stop.

Ms. Equestrienne had told us about a seminar at the health food store that she would be attending. We at least got to sit next to her at the event, although the fact that it ran 2 1/2 hours over its scheduled time kept us from having a conversation just then. We did learn some things, and I got to watch my son ask some insightful questions that showed how analytical he's become. We finally had to leave to make it to our next scheduled event.

We wanted to go to the restaurant that had been designated in our visitation order as a pickup/dropoff site as a choice rather than as something that we were compelled to do. It's a good reminder of how God got us through that very difficult time. I'd told Ms. Linguist that we would arrange our meal there to accommodate the open part of her afternoon so that she could join us. Fortunately, Ms. Entrepreneur had an open evening, so she also joined us. The three of us had done several after-meeting get-togethers following the domestic abuse support group that we all attended. In the process of the conversation about where cooking was going to lead my son in the future, Ms. Equestrienne called as the seminar finally ended. She confirmed the start time for Mr. Guitar Player's show that evening, and felt that she could probably make it out. After Ms. Linguist had to leave, I got to once again see my son demonstrate some of the insight his perseverance has wrought in his life as we discussed deep subjects with Ms. Entrepreneur.

We were so long at our discussing that it was time to head downtown to the show. We put the cars in the parking garage, since that's a good way to minimize frustration on a weekend evening in that city. We were fortunate to get there a little early and pick our table, since that ended up being the biggest Mr. Guitar Player coffee house show that I can remember. Ms. Equestrienne didn't make it until about the halfway point, since things on the acreage were being affected by the ice. Her strength of purpose, ability to cry out to God when she runs out of strength, and love of horses keeps her going despite a significant case of fibromyalgia; I wish I had her ability to release frustration through tears. I think the evening brightened her outlook, as she thanked me for her very late birthday card that acknowledged what a big part of my life she'd been. Mr. Guitar Player invited my son to play harmonica on one of his rarely performed songs that happened to be in the right key for one of the harmonicas he had with him. It sounded great to Mom, anyway! He also did his "Amazing Grace" medley that included the Nirvana version, the Elvis version, and the Gilligan's Island theme version. Mr. Guitar Player's parents sat at the end of one of our tables, and his brother and sister-in-law sat at the next table. They're both huggy guys, and sent hugs around. It was family night in several ways. Ms. Entrepreneur and Ms. Equestrienne had never met, and did get into a conversation that started with horses and ended with natural foods and supplements. In the meantime, my son helped Mr. Guitar Player load equipment. He then got into a conversation with a gentleman that I've seen in a number of places in that city. He came away from that conversation higher than a kite: after hearing about his "evangelistic gift" so many times, he finally saw it kick in and roll! Both conversations kept up until the staff gently pointed out that the shop had actually been closed for 45 minutes. My son gave his number to the gentleman, and Ms. Entrepreneur and Ms. Equestrienne made me promise to get their contact information to each other. We got back at 1 AM on a very cold morning. That's the happiest that I've seen my son in some time, despite the weather.

We did make it to both the morning and evening church services on Sunday. The youth pastor and his wife (Ms. Equestrienne's son and daughter-in-law--it's a small world!) made sure that he had a small sendoff party at the evening youth service. He spent a lot of time listening these last several months, and was a great asset to my son. The only other guys that he'd regularly gotten to talk to were one of Mrs. Everybody's Mom's sons by text and phone periodically, and Mr. Guitar Player now and then over the phone. I remember when we were praying for him not to die before he got his life right with God and was in a bad motorcycle accident. God heard us, and then some! The evening ended with a call from Mrs. Helper, who wanted us to stop by on our way in since she couldn't get away to join us at the bus stop, and some last-minute repacking.

Monday also started early. We were advised by the letter from Job Corps to have him at the bus depot no later than 9:30 AM, and the director of the organization that has hosted us since my son's abuse and stalking by a church elder (long story for another day) told us to be there at 9 AM. We did stop at Mrs. Helper's house, who fed my son and I breakfast and visited with us, giving the driver time to wake up a little more. Still, I went to the wrong area, but the resourceful son called and got us a landmark that simplified the matter for the driver. We had no more than walked in when Ms. Linguist followed, relieved she hadn't missed us. My complex explanation of our plans had her thinking he was actually leaving at 9 AM, but I've been known to make things more complicated than they need to be. They started a conversation in which my son shared his spiritual journey and the "coincidences" that weren't, and the last-minute saves that showed us that God hadn't forgotten us. I could see that Ms. Linguist was appreciating his commentary, since the distance that her relatives have shown her despite professed spirituality had sent her on a quest for the real thing. Somewhere in there, Ms. Equestrienne called to talk to my son, since she wouldn't be able to make it in. They completed their conversation, allowing my son and Ms. Linguist to pick up where they left off. They were interrupted again by the Job Corps rep, who impressed us by showing up to make sure everything was running smoothly. I somewhat regretted that they didn't finish that conversation, but they can perhaps renew it via e-mail when my son gets fluent in that communication skill with his new address. We finally put him on the bus, and she told me how mature he'd gotten, and what an asset he would be to anyone who got him. We both hoped he could end up cooking someplace that would allow him to do the kind of sharing that he'd done Saturday night.

We weren't ready to part company after the bus left, so we agreed to go to a coffee shop near the campus, where I needed to pick up a duplicate W-2. On a whim, I called Mrs. Liaison to see if she could join us. Our conversation, as usual, was about helping the downtrodden and the righting of wrongs, and about our friend, Mama Grace, who had returned to the Sudan. I'd had the privilege of taking her to the Consulate to get the work permit that took five years of hard-fought effort to obtain rather than the projected three months, due to the lack of diligence on the part of her attorney. We also recalled how Ms. Comedienne had been so "on" and had cheered us all up the day that she came down with us to another coffee house three weeks after the death of Ms. Linguist's #2 son, and how we needed to see how we could draw her out now that she was in a time of great stress. In the midst of the conversation, my phone rang with a return call from Mrs. Liaison, to my delight and that of Ms. Linguist, who hadn't yet gotten to meet her! We spent the final 45 minutes discussing how God had revealed her origins to Mrs. Liaison through a series of dreams about Native people, and about introducing herself to her birth family, and the way He was now guiding her efforts to obtain a better way of life and access to the spiritual teachings that had so faithfully aided her for her people. Ms. Linguist again got to listen to someone share some real spirituality, and was quite excited at the assurance that it brought, and that it was leading toward helping people. I'm glad for the people in my life that are after something real. They have plans together for later in the week.

I'm glad for many things today--for those that we were able to see, for those that couldn't make it but have greatly touched our lives with the reality of their walk with God, for the last-minute saves, for the chance to see the God of love intersecting our courses according to His purposes. As I experience yet another sick day, I have an overwhelming picture of hope to assure me that it's not over yet.

The Road

2008-02-07T20:09:00.000-06:00

The earth is green beneath me,
The sunlight clearest gold.
The breeze teases me forward
As I start off down the road.

I find some scattered stumbling stones
Of which I was never told.
Signposts shake in angry winds
As I stumble down the road.

The miles compress my shoulders;
Memories make a heavy load.
My knees give way beneath me--
I have lain down in the road.

I see the tracks etched deeply,
As though cut while pushing through a flood.
Still they stretch on out before me....
It's time to move on down the road.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart....Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. 'Make level paths for your feet,' so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed." (Heb. 12:1-3,12-13)

Thursday Thirteen #3: Concert DOs and DON'Ts

2008-02-07T00:23:00.001-06:00

In the spring of 2004, a number of things just went right that allowed me to actually leave home overnight to attend a concert by 2/3 of my favorite band that a friend of mine put on about seven hours down the road at his church. The 2 of 3 of the current 77s lineup that made it are known as 7&7 Is, or just Mike Roe and Mark Harmon. It was ostensibly a youth event, but the middle-aged fan base had all the serious fun after the kids filed out at their regularly scheduled time.

1. DO make your desires known to God about attending the show after it's announced as you experience a particularly tender moment in prayer about the rather difficult way your life has gone. It won't kill you if He says no, and He just might say, "YES"!

2. DO ask all your friends to pray with you about whether you should go. You'll be amazed how stuff can come together when something is supposed to happen!

3. DO have the biggest bonus you've ever gotten from the company show up two weeks before the show as you're trying to decide if you have enough money to go.

4. DON'T get so wound up in the departure details that you forget to take the bonus check to the bank. It will cost you a bit in overdraft fees later.

5. DO enjoy the trip down in the sweetest ride you've ever owned.

(This isn't the actual item, but is also a very nice black 1989 Buick Skylark.)

6. DO get excited about seeing your cyberfriends in person for the first time. Take them some good teaching materials to help them with the concerns about which you've been posting and praying.

7. DON'T insist on carrying all five of your bags full of books and tapes and your great outfit to your motel room at once because you get there later than you'd planned and are missing part of the pre-show get-together. You may get to see the show with a screaming headache!

8. DO make sure that you get a picture of the fork by the road before you leave, or nobody will believe that it was there.

(Notice that I did say, "The fork BY the road").

9. DO agree to run your buddy's very nice digital camera so that he can battle with the temperamental soundboard, and get as many pictures of the show as possible. Get brave and go right up to the edge of the stage, like you own the place!

10. DO stop shooting long enough to whip out your keys for the traditional multiple-sets-of-keys audience participation sound effects during the intro to "Snake", and to watch some amazing guitar work on the bridges without distraction.

11. DON'T walk in front of the video camera because you're no longer looking where you're going, and have the back of your head needlessly immortalized for posterity.

12. DON'T try to catch another one of your buddies with a camera as he trips and falls in your general direction. The difference in proportions say that you couldn't do anything to help the situation, and he's tough enough to take it.

13. DO somehow manage to sit on the same end of the table with the lead singer at the after-show dinner for the band and serious fans. It will allow you to catch up on prayer request updates, have a good single parent conversation, give him the wind-up dinosaur you brought along for his daughter's dashboard dinosaur collection, and generally serve as another reason to believe that God put you with this cool bunch of people for a purpose.

God sets the lonely in families,
he leads forth the prisoners with singing....(Ps. 68:6a)

Below is a clip from a video taken that night. The song is their version of "Denomination Blues", a song originally released by Washington Phillips in the late 1920s.

Wordless Wednesday: God's Art #2

2008-02-06T02:44:00.000-06:00

Torch

2008-02-03T19:25:00.000-06:00

From dancing to free-falling
With strength already spent,
The signal fire of victory
Becomes a torch for the descent.

When do the depths take over?
When does darkness eat the light?
What is left but sleeping
When surrounded by the night?

Sundance throught the lattice
Opens forward-looking eyes.
Sundance on the water
Calls me to rise and come outside.

Strong, like Sun above,
Soft, like mother's love.

Ps. 139:8
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

Is. 50:10
Who among you fears the LORD
and obeys the word of his servant?
Let him who walks in the dark,
who has no light,
trust in the name of the LORD
and rely on his God.

John 1:4, 5.9a, 14
In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness....The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world....
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only,who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

Rom. 8:37-39
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

What a thought: God carries a torch for us when we've fallen out of love with our own existence, from which we can reignite!

Six (ONLY six?) Quirky Things About Me

2008-01-31T11:41:00.000-06:00

I've been tagged by mom huebert of Chocolate After Supper to produce a list of six quirky things about me. Of course, my first reaction was--ONLY six?!

I took my cue on where to start from mom huebert's list (see #1, #4, and #6). Some of those things certainly sounded familiar to me.

____________________________________________________________________

1. I love school, too. I not only loved it as a child, but have loved it as an adult. It looks to me like a big gateway to hope and endless possibilities. I'm presently working with some folks to see if we can put together some funding that will allow me to return for yet more school for a career that will better suit the present circumstances.

2. I do have an Associates Degree, but usually have to explain what it is when I mention that my major was Nondestructive Testing. For those who've never seen friends or family setting up a radiation perimeter around their isotope camera, it involves using non-invasive test methods to determine the integrity of production parts. The methods include ultrasound, X-ray or gamma source film exposure, and some cool electromagnetic things that don't have hospital equivalents, since not many people are made of steel.

3. My left eye doesn't dilate much because of scarring from some inflammations. If I walk too quickly though a change in lighting, I'll not have enough time to adjust and will run into things ahead and to my left. I've never seen it, obviously, but I'd bet it's pretty funny to watch!

4. I also am heartbroken by mismatches between words and actions,particularly when the failure to reconcile them is mine. I just got an e-mail from a friend who's currently involved in prison ministry that commented on her can't-take-it-anymore frustration with churches that form action committees for poverty and isolation issues, but never actually do much of anything for people. A board meeting in three weeks that may or may not yield assistance won't help someone who'll have their utilities shut off the day after tomorrow. God, grow us all up beyond the stage of being clouds without water.

5. My Myers-Briggs personality type is the INTJ (Introverted-Intuitive-Thinking-Judging). A counselor that I spoke with yesterday agreed that it's a rare type in itself, and probably particularly so for women. The women cited as being INTJs were people like nuclear physicist Dr. Lise Meitner and philosopher Ayn Rand, who made a career out of blowing off social convention. Reading some of the descriptions of the type have helped me understand some of the painful communication breakdowns that have taken place in my life. I still can't figure out why girls travel to bathrooms in herds, for example. It's a little easier for me to appeal to the State Director of Health and Human Services to get my mother health benefits that had been denied than it is to hug her, partly because I can better understand the functional imperative of the former to her well-being. I love people and spend a lot of my time working in their behalf, but in behind-the-scene ways like prayer and networking, and with the one-on-one listening and reflecting sessions. I seem to have resources that match needs show up in ways that make me feel like I was steered toward them. I feel like a divine bureaucrat sometimes. I probably wouldn't qualify for social director.

6. Like mom huebert, I spend quite a bit of time composing stories or poems in my head when I'm doing things that don't require a lot of concentration. Most don't make it into print because I don't write them down soon enough, but the flight of fancy in itself is an entertaining way to keep the dust off of the unused brain cells.

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Next, I post the rules, to be repeated by the next wonderfully quirky person on their blog:

~Link to the person that tagged you
~Post the rules on your blog
~Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
~Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
~Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website

Then, I name some people whose uniqueness I would like to celebrate (although I might not make it to six):

Maria at Jubilee on Earth
Cindy at Notes in the Key of Life
MiKael at MiKael's Mania - Arabian Horses
and My Clouds, My Storms....
Pastor Parato at Minister's Musings

Thursday Thirteen #2: We are Siamese, if You Please

2008-01-31T00:12:00.000-06:00

I used to own two cats that lived up to the reputation that Siamese have for being unusual personalities. Between Ilse and Hannelore (or Hani, as she was known to her fan club) and their people, I came up with thirteen unique quirks.

1. Ilse loved cantaloupe. I didn't know that cats ate fruit.

2. Ilse DID NOT love yogurt. She tried it once, and sat there licking her top lip for at least ten minutes to try to get rid of it.

3. Hani was traumatized by the sound of silverware being put away. She would scream and run for cover when the clanking started.

4. The first endearing thing that Hani did the week that she came home as a six-week-old kitten, besides making Ilse hiss and circle her, was to run up the drapes and watch us from the top of the rod.

5. When she finally got too heavy to climb the drapes, she took to sitting in that big picture window and chewing out the blue jays that would swoop by to irritate her with an un-catlike MAT-MAT-MAT-MAT ratcheting sound.

6. Ilse got irritated by people behavior at times. When she did, she'd run at the offender, pivot on her front legs, mule-kick them in the shin with surprising force, and then regather herself and run for said cover.

7. They had a set bedtime routine. Ilse would lay between my (or Mom's) knees, and Hani curled up right under whomever's chin. She'd roll over onto your face, if you'd let her.

8. Hani had herself well-positioned to do the 5 a. m. wake up call, which usually consisted of licking an eyelid and MROWWWWRing cat breath directly into our noses.

9. Ilse, who detested Hani for the first two weeks or so after she came, one day changed her mind and decided to adopt her. One day, we found Ilse tucking Hani into her side, and maybe letting her fake-nurse a little since she was Mom-cat size and probably reminded her of Mom-cat. They spent the next 13 years napping that way, minus the pseudo-nursing.

10. We thought that qualified Ilse to be a Mom-cat. We took her to her appointment to become a mother, and she decided to practice abstinence instead. Actually, she practiced abstinence, slicing, and dicing. We were very grateful that the tom still had both eyes when we got her out of there, and had them both spayed after that.

11. Ilse was the bright one. I think she had a slide rule in her head. She didn't chase mice--she calculated their trajectory and triangulated onto their projected path.

12. Hani was a bit more....cerebrally challenged. She would sometimes get this wide-eyed look when you tossed her the string, as though she needed to have the game explained first, again. She would also walk through the house letting the world know that something wasn't quite right with her distinctive, somewhat nasal MWAAAOOOOWWWWRRRRRRR. It was generally tough to get to the bottom of the problem, leading us to believe that she wasn't sure what it was either.

13. This is actually behavior on the part of Ilse and Hani's people, and is somewhat poignant as well as a little amusing now that we've gotten some distance from it.

My Mom became their caretaker when I moved to a place that wouldn't allow me to keep them. They were her companions as I slogged through my weird marriage, and she had such guilt when the time came to put them down because of the ravages of old age that it aggravated some preexisting health conditions and she spent a few days in the hospital. My aunt, trying to be careful not to put her through any more heartache, picked them up from the vet and put them in her freezer until Mom could tell her where to bury them. In the meantime, Thanksgiving rolled around, and one of her daughters that had come home for the holiday went to the freezer for some pre-Thanksgiving supper, and....

Don't worry--they're lying safely under her willow tree.

Wordless Wednesday--God's Art #1

2008-01-30T22:36:00.001-06:00

A Little Child Shall Lead Them

2008-01-30T11:08:00.000-06:00

Isaiah 11:6
"The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them."

I have had a sort of a prayer and exhortation relationship, mostly via the Internet, with a number of people over the years. Taking a cue from Jesus, I like to use images and stories that can communicate a point in a way that's easy to grasp. Two stories that I like to reference to illustrate a point are the fable "Stone Soup" and the fairy tale "The Emperor's New Clothes". Before putting together this blog entry, I went to look up both stories to make sure that I was quoting them correctly, and found to my amazement that the description of the first story cited the other as an opposite theme! It reminded me of the following description of the seemingly upside-down kingdom of God found in Matt. 19:30: "But many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first."

"The Emperor's New Clothes" is perhaps better-known. It tells about an emperor who hired two itinerant taylors to make him a new set of clothes. Due to his insecurity and dependence on the approval of others, he believed their claim that the cloth was so fine that it couldn't be detected by anyone who was stupid or unfit for their position, and pretended to be able to see the cloth lest he be exposed as a fraud. He went so far as to carry his bluff that he could see the clothes to the extent of participating in a parade down the village's main street in his birthday suit. Everyone else also played the game, except for a little child who declared the obvious--the emperor wasn't wearing any clothes!

"Stone Soup" is also about travellers who also tell creative stories. They drag into a village hungry and looking for help. Unfortunately, they've happened onto a place that's fallen on hard times, and no one wants to share what little they have horded away with each other, much less with strangers. The travellers start a pot in the center of the square, and toss a "magic" stone into it that somehow promises a fantastic pot of soup. It could, however, use a little something to dress it up a bit. First one, and then another, of the villagers extract their hidden soup ingredients until the whole village has a pot of soup greater than the sum of its parts.

There is a third story that also comes to mind that's supposed to illustrate the difference between heaven and hell. For all practical purposes, it sounds more like the intended difference between the kingdom of God and the world:

A man dreamed that he was taken by an angel to view both heaven and hell. His eyes were opened to them both, and he was astounded to find that they looked identical at first glance! He was very troubled and asked the angel to explain. In both places, a large number of people were seated at a huge banquet table filled with food--but their hands were bound behind them so that no one could eat.

The angel urged him to look more closely, where he saw the difference: the people in hell stared sadly at their food without eating, while those in heaven clumsily but effectively were able to feed the people next to them and be fed in turns by lifting their forks with their mouths to feed the one next to them.

All of us are limited by circumstance, challenge, or some other hindrance. We can either close in our ourselves in desperation to hold onto what little we have until our lives are perfect and we feel completely secure, or choose to be taught to participate in the compassion of God by allowing Him to show us someone to whom we can offer help or comfort, however imperfectly. They may offer some back then, or later, or not be able to do so, but our reward from God will be seen in some other way. Participating in His nature is reward in itself, but scripture shows us how compassion was intended to be expressed between us in practical ways. As the earth groans more as His day approaches, we may need to find greater depths of sharing His character and sharing what's in our spiritually and naturally in our hand. I can attest to the fact that even clumsy attempts by His body to reach toward each other bring a strong sense of His presence. "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." (Matthew 18:20). He can't be looking for something so complicated that it's beyond us, because He said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these." (Mk. 10:14b)

Luke 10:21
"At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said, "I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure."

Bloom Where You're Planted

2008-01-26T21:54:00.001-06:00

This phrase went through my mind some time back, and I've been trying to sort out what I think it means.

Some of the options that I've investigated involve leaving the area and starting over somewhere that seemed more hospitable, for the change of scenery if nothing else. So far, I haven't seen any place that had enough security to make a blind one-way leap with little to fund it and no way back feasible. Solomon made a comment that I think applies: "A discerning man keeps wisdom in view, but a fool's eyes wander to the ends of the earth." (Prov. 17:24).

I think that there's something to be said for caution. I also think that there's the issue of not only where we find ourself planted, but of what's been planted in us, to be considered.

We've recently celebrated Martin Luther King Day in this country, which is a noteworthy event in our household. More that 100 years before Dr. King told the world about his dream that his four little children would have room to flourish in a safe and productive culture, William Wilberforce was laying some of the legal bedrock for it in the British Parliament. After experiencing a genuine conversion to Christianity as an adult, he sought the counsel of clergy on whether to leave his seat in Parliament for a more directly spiritual vocation. He was advised to remain at his post, eventually contributing to both The Slave Trade Act of 1807 and The Bill for the Abolition of Slavery that was finally ratified in 1833. News of the latter was rushed to the ailing Wilberforce of its passage three days before his death, as though he had finished his course with that victory.

Another periodic topic of conversation at our house is the saga of Standing Bear, a 19th-century Ponca chief. The United States government decided that this nomadic hunting tribe should settle down and farm. Then, they mistakenly allocated some of their farmland to the Sioux, causing a deadly conflict. They were moved to another place that wasn't home and had the misfortune of going through a hard winter for which they were by that point ill-prepared. The chief's son was among those who died. He could no longer reinvent himself, and had to return to the land around the Niobrara to properly lay him to rest. At great personal risk, he reentered Nebraska with his late son's body, and was arrested while seeking help from relatives on the Omaha reservation. With some volunteer help from an attorney that had read an article on their plight written by journalist Thomas Tribbles, the detainment levied by Gen. George Crook was found to be invalid because "an Indian is a person" within the meaning of the habeas corpus act filed by Standing Bear. Not only he but his tribe was allowed to go home to the Niobrara, and he continued from that point to speak as an advocate for Native rights with the help of translators and other supporters.

Another scion of the Ponca and their neighbors, my friend Karen, started her life not knowing about her origins. She had frequent dreams about Native Americans as a child, but knew of no connection that she had to them until she had her adoption records opened later in life. This information, and the fact that there had been a trail left for her in the dreams, gave her some grounding that helped her recover from what had been a troubled era in her life. She was able to meet her grandmother while she was still alive. She expressed her joy mostly in her native Omaha language, but did comment in English that "Jesus brought the baby back!" The story came to be told as part of her advice to school children and other groups about how to respect the person that we are and the society in which we live enough to make good choices. I just learned that she has been asked to serve as a Native representative on a board of National Service commissioners for Native affairs. My response to her misgivings was another bit of wisdom from Solomon in Prov 18:16: "A gift opens the way for the giver and ushers him into the presence of the great.". What was planted in her and watered by Grandma's prayers is bearing fruit as a demonstrated ability to speak for those who need a voice, or guidance from the voice of experience.

I wonder sometimes how well I can take my own advice. I've recently been encouraged again to explore returning to college in pursuit of a degree in literature. This does seem to reignite some inner spark that's been much too frequently absent lately. I was reading simple books out loud by the age of four, and wrote and illustrated my first poem at five; the love of arranging words is a long-standing one, to say the least. With a first manifestation coming that early, I would say that the urge is quite seminal, and an inescapable part of this individual design. To bloom best, perhaps its sound husbandry to regraft into the deepest roots without the shock of a long transport.

Hut One, Hut Two....Haiku!

2008-01-25T05:11:00.000-06:00

I posted this half-jokingly on a strange message board thread, and it didn't quite go over. I thought I'd try to pass it off as serious art here instead.

Unrequited

I, the empty room,
You, the absent resident.
The light burns unseen.

Thursday Thirteen #1: Influential Writers

2008-01-24T11:16:00.000-06:00

It looks as though Thursday is time for a list. Since I'm in writing mode, I listed thirteen writers that have greatly influenced my own writing, or my life in general.

1. God

I don't know of any other author who can write and illustrate at the same time.

2. C. S. Lewis

There could be so much said here. He added what I would consider to be spiritual perception to sensory images in his works, as described in the book Surprised by Joy. He created apologetics, science fiction, children's stories that could also intrigue adults, and scholarly works that all demonstrated repeated moments of reaching epiphany and translating it into tangible truth.

3. Marguerite Henry

She wrote my favorite childhood story, King of the Wind, about a triumphal outcast. One of my most prized possessions to this day is my copy of the Breyer model of Sham. She was intrigued at how something so large could be so easily guided by modest bits of string, and how important horses had been to human development. Like me, she developed her love of reading and writing during a long childhood illness.

4. Father Henri Nouwen

Father Nouwen is distintive among my best-loved Christian contemplative authors for the childlikeness with which he expressed his wonder at the beauty, and at times the chaos, that he observed the world with heightened awareness made possible by the time that he spent in the presence of the Life that was the Light of men. Profound brokenness led him to profound dependence.

5. James Herriot

Sometimes you just want to read something pleasant. James Herriot was the penname of Dr. James Alfred Wight, a British veterinarian who could both gently laugh at and appreciate both his clientele and their owners as he told stories drawn from his rural practice.

6. Ste. Teresa of Avila

Another contemplative author, she moved through stages of surrender, including one characterized by a depth of depression that nearly drove her to despair and madness, to a union with God that was perhaps as perfect as a mortal can experience. The act of choosing to abandon ourself to the One who already knows all and forgives all that we bring to Him causes joy rather than dread: perfect love casts out fear.

7. Walter Farley

Again, I return to a previous theme with the author of The Black Stallion and its twenty sequels. I started somewhere toward the end of the writing process, so I had enough books to allow me to spend as much time with Alec and the Black and his progeny as I wanted. I'm sure Arabian breeders everywhere wish that they could so easily come up with a lightning fast 17-hand stallion.

8. Charles Dickens

The reversal of his family's fortunes as a child gave him firsthand knowledge of the exploitation and neglect of the poor. He described the futility and desperation, but also the character that can be revealed and refined in suffering. In the end, he generally rewarded the reader with a happy ending, often through someone with critical information finally choosing to do the right thing.

9. Michael Roe

Librettists are writers, too. During my long and traumatic divorce, I had his honest lyrics to assure me that I was not alone in a battle with depression and reversals in life, and the questions about the involvement of God in our lives that come from those dark nights of the soul. The catharsis probably saved my sanity, and appreciation has been expressed accordingly.

10. Dr. Hugh Ross

Dr. Ross is both a PhD astrophysicist and a Christian apologeticist who served as a staff member at his church before starting the ministry, Reasons to Believe. His "old Earth" model of creation that can be both reconciled to scripture and substantiated mathematically has drawn the attention of scientists and engineers that were not open to any other form of evangelism, as well as displaying the glory of creation.

11. Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Referred to as "the Portuguese" by her husband, Robert Browning because of her dark features, she's perhaps most famous for "Sonnets from the Portuguese #43", commonly referred to as "How Do I Love Thee". She was another writer who used her time at home due to physical limitations from a lung ailment to capture wonder and transcendence in words. Her work often refires my own desire to write.

12. Ted Kooser

Dr. Kooser effectively utilizes the other end of the poetic spectrum --the minutiae of his environment--to illustrate that small, common things can intrigue, inspire, and bring fond memories to the fore. As a former U. S. Poet Laureate, he's an encouragement to anyone who feels that their life experience hasn't qualified them to write anything big enough to hold anyone else's interest.

13. The Unsung Heroes

I'm always encouraged when someone who didn't think they could and finally finds the courage, or who hasn't in a long time but finally finds the space to relaunch, amazes those around them with their previously undiscovered talent. Not every moving piece of literature that I've ever read came from a published author! The possibilities are endless.

Don't Worry That It's Not Good Enough

2008-01-21T10:55:00.000-06:00

Sing

Written by Joe Raposo

Sing
Sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things, not bad
Sing of happy, not sad

Sing
Sing a song
Make it simple
To last your whole life long
Don't worry that it's not good enough
For anyone else to hear
Sing
Sing a song

La la la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la

Sing
Sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things, not bad
Sing of happy, not sad

Sing
Sing a song
Make it simple
To last your whole life long
Don't worry that it's not good enough
For anyone else to hear
Sing
Sing a song

That bit of wisdom from Sesame Street has been going through my mind since I decided to start this project. I included some of the more recent poetry just to keep pushing outward.

When I was young, I wrote and drew fairly regularly. Sadly enough, as time went on I developed enough self-doubt to be stopped with the concern that it was all so bad that I'd just be ridiculed. It's been interesting to watch the process of art and writing classes show up unexpectedly and without cost over the last year or so to rekindle the flame. I think God's trying to tell me to take the plunge again.

If we do what we do to please people, we'll never succeed. I survived my divorce due largely to the catharsis that my albums by my favorite group afforded me. I thought it was some of the most well-organized, evocative work ever, and it helped me to drain off the pain of an abusive marriage that ended with stalking and harassment. I can find bad reviews even on this lofty art. There's no such thing as artistic works so perfect that no one will ever criticize them. Human beings are wired too differently for everyone to like the same things.

I don't advocate everyone trying to live on their art, but it doesn't hurt to go ahead and start the process, even if it isn't initially so impressive. Improvement doesn't come without practice, and trial and error. We are not as flawless as God in our creativity; it's enough that we possess the desire and ability as part of the image after which we are patterned. We may be surprised to find ourselves brightening someone's world for a little while.

Nebraska in Winter

2008-01-20T01:22:00.001-06:00

Nebraska in Winter

January fills the waning afternoon.
The sun has closed a gray curtain
Against the cold, the flat water is already
Lying still in its bed.

The windows are wrapped in freshly tatted lace.
It glistens as the porch light reports to stand sentry.

In the morning, the sun grins broadly
He must be thinking a little of summer!
I'm late, and dash outside, coat open
And the prank is sprung.

Cold hands shake as I close the coat snugly.
Sunlight watches from the snow, laughing as I run.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Football playoffs are a necessity to keep tourism from dwindling to nothing in January.

Collected....

2008-01-20T01:20:00.000-06:00

Collected...A Poem for a Black Vase

I greet you brightly
Though as a curiosity and a dark enigma.
I am open enough
To display a good handul--a respectable collection!

I extend to you
Too much miscellania to list!
I bring them fully:
The whims, fancies, edicts and truths, with their far-reaching origins.

I hear laughter
Telling me that my dirge is not mournful.
I hear sighing
Telling me without words that my comedy is an exasperation.

I recoil the offering,
Tucking in like a show horse conditioned for the ring.
I become still,
Tending the secret garden silently behind closed doors.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The vase was actually a simple glazed black vase that had been used as a pencil holder. It had a hand around it that seemed to be offering you the vase when the fingers were toward you, and withdrawing it when the fingers were turned away. That contrast, along with the fact that it was black on the outside and white on the inside, led to the contrast between the first two and last two stanzas, and the alternating use of "I" and "T", which is a symbol of the revelation of "I" being banned or fenced off. A discussion of the internal censor that plagues writers actually inspired the train of thought; the vase helped to shape it.

The reference to the show horse being tucked would probably only make sense to another horse nut. That show ring posture is called "going collected", and the use of that image was inspired by the title.

We Have Liftoff!

2008-01-19T19:26:00.000-06:00

I thought that I already had a blog. Now, I have another one.

I'm in a period of my life where I'm going to have to rise from the ashes due to a number of setbacks. I've been through several plans that haven't worked, and have come up with others that never got farther than their conception as thoughts. It helps in forming a plan if you know who you are and what you want. I've spent some time absorbing the depths of a statement that Jesus made to the Pharisees after they'd been particularly harsh to Him: "Jesus answered, 'Even if I testify on my own behalf, my testimony is valid, for I know where I came from and where I am going. But you have no idea where I come from or where I am going.' " (John 8:14 NIV) We can find in this life many people who don't quite understand who we are and where were going; it's sad to be one of them yourself.

I had to see a doctor today in the process of said rising. We talked about how I view myself. He read from a report that he'd received and asked me if I agreed with one of the characteristics used to describe me. My answer was "Perhaps". Later, I wondered if I was uncertain if it was true, or if I doubted that I fit other people's definition of that characteristic. In plain English, I wondered if I was truly not at peace with or clear about who I was, or was just in the habit of giving people's opinions too much power. To have the same impenetrable inner island of security that Jesus had, we should both know who we are, and know that the One Who made us and saved us has the capability to get us where we're going no matter who doesn't like us. After all, they're ultimately not calling us into question as much as they are our Creator. They're outmatched. We, and they, will make mistakes that should be corrected, but our basic identity is an irreplaceable exhale of the breath of God.