South Georgia Connections

I've got a new link to recommend,
over there to the right, listed with other blogs...
"Snippets, Songs and Sacred Spaces."

A friend from church,
here in the mountains of North Carolina,
who understands my South Georgia roots.

Before I was born,
our daddies worked in the same paper mill,
the one still chugging along in Clyattville.

It has been nice this week,
talking to someone who knows the culture
and the people of one of the places I call home.

She knows how to cook and eat your way through grief,
and the miracle of snow in a land that rarely sees it.

**We may get that miracle of snow here tonight and tomorrow.
**It should be more common here,
**but these have been uncommon years lately.

**I've filled the birdfeeders,
**stocked up on poptarts and peanutbutter
**(and milk and bread...why do folks around here
**always buy milk and bread before a snow storm?)
**and the gas logs are ready to fire up
**if the power goes out.

But I digress...
check out the Snippets and Songs page.
You'll find some of the secrets of my soul there.

Weird, Like My Brother

Brother Steve has tagged me to participate in a weirdness game.

Here are the rules:

THE RULES: Each player of this game starts with the 6 weird things about you. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says you are tagged in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

1. I have a strange addiction to church meetings. I like committees. Even though I know that church people are, if anything, more disfunctional than the average bear, I just keep signing up to go to meeting after meeting, year after year.

2. I love spending time with dementia patients in nursing homes. I wasn't born knowing how to enjoy either the confused folks or the setting...both are an aquired taste. On an average day, though, some of my best time is spent with people and places the rest of the world is avoiding like the plague.

3. I have a secret fear that there will not be enough food. Despite my place in middle class America, where I've never, ever had to deal with lack like most of the people of the world, I get a twitchy, persistent feeling that I won't get enough. Thank God I got Dad's metabolism.

4. Ha. Brother Steve will relate to this. When it gets dark, I MUST CLOSE THE BLINDS IMMEDIATELY. We think this compulsion came from Mom, who was always afraid the neighbors on our suburban street would see us...well, not doing anything interesting at all. If we had anything to hide, this would not be such a weird compulsion.

5. Okay, I don't know if this is weird, or just a strong interest...but I love musical instruments. I hate going to restaurants that decorate with antique instruments hanging on the walls...because it pains me that I can't get my hands on them to see if I can play them. I love trying to make sounds/music on any instrument I encounter. Why, just today, I blew on a trumpet. Very disappointing...too many years since my brief time as a brass player. I spent much of my weekend thus far playing the fiddle (badly) and the mandolin (better every day).

6. I see dead people. Okay, not literally, but sometimes as I'm sitting at the bedsides of hospice patients I imaging others present in the room, providing companionship. Ghosts? Angels? Not sure. I think some of this comes from the movie "City of Angels" with Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan. A mediocre plot, but really interesting visuals of the angels benevolently lurking about. Oh, and a great soundtrack..."City of Angels," that is.

And here I depart from following the rules. If any of my friends who blog would like to play...or even email, would love to hear about your weirdness as well. Thanks for tagging me, Steve.

Is that Darth Vader?

'Tis not the leader of the evil empire.
"Tis rather a very happy ten year old,
wearing the full catcher's gear
he received for Christmas...
and playing his beloved trombone.

I've been wavering between impressions
of darkness and light this past month.
Sometimes I can't see the difference
between disaster and opportunity.
My perception flickers back and forth,
as do my emotional reactions.

My church abandoned plans to build,
and instead bought a historic downtown sanctuary.
Since our move a little over a year ago,
we've had more than 100 visitors.
We've had growth in membership.
Giving is up...and if all other things were equal,
we'd be well in the financial black.

But....
we're still paying two morgages.
The land we bought for building has not sold.
We're out of building funds,
and suddenly our budget contains
these two mortgages,
and we're short $100,000
in underwriting 2007's budget.

Yipes.
I lose sleep, I hyperventilate,
I calm down.

If we cut the budget by $100,000,
we cut all our giving to the larger community and world,
we cut all our program monies,
we cut staff.
We cut almost everything
except the power bill and the preacher.

It is an uncomfortable time,
not knowing how much the congregation can rise
to the occasion financially...
not knowing what will happen if we can't sell the land soon...
not knowing what to do to make the situation better.

I also wonder
if every growing congregation
doesn't need an experience like this...
to keep them humble,
to increase their generosity,
to bring them together in a common cause,
to teach them compassion for churches and individuals
who likewise stare into the abyss,
only without the backing of a movable asset
or a sense that this crisis is only temporary.

Was it only last January that
I was resolving to spend less than I made
and trying to figure out how to make that possible?

A lot of positive things can happen in a year.

Especially when there is a community facing
their problems together.

Darkness and Light

December is a season of grief
for so many people
in so many places.

Folks sometimes feel guilty
for not feeling merrier,
for not feeling peppy and happy
and full of light and song.

We forget the stories behind our holidays.
Chanukah, a time of darkness, war and want...
and a miracle of light in the darkness.

Christmas, a time of taxes, oppression,
and poverty...
and the miracle of God's presence
in the midst of all the pain.

Even Solstice...the shortest, darkest day of the year...
and the hope that the days will grow longer,
that the sun will return,
that gardens will grow again
in the cycle of time.

The Year in Review

I've decided against a Christmas letter this year.

The form letter, a staple in Christmases past,
stumped me this year.
There's too much to describe.
A typed page seems inadequate.

How do you capture the important things?
Grandmother died, went to the Grand Canyon, brother moved to other side of globe, I turned 40...
it all sounds trite in summation.

How do I describe the fact
that I fall in love so quickly these days,
with my hospice patients,
my coworkers,
the children in my life,
my friends at church,
the cats and dogs I encounter,
the birds on my birdfeeder?

How do I describe
the accumulated memory
of the people I've met
and the places I've seen
and the deep impact
of the smallest and most profound
of daily experiences?

Maybe, instead of a quick form letter,
I'll take the time to write letters
to the people in my address book
and in my heart.
It will probably take the better part of the year,
but a handwritten letter
is such a strange treasure
these electronic days.

Handwritten letters...
and ongoing blog entries.

And the knowledge that the most important
experiences and feelings and thoughts and learnings
will never be publically reported,
only lived.

Political Hopes

There was a time
in years gone by
when Democrats and Republicans
negotiated.
They discussed,
argued,
and voted,
with votes not going
rigidly along party lines.

I have missed having a division
of political power
between the White House
and the legislature.

Could it be
that Americans might,
for a year or two,
think about issues,
look for common ground,
move beyond the bluster of party
and think about the good of the country?

Perhaps too much to hope for...
a return of statesmen and women
instead of politicians.

No perfect government,
either in the past
or in the future...
but I think we can do better.

Pathways

I love pictures of pathways in the woods.
Leafy trails, log bridges,
trees leaning in,
sunshine dappled through the canopy.

More than pictures,
I love BEING on pathways in the woods.
But sometimes a picture tides me over
between rambling hikes.

We had a meeting after church today
to vote on a budget...
a humongous budget,
so much more money than last year.
And at least initially,
less program money
while we pay mortgages
and wait for our land to sell.

The land on the mountain,
where we thought we would build a church.
Who knew back then,
that the building project would not work,
that the church downtown would come up for sale,
that we would be here now,
unintended mortgagees.

Waiting for the next bend in the path.
Waiting to see how we can raise this budget,
waiting for a real estate transaction
to alleviate our debt.

Waiting to see, beyond all that,
what this community will become
as we bumble along
full of energy and talent
full of conflict and faults
full of mystery
and sometimes even awe.

Cathedral

Last weekend...
hiking Joyce Kilmer.
My favorite tree.

Wombat Sermon and Boogie

Today's link:

http://www.globalcommunity.org/flash/wombat.shtml

Listen to the wombat. Stay tuned to the end for the boogie.

Old Growth Forest

Hiked this past Saturday
at Joyce Kilmer.
Hugged the big trees,
sometimes five or six people around,

grew dizzy looking up,
wondered what it would have been like
to walk the woods of this country
before our logging
led us to believe that trees
are generally smaller.

And Suddenly, It Was October

Where did the last half of September go?
Sometimes it feels like time slips by
faster and faster.

I visited a 98 year old lady today,
who is quite aware of her age, of her history,
quite aware of the people who have died
and left her behind,
quite aware of her blessings and her faith.

She was quite aware.
Unusual at 98.
In the past I've experienced her
pleasant and talkative
but deaf as a stump.
Today, miracle of miracles,
her hearing aide was working.

Regardless, she always tells me,
"I'm just plugging along...
doing the best I can."

You don't get the full effect without her voice.

Musical little old lady voice, lilting and upbeat.

When she says "doing the best I can"
she traces the scale upwards
until the second half of "can"
(a word I previously didn't realize
had two syllables, one a note lower than the first).

Ca-an. The second syllable goes back down a note.

Call me if you need to hear it.
It's hard to explain in type.

San Franscisco Beyond the Equator

Hello, and welcome back
to Peruvian church week.

This Fransiscan church in Lima has survived
earthquakes across three centuries.
Most memorable were the catacombs
beneath the church
with bones out in the open,
femurs and skulls and such.
My visit was, oh, ten years ago,
but if memory serves me
the bones were not sorted by person
but by type of bone.

My south Georgia relatives
would have been agog at the sight.
In south Georgia,
you mummify your relatives
and carefully place them in silk lined boxes
and bury them within concrete underground vaults.

Burial is really about culture
more than anything.

I kind of like the idea of getting all stirred together
with the rest of the community of faith
and stored in bins underneath the church.

My old guidebook notes
that there are roughly 70,000 people
laid to rest in the San Fransisco catacombs.

In south Georgia, you can share a graveyard,
but your plot is a space reserved for one.
We're such an individualistic society,
even in the way we bury our dead.

It's Not a Tumor

Last Monday I did a sporadic breast self-exam.
Found a large, hard patch that was most evident
when I raised my hand above my head.
Had a small, world-freezing moment of panic.

Called the doctor and got an appointment
for the following Tuesday.
As the week progressed,
I did about 50 additional self-exams.
I thought about my mortality.
I chose french fries instead of brocolli
as my side dish, since life is short.

I sat at the bedside of a wonderful woman
only two years my senior,
as she gently died of metastatic breast cancer,
surrounded by family and friends.

I did about 50 more self-exams...
always waiting until I was alone,
although I would have liked to do them more often.
Still there, no change.

Obsessed, prayed, remembered
that I had found a cyst five years before
and that was no big deal.

My doctor expressed doubt
that it was anything serious
after a quick exam,
and then sent me this morning
for a mammogram and sonogram.

Won't go into detail about the
smashing good time I had at the radiology clinic....

Except to say,
I have another cyst.
Happily, they no longer feel a compulsion
to follow such news with a needle.

Women, do your self exams.
Men, do the same for testicular cancer.

Check early, check often.
You never know.

Sunday, Church Day

Cathedral in Cuzco, Peru...1996
We started back Sunday School for the fall today.
Had bright smiling faces in the adult class I teach.
Some know far more than me,
others find the Bible a strange and alien book.
Never know who is going to show up in class.
They keep me on my toes, this lot.
Sometimes I teach, sometimes I learn,
sometimes I just keep the ball rolling.
Today, like a children's class,
we began to learn a song that lists
the books of the Bible.
Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers....

We're reading Joshua right now.
Holy War, invading and killing in the name of God.
Difficult material...especially
since we tend towards being a peace church.
But you can't skip it and pretend it's not there.
For one thing, humanity continues to wage war
in the name of belief and religion.
More than that...in the name of God.
So, we read and discuss...
and try to figure out
how to interpret...what to follow....
and how to be human,
violent, selfish and fearful...
and yet capable of great compassion,
great faith, great generosity.
Be strong and courageous.

August 10 Garden Pictures

I took pictures of the garden back a month ago,
but never posted them...
will share some this week.
Now, looking out the window,
the corn and squash are gone,
the beans are past their peak
and the tomato plants are giving their last burst
of summer energy.

Labor Day, Labor Weekend

Last Friday was one of my harder days
at Hospice.
The kind of day people assume I have
all the time, when told where I work.
I rushed from visit to visit all day,
had lunch around 3:00.
In the morning was called
to the home of a family I've visited for a year
because my friend and patient had died quietly in his sleep.
Spent an hour mid-day on the phone with a grieving widow.
Was called at the end of the day
to the home and bedside of another longtime patient,
who was in her last hours of life.
Left her home at 5:45, with work still to do
and no more week in which to do it.
Went to sleep Friday night
trying to figure out how to get my paperwork turned in
and when I would prepare for a weekend funeral.
I thought about work all weekend.
Even with company for Labor Day,
and a few hours at the Apple Festival,
I kept having to excuse myself to go back to working.
Sunday I only had three hours on my timesheet,
but the whole day was consumed by the memorial service
in my thoughts and energy.
For the record, my boss told us not to do funerals on the weekend,
but sometimes I'm a soft touch, to my detriment.
Monday, even though it was a holiday,
I found myself at work,
pretty sure it was my own fault for not
just taking the day off like company policy allows
and all my smarter coworkers did.
So my body was at work,
and my attitude was in the cellar,
angry mostly at myself, for working all weekend
when it was so obviously a time
the rest of the country
knew to take off to renew and relax.
After all these years, I'm still trying to figure out
how to have appropriate boundaries.
When I don't get any sabbath rest,
my work suffers,
my coworkers suffer,
my friends suffer.
My cat seems unaffected,
but cats are much better at knowing when to knock off
and take a nap.

Blogless in Carolina

Simple Friday morning update:

There's been a yellow jacket nest in the front lawn,
resulting in an unmowed patch of grass
and an epic battle involving nasty chemical sprays.

No one has been stung, to my knowledge,
but the first evening we stood and watched
over 100 little wasps fly into their hole. Yikes.

The vegetables in the garden are winding down production
at the end of the summer. It was a great tomato year,
unlike the previous two cool, rainy summers.

The avacado pit I pictured weeks ago
sprouted,
sent down large roots into the glass jar,
sent broad green leaves into the air.

Work is going well.
Continuing to have mundane and profound visits
with people at home and in nursing homes.
Sometimes funny, sometimes sad,
sometimes I'm the only person even partially awake
during the visit.

It has been kind of a sleepy week.

Looking forward to weekend time at home.

Tuzigoot

Tuzigoot, a fun word to say, an interesting place to visit.
The name, not given by the original inhabitants,
means "crooked river."
The ruins themselves have a certain crooked beauty.
Winding stones, winding waters.






http://www.chandlerbates.com/USA_Trav/AZ2003/tuzigoot.html

More on Global Warming

http://www.transbuddha.com/mediaHolder.php?id=1147

Okay, so this isn't the President, but he sure sounds like him.

I tend to avoid politics in my blog,
but I just thought this was funny.
Know that, in general,
this blog will not be a place to air out my political opinions.

Global Warming

The weather map of the United States this week
was red, from coast to coast.
Everywhere, unrelenting heat.
People have died in California,
power has browned out hither and yon,
and in the mountains of Western North Carolina,
we've run our air conditioning
several nights in a row.

It seems like a good time
to recommend a movie.
Watch it in the air conditioning,
with an ice cold soda.
Or stay home in the shade
and read the book.

Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth."

It doesn't matter your political party
or your left or right or middling leanings.

We all need to think this through and
start paying attention.