Christmas at the Nursing Home

 Christmas... how quickly it comes and goes.  We're pretty good at fitting "it" all in, though, aren't we?  We squeeze in each party and family dinner into our calendars; we dig out our favorite cookie recipes; we scour the web and the weekly fliers for the best sales; we put up the lights and tree, wrap presents, send cards and scratch off our to-do lists with frenzied diligence.

Something I think we are not very good at, however, is being present in the moment. We allow our days to whirl by in a flurry, qualifying them by what quantity of items we were able to check off.  Some never learn this art of slowing down.  Often it takes a terminal illness, a literal dying of the body, to place life into perspective, to re-evaluate our priorities, to slow down and savor moments.  

I was given this very opportunity to slow down the week before Christmas.  The children from our church had partnered with a local elementary school in Reading to make Christmas cards for nursing home residents  in West Reading.  My six-year-old Jaida and I joined some other children and parents in Christmas-caroling, handing out cards, and visiting many sick and dying people.  Nothing quite puts things in perspective than visiting with people who are bed-ridden, many of whom have almost completely lost their minds.  These tender souls are totally dependent upon another's care.  They have no ability to go shopping, bake cookies, or visit loved ones.  They can only hope that someone will remember and come to visit them.

I am still savoring a few of the moments that really touched my heart that day:

The handful of elderly women who burst into tears at the sight and sounds of little children.  

The man in the wheelchair with his broad smile and the twinkle in his eye who kept calling out to us, "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  And don't let the bed bugs bite!" 

The woman who looked to be asleep but who sang along the words to our carol.  

The mother in our group who willingly lifted up her toddling daughter to be kissed by a doting stranger.  

The other mother in our group who connected to a woman by the name of Mary, promising to visit her again the next week, because neither of them have connections to their families.

Then there was the elderly Haitian man who told Jaida and I this was his only Christmas card and who literally came alive when I began asking him about his country and what he used to do there.  He worked for UNICEF back in the day, educating his people about how malaria is contracted and teaching them how to spray their homes with insecticide and use mosquito nets.  Then he gave me a most precious gift.  He asked if he could sing a Haitian Christmas carol, Papa Noel, which tells the story of an orphan boy asking why Father Christmas takes toys to other children but not to him.  The sad French tune and sincere look in his eyes seeped into my heart, and I wished to free this bright mind from the chain of his broken body.  He talked on and on, willing us not to leave, and I was amazed how my daughter continued to stand on her tired legs as if she knew this was a sacred moment.

The visit to the nursing home was as much a blessing to my soul as I hope it was to the dear people who are still living there.  I left reminded not to take my health, my home, or my loved ones for granted.  And I was reminded that it is better to give than to receive.

What moments are you still savoring from the Christmas season?

Fair Trade Friday - Christmas!!!

I read this post by Rachel Held-Evans, and I was inspired to make a similar "Favorite Things" list, but I think I'll stick to a Top Seven.  Please check out Rachel's post, however, because she promotes a lot of great organizations and ideas!  

For starters, I really love giving gifts, but I really hate excess, waste, and exploitation.  (I get almost sick to my stomach when I think about our electronics industry helping to fuel the war in the Congo.)  So for me the solution to that problem is to find gifts that make a difference... you know something that is fair-traded or hand-made or comes from recycled material.  And there are oodles and oodles of great, meaningful gifts out there!  I'm going to share some of my favorite fair-trade products right here:

1. Punjammies!!!  These are bright, colorful, textured pajama pants for women made by women who are rebuilding their lives after being rescued from a life of forced prostitution.  The organization that empowers these brave women is called International Princess Project; isn't that a great name!  By the way, if you place an order by the end of the day, you will get 40% off your entire order (enter this code: friendsofIPP)!  And they are offering Free Shipping through the rest of December.  So what are you waiting for?  Go buy some Punjammies!

2. Hearts 4 Hearts Girls.  Think American Girl Doll goes Universal.  You have to see the beautiful faces of these dolls!  Each one comes from a different part of the world and has a story about her life and culture.  It's a great way for young girls to learn about other girls and issues around the world.  And best of all, a portion of the sale of each doll goes to supporting World Vision.

3. Ten Thousand Villages.  From fair-trade coffees, teas, and chocolates to handmade jewelry and scarves to home decor to CDs and instruments, every purchase at this store is well-worth your dollars.  The products are all made by artisans from around the world who earn a fair wage for their varying talents and expertise.  The stores are spreading across the country, so be sure to find a location near you!

4. Second Street Thrift Store.  If you live near Denver, PA, you ought to check out this shop, which is way more than a thrift store!  For starters, it looks more like a boutique as it is decorated so creatively with a real vintage feel.  The store sells donated (and some new!) clothing, furniture, and household goods.  100% of the profits from Second Street goes to supporting HOME International, a ministry that provides homes for abandoned girls in India.  

5. Bead for Life.  I've already blogged about this awesome organization, but I can't say enough good things about it!  Even if one does not have the means to spend a lot at Christmas, you can still offer to host a bead party, gather your friends and neighbors, and invite others to purchase this beautiful jewelry and Shea Butter soap and lip balm.  

6. World Vision Gift Catalogue.  This is one of our family's favorite places to find Christmas gifts.  You know those persons who really don't need another knick-knack, such as grandparents and great-grandparents?  Well, Jarred and I invite our children to look through the online catalog and choose a "gift" (i.e. a share of a well, packets of seeds, two babies chicks, life-saving medication, etc...) that they want to "give" to the grandparents in our lives.  World Vision then sends us cards, explaining how the gift given in honor of our loved one will benefit people in real need.  This is a great teachable moment for our children as they are reminded that some families are just hoping for enough food to eat, healthcare, and the ability to get an education.  

7. Fair-Trade Coffee.  This is one of those purchases that is easy to find and of course is delicious for any coffee drinker!  A lot grocery stores carry fair-traded options, and I believe Starbucks sells ethically-grown coffee as well.  You could also check out Grounds for Change or Equal Exchange.

There are many, many more wonderful gift ideas out there!  I'd love to hear some of yours!  

Thanksgiving Crumbs

"A desire to kneel down sometimes pulses through my body, or rather it is as if my body had been meant and made for the act of kneeling.  Sometimes in moments of deep gratitude, kneeling down becomes an overwhelming urge, head deeply bowed, hand before my face."  

~Etty Hillesum

Do you ever feel like that?  So overcome with gratitude and joy that you could drop to your knees?  The closest I feel to that sort of gratitude is when I am taking a quiet walk by myself, my eyes drinking in the beauty of trees, skies, flowers, sun and my ears absorbing bird songs and dancing breezes among the leaves.  Except rather than bowing low, my head, heart, and sometimes arms reach high up wanting to gather the beauty and goodness of God into my soul.  

And yet days and weeks can go by to the hum-drum of daily life or to the sad tune of heartache without my knees bending or my arms stretching wide in gratefulness.  I'm learning that these long stretches need not be.  I'm learning that the hum-drum days and even heartache days contain their beautiful, even glorious moments, if only I have eyes to see them.  Macrina Wiederkehr calls these moments "crumbs" for the soul, and I love that analogy. A warm, thick slice of bread is most delicious to the soul, such as the moments I am walking amid the beauty of an autumn day, but crumbs can be savored, too.  Indeed, when I take the time to savor them, rather than gulp them down without a thought, my soul is that much more satisfied.

"Crumbs are those small things that the world would toss aside, seeing little value in them.... Everything in life can be nourishing.  Everything can bless us, but we've got to be there for the blessing to occur." (A Tree Full of Angels, Introduction, xiii).

"Being there" or being grateful is a spiritual discipline, a practice that nourishes the soul.  Sometimes I practice this at the end of the day when I am lying in bed.  I think back upon my day and ask myself what "crumbs" I gathered.  Usually, they are the simplest of moments: a snuggle with my daughter in the morning, the sight of the red maple in our backyard, the conversation with a friend which left us each a little lighter, the smell of muffins baking in the oven, the laughter from my children and their father as they wrestled and tickled on the living room floor.  I think back on these crumbs, savoring them, rolling them around on my tongue.  My heart beats stronger with thankfulness, and I go to sleep at peace.  

Thanksgiving may be over, but there are crumbs on the table of daily life, if only we stop to look, to savor, to nourish our souls.  What crumbs have you gathered from today?  

An Everyday Hero

I'm a substitute teacher.  I fill in for kindergarten teachers all the way up to AP Calculus teachers.  I love the little ones, but I find it weird being around teenagers.  I used to think I loved teens and wanted to spend the rest of my life working with at-risk youth.  Maybe I'm too far attached from them now that I'm in my thirties, because my tolerance has certainly waned.  I now find most teenagers selfish, disrespectful, and annoying.  Forgive me, all you brilliant, self-assured, and kind teenagers, who actually look me in the eye, smile, and are friendly to others.  You are in the blessed minority.

The other week I met one of these minority teens who greeted me with a smile and "hello" in the early morning of a first period English class.  Beyond that, this young man actually came up to me at the end of the class to shake my hand (shake my hand?!), ask my name, and thank me for coming in.  And believe me when I tell you this gesture was in total sincerity.

I have since seen Mike (not his real name) three other times when I was back at his high school to sub.  I saw him again today.  The class I was subbing in had a guest speaker, and I watched Mike greet our guest with the same sincerity and friendliness he had also afforded me.  This maturity is just so rare!

I've got to be honest.  Mike is not the kind of kid I would expect to have such poise and confidence.  He has a hearing impairment that has caused his speech to be difficult to understand.  He isn't built like an athlete, and he has a noticeable scar on his body.  He's actually the kind of kid you would expect to be withdrawn, severely self-conscious, and made-fun-of.

We had a few minutes to talk at the end of art class. Truth be told, Mike has been made-fun-of.  I discovered that he is new to the district as of this year.  He moved in with his grandparents so he could transfer districts.  The district he attended for most of his life was no longer safe for him.  He said he had been bullied, and he had taken enough.  And then in an honest and humble voice, Mike said, "You see, I'm not like most boys.  I don't like girls; I like guys."

I'm not sure where Mike's inner-strength has come from, but today Mike made my hero's list.  A bullied gay young man with a physical disability and a strong lisp has learned to walk with his head held high, his smile broad, and his handshake warm.  Yeah, he's an everyday hero.

Where are the Red Tents?

So I came across this book at the library, New York Times Bestseller The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. Actually, it's a little embarrassing.  I came across the book around this time last year but somehow or other it got placed on a bookshelf in our guest room where I totally forgot about it.  When the library notices began coming, I really thought they had mistaken me with this lost book.  I finally had to pay the cost of the book (that's one way to support our local libraries), and here I find the library's copy on my book shelf a year later.  Anyway...

Books about ancient biblical characters don't usually catch my attention, but this one has totally sucked me in.  It's a novel based around the lives of the wives and daughter of Jacob.  This daughter Dinah is mentioned as a mere afterthought in the Old Testament narrative, yet the novel is written in her voice.  I am captivated by the lives of these ancient female characters.  Though there is much I could do without from ancient life (i.e. sharing my husband with other wives, exposure to all of the dangers of the wild, no anasthesia, and very few rights or privileges for women--to name just a few), I find myself drawn to the women's "red tent"- the place they go while menstruating and "hang out" with the other women in their camp.

To clarify, I do not wish for this in literal terms... how awkward and humiliating would that be!  It's what happens within the walls of the red tent that attracts me.  It's the way Dinah, her mother, her aunts, and the bondswomen share their lives together.  The red tent is where they weave together, cook together, braid one another's hair, birth one another's babies, nurse one another's babies, talk about their husbands and sex.  It's where they cry and laugh, sing and dance.  In a word, it's where the women come Alive.  And I believe our modern world would do well to learn the secrets of the "red tents."

What I mean is I believe that there is a comradry between women that is difficult to find even in a married relationship.  I have always believed that women need women.  We need our mothers, our sisters, our cousins, and of course our girl friends.  I am generalizing here, but women are the listeners, the supporters, the caretakers and nurturers of society.  They cook meals when a friend has a baby.  They call and send cards when a sister miscarries her child.  They cry with their mother when she is diagnosed with cancer.  But their tears are no sign of weakness.  No, women have the inner strength of oxen.  Often while carrying their own heartaches, they also help in juggling the burdens of their children, their spouses, their aging relatives, and their friends.

I have been blessed to be a part of many "red tents" in my lifetime.  My mother invited me into her "red tent" when I was still young.  She nurtured me through songs and kisses.  She taught me lessons about life and was my school teacher for six years!  She shared her heart with me--her struggles, her joys, her love.  She shared my aunts and her friends with me, and their examples helped usher me into maturity.  I've shared a "red tent" with a very special group of girls I've known since I was little.  We've shared secret crushes, laughed ourselves to tears, shared wardrobes, braided one another's hair, fluffed each other's wedding gowns, held each other's newborn babies, listened to one another's pain.  And I've had the privilege of joining other "red tents" throughout my lifetime, finding support and encouragement from women in every stage of my life.

But I fear that "red tents" are fading away.  Our culture does not have many structures in place for them.  Indeed our lives have become fragmented.  We now raise children without the help of other female relatives, and what a difficult task that can be! We have almost completely lost certain arts which used to bring us together--quilting, canning, baking.  Not that I am trying to imply that being female means being a domestic housewife, or that those arts only belong to women.  I am only trying to demonstrate how difficult it is to create "red tents" since we live on a fast-track, nuclear-family-focused, individualized society.

I have a friend who could really use a "red tent" right now.  Her husband has left her and her two children.  She is trying to pay the bills, help the kids with homework, do the grocery shopping, work night shift, explain to her children why Daddy doesn't want to live with them anymore... all while nursing a broken heart.  I wonder how many other women are trying to survive life alone, who have not been as fortunate as I to have been invited into "red tents."  If you are a woman, do you have a "red tent"?  If you have a "red tent," who might you open your door to?

I Love "Lucy," My Immigrant Friend

So just yesterday I learned about the mass exodus of many Hispanic families in Alabama last week.  Judge Sharon Lovelace Blackburn upheld all provisions of a state law which even the governor of Alabama is calling "the strongest immigration law in this country."  The law allows police officers to ask for immigration papers of drivers they pull over and requires schools to ask for legal documentation of registering students.  After the ruling, many undocumented immigrant families fled their homes and communities, obviously fearing the repercussions of this passed law.  It was reported that almost 2,000 Hispanic children were absent from school two days after the ruling which constitutes 5% of the entire Hispanic student population in Alabama. Now the ruling is being appealed by many civil rights groups and by the Justice Department. Some think the law is a no-brainer; others feel it is unconstitutional.

As a glo-burbanite living in Reading, PA, I of course am also aware of the recent Times article that announced the fact that Reading is now the "poorest" city in the country.  This city is where my "neighbors" live.  It's where I substitute taught last school year and where I taught English as a Second Language for two years before that. It's where many Hispanic people have learned to call "home." And of course I realize that some of these are undocumented immigrants.  In fact, the ESL student I became closest friends with while teaching is an undocumented immigrant from Mexico.

Aside from the debate of whether or not this Alabama law is unconstitutional or not, it is a fact that some laws are just down right unethical. I cannot help but notice the irony that Alabama (one of the most racist states in the US with some of the most extreme Jim Crow laws in the early 1900's) is now one of the harshest states regarding immigration.  I know that many would disagree with me that this law is unethical, arguing that crossing our national border without the proper papers (something that is extremely difficult and expensive to ascertain) is unlawful and downright criminal.  But I believe this argument is short-sighted.

See, I am sometimes just amazed that any American could say "Go home!" to another human being who has fled poverty or violence in their home country and has come here looking for work to provide for their family. Because isn't that how most of the United States has become populated? Did not most of our ancestry flee poverty or violence from their home countries, looking to this "great country" for new opportunities?  And I wonder how it is possible to still celebrate Columbus Day, remembering that Christopher Columbus (and other explorers like him) never asked any Native American for permission to inhabit their land, much less to steal their natural resources or rape their women or kill their leaders.  Why is he exonerated and made to be a hero while those stealing across the border for safety and survival are made to be criminals?

Another fact that we many of us are unaware of is that the United States is partly responsible for Mexico's economic condition.  Not fully, of course, but partly.  If you have not yet seen the documentary Food Inc., you certainly must.  The film reveals a little bit of the story of how US corn subsidies to American farmers have put many small corn farmers in Mexico out of business. This article explains more of that conversation.  The film goes on to show how major chicken processing plants advertise work for Mexicans, urging them to cross the border and work low-paying jobs in American chicken factories in order to keep the price of chicken at a low price for consumers.  And sometimes these very chicken industries rat out their undocumented workers, deflecting the blame onto their employees and away from their own greed. (That information alone was enough to turn my stomach away from Perdue and Tyson and instead on to nutritious, farm-raised, free-range chicken!)

Of course the more I learn about our immigration problems, the more I see how complex they are.  I certainly do not have the answers, but one thing I refuse to compromise on is that children of undocumented immigrants deserve to have the same rights as documented children.  And my heart will continually grieve when I hear stories of families being discriminated against because of where they come from or children being denied access to education or other benefits because of their lack of papers.  Getting to know my friend Lucy from Mexico (I have changed her name) has helped to solidify this belief for me.  And I will end with her story:

Lucy was born the oldest of six children to Mexican parents.  When she was still a girl, Lucy's father left the family to find work but never returned, abandoning them to worse poverty.  Lucy tells me that there are very few economic opportunities for single women in Mexico. Her mother was unable to provide for her children's needs. So at the age of twelve, Lucy and her mother made the difficult journey across the border into the US and settled in Reading, PA.  Her mother found work and sent for the rest of her children to join them.  My friend married another Mexican-American at the age of sixteen; they now have three children of their own.  They work hard, they save their money, they demand much from their children in school, and they live simply. They are anything but lazy, and I admire them.  Lucy's husband has obtained his papers, and their children are American citizens.  But my friend lives with the fear that her status could send her back to a country she barely knows anymore, a country that has become even more unstable due to the violence of drug-lords.  I only pray that she is granted the amnesty that I believe any human being is due.

I Watched the News Today…

I watched the news today

and wondered if God had gone to play

I saw the bully win

and asked God if he was out or in

I heard my neighbors scream

and wondered if God turned mean

I read about the starving child

and wondered why war waged wild

I saw a man die of AIDS

and asked God if he had gone away

Then on my knees I fell and wept

and God whispered into my depths…

I hear the hungry children weep

Go and feed them; be my feet

I know the bullied girls and boys

Go seek justice; be my voice

I see the sick across the land

Go and help them; be my hands

I listen to the poor one’s prayers

Go and answer; be my ears

Then to my feet I rose again,

rolled up my sleeves, dirtied my hands

~Annette L Garber, 2005 

The Hour of Illumination - Peace at Noon

War. Poverty. Illiteracy. Sex-trafficking. Addiction. Depression. Unemployment. Disease. To be true, much of our world is not at peace. And often I find myself overwhelmed by the weight it all. What can I do? Where do I put my energy? How might I lighten the load?

Lately I have been feeling especially overwhelmed.  I've been reading Ashley Judd's memoir, All That is Bitter and Sweet.  Her experiences in working with women caught in the cycle of poverty and forced prostitution and her own stories of childhood neglect and depression split my heart wide open.  My heart then wanders to the orphans in the world and then to my friends who are struggling as single moms and then to my "neighbors" living in Reading, so many dealing with unemployment, poverty, drugs.  Where is the peace?

Then yesterday I stopped at one of my favorite places of tranquility, the Jesuit Center only fifteen minutes from my home, for a Midday prayer.  Macrina Wiederkehr calls the Midday pause the "Hour of Illumination" and notes that its themes are commitment, passion, faithfulness, and peace.  As I wandered through the grove with its tall trees and little statues, I came upon a leafy canopy of green hovering above three benches and a brick patio.  A Crucifix was hanging at the far end of this little hideout, and I sat myself beneath the one who is known as the Prince of Peace.  I opened my prayer book and read this prayer:


"In this the hour of the noonday sun,
we raise our hands to the Peaceful One.
This is the hour to pray for peace,
for kindness and compassion to increase.

So let this be the hour of release.
Let us bow to each other and pray for peace.
Let this be our promise. Let this be our song.
We will be the peace for which we long.

Before we share our noonday meal,
our deepest hungers let us feel.
This is the hour for peace to flower.

Let us be the peace, Let us be the peace."

~Macrina Wiederkehr 

Seven Sacred Pauses, pp. 101-102

Yes, I long to be a part of the Peace.  I am quite aware that each soul can either add or take away good to the world.  How fitting it was that I was sitting beneath the Prince of Peace during this prayer.  I allowed him to be my teacher as I began to meditate on how Jesus lived Peace while walking on earth.  These were my thoughts:

He sought peace (stealing away for inner-peace with his Father).
He taught peace (to those within his influence).
And he walked peace (in dealing with his enemies).
It struck me then; Jesus never forced peace.  For how can peace be forced?

So this is the example I seek to follow.  As much as I or anyone would love to wave a magical wand over all of the heartache in the world, Peace does not behave magically.  It begins as a small seed in the soul and it grows into a fragrant flower for the world.  Perhaps all I can do is continue to seek inner-Peace with the God of Love; I can also try to teach peace within my influence (mostly to my children right now); and I can walk the walk of peace (in my relationships, in my community, and in the world) as best as I am able today.

Sometimes that walk of peace means not acting in frustration when I am feeling frustrated.  Sometimes it is advocating for the poor and oppressed.  Sometimes it is holding an area of the world in my heart with compassion and hope.  Sometimes it is being a peaceful presence amid a friend's storm. And sometimes it is walking the grounds of the Jesuit Center, allowing my own soul to find its way back to Peace again.

What does your walk of Peace look like?  At least for today?

Nine-Eleven... A Glo-burban Perspective

We all remember where we were that fateful day, ten years ago.  I was in a science class at Millersville University when I learned about the attack.  My professor soberly cancelled class.  I then gathered with two students I knew, and we prayed.  I don't remember what we said.  From there I wandered to the cafeteria and watched the news with other students, all of us trying to wrap our minds around what was going on.  Jarred met me there (we were newlyweds as of 6 months and full-time students); we went home, confused, a little frightened, very sad.

This weekend, he and I relived that day by watching various documentaries about 9-11.  Much of the footage I had never seen before.  I heard stories of tragedy and heroism that I hadn't heard before either.  I cried as I listened to these inspiring and tragic stories, reminded of the fragile nature of life.

I also received a couple of forwards in my email inbox last week.  These forwards told me I should put a flag outside my front door to show my patriotism. One forward told me I should hate all of the countries who have not supported the US during this decade long war; it also told me that I should move to another country if I was an environmentalist who didn't want to drill for oil and that I should thank a soldier if I could read the email.  Finally, the email said I should forward this to ten friends in hopes of getting this to every American computer.

These messages assumed that proper patriotism and appropriate remembrance of the tragedy of the falling Trade Centers mandated flag-waving and finger-pointing. But I question if that really is true patriotism.  If that really is the response to ignorant, hateful acts of violence.

I read two blogs posts this morning that helped me put the tension between sorrow and anger into perspective.  In one reflection, Jim Wallis noted how the original response to 9-11 created a sense of vulnerability and dependence and care for one another, pieces of beauty and hope arising from the ashes of evil.  Yet too quickly, it was replaced by a call for revenge which has brought with it more hate, racism, devastation, and the loss of thousands more innocent lives. In a second reflection, Stefan Waligur wonders if the last ten years would have been different had we given ourselves more "soul" time, time to refect on the causes of the terrorist attacks, of peaceful solutions, of bridge-building.


If we assume that mankind has a right to survive then we must find an alternative to war and destruction. Don't ever let anyone pull you so low as to hate them. We must use the weapon of love. We must have the compassion and understanding for those who hate us. We must realize so many people are taught to hate us that they are not totally responsible for their hate. But we stand in life at midnight; we are always on the threshold of a new dawn. 

Martin Luther King Jr.  in his  speech, "Pilgrimage of Non-Violence" (1958)

Perhaps true patriotism is not following your nation's flag blindly; perhaps it means questioning it, even challenging it at times.  Perhaps true patriotism means looking beyond any flag for peace in the world.  What does true patriotism mean to you?

The Blessing Hour - Mid-morning

"Sacred is the pause that draws us into stillness. Nourishing are the moments when we step away from busyness. Teach us the wisdom of pausing. Reveal to us the goodness of stopping to breathe."  


Last week I wrote a post about a little book which has helped to teach me the importance of pausing throughout the day. After the awakening hour, my second most favorite "hour" or pause, when I am home and able to honor it, is the Mid-morning Blessing Hour. It is the time of the day when I am encouraged to step away from the kitchen or my computer and reflect on the sacredness of the day's work. Or better put in Macrina Wiederkehr's words:

"When I have the wisdom to step away from work momentarily, I am able to see it as a gift for the entire world. A short, refreshing pause can enhance my growing awareness that all work has the potential of becoming love made visible--a blessing."


I love this perspective of work, "love made visible." How often do we look at work as drudgery, whether it be preparing a meal, doing laundry, teaching, throwing hammers, treating patients, cleaning up messes, or working at the office? I know I've often been guilty of resenting work, rushing through it or simply enduring it, in anticipation of getting to the things I really want to do. But I am learning that work can be sacred when seen as an act of love.

"Bring to our memory the truth that we are the temple out of which you pour your gifts into the world. We are the temple from which you sing your songs. We are the temple out of which you bless."


And so chopping vegetables and mashing potatoes is no longer just "meal prep," but a loving gesture of feeding my family nutritious, delicious food. And doing laundry is a time to be grateful for modern technology that helps me keep my children clean and smelling good. Teaching not only means checklists and counting days until the next holiday; it is a sacred act of seeking the potential for growth in students. Throwing hammers builds and fixes safe, secure shelter for people. Treating patients is a sacred act of giving health and hope. Cleaning messes is serving those who may not be able to take care of themselves. And doing one's best at the office helps to serve a larger community.

"Bless the work that awaits us. Anoint our hands, hearts, and minds as we joyfully enter into the heart of this day. Make our spirits lucid, attentive, and open to all that can be."


Finally, I love the reminder that work is not only something we do with our hands. There are days where my hands are busy with sacred work.  But there are times when my mind and heart need to be at work, which may mean putting aside some of the "hand work." May we not underestimate this sort of work, which may mean reading or journaling in order to expand our limited thinking or taking the time to embrace our spouse or children for a longer moment as the heart works to communicate love or listening deeply to a friend who needs a shoulder to lean on. I even think that writing this blog can be sacred work, as my mind, heart, and hands unite in an effort to inspire.

And so perhaps we all, no matter where our place of work or what our work entails, today can offer this prayer:

"Lovingly behold the work that my hands, heart, and mind have achieved thus far. Receive it as part of my morning prayer."


Note: All quotations are taken from Seven Sacred Pauses by Macrina Wiederkehr.

Fair Trade Friday - Bead for Life!

What do you get when you mix old magazines, Ugandan women, and style?  Well, you get beads, of course!  And not just any old beads... bright, colorful, handmade beads made from recycled paper.  And the best part about these beads?  They are fair-traded!  

I was first introduced to these beads two years ago through a friend's sister.  They were just too cool to pass up. My friend Jenny and I decided to host a Bead for Life party.  So we booked a party in late fall, perfectly planned for Christmas-shoppers, set up shop in my home, and boy, did those beads sell!  We invited our suburban girl friends, and they helped us raise over $1000.00 for Ugandan women artisans by buying jewelry for their moms, their sisters, their friends, and their kids' teachers! 

It was the coolest home-party I had ever attended (or hosted).  Instead of listening to a speech in the living room about the product, we let the jewelry and the women's printed-out stories do the selling while we gabbed and grabbed at snacks.  And 100% of the proceeds went back to the non-profit Bead for Life!

Bead for Life not only offers fair-pay, job training, and good working conditions to women in Uganda, a country where poverty and violence has left many women with little opportunities for survival, but the women are usually self-dependent entrepreneurs after only working with Bead for Life for 18 months.  Moreover, the revenue created by selling the jewelry at a fair-price to global customers, not only goes into the hands of these hard-working women, but into development programs that benefit their entire communities, such as vocational training, housing programs, school fees, and health initiatives.  

 So if you're feeling itchy to update your wardrobe (men, don't despair!  There are now even some products for you!), or if you are looking for an excuse to hang out with some friends, or if you just want to help make our world a little more fair for all to live in, consider hosting a Bead for Life party or shopping on their online store.  (FYI, I just learned now that Bead for Life has opened up a new market for Shea Butter soap and lip balms!)

I'd love to know if any of you have heard about Bead for Life or purchased any of their products.  Tell us about it!

You Dare Not Touch My Soul

I've been reading Ashley Judd's memoir, All That is Bitter and Sweet, and in it I have found somewhat of a kindred spirit. Having been a very sensitive child, Ashley grew up and took a real interest in the injustices of the world, especially during college when she joined various activist groups such as the NAACP and Amnesty International.  Ashley almost joined the Peace Corps before deciding to take a chance at an acting career.

Today Ashley travels all around the world as the YouthAIDS ambassador for Population Services International, raising public awareness for one of the most devastating human crises.  In her travels she has visited places like Cambodia where sex-trafficking is rampant.  She has sat, held, cried with, and listened to the stories of many women and children living in this unbelievable reality.  As I read these stories, I am overcome by the amazing grace that certain souls are given despite the most brutal and inhumane circumstances a life could possibly experience.

I wrote this in the voice of a girl whose voice has been taken away:

You can hit me
and hurt me
abuse me
and use me.


You can bend me
borrow me
break every bone.


You can kick me
and curse me
You can hate me
degrade me


But there is one thing you must leave alone.


You can strangle my neck
You can leave me a wreck
You can steal all my innocence
in your big, greedy hands


But there's one thing that you'll never own.


You can oppress me
suppress me
starve me
and chain me


But you cannot --
             you will not--
                            you dare not--
                                             touch my soul.

~A.L.G.   August 28th, 2011

Awakening Hour - Splendid Mornings

Isn't it a wonderful thing that there are mornings?  That every dark night ends with a dawn?  Much like storms, too.  The clear blue of this August sky and the still, crisp morning air make it difficult to remember that a hurricane just blew up the East Coast yesterday.  And yet, this is how life goes.

I bear witness to the dark nights and storms of those around me... a friend's painful divorce, the loss of another baby in utero, the crippling brought on by addiction, an unwanted diagnosis.  Some nights are so dark,  not even the moon or the stars can be seen; there is no light to brighten the way.  And yet... there comes the morning.

About a year ago, a friend gave me a little book called Seven Sacred Pauses.  It is written by Benedictine nun, author, and retreat guide, Macrina Wiederkehr, and with the risk of sounding cliche', it has changed my life.  Not in a huge, "a-ha!" sort of way.  But in an altering of routine sort of way.

The seven sacred hours that Macrina practices and invites me to do as well, are adopted from St. Benedict, the founder of western Monasticism, who established a patterned life of prayer and scripture-reading throughout certain hours of the day.  Many monastic communities still follow the Liturgy of the Hours, in one form or another.  But the roots of this practice go back even further in history, to the early Christian Church, and back to the Israelite Nation in the Old Testament, who prayed three times a day.

Macrina's little book is filled with poetry, prayers, Psalms, and quotes, and I have begun to adopt them into my daily routine as well.  I find when I take a few minutes, a "sacred pause," in the middle of my hurried days to mediate, I become re-centered.  I am reminded of my purpose or of the fact that I am loved or of the suffering of those walking through a dark night.

And so I wish to share my mediation on the Awakening Hour, the Morning Prayer (or Lauds),  It's themes are of praise, resurrection, and joy.  I find this very fitting, because sunrise reflects the attitude of the soul when it is coming out of a long, dark night.  It symbolizes that joy and hope can be found even after walking through the darkest, lonliest season of life.


As much as I have witnessed dark nights of the soul in my life or in another's, I have also witnessed the rising of light, of joy, of renewed energy and vision, purpose and healing.  I have laughed many times with my friend who was left by her husband with a broken heart.  I have noticed the resilience in another dear friend who is planning meals for a new mother, only days after a second miscarriage.  I have seen hope and strength resurface in a loved one fighting addiction.  And I have seen contentment engulf the one living with disease.


Ah, yes.  In the words of Anne of Green Gables, "Isn't it a splendid thing that there are mornings?"

Fair Trade Friday - Lunch Boxes

So it's back-to-school-shopping-time!  Last week, the kids and I took care of important business... hair cuts and new shoes.  While shopping at Old Navy, we came across some really cute, inexpensive backpacks with matching lunch boxes.  I hadn't yet decided if we were going to buy the kids new backpacks; after all, their Target-bought backpacks had held up pretty well last year.  Plus, I don't think it is necessary to buy a new backpack and lunch box every school year.  That wouldn't be kind to our wallets or to our earth or to the values of living simply that we are wanting to convey.  But they were so cute!  And the sale price!  Only $7 for the backpacks and $4 for the lunch box!  I caved.  Jaida quickly found the pattern she liked while Dylan declined (the boys' patterns were sort of boring).

Then we came home, and I showed the purchases to Jarred.  We discussed the back pack dilemma and decided our kids could use last year's backpacks another year.  Plus, I admitted, these Old Navy bags seemed cheaply made.  One backpack's strap was hanging on by three threads on the rack at Old Navy.  And above that, like most of the clothes we wear, how in the world could the makers of these bags in Vietnam be making a livable wage?  If Old Navy can afford to sell the bags so cheaply after paying all of their overhead and the cost of transporting them across the globe, they must have bought these bags for next-to-nothing from the Vietnamese manufacturer.


So I am planning to return the backpack and lunch box, much to my daughter's dismay.  However, the kids are still in need of lunch boxes.  (You can only spill milk and yogurt into a lunch box so many times, before its stench turns the stomach of its user.)  I decided to jump online to see if there aren't any eco-friendly or fair-traded lunch boxes out there.  Turns out there are many to choose from!  This was one of my favorites...

Photo Credit: Bazura.Biz

Aren't they cute?  They are called Bazura bags, and they are made by a women's co-op in the Philippines, using juice bags which otherwise would have been thrown by the wayside.  This is a brilliant concept as literally thousands of these juice bags are consumed daily in the Philippines.  But now this waste is being converted into a profitable business for women entrepreneurs.

Photo Credit: Bazura.Biz

Unlike many women living in developing countries who often work long hours in the fields or in sweat shops, these women work for themselves in fair conditions, contribute to their communities, and are part of a solution to reduce the trash in their country.

You must check out their other items, too--handbags, grocery bags, coin purses, and lots more!  Go to www.bazurabags.com 

Photo Credit: Bazura.Biz

Gag Me with a GPS

Do you ever feel suffocated by technology?  I do.  I remember when DVDs came out.  We were newlyweds and were invited over to another newly-wed couple's home to watch a movie on their new DVD player.  The guys were in ecstasy.  They couldn't get over the quality!  (I could barely notice a difference.)  Almost overnight, VHS videos and players became history.  I hated how there was this sudden pressure to "convert to DVDs".  It meant buying a DVD-player, exchanging a VHS collection for a DVD collection, and increases in movie rentals.  I resisted it with every fiber of my being, until I finally decided that the conversion was inevitable.  So for Christmas I bought my husband a DVD player, using my 20% employee discount at Sears.


I also resisted getting a cell phone.  You mean pay how many dollars a month so that you can be interrupted at any moment, even when you're enjoying a long, quiet drive?  But after having two young children and watching pay phones fade into oblivion and almost getting lost one night on back country roads, it seemed like a wise investment.  So in 2005, Jarred bought me a cell phone for Christmas. 

Then it was laptops.  Then the GPS.  Then iPods.  Then Nintendo Wii.  Now iPhones.  Does anyone feel like screaming?!  Don't get me wrong.  There is plenty I absolutely love about technology.  The internet is the most amazing resource, and I love keeping up with family and friends on Facebook.  I'm enjoying the blogging world.  It's great to have a cell phone to call AAA when I have car trouble, to let a friend know I'm sitting in traffic, to catch up with my mom while on that long, quiet drive.  (Did I just admit that?  ...I don't text while driving!)  And texting is a very efficient means of communication when you don't have time for a long conversation.  The verdict on the GPS is still out for me.  That little box has led me astray more than a few times.

But with most wonderful things in life, there are also downsides.  (And here is where the ranting begins...)  I begin with the iPhone.  All I can say is that the thing is lucky to still be "alive."  It's so darn disruptive with its beeps and buzzing, alerting its user whenever a text comes through or a reminder alarm goes off.  And it's a constant temptation to "get connected," as if you are a poor lonely soul on a deserted island without internet connection.  And have you seen the couples out on a "date" at a nice restaurant, sitting across from each other, staring lovingly into.... the screen of their iPhones?!  Gag me!

Then there is the money thing.  Why is it that everyone has to upgrade every year?  These electronic industries are pretty smart and a whole lot greedy.  Every new gadget quickly becomes passe', and every gadget that replaces it comes with new accessories... chargers, ear buds, remotes, payment plans.  Can you hear the "cha-ching! cha-ching! cha-ching!"?

Probably my greatest complaint has to do with the time and attention theft that electronics bring along with their packages.  How many nights have I stayed up way past my bedtime being sucked into facebook alerts, only to experience the consequences the next day of being tired and grumpy?  And how often have we argued with our son over how much time he can spend in front of a screen or what he's allowed to watch in front of that screen?  And how many conversations have been interrupted by a cell phone ring?  And how many important moments have we missed with our children because Jarred and I are "just finishing up an email"? 

I certainly don't have the answers on what is a balanced use of the wonderful world of electronics.  I do know that I have sometimes longed to unplug it all and move to an intentional community which is intentional about avoiding an overuse of technology.  But I think intentionality is what is important when discussing electronic use.  My husband and I have sat down on many occasion to discuss what boundaries we will put on our children's use.  We've had discussions with one another about our expectations of the other's use. But I think we could do even better.  It's easy to look around and say, "Well, everyone else has this gadget or that cable plan; I guess we need it, too."  We can't forget to count the cost of constant connection, constant stimulation, constant conversion to the latest and the greatest.  I believe all this comes with a really high cost, and one that needs evaluated from time to time.

Celebrate Stories, Celebrate Women

Who doesn't love a good story?  Stories cut to the heart.  Stories bring tears and laughter.  Stories are powerful, much more powerful than facts and figures.  I love stories!  Especially true, real-life ones.  I came across these stories this morning and wanted to sing them from the rooftops.  

(Photo by Amy Conner, World Vision)

Two very good bloggers and story-tellers recently visited Bolivia to see what World Vision is up to in that country.  In "Eshet Chayil!" -Six Bolivian Women of Valor Rachel Held Evans celebrates the lives of six Bolivian women.  And in Chauvinism is Alive and Well, and Not Just in Bolivia, Joy shares about the empowerment women are experiencing through World Vision's programs.  You've got to hear these stories!  (And by all means, please feel free to sing from your rooftops, too!)

Slow Down

Slow down, O Wearied Soul.
Slow down and rest awhile.
Breathe deep.  Breathe slow.
And don't forget to listen.

For though your ears hear many sounds,
your soul longs to listen to
the sounds of Silence.

And when you listen to the silence...
listen long, listen deeply...
for it is then when you will hear
the melodies of truth,
softly sung,
perhaps only whispered,
into your depths.

Slow down, O Wearied Soul.
Slow down long enough to listen
to the Silence.

Suburban Church "Explores!" Asia

Sometimes I get a little squirmy when I see VBS (Vacation Bible School) signs outside the front of a church.  And in our area, there are plenty of churches and plenty that offer VBS to their local communities.  I get a little squirmy because I've helped with a few of these in the past, and I've come to feel a little skeptical about them.  My experience with VBS programs is that they tend to be a little cheesy while trying to cram a ton of excitement into kids with the hope that they will see how fun God is and how awful hell is and will be able to make some theological claims that will ensure them life-in-heaven-with-God-forever (or at least will memorize a few Bible verses).  I'm just not convinced that a one-week cram course about Jesus is the best way for kids to make thoughtful decisions about how to relate to their Creator or what to make of the afterlife.  Of course, I am generalizing here and speaking from my own prejudice.  There are surely some rocking, cool VBS programs out there doing some wonderful good.  Let's hope so!


Anyway... enough of my deconstructing of Vacation Bible Schools.  What I really wanted to share about was a VBS (we call it Explore!) which happened last week with my community of faith, Koinos.  This one I really was excited about!  And quite proud to invite friends to. I'm privileged to know some very talented and creative people who put tons of energy into making Explore! an exciting, and hopefully meaningful, experience for kids last week.

So what made this VBS unique?  Well... for starters... we didn't put an emphasis on kids having to make any decisions at the end of the week.  Yes, there were stories about Jesus and God's love for the world, but the stories were told in a way to invite wonder and curiosity and inspiration, not in a let-me-tell-you-how-this-all-works sort of way.

  Moreover, the theme was anything but cheesy.  We explored Asia!  Each night the kids learned about a different country's culture... from Thailand to Nepal to China. They tasted cultural snacks--naan bread from India and rice pudding from Bangladesh--and drank a different kind of tea each night.  They played a marble game from Japan and raced on coconut shells like kids in Bangladesh like to do. They made head rings and carried baskets on their heads like Nepali children.

They learned about kids who work in sweatshops and the importance of education.  They learned about the problem of waste and the importance of caring for the earth.  They learned about the earthquake in Japan and had the opportunity to raise money and stencil messages on a quilt that will be given to victims of the earthquake through MCC.  And most importantly, I would like to believe that they went away with a taste of God's love for the wonderfully diverse and beautiful people in this great big world in which we live.


,

Water

Tonight as I was walking back and forth between faucet and stressed perrenial and wishing for a thunderstorm, I checked my email and glanced at an e-newsletter from Church World Service.  The first headline was "CWS Responding in Drought-Stricken areas of Kenya."  Immediately I felt the weight of my watering containers as I imagined myself walking the dirt roads of a Kenyan village.  I felt the crunch of our straw-like grass and imagined  walking in solidarity with women from around the world, women who are gathering water for cooking dinner and washing clothes as I gather water to nourish the flowers and shrubs of our backyard.  It reminded me of something I had written a few years back when our water had to be shut off for a few hours...

It’s amazing how three hours of no access to running water can affect a life… at least for that moment in time.  So yes… at about “time to begin making dinner” time the other evening, I turned on the spigot to clean a frying pan when “wa-lah!”   No water.  Not even a drop.  We were given no prior knowledge to this invasive occurrence on our lives, so we had not been able to reserve a large pot or bucket of water as would be a typical response when one knows the lines are being turned off for this or that reason.  I looked around me…. two sippy cups, half-full of water; that’s it.  All of a sudden, a dozen little activities that we take for granted on a daily basis became very imperative.  Washing hands, flushing the toilet, quenching thirst, completing a load of soiled laundry, washing a dirty frying pan… all of these simple tasks had to be halted, and in turn my convenient way of living was brought into fresh perspective. 

            On many an occasion, I have told my four-year-old son to drink his water because “it is the best thing for you in the whole world” and to turn off the faucet when washing hands became a game because “water is the most important resource we have.”  Yet do I really know this from experience?  Is it really possible to believe this when running water is just an arm-length’s away for most of us?  The only times I have ever had to walk for water and carry it have been when I am camping, and usually “carrying” meant lugging our water container in the trunk of our Jeep back to our campsite. 

            Recently, I received the latest issue of my favorite magazine, A Common Place, which always serves to broaden my horizons and readjust my perspective.  I read about a Mozambique woman, Luiza Mamhoa—a widow, mother, and grandmother—who gets up at two in the morning to walk to the nearest well and returns at 9 a.m. with one 5-gallon jug of water to be rationed between the eleven people in her household.  Until a recent development in her village, people in her community had not enough water to plant or harvest any of their own crops during the seven-month dry season and so were dependent upon searching in the wild for any signs of food when their sources ran dry.  Luiza and countless other African women and men share similar stories as their continent’s rivers and streams continue to dry out due to causes such as global-warming and deforestation.   They understand how precious water truly is, and I doubt a fallen drop or a swallow-full is taken for granted. 

            I thought about Luiza and her delicate handling of water as I rationed what was inside my children’s sippy cups… a little to thicken our taco seasoning, several drops to wet a paper towel, a portion for brushing teeth, the rest for the children to drink.  I learned that I could “get by” with reusing a pan, wiping my sticky fingers on an already wet dish cloth, drinking the less-quenchable beverages in my refrigerator, and not flushing the toilet after every single use.

I suppose when push comes to shove, we are forced to use our creativity to “get by.”    Yet I wonder what else in my life do I use and discard carelessly?  What if I would use less so others could have more?  What really is enough?  The fact that I have the opportunity to call and pay for a plumber or to drive to the nearest convenience store for bottled water does not negate my responsibility to remember those who do not.  

It's Been Awhile

It's been a little while since I've posted on this blog.  Not that I think any readers are sitting at their computer screens waiting anxiously for an update on Glo-burban Life.  But I still feel some sense of guilt that I should be writing, at least once or twice or week, to be a "good" blogger.  Much of it is for myself.  Call it therapeutic.  Call it cathartic.  I find the writing process an amazing way to sort out my feelings and ideas.  What begins as a muddled puddle in my mind emerges clearer with each written sentence.  Once the process is finished, I read it over and feel as if I have dipped my feet into a cool stream on a warm day.

And yet finding the time, or making the time, is a challenge for me.  Oh, I have lots of ideas and topics floating around in my head.  I want to write.  But when quiet, uninterrupted time finally lands in my lap, it is usually after the kids are tucked safely in bed and my mind feels too tired for the writing process.  Instead, I pick up a book or fold a load of laundry in front of the TV.

Am I complaining?  How dare I if I am.  The fact that I have time to choose to write or read or walk or call a friend is a luxury within itself.  The fact that I can read and write is a privilege many in our world cannot afford, literally.  The fact that I own a journal and a computer to write for therapeutic purposes is again a luxury.  I was never told who I must marry or when.  I have never awaken with the only purpose for the day being to fetch water and fill hungry bellies.  I never looked at the outside of a school's walls and thought "if only I was a boy" or "if only my parents had money."  Lest I ever forget it, the fact that I have choices, a.k.a. opportunity, is enough to sing with a free soul each morning.

So I will try to push the feelings of blogger failure and "poor me" aside and instead be grateful for the times I do have on here, for the choices I have on how to spend my time.  I do have a lot I want to write/process in the future, so stay-tuned, any interested readers.

Koinos Summer Campaign

Sometimes I feel worried.  Worried that my kids are spoiled.  Worried that they are too narcissistic.  My seven-year-old had a near meltdown this morning when I said no to his request for having a friend over today.  He must honestly suffer from short-term memory loss.  Do you realize, Dylan, that you have been with friends every day this week so far?  Did you hear that I said you could have a friend over tomorrow?  Do you know that the world doesn't revolve around you???

Yeah, my kids have it good.  Really good.  Thus, part of my suburban gal complex.  And another reminder to me how important it is to challenge their experience, broaden their perspective.  This week offered a great opportunity for that.

Our faith community Koinos holds an annual campaign every summer, where we canvas close to 10,000 homes in a four-day period, dropping off at every door a plastic bag and a list of items needed at Berks Women in Crisis.  We then drive around with pickup trucks and minivans on a Saturday morning and collect all of the donations left on our neighbors' front porches.   From there, the items are carted to an undisclosed location where staff await with open arms and tears in their eyes, grateful for the largest donation they receive each year.  Needless to say, it is a very cool experience. 

The kids and I participated in yesterday's morning shift and then again as a family in this evening's shift.  Sure, it's not that life-changing.  They get to walk around with their friends up and down sidewalks and driveways for a couple of hours.  But it does get tiring; they do get hungry; and sometimes it's rainy or real hot.  And they get to hear from Mom and Dad how these donations are going to help a lot of moms and kids who need diapers and shampoo and cereal, etc.... Moms and kids who don't even have a safe home, if any, to stay at.


So, yes, my kids are a little spoiled.  They certainly are extremely lucky.  But once again I must choose to turn that "survivors guilt" into motivation to use our privilege as a blessing.  We have strong legs, full bellies, and time.  That's more than enough to be grateful for.

If you haven't yet stumbled into a Ten Thousand Villages store, you absolutely MUST!  It is my favorite place to shop for a number of reasons.  First of all, the stuff!  They have gorgeous, handmade items from all around the world - jewelry, handbags, scarves, blankets, dishes, decorations for the home, rugs, baskets, even chocolate, coffee, and tea.  Secondly, but more importantly, everything they sell in their stores is fair-traded, so that hard-working groups and individual artisans can actually make a fair, livable wage for their work.  Finally, the store nearest me, in Ephrata, PA, has a cafe, and it is a lovely, little cafe' to meet up with friends for lunch or listen to live music on Friday nights.

So I must give a plug for their 18th Annual International Children's Festival which is tomorrow!  Our family went last year for the first time, and we loved it.  The kids made crafts, took a rickshaw ride, learned how to gather water from a village pump, and played games from other cultures.

So if you're in the Lancaster/Reading area and you don't have plans tomorrow, I'd highly recommend spending an hour or two at the festival.  It's a great opportunity to widen our children's eyes to the richly diverse world in which we live.