A Matter of Color

I just plain don't get it. Racial prejudice, that is. People come in all shapes and sizes of good, middlin'good, average, naughty, and downright nasty, and not a lick of it depends on what their exterior color scheme is. So why do some people insist that all those whose skin color happens to be a different shade from their own are inherently 'less than'? It just doesn't make sense to me.

For those who insist that the Bible holds the absolute literal, inerrant truth word for word, how can racial prejudice creep into their worldview? Take the second creation story, the story of Adam and Eve. If you believe that all of humanity arises from just that one couple, then it doesn't matter what we look like on the outside, because we're all relatives in our core being - our DNA. (I will have to admit a bit of skepticism for this creation myth. If we all come from just Adam and just Eve, where did the people of Nod and Cain's wife come from? It's not until much later, as in after the birth of Seth, that the scriptures acknowledge that Adam and Eve had both sons and daughters. The first creation story - male and female God created them, however many them was - seems more plausible.)

Or if that account doesn't work for you, what about the Flood narrative? All of humanity was wiped off the face of the earth, except for Noah, his wife, his three sons, and their wives. Are those who insist on racial prejudice saying that the various races arise from these four couples? Again, how could that be? The basic DNA for all future generations would seem to have a huge dose of Noah in it, so don't we return to the point where we're all relatives at the core of our being?

So why do so many insist that one's skin color is sufficient rationale for vicious violence against another? What is it that causes 'different' to be an okay reason for hatred? I just plain don't understand it! Would one of you racially prejudiced people out there care to explain? Problem is, I probably wouldn't understand your answer, whatever it happens to be. *sigh*

Disaster Recovery Blues

Is it my imagination, or are people seeming to be, well, frailer right now? I know it's allergy season and people tend to get clobbered by pollen this time of year, but it seems like there's more going around this year. I seem to be noticing that we're a bit more frazzled and disconnected than usual - or at least that's what I'm experiencing. I've never been the world's best organizer, so that part of it is not a surprise. However I seem to have mislaid several months as well.

To put things into context, there are still over 12,000 homes in Jefferson County alone with 'blue roofs' (that is, they still have fairly significant holes in their roofs and only have tarps to keep the rain away - and those aren't completely reliable, and were expected to last only six months). So, no, we aren't back to normal yet and it will be years (not just months) before we get there.

We're also approaching hurricane season again. I think that may be playing into some of it. There's an edge of fear that seems to ride right at the fringe of one's vision. My confident and jaunty remark when people ask the resident theologian if we're having a hurricane this year is: NO! I try not to let people see that I'm afraid of what will happen if the answer is yes. Maybe I should.

I'm still not back in my home. Oh! I could actually live in the house. There are people in the area living in homes in much worse condition than mine. Mine does have an intact, functioning roof, and it's much better off than many of the unrepaired homes in the area. But I have a safe place to stay where the utilities are reasonable (without a ceiling in my house, I'd be air conditioning the entire attic - no fun in Beaumont heat and humidity!). It's just not home, though.

My brain knows that all of what I'm feeling is normal for the situation. I just wish the situation would go away and LEAVE ME ALONE! What I'd really like to do right now is stand in the middle of my broken house with some good friends around me and have a good cry. But that's not going to happen any time soon. *sigh* *very deep sigh* Somehow I just can't quite get beyond the saying it's what I want to do and actually do it. I'm not quite sure why that feels like such a scary proposition, but it does. Maybe it's just a part of the recovery process for me. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

Time in a Bottle

Well, we'd planned to finish things up last December, but Rita knocked us into the 'weird zone'. In fact, my time-sense is so messed up I'm still not sure we've entered 2006. So maybe it's fitting that we'll finish up our 125th anniversary celebration on Presbyterian Heritage Sunday next month instead of on New Year's Eve 2005.

We had a grand time last year when we discovered a time capsule behind our cornerstone on the weekend of our anniversary kickoff. There were all sorts of interesting and wonderful things in it from 1910 when the sanctuary was built. It was fun to see the local newspapers, the Sunday school materials, the lists of people in leadership positions, the Bible from the Civil War era, the church cookbook, the coins and that little business card declaring its owner's new phone number: 363!

Now it's our turn to put together items for a time capsule. What do you think people 25, 50, 100 years in the future would find interesting? It would be cool to put together a dvd of the events throughout the past year, but then how could we be sure that there would be a functioning dvd player in the future? Just look at how quickly technology has changed in the past 10 years! It's beginning to get difficult to find a computer that'll even accept a 3.5" floppy, much less one of the old 5.25" floppies! And we really do want our future cornerstone openers to be able to see what we've put in the box! So..........it's back to good old reliable low-tech for us - newspapers, photos, mementos from our big celebration in 2005, a Then and Now cookbook, a copy of our history to date (as if we could predict the future!), Rita stories, and ..... well, we haven't quite figured out what all the and should be.

Whatever we put in our time capsule, I'm hoping it'll tell our story in ways that intrigue. I'm still wondering why our predecessors put 2 American coins, 2 Mexican coins, and 2 German coins in their time capsule. We're planning on explaining anything like that for our future openers.

Anyone have any suggestions for a symbol representative of Beaumont? We've not gotten that figured out yet. Our predecessors put in a new kind of inkpen, sort of a modified fountain pen, which was only being made in Beaumont at the time. What do you think would work?! It can't be too big because the hole in the wall where the time capsule will go is a tight fit. I'm looking forward to hearing any suggestions!

Reeee-Treat

Just got back from the annual Clergy Retreat. Quite a nice break! Every year after Easter, the presbytery sponsors a three-day respite at our presbytery camp and conference center. The agenda? Relaxation, fun, and food!

Usually there's a speaker or two - the comedy kind. This year we met Hank the Cowdog, Chief of Ranch Security (or his creator, that is, John Erickson), Warren and Junior the buzzards, Sally Mae, and Rip and Snort the local coyotes. We were regaled with Hank stories and buzzard and coyote songs. Hank reminds me of my canine friend Penny as she attempts to skulk her way to swiping my sandwich. I never realized that the books were originally written for adults, not children. My last encounter with Hank was on Reading Rainbow while watching with my then elementary aged son. Doesn't matter. Chuckles abounded! Laughter is good medicine!

So are ping-pong and massages. I've not played ping-pong in years and had a hilarious time yesterday afternoon. Gotta find a regular ping-pong partner just to keep my hand in! It's one of those fun things that I'd forgotten about. As to the massage - well..... let's just say that it's another thing I need to do regularly. I'm actually feeling recharged and ready to move onto the next thing - the wrap-up of our 125th Anniversary!

Then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a few more minutes for rest and relaxation. Now, let's see. What's Hank up to now? Watchout! There's a fishhook in that liver! *slurp*

A "John Denver" mood

I'm in a "John Denver" mood. Let me explain.

One of the bravest things I did after my divorce (when I was a chicken extraordinaire) was to get into my car one lonely Saturday while my son was at his dad's and drive off aimlessly. Now you have to understand that I am directionally-challenged to the max. Can't find my way out of a paper bag, and all that. So driving away from home and heading for wherever I felt drawn without a map or explicit directions was a leap of faith for me. As you might guess by the fact I'm writing this, I made it home intact. The key to the experience? Singing my heart out to John Denver as I drove through the beautiful Austin hill country.

Over the years, driving aimlessly and John Denver music have been essential to my sanity.

As my previous call was beginning its slow disintegration into dust, I was preparing with fear and trembling for that evening's meeting with the church's session and some presbytery representatives who were coming to help us make some decisions in this troubled time. One of the things I did not want to do was break into a puddle of goo at the meeting. Yet I was afraid that that was exactly what might happen.

Fed up with everything, I got into my car and began to drive in the general direction of the nearby Ouachita Mountains, with a John Denver CD randomly stuck into the player.

A couple of months earlier, I had discovered the joys of the online community through chat rooms, and had selected SingingSkies as my screenname from Denver's "Singing Skies and Dancing Waters", which I had only recently heard for the first time.

Not far outside of town, but into the lowest foothills, guess what song began to play. ... Right! I'm semi-mindlessly singing along when I get to the second refrain - "I am with you in singing skies ..." Whoa! That's ME! I was thunder-struck. I quit singing and began to listen closely to the words.

The third verse begins. "If my faith should falter, and I should forsake you, and find myself turning away, will you still be there? Will you still be there?" (oh, my! just exactly what I was thinking) And the answer? "I'll be with you in singing skies and dancing waters, laughing children, growing old, and in the heart and in the spirit and in the truth when it is told!" Amazing! Just exactly the message I needed at that particular moment. And with that message held close to my heart, I made it through that difficult meeting in a state of nonanxious presence, clear that I was valued and not alone, in spite of what the 'loyal opposition' would have liked me to believe.

So .... I'm in a "John Denver" mood today. Not that anything's going wrong, or I'm in a bad place emotionally, or anything negative. Yet driving aimlessly while listening to John Denver music is not economically nor ecologically wise stewardship (and I suspect it would be a dishonor to Denver's legacy of environmentalism). Plus, I've discovered that it always seems to work best when there's something other than flat around. *sigh* Guess I'm gonna have to improvise. Wish me luck!

With a Song in my Head and a...

I've a song stuck in my head. Not that I'm complaining - I like the song. It's our Easter anthem, well a couple of lines of it at any rate.

The piece has a Celtic rhythm to it and a wonderful, lively, moving forward kind of pace. Even though our only accompaniment was piano, I can hear an Irish flautist (or flutist - but I just love the way the first first word feels and sounds!) adding a lilt here and there, running through the melody in joyous counterpoint. You wouldn't be able to hear them in our sanctuary (too much carpet), but my mind envisions a troupe of Irish step-dancers "River Dance"-ing through the room with great energy and life, filling it with excitement. Glorious music! Wonderful words! Musical awe!

And the part where I remember all the words says, "Death has died. Christ is risen from the dead!" Yeah! That's a song worth keeping in one's head for a while. Now, let's see. Where was I? Oh, yeah! dum-dum-dum-dah-da-dum. Death has died. Christ is risen from the dead!

... And We Wait

I just got back from our Paschal Vigil. It's a new service for us, our second year. We don't do the whole whistles and bells - the tradition it comes from starts late in the evening and lasts until after midnight, so the service spans the story of our faith from creation to resurrection and includes reaffirmation of baptism and a celebration of communion.

Since we start ours at about 6pm and will be finished long before midnight, we do the service up through the reaffirmation of baptism ... and we wait, leaving the darkened, black-draped sanctuary in silence. Christ is not yet risen in the context of Holy Week, so we honor the waiting of the disciples in despair at the loss of their beloved Lord.

My first Paschal Vigil was at the seminary before I began to attend. It was a powerful experience and spoke deeply to my soul. Westminster is the first congregation I've been in willing to step out on a limb and venture its own vigil. Last year was learning curve.

This year ........ powerful and healing.

We used last year's service in its entirety: lighting of new fire, following the Christ candle into the sanctuary, hearing our 'family story' in the words of the Old Testament intermingled with silent meditation, a verse of Were You There, and prayer, reaffirmation of baptism.

As each scripture was read, I couldn't help but notice how they spoke to the past six months. The creation story reminded me that God created and declared all of creation good. The Exodus story brought me safely through the storm - an assurance that God is with me through the difficult times, including my current wilderness wandering and journey toward a promised land of restored home. The Ezekiel 'dry bones' story spoke to my despair and sense that life is 'dry' by affirming that God can breathe life into what seems lifeless (even if it occurs in life beyond life). And good old Zephaniah carries a promise of restoration. Hope and healing.

It's always awesome when I can actually worship myself while leading a special worship service. For it to speak to me so deeply, is a miracle. So ..... now we wait .................

HUH?!!?

There's a full-page ad in the Chronicle's Religion section today which has the word "HE" and scripture reference after scripture reference, noting who said it, when it was said, and (for Old Testament references) when it was fulfilled in Jesus. The last scripture reference is from John 10:35 - "The Scripture cannot be broken" (NJKV, probably). At the bottom is the group's url.

OK - They succeeded. They got me to look, but only because of a professional interest in the topic. I thoroughly despise proof-texting! Occasionally guilty of it myself, but it's more of a counter-proof-texting than anything. I still try vigorously to avoid it.

As you might guess, it's that quoted reference which blew my gasket - completely taken out of context and only a fragment of the scripture at best. At this point in John, Jesus is telling off the temple Jews who were planning to stone him right there on Solomon's Porch. Here's what Jesus says: "Is it not written in your Law, 'I have said you are gods'? If he called them 'gods,' to whom the word of God came--and the Scripture cannot be broken-- what about the one whom the Father set apart as his very own and sent into the world? Why then do you accuse me of blasphemy because I said, 'I am God's Son'? " (John 10:35-37, NKJV)

The Bible wasn't written in King James' English!! Nor any form of English, for that matter, so stuff, nuances, literal interpretations, get lost in the translation. We do our bumbling best at interpreting what words with multiple definitions might mean in their particular context and culture at the time they were written.

When I have a few extra minutes, I enjoy digging around in what we have of the original languages (even the Greek and Hebrew texts didn't come down to us perfectly - in spite of what some people think. There were humans involved in the process, after all, and we ain't perfect!). I don't really have a few extra minutes today, but took them anyway.

First stop - other English translations. Lo! and behold! There are all sorts of other possibilities. "The scripture cannot be annulled"(NRSV) is one of them.

Second stop - the handy-dandy KJV with Strong's lexicon (tells you which Greek word was being used at that particular point - it can make a difference). The Greek word which shows up as 'broken' above is actually closest to the English word 'loose' - as in to untie or set free something.

Puts a whole different twist on it, once you get the entire context of the scripture. To me, Jesus is saying something like, "OK. In your own texts (not the Torah, btw, but your Wisdom literature, the Psalms), God is calling you gods, and you can't change what's written, so why are you so bent out of shape over me claiming essentially the same thing?"

Another twist is that Jesus calls it "your Law", not God's law. Just seems to me that Jesus was attempting a healthy debate with the biblical literalists, and trying to open closed ears. It certainly doesn't seem to me to be warrant for biblical inerrancy for whatever translation you happen to be using and whatever texts you choose to pluck out of the whole. *sigh*

Shoot! Even the "original" Hebrew texts may not be quite what we think they are! The Hebrew text was initially transmitted by word of mouth. How many times have you played "Gossip", only to discover that the original sentence was nowhere near what came out at the other end? And in its first written forms, Hebrew didn't even use vowels. The consonants were there to ensure the text didn't degrade further. They only went back and added vowel points when someone noticed that Person A wasn't quoting the text quite the same as Person B (maybe the Southern accent clashed with the New England twang?), and in Hebrew an 'a' or an' e' can make a whole lot of differece in the meaning of the word. To me, the miracle is that the words have traveled so well over the years. Have you ever seen vowel points? It wouldn't take much to add an extra dot or smear a line and change one vowel to another!

Anyway ... guess that rant's run down for today. I know I won't change those who buy into the theology of the group that ran the ad. I also don't see them changing me anytime soon. What I believe, however, is that God, through Christ, is big enough for all of us and loves us dearly in spite of all our human foibles. And that's a message worth preaching!

Stained Glass and Smilies

I wasn't sure we'd ever get this far, but our big stained glass window should be fixed in time for Easter! Won't that be glorious? It's the one I get to look at during worship each Sunday - Jesus Knocks. (Well, I can see all three, but this is the one which 'stares me in the face') Even bowed, it's a beautiful window, but it doesn't catch the light the way it did. So I can't wait (even though I know I must) to see it back in place this Sunday.

Our repair guy has a sense of humor. We started off with plastic taped over the gaping hole the window came out of, but the tape didn't stick. Visions of birds fluttering around in the sanctuary (and the resulting splats) led to a semi-frantic phone call and additional tape. When that wasn't a successful solution, a large piece of plywood was used to cover the hole. Yesterday, he must have started the painting portion of the job, for our plywood now boasts a huge smiley face on it in primer!

I'm going to try to put the picture up here. However, I have a huge dash of 'computer idiot' in my dna, so this may not work at all! I took the picture on my cellphone, and have accidentally sent it to the service provider's online site instead of my email. So I'm off to a good start! *chuckle* Now all I've gotta do is figure out how to post it here! Wish me luck!!

I Am

Felt like posting something, but no topic came to mind. Then this pre-seminary poem came up and tugged at my sleeve. So here it is--

I Am

I’m a woman, a mother, a poet, a dreamer;
A song and a hope and a prayer.
I’m a quiet, a calmness,
A silence surrounding;
A whisper that’s almost not there.

I’m a smile and a laugh
And a soul freely winging,
A glance and a secret that’s shared.
I’m a touch, a caress,
And a lullaby singing;
A friend when there’s no one else there.

I’m a tear and a sigh
And a wave of goodbye.
I’m a ghost of a sorrow once known.
I’m a question, an answer;
A searching, a finding;
A puzzle, a probing, a plan.

I’m a faith in a love of my Father Above.
A promise.
Alleluia!
Amen.

(Yes, it's copyrighted. An interesting dilemma, though, if I put the copyright info at the bottom of this, you've got my full name and I'm not quite sure I'm ready for that kind of online visibility. Vulnerable and safe take on different dimensions in this context. hmmmmmmmm)

Displaced Person

After Katrina blew through the Gulf Coast, there was a big ruckus over the correct term to use for those who had fled the storm. While refugee makes sense to me (as in seeking 'refuge from the storm'), it didn't go down well with those who had indeed sought refuge from the storm. And it seems that the dictionary backs them up. In contemporary usage, at least, the word generally applies to those who are fleeing persecution, and that wasn't the case here.

So - we move on to evacuee. Ok ... accurate description for many. They evacuated their homes and hometowns, or were evacuated from their communities in the aftermath. Since that is their chosen term to describe themselves, I can't quibble with it. For them it fits.

But it doesn't work for me. Oddly enough, I didn't evacuate. I was already out of town when the storm-which-shall-not-be named sent people scrambling. I haven't been kept from living in my community due to the devastation. Yet I am not home.

I am a displaced person.

I am currently living in a house about two miles from the place I called home before the storm. It is not my home, and will not be my home. I am blessed with a place to stay, to housesit, while my own house is being repaired. But it is not my furniture that I sit and sleep on, nor my pictures on the walls. My clothes, for the most part, still reside in suitcases. It is not home.

And I cannot call my house my home, either. It is an alien and unwelcoming place right now. I literally cannot tolerate spending more than a few minutes within its walls. Even my belongings within the house are displaced. Yes, there are some things which are where they belong - it's really hard to displace a waterbed! But there is so much which has been moved to garage and floors of other rooms that what one experiences is chaos and jumble. Then there's the barrenness of the rooms which have been stripped of everything in anticipation of restoration to wholeness.

My head says that I'm much better off than so many others. And it's true. However, my heart experiences the emptiness of not being home. Even my family is displaced. My son is at college (well, this would have been true storm or not). My dog is living with me. She would have pined too much to be separated for so long. My cat is staying at my mom's in Houston. You just don't move cats around willy-nilly, and she's already a bit of a psychokat as it is.

My longing is for 'home', that place where one is surrounded by the familiar and memories and belonging (even if it's not the place where one has lived throughout a lifetime), that corner of the world which is suffused with one's identity. But at the moment I have none.

Awesome Rose!

What an awesome young lady! Rose on Black. White., that is. There are six people living in that house and I think she's the only one who's truly beginning to 'get it'.

On last night's show, she sat talking with her mom and basically (because I can't remember verbatim) said, "I can put on the makeup and experience the stares and the slights, but I cannot truly be black because I was not raised in that culture. I am not black. I do not carry within me the centuries of oppression and slavery which is a part of their culture. And they cannot put on makeup and truly become white because they were not raised white." She recognizes that there may be a barrier there that cannot be overcome ... and truly respects and is awed by what she has learned, and manages to hear, truly hear, when her stereotypes are challenged, so that her understanding is broadened.

One of the African-American teens pointed out to Rose that some of her cultural expectations regarding an innate family-ship among those of African descent were built on expecting all blacks, regardless of background, to feel that same kinship and rootedness in the African culture. She told Rose that she grew up in this country and her family came from slave roots, but that she was completely disconnected from the African aspect of her background. Rose is beginning to understand that it isn't just skin color which determines one's cultural understanding. Watching Rose grow has been the most truly fascinating part of this six-week show.

I'm not sure if it's the way the producers have cut the rest of the footage, but I've gotten frustrated with the rest of the people in the show. Well, I probably oughta give Carmen a bit of a break - she is at least recognizing that life in the other culture does have strictures that she wasn't truly aware of earlier. There has been a subtle shift in the focus of the Spark family. Now it is not so much about how they experience being white, but on how Nick is not culturally aware of his blackness and on teaching the others in the show what being African-American is about.

The interesting thing is that I think Nick may be struggling with his identity, regardless of culture, and simply trying to find a place where he fits in. It's only after he reveals that he's really black, not white, that he encourages the rest of his etiquette class to use the N-word. And truly doesn't seem to understand one of the girl's discomfort and objection to its usage, even though she's white and even though she's been given permission by an African-American to use the word. My guess is that Nick slipped back into some subconscious cultural expectations - whites expect blacks to use the N-word and feel comfortable about it - and put on the role when he was faced with the experience.

I guess I'm just going to slog on through until the end, if only to see if Rose has any impact on the rest of the participants.

Hurricane Recovery 101

I wonder if anyone's ever thought of writing a "Hurricane Recovery for Dummies" or "Idiot's Guide to Hurricane Recovery" book. It seems the longer recovery is happening, the more I learn I need to know. The book could have more than just the usual 'how to find a reputable contractor' section that you find in the newspapers after catastrophe strikes. Here're some of the others that mine would have:

Speaking in Tongues - It seems that all of the sudden I'm supposed to be proficient in the language of insurance, mortgage, contractor, and FEMAese. I'm an intelligent person and am having a difficult time speaking just plain English! These arcane tongues require experts!

Interpreting Insurance Adjuster Estimates - Part of it goes back to Speaking in Tongues, but trying to piece together one's damaged home while looking at one of those estimates is enough to give the uninformed a headache. For example, one part of my estimate says 'apply microbial agent'. Now I'm sort of sure the guy doesn't mean Kilz, because he mentions that by name later in the estimate. So just what the heck is he talking about, where do I get it, or who do I get to apply it? Mysteries!

The Art of the Mediator - suggestions on how to get the insurance company to actually speak directly to the contractor who's doing the work and insists that it costs a whole heck of a lot more than the insurance company says they're now willing to pay. The insurance company says they can't be involved in disputes with contractors, even though it's the insuracne company who approves how much gets paid and is (with replacement cost insurance) footing the whole shebang! It takes delicate work (and the willingness to look like an absolute idiot) to actually get both parties in the same room to talk.

Locating Collateral Damage for the Untrained Eye - It's amazing to me that I've now had two! (count them - 1 .... 2) insurance adjusters in my home for the sole purpose of locating damage which occurred as a result of a tree crashing through my roof during a hurricane and neither one found what I happened to notice this weekend. While standing in one of the rooms next to where the tree came in, I happened to look near the ceiling and noticed that the nails which hold the sheetrock to the studs are protruding about 1/8th to 1/4 of an inch from the wall. Is this significant structural damage which must be repaired before I go further? Or can I just tap those suckers back in and have someone do some cosmetic surgery where the now visible nails are? I don't know! And there are other things I've found as time has gone by. It would be helpful to know what to look for and where to look for it, rather than counting on happenstance to notice that the ornamental ironwork at the opposite end of the house from the tree incursion has shifted about 1/2 inch and, lo! and behold!, at least one of the bricks on the house is now loose.

Creating Debris Sculptures and Other Recycling Ideas - Some handy-dandy suggestions for what to do with some of the mountain of stuff which is now sitting in your living room floor or on your bed. Who knew that so much could come out of such a contained space? There have got to be some creative ideas for it beyond putting it in the landfill for archeologists to drool over in centuries to come.

The Plants Are Dying. Is This Normal? - Actually, this one is for people who are more plant oriented than I am. I have the proverbial black thumb, but thought there might be some things that gardener types would find useful.

NO! You Aren't Just Imagining Things - Well, there probably could be a better name for this one, but I can't think of it at the moment. In fact, that's one of the normal things which seem to happen in the aftermath of a traumatic event - not being able to think quite as well as usual. An all-purpose Hurricane Recovery book would have to include a section on the personal process of grieving and recovering after the storm. So many people don't know that some of the mental, physicial, and spiritual weirdnesses which are happening to them may be (and probably are at least for a period of time) normal parts of recovering from such a traumatic event. I still find myself caught in the cycle of grieving, especially since I'm not back in my home yet. If it's difficult for me (and I do have a home I can return to eventually, and resources to help me get there), imagine how difficult it is for those who can't return home or don't have resources.

Of course, there need to be chapters on dealing with landlords who raise rents or won't do repairs, how to find ........ whatever (advocacy resources, assistance resources when you can't do it yourself or don't have insurance, etc.), AND celebrating when something resembling a normal life finally gets put back together!

I'd try to tackle it, but I'm in the middle of this right now and don't have time to research all the angles! Maybe you'll take a bite at this apple?

Monday Monday

Looks like it's going to be longer before I get back home. The church group that was going to finish my interior work now that my roof's fixed isn't going to be able to do it. I was afraid that might happen after my roof repair put things on hold. Talk about a depressing turn of events! Absolutely ruined my Monday. (I know. I know. Mondays are supposed to be lousy. But Mondays are my day off, so they're usually not bad.)

Now I've gotta find someone to do the interior work (walls, ceilings, painting ... well, I can do some of that, but a crew would be helpful ... baseboards, wallpapering ... that I'm absolutely no good at! *chuckle* ...). Haven't quite figured out when I'm going to add that task to the already full plate I have. Things crank up big time between now and my son's graduation. I think I'll be meeting myself coming and going - and it looks like that won't be happening at my home anytime soon. *very big sigh*

I'm definitely in morose-mode today. You know, good stuff actually has been happening recently. My son came down and visited this weekend. It was really good to see him! He didn't even get lost on the way down, which is quite an accomplishment for him! (He unfortunately inherited my directional disability.) He's become quite an awesome young man. Wish he could have stayed a couple of days longer, but classes were calling.

We had a really good turnout for the launch of the Coalition for Mutual Respect here in the Golden Triangle. Building interfaith relationships is something our congregation wants to be involved in, and I think that's really cool! It was wonderful to be a part of selecting the leadership for our denomination's General Assembly this June. I learned a lot and hope that I was helpful in the process. Our church has a new choir director/accompanist, who's a really good musician. He started last Sunday and everyone was thrilled. It'll be wonderful to have the organ played by someone who's specialty is organ performance each week. Easter oughta be awesome!

Now if I can just hang onto the up part of this!

Of Washers and Racism

I finally found the trick to making the washer where I'm staying run through the entire cycle! Minor accomplishment, but you don't know how good that makes me feel this morning. *chuckle* Up until this morning, the machine's stopped after agitating for a while and then I've had to run the dial around, popping it in and out at various spots, to get it to rinse and then get it it spin. Frustrating! So.... what do you have to do to keep it working through the cycle? Why take your fist and whop it on the lid twice! *sigh* And to think it was so completely simple.

Well, the day is off to a good start, so now all I have to do is climb a couple of mountains of stuff to get done, write my article for the newsletter, pay bills (yuck!), attend a meeting, and go to the grocery store (to put it mildly my cupboard has gone bare!). Mundane stuff, I know, but it's part of life.

I'm still watching Black. White. I'll admit it. I think I'm hooked on this one. About the time I decide it's a waste of time, someone does or says something which intrigues me. We finally got to see a bit more of the son this week. In some ways, he plays to the stereotype of the teen African-American (and I realize that this isn't only a black phenomenon) - there's a bit of the gang wannabe about him; rap music; if he wants something and has the money, he buys it, even if it wipes him out financially; he's been expelled from school and doesn't see any reason for working on his GED or trying to go to college or get a job (which is interesting because both of his parents are college educated and work).

I am intrigued by the fact that he truly doesn't see any racism directed toward him, or others, for that matter. He isn't hyper-vigilant for behavior that singles him out because of his race. The fact that he doesn'tsee it really bothers his dad a lot! In fact, his father feels he's failed as a father for not teaching his son these things. Which raises some questions for me - Does one have to be hyper-vigilant in order to root out racism? Or do we eliminate racism by becoming color-blind? Or does being color-blind simply ignore the problem and 'hope it goes away'? In some respects, he's like Bruno (the white adult) who believes that racism doesn't truly exist, but it's a matter of treating each other with respect. (Nothing wrong about that last part, unfortunately, I don't think we've gotten past the racism yet.) The next question becomes "how do we get everyone to treat each other with respect?"

When I was in Idabel, the community went through a planning process to develop some goals to help both the schools and community grow. One of the things which seemed to irritate the youth was that the adults seemed focused on racial issues, while they were focused on issues related more to equality in terms of economics. For them, it didn't matter what color your skin was (and this community has some interesting history related to African-Americans being brought to the area as Native American slaves). It mattered more that there were people who were hungry, living in families where alcoholism and domestic violence were everyday experiences, who didn't have much to hope for in terms of opportuniies for improvement (at least as seen from their perspectives).

Maybe they're right. Maybe it's time for us to look beyond the old patterns of discrimination and realize that the economic divide is a greater gap, and one that's probably a bit harder to leap if you're on the lower end of the payscale. Not impossible, mind you, but definitely filled with more hurdles to jump. I applaud those youth who were (and are) concerned that each of their peers be treated as equals! Isn't this a reminder that 'a little child shall lead them'? They don't have to be so little to teach us a thing or two, do they?

Discombobulated

Indicative of my state of mind at the moment, I've started this about six times and deleted it each time. The ideas and topics have changed each time. There currently is no focus in my life, except getting through the day more or less intact. I've had times when I've been discombobulated before, but I don't think it's ever been quite like this. Really strange!

For one thing, I'm still dislocated. My home is getting closer to moving back into, but it's still going to be a while. I would never have believed how disorienting such a situation is. The rational (no, not rational, because I'm not irrational. Let's say instead 'the empathetic') part of me thinks, "If you're feeling dislocated, think how those who have no homes to go back to feel!" Yet, I am in the here and now in my life, so feeling somewhat like a ship without an anchor is not unreasonable. It's frustrating to want something which you know is in just-and-such a place in your home, but your home is 2-3 miles away from where you are living. And everything where you are living is in just a temporary location. Most of my clothes are still in suitcases! There's my stuff here, but nothing seems to have a home (if you get my drift).

Much is going on at the church. It's Lent, so getting things ready for Holy Week and Easter are enough to keep anyone busy. We're also in transition on our Choir Director/Accompanist position. Our interim's last Sunday is tomorrow. Our new one starts on Wednesday. Good things happening in the long run, but the transition time itself makes for shaky feelings and experiences.

Tomorrow afternoon I head out to see the national church at work, and participate in it! On Monday, we're selecting the moderators and vice moderators of the GA committees for our June meeting. I've never been a part of this before, so it'll be interesting to see how this works. When I graduated from seminary, I would have never believed I'd be doing things at the national level! *chuckle* Guess I've done a bit of growing since then!

Let's see. What else has happened this week? My son was supposed to come in during spring break, but had car trouble and had to bail. He's going to try to get in next week. I was really hoping to see him, though, so that's been a disappointment. I've wrangled with the postal service and won! I found out that the water leak(s) happen to be above ground, so we don't have to break into the foundation to fix them. Whew! Have a volunteer group coming in on 4/1, so I've gotta make some decisions about paint colors and wallpaper before then. My computer crashed and I've had all sorts of trouble with reformatting the hard drive and getting things up and running. I think it's about time for a new computer. *sigh*

I watched Black. White. and still feel ambivalent about that show. I'm having difficulty sorting out what behavior is resulting from the interracial interaction and what is just plain the personalities of the people involved. Truth is, I think the teens are probably getting the most out of the experience, and I wish they'd focus on the son for a while. In the two episodes I've watched, he's only had a bit part. I'm curious as to what's going through his mind. The parents seem to be involved in a tug-of-war as to who is getting the whole thing right, and I'm not sure there isn't some social sabotage happening there as well. The kids are being honest about their experiences, though, and I think that's of value.

When I look back over the past week, and what's to come ahead, I think I'm just drained and need some time to recharge - head off to the middle of nowhere for 2-3 days and just soak in some 'me time'. Wonder if Mo-Ranch has a room where I can vegetate and wander the hill country for a few days? Of course, when I'm going to manage to carve that out is a mystery to me at the moment. *very deep sigh* guess what! Pastors are human after all! *chuckle*

Jury's Still Out

On Black. White. that is. I wonder what would have happened if Bruno and Carmen had been dropped into Beaumont society in their black personas. Bruno's certainly not "getting it" when it comes to his observations of how the African-American community often gets treated by the majority culture. His goal seems to be to show his counterparts the 'better way' to deal with the racism they've experienced throughout their lifetimes. He's just waiting for someone to use the n-word, so he can be a role-model. How condescending?! !!! (You can tell I'm not impressed by Bruno?) Carmen also seemed to be stuck in expecting certain stereotypical behavior. To me, both ended up looking like fools.

I was intrigued by the observation Brian made that whites are more curious than blacks. At some level, that too is probably a stereotype; however, several of the staff at the children's center seemed to affirm that observation. We had what is now an amusing experience at the church. We have long suspected that someone has found a place to live inside our huge 3-story building, and those suspicions seemed to be confirmed by some apparent door-slamming noises on the 2nd floor.

My secretary and one of the child care workers were upstairs at the time. Both vacated the premises fairly quickly. My secretary, who is white, wanted to find out what was going on. The child care worker, who is black, didn't care about the why, she just wanted to be safe. (Not a bad desire, btw) Ironically, the show Black. White. and this observation came up in the discussion of this incident. The varying reactions to the mysterious encounter were lifted up as culturally typical. So I wonder what led to the lack of curiosity (although I can probably guess) and how it ultimately affects the black culture in its continuing endeavor to break down the barriers to advancement.

The other two things which stick out in my mind about the first episode were: Brian buying shoes at the golf course in his 'white' persona and being astonished that the salesman actually took his shoe off his foot and put the new one on for him with a shoehorn. Intellectually, unfortunately, the fact that no shoe salesman had ever done that for him in his lifetime was not a surprise to me. What saddened me is that, even in California (which is supposed to be a racially progressive state - talk about stereotypes!), such petty slights still exist between the races.

The second thing which stands out was how sensitive the teenage daughter Rose was to the situation. You could tell she has great respect for her counterparts and the experiences they've had, and doesn't want to betray them in any way. I think she was really wrestling with the moral issue of being white while passing herself off as black. Kudos to Rose!

Guess I'm gonna have to watch next week and see where it goes from here!

P.S. The 'mysterious visitor' happened to be a door which had come loose in the mechanical room and was randomly banging because of pressure shifts in the a/c system and the wild winds we were having that day. No ghosts! Nobody seeking a safe place to stay! Just a door. *chuckle*

Black. White.

Ok - just to make things clear from the beginning - I don't like reality shows! Now that that prejudice has been stated, let me go on to say that I have found redeeming value in Amish in the City and Beauty and the Geek, and just plain guilty pleasure in Project Runway. So here I sit on the edge of what's being called a documentary/reality show - Black. White. And I can't decide whether to plunge in and watch or not.

I watched Amish in the City initially to (truthfully) satisfy my own curiosity about whether the Amish youth in the show were treated with respect for their faith ... and found that it was the non-Amish on the show who subjected themselves to ridicule. In many respects this was a documentary where each learned something about the culture of the other, if they were willing to put aside some of their own prejudices. More of a documentary than a reality-show competition, I think much learning was done on both sides of the equation.

Beauty and the Geek was the opportunity to learn that there was more to beauty and more to geekiness than meets the eye. I suspect that each went away with more self-respect than they arrived with. My main problem with the show was the elimination of contestants aspect to it.

Project Runway - well, I got hooked on an evening when there wasn't anything else I wanted to watch on tv, and I was intrigued by the challenge of designing a party outfit just from what one could find at a supermarket. I could have done without the varying antics, but the creativity involved in the show kept me watching until the end (and I still wouldn't have chosen the guy who won!).

Now I'm faced with the ambivalence of Black. White. I believe we learn much when we walk in the shoes of another (if that's truly possible in a situation like this). I also believe racism is still a major stumbling block today. So - is it truly possible to put on the skin of someone from another racial/ethnic background for six weeks and get to what it really means to be black or white? How could I, as a white woman, completely carry the weight of a lifetime's black experience, knowing that the timeframe for the experiment is only six weeks? Would anyone truly be able to put aside one's personal history and experience in such a setting? No matter how liberal I believe myself to be, I'm not sure I could let go of the preconceptions I carry enough to let the experience truly sink in.

So, should I give in to what may be a superficial experience of another's culture and history and watch? I probably will, at least for one episode. It's a grand experiment, and maybe something of value may be learned from it. We'll just have to wait and see.

Us vs.Them?

"There's nothing wrong with the Olympics. It becomes more and more important (to U.S. audiences) how the Americans do at the Olympics and how they carry themselves. It's more important now than ever before because there is no more natural 'us' against 'them'." Dick Ebersol, NBC Sports and Olympics chair

OK - why does it have to be 'us' vs 'them? Is he so sure that that's why Americans watch the Olympics? He may be right in some respects, but based on the fact that people tended to tune in for their particular premier sports and tune out for those they weren't interested in (or already knew the outcome of), I'd say that's not the whole picture.

That's certainly not what my understanding of the Olympics is. For me, if I had decided to watch this year, it would have been to see competitors from around the globe gathering to give their best to their sport and watching the best athletes win. I don't care if the Americans or Armenians were the ones to bring home umpty-gazillion medals. The 'us vs them' mentality is part of what causes so much trouble in so many other venues, adding 'us against the world' in sports is ultimately a defeatist position. As I understand the Olympics, it was intended to be a time when we put aside our nationalistic differences and just plain enjoyed competing and watching for the glory of atheletic achievement. To live up to the Olympic ideals, which each of the competitors attest to, would be to have each athlete give his/her best and let the sport itself decide who's worthy of standing on the winner's podium.

It'll never happen, but just once I'd like to see an Olympics where the winners stand up to accept their medals and the only music played would be whatever the Olympic theme happens to be for that year. No national flags dramatically and slowly raised to the playing of national anthems. Just the Olympic 5-ring flag soaring overhead. If we ever reach that point, I think we would finally have attained something of great value in the Olympics.

Glorious Day!!

Much good stuff happening today! I got the official word that my roof is functional and not about to collapse on me. I was beginning to think that day would only come with much prayer, fasting, and tearing out of hair! Having at least some sense of how to go about getting the contractor to do the work correctly was helpful. I still feel sorry for those who don't know how to work the system to get things done.

Now I've gotta get the HVAC checked out (and some minor work done) and I'll have reached the point where my volunteer crews can come in and do the interior work and painting that needs to happen. It's nice to be adopted by a couple of churches to get things done. I feel very blessed!

And This morning we started our Sister Church relationship w/First, Conroe. A whole crew of them came down and provided worship for us, followed by lunch - provided by them! It was such a nurturing service! It was the first Sunday in almost 5 months that I've not been stressed out. I had things to do, but no real pressure in any of it. And the congregation was thrilled! They had a wonderful time - new people to tell their 'tree stories' to, and new relationships started. Good stuff!

What a wonderful end to the weekend!