More Potholes than Pavement

There are times in my walk with God that I have to go old school. There are times in my life when I have to go back and sing the old hymns the way I grew up hearing them as a child. There are times in my life when my prayers are not very pretty. There are times in my faith walk when the road is so dark, and there seems to be more potholes than pavement. These are times when I have to go way back and when my Grandma Clara hangs very heavy in my mind.
Grandma Clara was called "China doll" by all who knew her. They say she was the prettiest woman for miles around and had a voice like an angel. When she met my grandfather, Paris, they were working in an elastic factory in Kentucky. They began singing gospel together and would travel around to churches singing with another couple. They got married and began to have children. My grandfather began to make what was good money at that time. Unfortunately as his money increased, his faith decreased as well as his concern for his family. He began to drink. Heavily.
As alcohol increased its destructive grip on their home the money dwindled away. My grandfather became a very bitter man, hostile toward religion and abusive to his family. He would disappear and abandoned my grandmother with her 9 small children. They lived in abject poverty. They slept on pallets on the floor. Sometimes they would wake up to find snow on the bed covers. My father said that sometimes the first child up got the clothes. He didn't have a matching pair of shoes until he joined the army.
The neighbors say that when the children were small my grandmother would scrub whatever they had, put it on them and march them to church. I can't imagine what life was like for Grandma Clara. Not back in those days. I would like to tell you that she stood firm and was a shining testimony of grace, strength, and faith, but as her circumstances grew worse she turned to alcohol as well, and it eventually took her life. I do not judge her. After her death her small children were scattered hither and yon, some of them never to be reunited again this side of glory.
Oddly enough, when things get really rough in my life, when I feel abandoned by everything and everyone I am used to leaning on, when I feel betrayed by my own circumstances, its my grandmother I think about. When I feel that I don't have the strength to take one more step forward, and that I have been knocked down for the final time, I think of Grandma Clara. I think about her and I get a sense way down deep inside of me that I have to keep going, that I am not in this alone, and that I'm not just standing firm for myself, but I am standing firm for her too. At these times I think about the way satan took my grandmother out and I know I have to make it, not just for myself, but for her.

My Daddy was a Preacher

Recently I learned something new about one of my favorite artist, Vincent Van Gogh. Van Gogh's father was a Methodist minister. As it turns out, before Vincent became an artist he felt a very passionate calling to ministry and desired to "Preach the Gospel everywhere." He did become a preacher in the coal mining district of La Borinage, Belgium. Conditions there were bitterly harsh. Wishing to live as the people he served he gave all he had to the poor and slept on a bed of straw as they did. He was dismissed from his post for "undermining the dignity of the priesthood." He was later to write in his personal letters to his brother Theo, " Oh I am no friend of present day Christianity, although its founder was sublime. I have seen through present day Christianity all too well."

A Time to Love

A Time To Love

~ Stevie Wonder

We have time for racism
We have time for criticism
Held bondage by our -ism's
When will there be a time to love

We make time to debate religion
Passing bills and building prisons
For building fortunes and passing judgements
When will there be a time to love

At this point in history we have a choice to make
To either walk a path of love
Or be crippled by our hate

We have time to cause pollution
We have time to cause confusion
All wrapped up in our own illusions
When will there be a time to love

We make time to conquer nations
Time for oil exploration
Hatred, violence and terrorism
When will there be a time to love

At this moment in time
We have a choice to make
Father God is watching
While we cause mother earth so much pain
It's such a shame

Not enough money for
The young, the old and the poor
But for war there is always more
When will there be a time to love

We make time for paying taxes
Or paying bills and buying status
But we will pay the consequences
If we don't make the time to love

Now's the time to pay attention
Yes now is the time - to love
A time love - love
A time to love
Please please won't you tell me
When will there be a time to love

Forgiveness completely

It seems like lately I am learning my best spiritual lessons from either the unchurched or from children. I was thinking this morning about a former boss of mine, Jim. I worked for him when I was twenty years old. He owned a chain of restaurants and was very successful. He tried college but said he realized it wasn't for him. He would say that he knew he would never be as smart as everyone else, but he could out work anybody. Jim was as cute as a button and always on ten. Despite his success he was very down to earth and treated everyone with the same respect. It wasn't above him to come into the restaurant on a busy night and grab a broom or bus tables. I worked for him with my best friends and roommates, Ginny and Shirley.
One day Shirley's boyfriend came to me very upset. He said that Jim had slept with my roommates while on a business trip out of town and then threatened them if they ever spoke up about it. I probably wouldn't have believed it, but since the trip, Ginny and Shirley were constantly laughing and giggling about a private joke. I didn't know what it was about but I got the feeling it was about something illicit. Also I was very gullible and just couldn't imagine my friends making up such a wild tale.
Well, to make a long story short, I confronted Jim. I even threatened him. It was the only time I have ever seen him angry. He denied it and stormed out. A while later my friends arrived and Shirley confessed that it was all a big lie she had made up to manipulate her boyfriend.
I apologized to Jim and he accepted my apology graciously. Thank God he didn't want or need his pound of flesh in that small town where jobs were scarce. In fact his forgiveness was so complete that he even tried to fix me up with his best friend. And a while later, when a manager who resented my faith accused me of stealing, he intervened for me. He knew I wasn't a thief.
Jim didn't go to church. Maybe that's why he didn't know anything about church forgiveness. You know the kind where we mouth the words but still want to hold it over a person's head until we feel they have suffered sufficiently under our resentment. He didn't know about church forgiveness where we say we have forgiven, yet every time a person's name is mentioned we say more with our facial expressions than our words ever could. He didn't know about church forgiveness, where we spread our resentment under the guise of a prayer request because we are "just so concerned" about the situation. Jim didn't know anything about any of that. When he forgave you he forgave you completely and he never mentioned it again.

Broken Dreams

Ever had a dream?
Ever had a dream that you nurtured and prepared for? Did you cradle it in you imagination? Did you hold it close to you like a baby? Did you feed it and coddle it, sing it to sleep at night?
You were careful who you let hold your dream. It was precious and you knew you just couldn't trust anybody. And you waited for the day that your dream would mature and walk and play and sing back to you. You waited and waited and waited, sometimes thinking you couldn't wait another minute.

Ever thought your dream was gone? Did it make you angry? Did it trouble your sleep? Did you carry your hurt around like an unprotected wound that is easily re-injured? Did you mourn your dream like the mother of a murdered baby who couldn't get justice?


Look again.
If your dream is something planted in your spirit by God,
you're baby may not be dead.
Like the daughter of Jarius, it may only be sleeping.
Just waiting for the Master's touch to wake it up again.

My Two Cents

I have been very sick with bronchitis for a while. But while I was sick God really did a tremendous work in me. He dealt with me on issues of pride, humility and love, mainly love. One thing I have noticed is that when you start talking about love, people are kind of "Yeah, whatever" because we throw the word around so much we think we have gotten it already. Then we have the other church folks who are so "deep" that they try to spiritualize it to the point that love starts to look like hate and according to their "theology", justifiably so.

But I'm at a point in my life where I take very seriously the words of Christ where He said that all of the law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments. I like that because it makes me feel like, " Okay, so if I just focus on walking in love, the big picture, everything else will fall into place." I also find myself spending a lot of time thinking about what Paul said in I Corinthians 13 about how we can understand all mysteries, speak with the tongues of men and angels, die as martyrs and give all we have to the poor, yet if we have not love we have gained nothing.

It is so simple, and yet we make it so hard. What is so difficult about stopping and asking ourselves,"How would I want to be approached in this situation? How would I want to be talked to? How would I want to be talked about? How would I want to be treated?" But we don't do it then we make all kinds of excuses about why our mean, moody and insecure behavior is okay.

Love demands a maturity of us that aint no joke. It forces us to approach a brother or sister in love, rather than talk about them to everyone else behind their back. It ask us to believe the best of others, when appearances seem otherwise, I causes us to step forward in defence of the weak, and to put the needs of others ahead of ourselves. It gives us the humility to offer praise when it is due, to listen and consider the ideas of others and to be gracious to those who can't do a thing for us. It makes us forgive rather than engaging in spiteful petty behaviors.

It makes us stop measuring our love walk by how we treat those whom we like or have use for.

“Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have the exact measure of the injustice and wrong which will be imposed on them.”

Frederick Douglass

"I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

What's Wrong with this Picture?

February 06, 2006

Harry Belafonte event sceduled for February 7 is postponed

Belafonte, a civil rights pioneer, has been asked to speak at Coretta Scott King's funeral

Did you hear Harry Belafonte speak at the recent funeral of Coretta Scott King?
No?
Nor did I. But not because he wasn't invited. Harry Belafonte was a very close personal friend of Coretta Scott King. He helped pay for the funeral arrangements of her assassinated husband and was by her side when he flew her and her children to the actual service.

So, being the close personal friend of Mrs. King that he was, and having received an invitation to speak, why didn't Mr. Belafonte speak?

As it turns out when the Prez decided he wanted to attend the funeral and speak the White House had to approve the program and the speakers on it. The invitation to Harry Belafonte, an outspoken critic of Bush, was then rescinded.

My Pastor, Fr. Michael Louis Pfleger has had similar experiences. In 2003 he was asked by Coretta Scott King to speak at Ebenezer Baptist Church on the annual King Day celebration. A very high honor shared with presidents and other dignitaries. The Prez was there. Before my pastor spoke the president's cronies cornered him and tried to bully him about what he should and shouldn't say. He went and asked Mrs. King about it. She told him to say whatever he felt God would want him to say, and he did. Within weeks of the engagement Mrs. King received a phone call telling her my Pastor was not to speak there again. Fr. Mike is also invited to Howard University every year to speak. This year they received a similar call from the White House.

My question is this. Do we get it? Do we really understand the real state of the union that we live in? Do we really understand that we live under a government that spies on us and dictates who can speak where and when? John Lake, an Evangelist and Faith Healer well known around the turn of the 20th century made the statement that governments throughout history have discovered that you can do anything you want to a people until they don't have bread. Its only when the primal hunger urge hits them that they are moved to resistance and revolution.
What is it going to take for us to wake up? If lies about weapons of mass destruction and the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina won't do it, what will?

There has been much criticism of those who actually got to speak at the funeral about the propriety of their remarks. But those who are familiar with the civil rights movement know that it is a long standing tradition within the civil rights movement to use funerals as a platform to speak out on the issues at hand. Dr. King did it many times, specifically at the funeral of the four little girls who died in the Birmingham Church bombing in 1963. To some living in our current times the need might not seem as imperative nor the danger as impending. Those who are in touch with the faces of Katrina victims know better. The times are indeed as perilous as ever and the need for a prophetic voice to address the issues at hand is as immediate as ever. Katrina should have taught us this. Weapons of Mass Destruction should have taught us this. A government spying on its citizens should have taught us this. A government that endlessly seeks to control and inhibit the media and restrict free speech should have taught us this.

Despite the uproar over remarks at the funeral, neither Bush nor the Republican party were addressed directly, but rather the issues that Mr. and Mrs. King lived and died fighting for were spoken of. Any direct inference to anyone present was left to be drawn by the hearer. And as they say, "If the shoe fits . . .

Bonhoeffer

"If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Coretta Scott King

"Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated."

Together . . . at last . . . forever.

Super Hero repost.

I don't know about anyone else, but today my life is a job for a super hero ~ thank God I have one.

I have a super hero. You shouldn't be surprised, you have one too. The other night I had a dream. I dreamt I was kneeling on a chair and I needed to get somewhere. But before I could even think about getting up or how I was going to get there an invisible man hoisted me into the air, chair and all, and placed me on his shoulders. He began to carry me where I needed to go. We went through potholes, mud, crowds and all kinds of confusion. At first I was a little worried , because he was invisible and I couldn't see how on earth he was going to manage to get me where I needed to go. But he began to talk to me along the journey and after a bit I could tell he was made for the job. In fact he seemed more than able to handle anything I might need. He was very friendly. He got me where I needed to go and he put me down, but he didn't leave me. I have a super hero. Can you guess who my super hero is? If not I'll give you a hint, the Holy Spirit is a "He", not an it.

John 14:16 And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Counselor to be with you forever--

The Reservoir

Viktor Borisov-Musatov (1902)

Max II

I am adding to this - a previous post.

Of the many cats I have had in the past, Max was one of my favorites. I loved Max. I had no choice. One can resist only so much irrepressible, selfless love and affection. Max was born on my back porch in a litter of stray kittens. When I saw how badly they all had fleas I took pity and gave them flea baths. All of Max's siblings scrambled away, legs splayed and yowling upon release. But Max was instantly tamed. When I would put food out on the back porch, all of the other kittens would run for the dish. Max would run for me. When ever the kitchen light would go on there was Max up on the window ledge, rubbing back and forth against the glass, purring. Yes, Max tied a string around my heart... I would like to be a lot more like Max in the love dept. A lot more selfless, more willing to overlook an offense, more extroverted and relentless in my affection. Of course even Jesus couldn't win every one's love and affection, but He died trying.

There are people in my life that I can't dislike - they won't let me. They are always there with a warm smile, and big hug and a word of encouragement. Its hard to misinterpret that. Many times throughout my life I have found to my own surprise that a person dislikes me for no reason I can consciously account for. I start racking my brain to try to pin point what it was I did or said that offended. My usual response is, "Why? I didn't do anything to them." Now I find myself asking if perhaps that wasn't the problem in and of itself. Many times as a teacher's assistant I will correct a child and hear, "But I didn't do anything!" to which I respond, "That's the problem! You didn't turn around, you didn't follow directions, you didn't close your mouth." Its hard to misinterpret a warm greeting, a kind word, and a hearty embrace. Maybe not doing those things is a bigger problem than we think. I'm not saying that we have to run around with a fake smile on our face and a Pollyanna pose. But perhaps we all could stand to take a look around our lives and make more of an effort to embrace and reach out to those whom we might have overlooked for whatever reason in the past. Perhaps we all need to make more of an effort to make our love more unmistakable.

"Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

What I Learned in School.

This is a true story but I have changed the names of the students involved.

I learned something in school today.
I work with first and second graders as a teacher's assistant and aftercare teacher, and we have had a problem lately with snack being stolen. Theft is usually the cause of much angst with teachers. You fear approaching the wrong child with an accusation will scar him or her for life, not to mention invite an angry "How dare you!" phone call from the parent. Then you have the parents of the child with the missing item calling to demand justice, restitution and what have you. You're stuck in the middle and and its not a nice "middle" to be in. The children have all told me that the thief is Eric, but Eric's mother is not the kind of parent you approach about her child with out cold hard evidence, even though he is in trouble with everyone all of the time. So we decided that the best solution would be to simply collect the snacks at the start of the day and place them out of six year old reach. James was one of the student's who's snack was stolen. Two days in a row he came to me with tears in his eyes telling me that his snack was gone. He went home and told his mother Eric had taken it.
Today James came to school with his snack packed as usual and another in a brown paper bag. He and his mother had packed it just especially for Eric. They sat down and ate their snack together like best friends. It was the most powerful sermon I have ever witnessed.
I am 41 years old and I have been saved and in church for most of my life, but today at snack time I learned how to be a Christian.

Wings

I had a friend who used to drive a milk truck. He told me this story 20 years ago and I have never forgotten it. He worked in the country and would often stop his truck somewhere along the dusty dirt roads of Alabama to take his lunch. One sunny day while he was eating he looked up and saw a hawk flying around in the sky. It was being tailed by two very small birds. It was obvious that the hawk had something the little birds wanted pretty badly because they kept swooping and pecking at the hawk. This continued for a while, the much larger hawk circling and circling with the smaller birds doing everything they could to torment it. As he watched this, my friend thought to himself, " Pretty soon that hawk is going to get sick and tired of those little birds picking at him like that and he will turn and let them have it." but it was at that moment that something unexpected happened. Rather than turning to fight with the birds the hawk began to stretch its wings. It began to take broad deep strokes and began to pick up speed and altitude until it got so high that the little birds could no longer follow.
Sometimes its hard to be the bigger bird. Sometimes its hard to be the bigger person. Especially when you know you could defend yourself. Sometimes its hard to walk away from the scene of the accident in silence, refusing to offer your litany of evidence that would exonerate you. Sometimes its hard to let go and trust God. Let's be honest sometimes you want to turn and let them have it. Sometimes letting it go is the last thing you want to do. But you have to make a choice. You can't soar into the high places of the tomorrow God has for you while circling in flight with those who want to keep you down on their low level.

Great T- Shirt Quote

Who's the director of your show?

More Eric Liddell

Run to Win

But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things.

Philippians 3:14-15




Eric Liddell

Eric Liddell was a student of pure science at Edinburgh University (born 1902 - died 1945). He was a keen sportsman and athlete. He played on the wing for Scotland at Rugby as well as representing the UK in the Paris Olympics. He was known for his strong Christian beliefs and morals and refused to run in the heats of the 100m, as they were to be held on a Sunday. He had a very distinctive running style and was immortalised in the film, Chariots of Fire, as the Flying Scotsman. He won a gold medal in the 400 metres at the Paris Olympics. He became a missionary in China where he died at the age of 43.

Flaming June - in January

Flaming June
Lord Leighton of Stretton

This is one of my all time favorite works of art. I just love it and couldn't tell you why.

"Where is My Cross?" II

April 4, 1968

Dr. King is assassinated in Memphis, Tenn.

More than a Dreamer

As King Day approaches I am working on projects with my students to celebrate the man behind the movement that made one of the most profound changes ever in the lives and history of Americans. In doing so I ran across some photos that we don't normally see of the man. This time of year it seems like every time I turn around I hear the ghostly echo of "I have a dream, I have a dream, I have a dream . . ." and it was most certainly a beautiful sentiment and speech, but it was so much more than that, and Dr. King was so much more than a dreamer. He put actions behind those words. Those words were bathed in blood, sweat, sacrifice and even uncertainty. That is the amazing thing about it. It is easy to look back now and hear "I have a dream" in a romantic light and forget "I may not get there with you . . ."

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Verdure Al Forno

or
How to Handle a Zucchini Explosion

I have never posted a recipe on my blog before, but I was so impressed with this one I just had to for several reasons. First of all, as a girl, I remember zucchini as being one of the easiest vegetables to grow in the garden. There was not only an abundance, there was an over abundance to the point that dispensing of it could become quite the challenge. Now that I am a city girl (only by circumstance, mind you!) I still buy zucchini, but I have been wishing I knew some different ways to prepare it. As providence would have it, I received "Everyday Italian" by Giada De Laurentiis as a gift, and it just so happened that the first recipe to catch my eye was Verdue Al Forno. I prepared it tonight for my sons, and let me tell you it did not disappoint!

I know this post is a wee bit late for you gardeners out there, but spring is just around the corner!

2 t. extra-virgin olive oil
5 medium zucchini (about 1 1/2 lbs. total) cut crosswise in 1 inch thick slices
1/2 t. salt, plus more to taste
1/2 t. black pepper, plus more to taste
1 c. heavy cream
1 c. grated mozzarella cheese
1 c. grated fontina cheese
6 T. grated romano cheese
1. c. plain dried bread crumbs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with foil. Coat the bottom of an 8 inch square baking dish with the oil. Arrange a single layer of the zucchini slices to cover the bottom of the baking dish. Sprinkle with one third of the salt and pepper. Pour over 1/3 cup of the heavy cream and sprinkle with one third cup each of the mozzarella and fontina. Sprinkle with
2T. of the romano then with 1/3 c. of the bread crumbs. Repeat layering two more times in this way. Place the baking dish on the baking sheet and bake uncovered for about 40 minutes or until golden brown. Serve immediately.

Just some personal notes - my corner produce market didn't have anything as fancy as "fontina" cheese, but it still tasted great with a mixture of mozzarrella and *wince* cheddar. Also on most of my layers I used a vegetable peeler to stripe the zucchini before I sliced it. I forgot on a little bit of the final layer and found that the "striped" slices were much easier to deal with as far as eating.

"Where is My Cross?"

February 5,1997 marked the 400th anniversary of the first Christian martyrs in Japan. The Japanese martyrs became Christians as a result of the witness of Roman Catholic missionaries who first arrived in Japan with the Portugese in 1543. The Jesuit priest Francis Xavier, whose mission work between 1549-1551 from Kyushu to Kyoto, laid the foundation for the future Christian church in Japan. In 1563, Omura Sumitada became the first daimyo baptized by a Jesuit priest. The first church was built in Kyoto in 1576. According to Martin Repp of the NCC Center for the Study of Japanese Religions, "between 1579 and 1582 the early missionary work was revised under Father Alessandro Valignano, one of the few who understood that Christianity had to loose its European flavor in order to become acceptable to the Japanese" (Martin Repp, "Introduction" Japanese Religions, Vol. 19 No. 1&2, Jan. 1994, p.1).
Because of unrest among his subjects attributed to Christians, Shogun Hideyoshi issued in 1587 the first decree banishing the propoagation of the Christian faith. After a century of civil war, he feared unrest that might lead to peasant revolts. He stated that the religions of Shinto and Buddhism were the only religions of Japan. Nevertheless, for ten years Christian missionaries enjoyed toleration in a restricted way. After the arrival of Spanish priests of the Franciscan and Dominican orders in the beginning of the 1590's, rivalry and quarrel arose among the Christian missionaries. The conflict was also between different European nationals. In 1596 the "San Filipe" incident dealt a serious blow to the Christian mission. The Spanish ship "San Filipe" ran aground and its cargo containing a lot of ammunition was confiscated. The ship's pilot was said to have told during interrogation that Spanish colonial expansion was normally proceeded by missionaries preparing the way for military conquest. This argument was taken up very quickly by the Japanese rulers.
In 1597 Jesuits and Franciscans were taken prisoner in the capital (the Jesuits were released soon due to their connection with the court) and twenty-six Christians, Japanese and foreigners, were executed in Nagasaki, becoming the first martyrs in Japan. The Rev. Sigfrid Schneider describes an incident from the martyrdom on February 5, 1597," On the way up the hill a nobleman tempted the youngest boy, Louis Ibaragi, who was only twelve years old to renounce his faith, He would not yield but eagerly asked: 'Where is my cross?' When they pointed out the smallest one to him he immediately embraced it and held on to it as a child clings to his toy." (Sigfried Schneider, Ofm, The 26 Martyrs of Japan, Chuo Press, 1980, p. 16)

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

The Sound of Silence

I am excited. I have the prospect of a relatively silent and quiet day ahead of me. The house is empty and will remain so until tomorrow. I love the quiet. This might surprise the people who know me well, because I also love music and movies. But the older I get the more I am learning to appreciate the all too precious and rare commodity of silence.

True silence is hard to come by in this day and age. Our world is so noisy. Some of us awake to the sound of a clock radio, amble into the kitchen for that morning cup of coffee in front of the t.v. and then switch on the radio the minute we hop in the car for the trip to work. We can't even go shopping without some form of music being piped into our ears. And if it isn't noise distracting us 24-7, we have advertisers doing their level best to use every available surface to attract and cajole us. Can we say "overstimulated"? It seems like someone is always trying to tell us what we should think, what we should like, how we should look and what we should buy. When do we have time for our own thoughts & meditations? When do we have time to compose the music of our own souls? Are we really so afraid of our own thoughts? Are we afraid that if we examined the contents of our own souls we would come up empty?

I often have the opportunity to spend time in our very large church sanctuary praying and meditating. For the most part I am alone and I treasure the silence of that space. I could sit for hours if my life didn't necessitate otherwise. Many times I pray and or sing, but many times I also just sit - listening. When I enter the silence I feel as though I am taking a shower internally. Things just drop. The external noise of the world dissipates. I am at peace. For me there is a beauty to the silence that is a music God alone can compose. From time to time I am not alone and someone comes in to clean or do some other task. On this day the young woman came up to me and asked me how long I was going to be there. She wanted to play the radio and was gracious enough to be willing to wait until I was finished. "This silence is so oppressive!" she said. I could only smile.

More Great Quotes

"We must go through many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God"

Apostle Paul & Barnabas
Acts 14:22

Doesn't sound much like prosperity theology to me . . . or maybe I'm just missing something.

Merry CHRIST - Mass

Ando Hiroshige (Japanese, 1797-1858). Night Snow at Kambara (No. 16), Color woodcut

Sticks and Stones

A while ago I lived over a crack addict who was also a prostitute. Her name was Loretta and she made my life hell. She hated me and made no bones about it. One day, while on one of her rants she began to talk about how much she hated me. She said, and I quote, " I don't like her style. I don't like the way she carries herself. I don't like the way she talks, I don't like the way she sings." Although Loretta did her best to drive me as crazy as she was, I have to admit, I couldn't help but appreciate her honesty. . . she didn't lie to herself or anyone else about why she had an issue with me. That's more than I can say for most people I've been in conflict with over the years. . .

I remember being told as a child, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." But as an adult I have to say I've found those words to ring insanely hollow. Over the last 41 years of my life I have witnessed the destruction words, and more precisely gossip, can render. I have seen them bring political campaigns to a screetching halt. I have seen them split churches and destroy ministries, I have seen them divide families and break up couples. I have witnessed job loss and alienation, mental illness and suicide attempts, all due to the destructive power of words.

Words.
Harmless?
I think not.

I believe they can be one of the most harmful forces on earth. They wound us, yet leave us alive to bear the acute pain left in their wake. They can bring about a hemorrhage within our emotions that can bleed indefinitely.

No THIS is Christmas . . .

Okay . . . so my Christmas spirit has officially been rejuvenated.

I went to work today, our last day before break only to walk in and find a very unexpected pile of gifts from my students on my desk. . . and as if that weren't bad enough, I had come just in time to partake in an assembly of children in wild celebration over the birthday of Christ . . . they sang, they danced, and they cheered the incarnation of our Lord. . .

What can I say . . . they were contagious and I became infected.

In the afternoon we did our After-care Christmas program. My firstgraders were a small herd of naughty sheep who became transformed by the arrival of the good Shepard. They played their roles all too well . . .

Did I mention a friend is bringing me a homemade liquor infused fruitcake from his mother in Dominique? And another has promised a piece of her father's Jamaican Rum cake...

Just let those sleigh bells ring a ling, jing jing jing a ling tooooooo!

Merry Christmas!!!

Eggnog anyone?

So this is Christmas . . .

Lately I have been thinking about two very distinctly different memories of Christmas from my childhood. When I was very young my parents made quite a bit of money. My father, although uneducated, had started a carpet installation business and managed to land the contract for the largest housing complex being built at the time. I remember one year in particular when the tree was so packed with presents that we actually grew tired of unwrapping them.

A few years later, in one of my father's many impulsive quest for fulfillment, he gave it all up and bought a farm. It didn't take too long for the money to dwindle. I remember the first Christmas after the fact. No presents. I don't know if it was because there were really no funds, or if my parents were just so depressed they couldn't muster up the energy to make the effort. I know that there are programs out there to help get Christmas presents to children whose families are in need, but accepting charity was something my parents just didn't do. It was out of the question.

I guess looking back, I'm just puzzled at my own resilience as a child. I don't remember being crushed at the fact that there were no presents. I just remember that it was then that I came to an understanding of how dire our circumstances were. And I remember my parents misery. The downturn did eventually become an upturn for many a year afterwards. But our parents never did regain their original zeal for Christmas shopping. The bubble had burst.

Now, as an adult with two sons who are nearly grown, I have to say that Thanksgiving is the holiday I most look forward to. Yes I know that Christmas is and always will be special, the celebration of the birth of our Lord, the greatest gift of all. But we all lament the commercialism of Christmas as we continue to spend, spend, spend and run ourselves silly in search of that perfect gift.

But at Thanksgiving the focus is on how grateful we are - for family, for the table we are able to come to, for the abundance on it, and for the presence of God and His favor in our lives. We pray at our table, and talk about how much we appreciate one another and mean to each other. I talk to my sons about how, as a single mother, I could not have made it without the help of God.

I guess the reason I like Thanksgiving so much is that the focus is on the real gifts.

Great Quote

"Jesus was not asleep on the boat, the apostles were!"

Fr. Michael Louis Pfleger

The Annunciation

Sandro Botticelli




Henry Ossawa Tanner

Interestingly enough, the second painting is by an African American. Honestly, I think it is much more likely to reflect reality.

Yesterday we had our most controversial mass of the year - The mass for the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary. I think the only ones present who believe in that particular doctrine are the visiting priest who does the mass, the four nuns who work at our school the handful of oldschool Catholics who raise a ruckus if we don't have the mass. Fr. Mike refuses to do it, but being that our school is Catholic, we have a visiting priest come in every year and do it. Our staff for the most part tries to emphasize the fact that Mary said yes to God and changed the world.

I work with two nuns who keep a watchful eye on me, especially when saying the Hail Mary. I refuse to say it. I'm not trying to be conspicuous about it, but its kind of hard not to be when people are staring at you!
I never would have survived Catholic school growing up. They would have thrown me in the dungeon or burned me at the stake.
Regardless, the annunciation has been a popular theme throughout art history. I thought a comparison of two would be interesting.

UPDATES

I got an A in one of my courses from this past quarter. The other course was pass/fail - yes I passed.
Also recieved an anonymous Christmas gift - a cook book. Pretty cool.
Made my day. . .

To Tree or not to Tree

This is my oldest son's first year at college. Recently there was a big debate in his dorm about putting up a Christmas tree. Some of the students felt it wouldn't be "inclusive" to put up a tree. My son's response?
"If anyone doesn't like Christmas they can go to hell! Why would you come to a Catholic university and bitch about the policies?"

You go Abe. Take a stand for Christ.

The apple doesn't roll far from the tree. . .

Repost - Proverbs

I have added to my original Proverbs post from time to time, so I decided to repost it.

On a recent trip to the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago I noticed that it seemed to be an ancient custom for fathers to write down proverbs for their sons. I thought this was pretty cool, so even though I am a single mother, I decided I would start to do the same for my sons. What follows is the beginning of my list. I hope to have more and will add them as they come to me.

1. The words that you speak about another person reveal more about what is in your own heart than it ever will about them.

2. Arrogance is the hubris of the deeply insecure.

3. Confidence is knowing what you have. Arrogance is acting like you have more of it than anyone else. Making others feel that way is obnoxious.

4. Anger doesn't need a reason, just a target.

5. In general, people don't decide they like or dislike you based on how they feel about you, but rather how they feel about themselves when they are around you. (this is not something that is always under your control)

6. If you do what you need to do when you need to do it, eventually you will be able to do what you want to do when you want to do it.

7. Empathy is not an abstract concept. You should have it, and people should feel that you have it.

8. Life is like a baseball game. There are those who step up to the plate and swing at the ball, and there are those who sit in the dugout and watch others play the game.

9. Look where you are going. Think like you are already there.

10. Stay away from people who consistently badmouth others. They have a way of separating you from the people you need the most.

11. Prayer saves time. Tithing saves money.

12. Human communication is an inexact science at best. Just because you heard what someone said, don't believe you necessarily heard what they meant.

13. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1) If we stay focused on things as they are and have been, it is unlikely that we will ever see them become as they can and should be.

14. One of the most revolutionary things you can do is to tell the truth, especially when it isn't easy and it isn't welcome.

15. The people who say the most aren't always the people who have the most to say.

16. Anyone who thinks they are incapable of being deceived already is.

17. Remember, the stone you throw today might just come crashing through your own window tomorrow.

18. Never allow your personal relationships to blind you to the screaming obvious and inhibit your ability to make sound decisions.

How times have changed . . .

When I was in high school my best friend went to Austria and Germany as a foreign exchange student. When she first arrived the father of her host family ran up to her and hugged her and said to her in broken English. "You American? I like Americans. Me POW in WWII. American's treat me good!"
There used to be a time when the best thing that could happen to average Joe soldier was to be captured by the U.S. Many times you were treated better, clothed better, and fed better than you were fighting for your own country. We set the standard for treatment of prisoners of war during a military conflict and it was a high one. We were the example.
What happened? When did sickening acts of sexual, physical and mental torture become acceptable?

Torture is not us!

Click on the picture to send an email to your representative asking them to support the anti- torture amendment.

You may or may not know this, but I was married to a man from India for 8 years. We have two sons and have been divorced for a little over ten years. Despite this fact, it is only recently that I have become interested in Indian cinema. If you have not been exposed to Bollywood, the name for Bombay's movie industry, they are unashamedly the biggest film producers in the world and they play by no one's rules but their own. Every Indian film is a musical with several obligatory song and dance routines incorporated into the movie. More often than not the plot involves lovers for whom it seems the whole universe is conspiring to keep apart.
Nobody does romance like Bollywood. The lovers dance, prance, flirt and sing through fields of wildflowers. They embrace in the pouring rain. They swing back and forth in the moonlight, and dance under waterfalls, all the while singing of timeless passion that burns like a flame.
However sweet and sometimes silly these scenes come across, recently I have found myself facsinated with them. And the funny thing is that I think of them most often when contemplating intimacy with God. In fact, it seems as if to me God is beckoning me to let go and allow him to woo me with this same type of abandon. I've been in love, as has most everyone. And when you're in love, and its new, doesn't it seem like nothing can touch you? you can lose your job, you car and the roof over your head and you don't care...because you've found something money can't buy...you're in love.

Excuse me, I have a field to prance across with the lover of my soul...

A Dream

Funny dream.
I dreamed that I was laying face down riding on the roof of a train. I was holding on for dear life. The train was going very fast and it was out of my control. I thought, " If we come to a tunnel, I may lose my life." But oddly enough, I wasn't afraid. I closed my eyes and I began to thank God for the life He had given me so far. Then I began to sing praises to Him. The train stopped and I was in a different place. I was safe and everyone was surprised that I had survived.

Jesus Unedited.

Jesus didn't play the church game.
He wasn't running for political office.
He didn't have handlers.
He didn't hire a PR firm.
He didn't try to make people "happy."

In fact, he upset people on a regular basis. Not everyone walked away from what Jesus had to say with a smile on their face. In fact some went away mad, sad, glad and everything in between.

He turned over tables.
He spoke the truth.
To everyone.

Peter, the Scribes and Pharisees, the woman at the well, the rich young ruler... and of course how could it be otherwise, after all, He was the incarnation of the Spirit of Truth. A ruckus ensued nearly everywhere this man went. Not everyone is ready for the truth.

Not everyone is ready for Jesus unedited.

Fall Leaves

One of the things I love about my new place of residence is that I walk to work every day. It is close to a mile and a half. After doing this for a month, I am really beginning to feel great physically. As I walk, many times I pray. Just last week I was walking along, kicking the fall leaves, I was praying about my attitude, which I admit, really has not been great lately. I have been wrestling with depression, fatigue, and just a downright negative attutude in general. I have been complaining quite a bit to be honest. I have yet to find those particular attributes listed among the fruits of the Holy Spirit...

I was praying about this, and asking God to help me to give Him what He deserves and He spoke to me in a crystal clear voice, "Not grudingly, or of necessity." Wow. I hear that quote every Sunday before offering. I always connect it with money. I had never really connected it with personal service. I realised that my service to God of late has been given grudging and forced. I realised I hadn't been giving out of a sense of joyous gratitude. I had just felt tired, tired, tired all the time. And no wonder. Dragging your feet certainly has the capacity to drain your energy.

God must have not felt He had gotten through, because He had yet another message for me.
1 Corinthinas 15:58
"Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourself fully to the work of the Lord for you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain."

More Langston

MOTHER TO SON
Well, son, I'll tell you
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor,

Bare.
But all the time
I'se been climbin' on
And reachin' landin's
And turning corners
And sometimes goin' on in the dark
Where there aint been no light.
So, Boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you find it kinder hard.
Don't you fall now-
For I'se still climbin'
And life for me ain't been
no crystal stair.

Langston Hughes

When I was a teenager I loved reading Ray Bradbury. I had actually forgotten about his work until just recently. I ordered this book on Amazon.com and began reading it almost the minute it got here. I couldn't put it down. It was even more thrilling than I remembered it. If you haven't read " The Martian Chronicles", you don't know what you are missing. For all of you Star Wars fans, he was the original. He was the best. I highly recommend this book.

The Temptation of St. Anthony
Salvador Dali

I'm drawn to Salvador Dali's work. I don't know why. Perhaps because he seems to embrace the feeling of absurdity that I have from time to time about life amd the church in particular.I love my church. But sometimes it seems to me that the hardest thing on earth is just to go into church and serve God with all your heart. It all seems a little absurd to me. You sing a song one Sunday and bless the congregation and two weeks later you find that you are now the victim of a major haters campaign to destroy your reputation...
I actually had a woman resent me for being asked to take attendance on a bus one time. It gets a little weird. A few years ago I taught one woman all of my tricks to decorating. Before I knew it she was pushing me out of my ministry, taking over and trying to boss me!
Several years ago I took on the altar cloth ministry. I am the sole member of an elite team of one. Every week Fr. Mike puts the altar cloth out on the rail for me and I iron it.
I love this job. I do it all alone when no one else is around and hardly a soul knows that its my job. No competition here. Just me waging the weekly battles against candle wax and the two distinguished gentlemen who will wad last week's cloth up in an unforgiving ball if I don't stop them first. (Not to mention any names, Fr. Mike and Vince)
That is my favorite ministry by far, because it is unseen and unheard, except by the only one that really matters - God.

Catching Hell

Well, I suppose I should have seen it coming. The hell and high water. I mean, if you beleive that satan and his forces do exist, and I do, and you have the nerve to run around claiming to be "Inexpugnable" you should know that you are setting yourself up to be proven wrong. You might as well paint a big bulls eye on your life, swing the door wide open and say, "Come on in and have at it!" I mean, come on, he is the prince of this world, the prince of darkness, and even though we know who wins he actually does a pretty good job of keeping many Christians cowed and bullied, walking on egg shells. So no, it shouldn't have been a surprise to me that when I stood up and challenged his psuedo authority, he got a little...shall we say pissed. So yes, I have been catching crazy hell for a while now. But I've got a message for you lucifer. I'm still

INEXPUGNABLE!

Rosa Parks

When I was a child on the farm, one of the most exausting things that could happen to you is to get stuck in the muck. Woe to the happless wanderer who ventured unwittingly into the muck. It was really horrible. Usually you had your work boots on anyway, which were huge and heavy just by themselves. You would exhaust yourself to pull one foot up, just to have it sucked back down again. At times you would have to get a helping hand or a stick to lean on to get yourself out. Yuck. If there is one thing I learned from the experience, it was that just because your tired, doesn't mean you've been climbing. My battles in the muck field taught me that you can wear yourself out going nowhere. I wonder how many times we make that mistake spiritually. How many times do we play the role of Martha, running ourselves ragged doing good deeds while forgetting or neglecting " the better thing."

The "Left Behind" series has been a big hit. People have spent so much time and energy reading the books and focusing on the rapture and end times. But I have to wonder if the bigger concern of our lives shouldn't be over getting left behind by the wind of the Spirit and what God is doing on this earth in the here and now. Could it be possible to be stuck so deeply in the muck of our old habits, ways and ideas that we fail to even realise we have been left behind, even as those around us are caught up into the new things of God? Just because you're tired, doesn't mean you've been climbing.

Chagall

Their Graves were Marked with Stones

I called my mother to tell her that I had met some African-Americans with our last name. She told me that there is a family cemetery where there is a plot of graves of our family's former slaves that were just marked with stones. I am going to try to visit during Thanksgiving this year to go see it.

It truly amazes me that even while looking into the face of human mortality, people could be so indifferent to the lives of others. I am so saddened that the slaves of my ancestors were not even seen as being worthy of proper grave markers.

Family Reunion

My family owned slaves.
There is no getting around that fact. We have the documentation to prove it.
In fact some of my ancestors were instrumental in getting legislation passed that would make the enslavement of Native Americans legal.
For more years than I recall I have wanted to find the descendants of my family's slaves. But I had so many questions. In our family wills, they didn't even bother to put last names.

"The slave woman, Mary
The boy, Raphe"

Last night I was standing in line to sign my name and an African-American couple were in front of me. As they stepped away I looked at the name they had signed and stopped in my tracks.

It was my maiden name.

My maiden name is not a common one.

I touched the woman on the arm and drew her to the side. I pointed to her signature because even though I had watched her sign it with my own eyes, I couldn't believe it. I asked her, "Is that your name?" She said yes.
I told her that was my maiden name. I asked her if I could get her information so that I could contact her. I stammered and paused not knowing quite how to say the words. They caught in my throat.

"My family owned slaves."

We spoke very little, but understood each other perfectly. I couldn't believe how sweet and gracious she was to me. I told her how this had been a prayer of mine. Knowing my family history, and the rarity of my maiden name, I said in an awed whisper, "It has to be."

She looked at me and said "Yes."

A Raisin in the Sun

A Dream Deferred

by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Science Fair

Well, as most of y'all know, I'm in school now. I had to write a paper and I used what I think is one of the more humorous episodes from my childhood as an illustration. I thought I would post it here, because to me it was quite funny...especially since the main character wasn't above seeing the humor of her situation.

Making the Grade

When I was a child our family moved quite a bit. During my 13 years of primary education and High School we moved a total of five times, and I attended 7 different schools during this time period. One of those schools was a tiny little rural school called Pleasant Lake Elementary. Even though it was a small country school, it was actually one of the better ones I attended. It had a great Music program, but in particular, it’s the science program that stands out in my mind. Pleasant Lake Elementary did the science fair and did it well. We worked for what seemed like months on our projects. The whole school was focused on this annual event. Even students as young as the third grade submitted entries. It was a very big deal indeed. Two years in a row I did my project on honeybees.

There is only one other project that I remember specifically from those years. It earned an indelible place in my memory bank. It was the project on calories submitted to our fifth grade class by my classmate, Jeanine. Jeanine’s project was stunning. We, her classmates, had spent hours cutting out letters, frantically pasting pictures, and drawing on our white poster boards like men on fire. But our projects could not hold a candle to Jeanine’s. Her headings were typed. Her pictures were flawless. They were mounted perfectly. It put our less than pristine attempts at the art of gluing construction paper to poster board to shame. There was little doubt to our young minds that her project stood heads and tails above the rest.

Jeanine’s presentation was as equally impressive as her display. She stood confidently up by the teacher’s desk as she spoke, framed by the sunlight pouring through the windows of our second floor classroom. When she opened her mouth to speak, we were astounded as we sat listening to a flood of scientific lingo that rolled deftly off her tongue. We watched with rapt attention as she heated up her Bunsen burner. We had never heard or seen anything like it and we were duly impressed. That spring, during the heady days of science fair fever, Jeanine earned the rarest of rare compliments from our otherwise rowdy fifth grade class –we sat listening in awestruck silence. You could have heard a pin drop.

Suddenly a voice from the back of the room pierced the silence with an inquiry. It was the voice of Mrs. Fee, our teacher, asking Jeanine a question about her project. Jeanine responded to the question with another flood of the scientific lingo that had so effectively amazed the rest of her classmates. Mrs. Fee’s voice reflected something other than amazement as she asked, “What does that mean, Jeanine?” Jeanine’s face began to redden and broke out in a sheepish grin as she replied, “I don’t know.” Mrs. Fee asked Jeanine another question about her project and was answered by yet another flurry of scientific lingo. Mrs. Fee again asked Jeanine, “What does that mean?” and once again Jeanine, her face growing an even deeper shade of red, responded that she did not know.

The cat was out of the bag, and our class erupted in giggles. The final death knell tolled on Jeanine’s project when Mrs. Fee asked her who had actually done her project.

Caught up in the merriment of her classmates, Jeanine responded, while giggling herself, “My mother and sister.”

The Green Knight Hits a Home Run

Regardless of your political beliefs, I highly recommend reading this excellent article by The Green Knight.

http://thegreenknight.blogspot.com/2005/10/harris-again.html

A Prayer for Today

Dear Lord,
I know that your word tells us that everyday is a day to rejoice,
but I have to be honest.
I'm not looking forward to today.
I know that every day is full of uncertainty, but this day is even more so for me.
Today I have no idea what to expect from
my students,
the faculty,
the administration,
or even really
myself.

I'm afraid.

Father, I know that you know all things,
so you know that the day before yesterday
a student from our school walked in on a burglar in his home.
You know that this ruthless person didn't stop at taking things that could be replaced,
such as stereos and t.v.s.
This person, took something so irreplaceable
....that child's life.
And he didn't just take it, but did it in a way that was so ugly and cruel.

He was a good kid Father.
An A&B student who never got in trouble at school.

I don't understand.

Lord, be with us today, as we walk the halls of our school,
and sit in our classrooms.
Be with that child's parents and family as they struggle
through grief,
and the anguish of making funeral arrangements.
Be with them as they come to terms with saying goodbye to a 14 year old boy
who should have been able to walk into his own home without finding himself in the
wrong place at the wrong time.

What if it were my child?

Be with us Lord.

Guernica

This is one painting I believe I feel more than actually see. It illustrates
the horrors of war more accurately than words ever could, I feel.... the screaming horse, the broken bodies, the horrified faces... Collateral damage?



Guernica
Pablo Picasso

Monkey see...

My pirate name is:

Red Mary Bonney

Passion is a big part of your life, which makes sense for a pirate. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from fidius.org.

UPDATE

VICTORY IS SWEET

After meeting with Fr. Mike and several other community leaders today the construction company in question agreed to acquiesce to our demands that they hire at least a 50% African American work force.

I guess they decided we were serious after all.

One out of 25 =25%?

Demonstration at Catholic Charities construction site

October 4, 2005 - A protest at a South Side construction turns ugly when demonstrators try to physically stop the work.

"Get your hands off me or arrest me," said Father Michael Pfleger of Saint Sabina Church, who led the protest at a Catholic Charities site, 1210 W. 78th Place. Father Pfleger says the project isn't using enough minority workers.

Catholic Charities says 25-percent of those involved are minority owned businesses. Pfleger says that's not enough.

"They have been promising to hire and so far he's hired one African-American and that is not acceptable in the African-American community. We have a whole database of union people, electric, masonry, the whole thing. He won't hire," said Father Michael Pfleger, Saint Sabina Church.

Police called to the scene asked the protestors to leave because they were on private property. Catholic Charities say they are following hiring practices used by the Archdiocese of Chicago and the City of Chicago.

1. We didn't "try" to stop construction, we did stop it.
2. Not only were they not hiring African American's for the project, they had the nerve to have a sign directing applicants to OUR employment resource center, even though they only hired one person we sent to them.
3. Our employment resource director has spoken to them repeatedly about this since July to no avail.
4. They agreed to our terms of employment when they accepted the contract.
5. Some cocky little policeman tried to put some kind of a pain grip on Fr. Mike.
6. C.,this one is for you. Scout broke through the police line and climbed down in a hole under a back hoe.

Happy New Year!

Happy Birthday Gandhiji!



Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
October 2, 1869 - January 30, 1948

We have Lift Off!

Wooo Hoooo! I got a new computer that is even better than my old one! Well...its new to me anyway. Its a 2 yr old Dell Inspiron lap top. Much bigger than the petite little loaner I was working on, but still portable enough to take into the living room and work on my homework with my feet up!!! Yes, I got a little spoiled about that...
Thanks to all of you for your prayers and kind words! OOOOXXXXX from Angevoix.