7

I have my friend Steph to thank for almost ruining our Florida vacation. While staying at this very savvy resort and spending long days at the pool and beach with utter no responsibilities, I am reading this book which Steph nearly forced into my hands a few days before leaving for vacation. It's called 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, and it's all about one woman's journey to simplify her life in order to open herself up greater to God and to generous living. This woman confronts American consumerism and Christian wealth head on and invites her readers' hearts to bleed for the homeless, the refugee, the orphan, and the hungry. In truth, I am deeply grateful to Steph for this recommendation.  It is as inspiring as much as it is challenging.

What I am trying to say is that it is impossible to be here and not be reminded that we are within the top 1 percent wealthiest in the world. That most families feel it is a privilege to send their children to school while we view it a responsibility to take our children on vacation each summer (we were actually told, "Well, you have to take your children on vacation every year," by the vacation representative who visited our room this afternoon.)  While we might stress over which restaurant or beach we must visit while here, many families are stressing over which meal to eat today.  The gross gap in equity between the rich (us) and the poor (80% of human beings) is just that... gross... shameful... embarrassing... heart-breaking.

So back to the book: 7. Jen Hatmaker, the author, took seven months and chose seven areas of her life which needed simplified and tackled each problem area for a month.  Here's her list:

• Food
• Clothes 
• Possessions
• Media
• Waste
• Spending
• Stress

Could you do this?  She ate only seven ingredients during the Food month. She wore only seven items of clothing during the second month. She gave over seven possessions away daily during Month Three.  And she (and husband and children) abstained from all TV, video games, Facebook, blogs, Internet-surfing, iPhone Apps (basically anything other than work-related) during Media month.  You will have to read the book on your own to see what she did during the last three months, as I am still reading the chapter on Waste right now, but to be sure, she gained some golden perspective which no doubt will affect their life choices forever. 

The cool thing about reading this while on a family vacation is that I've been able to talk about this with my family!  In fact, Jarred has been so kind to endure my numerous outbursts of laughter (this is probably the funniest author I have ever read) and to listen to a few "short" sections that I just had to
read to him.  We've talked about how fortunate we are that we actually can take vacations.  I've shared anecdotes from 7, like the time that Jen Hatmaker and her then mega-church husband/pastor heard Shaine Claiborne speak about the homeless shelter nearby where sturdy shoes were a great necessity. And how he challenged everyone to leave their shoes and socks at the Communion table to be donated to this shelter.  And how Jen and her husband took off their brand new, very expensive cowboy boots and went home barefoot on a winter night, challenged and changed. 

I, too, am being challenged to change.  And I'd like to invite my family and perhaps some friends,  too, to engage in some of these experiments ourselves.  I'll be sure to post more on the subject then!

For now, please find a copy of this book!  You will be challenged and changed, too!

Back-to-School Bags the Fair Trade Way!

I've decided that I want to become more consistent with my blogging. So I've made a goal to post once a week, each week of the month corresponding with a different theme.  Week one: Fair trade or Environmentalism.  Week two:  Personal Reflection.  Week three: Social Issues.  And week four: Glo-burban Spotlights.

Since this is the first week of August and we are nearing the start of another school year, I decided to take some time to highlight some back-to-school bags... that are not only totally cool... but are also totally Fair Trade purchases!  You can be sure that these products were not made in some China sweatshop by children who would much prefer to be in school themselves, but were made by employees being treated rightly and payed fairly!

Just to be honest, my kids are not receiving one of these bags this school year, though they will be using their fair trade lunch boxes from last year.  I showed them  a few of these backpacks, but they are going with something different this year.  There are a gazillion fair trade and eco-friendly options out there, and it can be fun to shop online with your kids.  One of the best websites I've found for fair trade/eco-friendly products is WorldofGood.com by Ebay.

 Here are just a few that I thought were cool and affordable!

1. Bazura Bags

We bought two adorable lunch bags from Bazura Bags last year, and I have been asked on many occasion... "Where did you get those cute lunch bags?"  These are just two of their styles.  I love the messegner book bags made from used rice bags and recycled aluminum foil! 











2. Fair Trade Winds - Owl Back Pack

Isn't this cute?  Perfect for your little Pre-Schooler or Kindergartner?  These are made using various scraps of fabric by a Fair-Trade women's co-op in Thailand.





3.  Hempmania

This every day backpack is made of a very eco-friendly product, hemp, by Mayan families in Guatemala. Very versatile!






 4. Recycled Rice Lunch Bag

 I love this lunch bag!!!  And it would go perfect with the rice bag back pack from Bazura!














5. Fair Trade Winds - lunch bag

 Oh, isn't this a perfect gift for a teacher!  Who wouldn't love this cute lunch bag?  And they do free shipping!




6. Recycled Juice Bags Lunch Bag

This cute lunch box is made from recycled juice bags from the Philippines and is sold at my favorite store ever... Ten Thousand Villages!  It's very similar to the lunch bags I bought last year for Dylan and Jaida. 


Happy shopping, friends!

It Takes a Village

We've all heard the African proverb, "It takes a Village to Raise a Child.". I would propose that it takes a village to travel all of life's journeys, not just child-rearing.

Not long ago a friend of mine needed to undergo a fairly major surgery. This meant she would be out of normal commission for six weeks, unable to lift her toddler or romp with her preschooler or drive her older children to and from school. The average woman, I imagine, would feel a little panicky as how to juggle these limitations, but not so my friend. She wasn't phased. She is part of a village, and she knew her village would see her through. Sure enough, before coming home from the hospital, a meal schedule was being assembled and childcare volunteers were lining up to take turns helping with the two little ones.

It wasn't long until my friend was back on her feet, offering to make a meal and watch the children of another family from our village who was recently effected by a serious illness. This member of our village, although fairly new to our community, is being visited by near strangers with offers to do laundry or run to the grocery store or bring a meal.

This is "village life" and I wouldn't want it any other way. In my village, we intertwine our lives closely. We watch one another's children when we have doctor appointments. We visit each other in the hospital. We make sure a new mother has meals delivered to her door. We pass along our gently-used clothing. We take time to listen and laugh around beers or at coffee shops or at the dinner table. And when someone falls on hard times, we may cover a mortgage payment or pass on an anonymous cash gift. When another is left broken-hearted by their spouse, we lend our ears, our hearts, our time, and our favorite family therapists. In essence, we weave a safey basket around one another. Our lives are made stronger by the presence of each other, just as a tightly woven basket can carry a large bushel of apples.

I imagine wherever in Africa this saying derived, dependence on a community was essential for survival. Though I don't know many people who are trying to physically survive, I look around me and see many a person desperately trying to survive the emotional and spiritual landscapes around them. But so many lack a "village"! After all, isn't the American Dream realized by rugged individualism, pulling oneself up with one's bootstraps and forging ahead through life's wilderness with hardly a shrared cup of water?

I, for one, don't believe life was intended to live this way. I prefer the village way of life, practiced by my African brothers and sisters and by the first followers of Jesus and by whomever else lucky enough to find a community who accepts and supports them. Perhaps this individualistic approach to life is one reason why so many Americans are on antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications. I, too, would feel lonely and afraid if wondering a wilderness on my own.

I learned yesterday of a friend outside my village who is going through a heartbreaking circumstance that will require some major survival techniques. I do not know if she is surrounded by a village. Many of the commenters on her Facebook page offered their prayers and generic offers of "let me know if you need anything." Well, I am certain this friend is going to need a lot! She will need listening ears, encouraging notes, babysitters, and much more. I hope to treat her like a village member, not waiting for her to ask for favors.

What about you? Have you been lucky enough to have found a village, too?

Football and Flowers

 "I figure God made the flowers grow; 

I might as well share them."

-wise words of the little old Amish lady whose beautiful bouquet of flowers (stuck in a reused Applesauce jar) I bought for less than $2 yesterday

Summer is rolling by!  I know it is for all of us.  Time having fun always goes too fast!  But really, once we get back from vacation in early August, I must sign our lives away to fall sports.  Forgive me if I do not sound off-the-wall excited for the new activities my children have signed up for... which only have us committed for two hours a night, five days a week (before school begins) but then cuts back to two hours a night, three days a week (after school begins).  After all, we are talking about the all-important activities of football and cheer-leading.  Yes... football... and cheer-leading.  I know, I know.  This glo-burban mama has gone All-American, and she drags her feet while doing so.  

There are several reasons I find it difficult to get excited about this new venture my children are taking.  Not only am I concerned about the obvious... that precious brain behind that silly helmet... but I am dreading the hurried evenings, the loss of family time at home, and the challenge to complete homework, dinner, practice, and showers.  And then I worry about the football and cheer-leading "culture."  You know... all the glam and glory.  The boys competing in toughness and aggression.  The girls in cute ponytails and long legs.  And did I mention that I don't even understand the game of football?  Believe me; I've tried.  But if you haven't ever watched the game, it's very boring.  Trust me.  And what if they actually like it?  What if they want to continue?  Will I lose my children to the ranks of cocky, supposedly-popular, selfish, bratty teenagers?!  ...You understand my angst.

So where does that Amish woman's quote fit in with football and cheer-leading?  Well, to be honest, I keep finding myself in places where I am being asked to loosen the apron strings I've strung to my children, and I don't find this easy. Whether it was allowing Jaida to try out the haunted house ride on the boardwalk (she surprisingly loved it!) or realizing that Dylan is developing his own taste for music (very different than my own) or dropping them off with complete strangers at Bynden Wood Day Camp this week, I feel the tug between wanting to control their decisions and knowing I need to loosen my grip.  

My children are like the Amish woman's flowers.  Can I hold them as generously as she does her beloved blooms, willing to share them with a world I cannot control?  It is a delicate task the parent is asked to do.  It does not mean giving up on guiding our children altogether.  Not at all!  The Amish woman does not cut her flowers and throw them at the edge of the road for any wanderer to carelessly pick up.  Neither do we allow our children to follow every whim and desire.  She first nurtures her flowers with tenderness and water, allowing them to blossom in whatever color and form they are created to be.  She then cuts her stems, arranges the blooms in a lovely bouquet, and lets them leave her garden and go into the hands of others who admire their beauty.  She does not own her flowers; she cannot control the growth process.  They are gifts given to her so that she may share them.  

It is the same with my children.  They are amazing gifts that I aim to nurture with loving counsel, gentle discipline, listening ears, and a trusting spirit.  They are not mine, though.  How differently we treat our children when we remember that!  

The Amish woman's words keep repeating themselves in my head as I wonder what humankind would be like if we viewed all of God's creation in the same way... the oceans, the trees, the animals, "our" backyards, "our" food, the air we breathe.  

"I figure God made the flowers grow; I might as well share them."

Quaker for the Day

One thing I value as a "glo-burbanite" is learning from faith traditions other than my own.  I believe there are nuggets of wisdom found in most faith traditions if we are humble enough to listen and learn from one another.  This does not mean I adopt every belief or practice as my own... only that I am open to what truths may be expressed or experienced in ways I am not familiar. 

For example, growing up across the street from Amish neighbors provided a window into a culture that has many values worth borrowing, not the least of which are hard work, humility, simplicity, and forgiveness. I still keep in touch (and am challenged by) my childhood friend Elsie who is one of the most joyful and content women I know!

Borrowing from the Catholic tradition, I began seeing a spiritual director four years ago (who happens to be Mennonite, actually), and her mentoring friendship with me has been one of the most significant gifts in my spiritual journey as an adult.

And I began practicing yoga and meditation (which I love with my whole limber self!) a year ago, borrowed in part from Buddhist and Hindu practices.

Yesterday, I decided to visit the Quakers.  I have been wanting to visit a Friends Meeting House for quite some time now, as I find the Quakers very intriguing.  One of the "nuggets" I have learned from them is that they value the divine presence of God (often termed Light) in every human being (even in their "enemies") which has led them to value non-violence and peace-making as a way of life.

Another interesting tidbit about the Quakers is that they usually do not have spiritual leaders.  When they gather for Sunday morning worship, they sit in silence until someone feels led by the Spirit (or Light) to share something for the benefit of the whole group.  Then they return to silence and prayerful meditation until another might feel led to share. 

Since Jarred was in Boston for the weekend at a conference and the kids had spent the night with their grandparents, I decided that I'd go and visit the Maidencreek Meetinghouse, a small stone structure built in 1759, near Leesport, PA.  These are my reflections from my journal...


Struggling to find my turn off of 61, I tried to silent my pumping heart like a good Quaker girl. (Rushing into a silent room doesn't seem to be the Quaker way.) I found it, a blessed ten minutes before 10:00, and was, a little awkwardly, only the second person to enter the meetinghouse. "Oh no," I thought. "What if it's just me and that man?" Then I heard another car pulling along the stone drive. Phew...

One by one, the faithful strolled in.  Sometimes I glanced their way and received a smile or "good morning." There were twelve of us altogether (the same number Jesus thought would be good to change the world.)  ;-)

This one was a silent meeting. No words were needed today. Personally, I thought the setting was a beautiful sermon in its own rite.  The old stone building with its wide, wooden-beamed floor and long straight wooden benches--covered by faded orange cushions--sang with total tranquility and sacred tradition.  The open windows and doors were just that... open.  They welcomed not only the nameless strangers such as I, but the breezes and the bees and the flies.  Had a skunk walked in the door, I think he would have been offered a seat.

Instead of a choir, we had the birds.  And let me tell you, their voices echoed beautifully over the lake and the trees, filtering into our sanctuary. 

As the hour passed, I shifted my posture now and then, as well as my thoughts.  They drifted to loved ones, my friend who just moved away and to my brothers.  They drifted toward the members in the room... What are their stories?  How long have they been "Quaker"?  What do they think of me?  They drifted to myself... I need to stretch.  Can I clear my throat silently?  I'm getting sleepy.  

I thought about other moments where I've sat in silence with others--at the beginning of Nar-Anon meetings, before our sung prayers at the Pilgrimage of Peace retreats in West Virginia, at youth group events when we'd spread out for silent prayer or devotions, during the evening Scripture meditation at the Kairos retreat back in January.

I've decided I like sitting in silence.  (Almost as much as I love gabbing with friends.)  Both are good. Both nourish the soul.  Both communicate truth and love if we have ears to hear.  And so I think I will practice Quakerism more often. 

How about you?  Have you ever experienced a faith tradition outside of your own?  What did you learn from it? 

A "Home-Schooling" Summer

So in case you didn't know, school lets out today!! Honestly, I might be more excited than the kids. Summertime for us means me not working, afternoons at the pool, sleepovers with friends, picnics at the park, weekly bike-rides to the library, etcetera. I've got to admit, the kids and I have it pretty good. I often get that slight pang of guilt when I hand Jarred his kiss and coffee-to-go in the mornings and wish him a great day at work, and he wishes us a great day... at the pool.

Fun, however, is not the only item on our summer agenda. Well, maybe for the kids. But not for me! Summer is also my season to "home-school." Now, before you get any grand notions in your head about me dutifully displaying mathematical flash cards as my children sharpen their math skills or conducting scientific experiments on our kitchen counter while my children watch in awe behind protective, plastic glasses, let me be clear. I am quite comfortable, at this point, leaving my children's basic academic lessons in the hands of their wonderfully talented teachers. The "home-schooling" I am referring to is of another dimension.

See, I think up until recent generations, home-schooling was a common phenomenon. I would even go as far as to say that many cultures still practice home-schooling around the world. At risk of sounding like a "fuddy-duddy" (what is that anyway?), the home-schooling I wish to resurrect is the training of my children's moral character and skills for adulthood. There. I said it. This, I fear, is a lost art in many homes today, probably due in part to the fact that families are pulled in dozens of directions. But I also think this has a lot to do with what we (including myself) believe about children and what we value about life.

It seems to me that our culture (at least the suburban culture I am a part of) believes that: Number one, the chief end of childhood is to "have fun!" And number two, children can only be expected to participate in an activity if it is entertaining or ends with some sort of pleasure reward (i.e. candy). It's my opinion that these two beliefs are producing individuals who expect to be constantly entertained, who are missing the experience of intrinsic rewards (i.e. I feel proud that I was competent enough to complete that task or contribute to the family. Or... Watching the flowers pop up is so fascinating; maybe next year I'll talk to Mom about planting a garden.), and who are in many ways immature.

So here are some of my goals for home-schooling my children over the summer. (I hope it is understood that I don't look at summer as the only time to train my children. It is, however, when we have the most concentrated time to optimize on life lessons.)

1. Stop labeling every activity as "fun." I can't tell you how often I find myself saying to my children, "This will be fun!" Or... "Wasn't that fun?!" I am indirectly telling my children that something is only worth doing if it is fun. Well, feeding my family is not always fun, but I do it because it's important. Studying for tests was a complete headache, but it was necessary to succeed in school. Visiting residents at the nursing home was a little smelly and uncomfortable, but the kids brought smiles to some very lonely, forgotten people and felt the joy of doing so.

2. Implement a daily morning routine with responsibilities. So before we run off to the pool or invite friends over to play in the afternoon, I want my children to learn that work comes before play (and play is more enjoyable when in that order). I am going to use this summer as a time to further train the kids on some basic household duties, like how to run the washer and dryer and how to scrub the toilets. As they are able to help out with more of the everyday chores, I will hopefully be more free to tackle the neglected ones (i.e. cleaning windows!!) Personally, I think, if trained properly, children are quite capable of much more than we think. (I think of my parents' Amish neighbors whose children help in the garden, collect eggs, and drive horses in the fields at probably the ages of my own children.)

3. Encourage 45 minutes of daily reading. Our local library offers a summer reading program where the children keep track of how many books they read and can "cash in" tickets for prizes. I suppose the kids are reading mostly for the prizes, but I hope that as they read more, they will become better readers, seek out better books, and better develop their knowledge and creativity.

4. Restrict screen time to 2 hours a day. This restriction is mostly for our son who loves any kind of gadget with a screen, but who can actually entertain himself quite well once he realizes no person or gadget is around to do it for him. I am very excited to report that my children have finally begun watching reruns of Little House on the Prairie, the TV series my friends and I grew up watching and learning from (talk about a huge difference in value compared to SpongeBob!) Screen time does not merely need to be restricted; we parents can influence the quality of what our children are watching, too.

5. Teach money values. In an excessively, abundant culture such as ours, I find this very tricky. I want Dylan and Jaida to learn the value of waiting for something they want (versus instant gratification) and working and saving for that purchase. The children already know that gifts are for birthdays and Christmas, so if they really want something between thoses times, it must come from their own wallets. Already we have watched them make connections over the value of a dollar, save their coins for something more valuable than candy, and take pride in handing their own money to the cashier at Target. I've put together a list of tasks (above the weekly chores) that they may earn an extra dollar or two by completing--everything from washing out the garbage cans to wiping down the baseboards to organizing their dressers.

I may not need to teach my children skills for survival or pass along a trade such as some children may be learning in other cultures, but I still feel a great responsibility to prepare my children for responsible, mature adulthood. Will you join me in this endeavor of "home-schooling" this summer? What will your goals be?

Shrimp Salsa and Immigrant Life

Few things bring me greater pleasure than getting to know people from other cultures. Well, eating food prepared by people from other cultures is in close rivalry. And I was lucky enough to do both last Thursday!

I have been teaching English as a Second Language on and off the last several years with a non-profit called Wisdom 31. This past school year I was privileged to spend two hours a week with adult students who come from Mexico, El Salvador, the Dominican Relublic, Honduras, and China! And as the tradition goes, on our last day of class, before summer break, we end early and eat a pot-luck lunch together with all the other classes. And boy-oh-boy! No one leaves hungry! Can I tell you how cool it is to see an entire table full of mostly Latin American food but none of it looks like Taco Bell? My only complaint this year is that no one brought any mangu (mashed plantains with cheese). However, the chicken-filled corn tortillas with guacamole and the homemade salsa with baby shrimp more than compensated. And everyone raved about Quadria's Iranian rice, who replied with a shy smile and quiet "thank you."

More fulfilling than any meal is the opportunity to learn about these brave and hard-working immigrants. I sat next to Wenru, our only Chinese student, who patiently and sweetly brings along her aged husband--who speaks not a word of English and has dementia. I listened to her talk about her children, her Chinese-American church, and her love for God. I've heard stories from my Colombian friend who had to flee her home country and comfortable lifestyle when her husband's life was threatened and who now works long hours at a little grocery store he opened in Reading. I've listened to stories from my Mexican friend who took a dangerous risk with her mother when they crossed the border when she was only twelve years old and then how their church lent her mother money to help bring her younger siblings over. All the mothers have stories to share about their children, many who have hopes for college; some of these mothers have plans for higher education themselves. Most work low-paying jobs at the factories or bus tables at a local restaurant or spend their days cooking and caring for children.

Life is not easy for the immigrant. It never has been. I'm certain that when my English, German, and Irish ancestors came over from Europe they also worked long hours with little pay. They surely struggled to find housing, feed and educate their children, and battle homesickness. I would like to believe that those who had come before them welcomed my ancestors into their communitites, taught them English (well, to the German speakers anyway), invited them to their churches, and overall accepted them as "brothers and sisters."

This is the kind of work that Wisdom 31 does. It offers English and citizenship classes, but just as importantly, friendship and a place to connect within the Reading community. It brings together people of various nations and reminds us that we are all connected, that what we have in common is more than what differentiates us. It reminds me that the human spirit desires the same things... A place to belong, a space to make a contribution (whether through work or child-rearing or volunteerism), adequate food and shelter, opportunties for the next generation, and love and friendship.

I only hope we can always be a nation that welcomes the immigrant (and expands our tastebuds), remembering that all of us are descendants of another land.

Compassion and Kids

Have you ever witnessed a child being humiliated by their parent? I recently witnessed a mother pulling her son by the ear and pushing him into their car with her knee outside of a McDonalds. A sickness rose to my stomach and I yelled out my car window from the street, "Stop doing that to your son!" She turned to me, shrugged, and said, "He's my son, not yours." I suppose if I were to ask that mother why she chose such a violent form of discipline she'd say she's trying to teach him to cooperate. She'd probably tell me how bad her son is, how badly he had behaved, and how he needed to be "dealt" with. She probably has no idea that children who are bullied often become bullies themselves.

I have come to reject the idea that children are inherently evil and need that evil driven from them,a belief held by many. One of the reasons I have come to reject this idea is that I have observed many interactions where children are viewed as and treated as "bad." Unfortunately, we humans tend to behave the way people expect us to. We tend to believe the labels that our parents or teachers or peer groups give us.

I remember one heart-breaking moment when I was babysitting two little girls. I told the older sister that she was "such a good sister." I will never forget the look she gave me when she realed her head around and asked me in all seriousness, "do you really think I am good? My mom tells me that I am bad all the time." With as sincere a voice I could convey, I replied, "You know, all of us have some good and some bad in us. But I see a lot of good in you."

Though I believe each human has the potential for contributing evil to the world, I prefer to view each child (and each grown up child) as made in the divine image of a loving Creator, with great potential for much good. I wonder if we were to spend as much energy, if not more, nourishing the good in our children (and in ourselves) as we do discouraging the "bad," if our world would be that much fuller of love and goodwill.

There's a group from our church who meets in our home to encourage one another in life and faith. Most of us are parents, and recently we found ourselves lamenting about our self-centered, entitled children despite our best attempts at teaching gratefulness. However, on Sunday morning during our worship gathering, I watched as many children were moved to compassion without a parent or teacher telling them to be so. It was a special Sunday morning-a morning where we invited all the children out of their regular classrooms for a presentation on Compassion's child sponsorship program.

We watched a video clip about a little girl from Guatemala who lost her mother and whose father is physically disabled and unable to provide for his family. This little girl, at only ten years of age, does all the cooking, laundry (by hand), and other household duties. Thankfully, she has a sponsor who helps make it possible to receive an education, proper nutrition, and medical help.

After the service, I stood at the Compassion table as several families came back to sort through profiles of children awaiting a sponsor. More than one family was directed there by one of their children who said, "Can we do that?" Two girls completed the sponsor information under their own name. These children innately recognized the injustice of poverty, and their spirits were moved with compassion.

I often find myself trying to shame my children into seeing their mistakes. The other day my daughter was giving me a lot of sass. I tried correcting her which turned into us arguing which turned into me giving her sass. None of it was appealing to her conscience. I finally gave up and decided to try a completely different approach. I sat down beside the couch where she was sitting, looked her in the eye, and took her hand in mine. I told her that I cannot make her understand how her words hurt me, but that I forgive her. I told her that she is a very kind and generous girl, but that when she gets frustrated, she at times loses control of her words and they become hurtful to others. I told her that I hope she learns how to control her words as she grows and matures. I told her that I love her. After I finished, she miraculously said, "I'm sorry, Mommy."

My daughter is inherently good. She has divine imprints of Love and Grace all overhear being. I must choose to see that and help her to see that. I want her to believe that. I want to model patience and generosity and integrity and gratefulness, believing that someday her young soul will grow and mature and offer those things to a broken, yet beautifully-loved world.

"If I die young..."

I've never blogged twice in one day, but all of a sudden I have an intense need to say something.  I was reading about Treyvon Martin's murder here when The Band Perry began singing "If I Die Young" on my playlist.  That's when it hit me... the heavy blow to my chest... the huge lump in my throat... the tears in my eyes... and the tingling in my fingers to write.

For those who are not familiar with the recent story of  Treyvon Martin, to sum things up best I can, a 17 year old was shot on his way home from a convenience store in Florida, by George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch captain.  Zimmerman called 911 to report a "suspicious person" (Treyvon) as he was patrolling the area because of recent break-ins.  Against the advice of the 911 dispatcher, Zimmerman followed Treyvon, approached him and shot him, out of self-defense, he claims.  Zimmerman has still not been arrested for this irresponsible, knee-jerk homicide.  The police ran a blood-alcohol test and criminal record check on Treyvon, but not on his killer, Zimmerman.

Is it coincidental that Treyvon Martin was a young black male?  I think not.  As much as I would love to believe that our nation's history of racism was buried long ago, this is far from the truth.  Young black men are repeatedly profiled and sterotyped as "dangerous."  Our prison system reveals this.  Even though black people are no more likely to abuse drugs than white people (one report I read said 70% of drug users in America are white), almost 50% of people in prison for drug crimes are African American (in some states 80-90% of all drug offenders sent to prison have been black).  State and local law enforcement agencies receive more federal funding for the higher number of drug arrests they make.  So where do the police go to round up their numbers?  ...To poor people of color, an easy target.

I am still finding it incomprehensible that this teenager, talking on the phone with his girlfriend, a bag of skittles and an iced tea in his hands, was thought to be suspicious.  And secondly, that Zimmerman, a very large man with a loaded gun, felt his life was threatened by this skinny, unarmed teen to the point where he would decide to shoot him.  I just don't get it.  And I don't get why it has taken a national, public outcry for an investigation to begin.  Except that this is an all too familiar story within our nation's history.  The death of a "shady" black man has very often not been enough to necessitate an investigation or a fair trial.  May God have mercy.

And lastly, I must say that young Treyvon would most likely still be with his family if people like George Zimmerman were not allowed to carry loaded guns.  I have heard of way too many children being caught in crossfires just in Philadelphia.  There is a Florida law known as "Stand Your Ground" that allows a person the use of force as self defense if the person "reasonably believes" it is necessary.  Since that law was passed in 2005, the number of "justified homicides" in the state has sky-rocketed.  We are not a safer people when we put guns into the public's hands.

"And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singing
Funny, when you're dead how people start listening"

~Lyrics from "When I Die Young"

Let's not wait for another young death to begin listening.  Let's respond today.

There are ways we can help.  We can add our voice to Change.org which is calling for the prosecution of George Zimmerman.  We can also call on our senators to help keep guns out of the hands of dangerous people through this link.  And of course we can check our own prejudices and biases, pray for Treyvon's grieving family, and agree to live peaceably with all our neighbors.

Spring is Sprouting!

It's spring! The season of new life, new beginnings. Dry brown branches are being speckled by hews of baby green, transforming the bare forests to deep green in a matter of a few short weeks.  Funny, twisted shoots are peeping out from a thawing earth, mysteriously revealing flowers of every color of the rainbow.  Gray skies melt to blue.  Harsh, howling winds are replaced by cool breezes, carrying the melodies of bird-songs.  The sun stoops closer to our part of the planet calling forth new life.

Gardeners are getting dirty.  Farmers are tilling their fields.  And the rest of us are growing excited for fresh, local produce.  Last year I wrote about my excitement for the CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) vegetable co-op to begin again at Lancaster County Farm Fresh.  This will be our 4th year that we have bought a vegetable share with our neighbors to split.  This means that we will be getting locally-grown, organic, delicious produce from May to October! And not only that, we will be keeping many family farms in business, in an era when small farmers are forced to sell their land due to a loss in profits.

So if you live in any of these counties... Lancaster, Lebanon, Berks, Bucks, Montgomery, Chester, or Delaware... you still have time to purchase a vegetable, fruit, flower, or herb share from Lancaster County Farm Fresh and have it delivered to a pick-up site near you.  Consider sharing a share with another family.  It's a great way to eat healthy, take care of the land, and support small, business owners.  I call that a win-win-win!

Click on this link to learn more about LCFF!

The Lorax, a Tree-Hugging Friend

Environmental Science.  Sixth Grade.  It ruined me.  Or better put, it opened my eyes to my part of ruining our precious planet.  It is where I learned about population over-growth, landfills, pollution, and global-warming.  It was the fire under my feet that urged me to urge my parents to begin saving our "recyclables" and to begin a compost pile in the corner of our yard, next to the woods.  And it's what eventually caused my husband to label me a "tree-hugger" when we were first married (all for telling him that we needed to get a recycling bin!)  

My husband has come a long way (he blessedly bought me a composting sphere for Christmas two years ago!), and I now have two offspring who bring trash in from the outside, shaking their heads and saying, "Some people just do not care about our Earth, Mommy!"  Ahh... nothing warms a mother's heart more.  

So it should come to no surprise when I tell you that I cried at the end of The Lorax, the new film based off of the children's story by Dr. Seuss.  We took the kids to see it last Saturday for our first big-screen movie as an entire family.  And, boy, was this worth seeing!  Sure, it's an extreme example of environmental destruction, but the message is powerfully relevant for our times (and for anyone trying to live a glo-burban life).  

The Onceler reveals to the audience that environmental destruction is rooted in greed.  His desire to do something BIG, to be RECOGNIZED, and to make LOTS OF MONEY fuels his decision to chop down every last tree, with no regard to how the trees are such an important part of sustainable life.  The trees are not only beautiful and mysterious, but they make up an essential part of the habitat for the bears, the birds and the fish.  The loss of the trees is also the loss of the lives that depend upon them.  

Living in suburban America, I realize that I am part of this larger Greed.  Where I live, where I shop, how much I drive my car, what I buy... all of these decisions contain a carbon footprint.  Sometimes it's easier not to care, not to wonder whose water is being contaminated by my trash or what river is drying up due to the furniture I buy (deforestation) or whose lungs are being contaminated by my car's emissions.  These thoughts bring with them a sense of responsibility, a knowledge that my actions affect others' lives, that I am just one being here on Earth and yet am also connected to this beautiful web of life.

But the inspirational message from The Lorax comes when the the hero of the movie, a teenage boy named Ted, realizes that his voice matters, and declares, "I'm Ted.  And I speak for the trees."  He makes a decision to challenge the assumptions of those in his town.  He questions their belief that plastic can replace Nature, that Capitalism does not have consequences, that human life is disconnected from the rest of Creation, that humans have the right to abuse Creation.  

Ted challenges me.  I can pretend that my life has little ripple effect, but I know that this is not true. Having any global awareness at all reveals the fact that American consumerism (i.e. greed) fuels much of the environmental devastation around our globe... from warring over oil, diamonds, gold, and titanium... to wanting to eat cheap, fast food... to building economic empires... to chasing the latest and the greatest stuff... This lack of contentment, this lack of reverence for our God-given home... it snags at each of us.  

And so what to do?  How to contain the "spirit of the Lorax"?  I think it begins with educating ourselves.  When we begin to understand what is happening in our world and what we can do about it, we then can make choices that are healing, rather than greedy.  Secondly, I look to my pocket book.  Where am I spending my money?  In a culture that is driven by the dollar, do I want to encourage greedy businesses that make heavy carbon footprints on this earth?  Or would I rather support the many, creative enterprises (often times very small) that value human life and environmental sustainability?

For a better understanding of where our stuff goes when we're bored with it, check this out: The Story of Stuff

For a look at the impact of global-warming, check out An Inconvenient Truth.

To learn more about Rain Forest Devastation, read this.

To learn about earth-friendly, alternative cleaning products, click here.

To shop fairtrade check out: Fair Trade USA, Ten Thousand Villages, or Green America 

To better understand our role in the food chain, watch Food Inc.

How are you trying to follow the spirit of the tree-hugging Lorax?

Falling Off the Treadmill

Sometimes it's tough trying to live the "glo-burban life" I am trying to live.  It turns out that many of the blessings of living in the suburbs (being only 5 minutes away from Target, a half dozen grocery stores, a handful of gyms to choose from, and a myriad of places to eat out) have a flip-side "curse" to them as well.  See, there are a lot of opportunities to do a lot of wonderful things, and each one is just within reach.  There are ballet and karate classes, sports of every kind, art institutes that offer art, music, and drama courses, birthday parties at Chuck-E-Cheese, BodyZone and the local skating rink, Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts... and all of this is just for the kids!  For the middle-class couple, there are career ladders to climb up, exercise classes to "tune-up," at least two cars to fix up, and social circles to keep up, not to mention all those meetings for work, school, and church.  It's my observation that for the average suburban family, life is just one non-stop treadmill ride with flashing signs that scream, "OPPORTUNITY HERE!!!" at every glance.  And you know what happens when you try slowing your pace on a treadmill... you end up in a heap on the floor.

I say it's tough living the "glo-burban life" because creating a meaningful existence in this rat-race culture means running at a much slower pace.  Sometimes it even means sitting down in the road for awhile.  And when you sit down while others are running frantically around you, you tend to wonder if you are lazy... or maybe crazy.  The last year or so, I have been sitting down a lot more often.  I've looked around at the over-scheduled moms and dads and kids; I've overheard the impatient tones (too many times in my own voice) that more-or-less mean the same thing: "I don't have time for you or what you are feeling or wanting to talk about; we're going to be late!"  I've asked myself, where is everyone going anyway?

So why have I been practicing "sitting out" more often?  Well, for starters, I want to know where I am headed.  I thought I was headed to working a full-time job as a teacher once my children were in school.  Then I began subbing two years ago and realized I felt completely anxious in the shoes of a teacher and drained by this type of work.  I imagined how life would have to change if I dedicated myself to teaching, and I came to the conclusion that I am not cut out for the life of a teacher (no matter how much I admire them with all my heart!).  I am also not willing to make certain sacrifices I would no doubt have to make on my time with my family and friends, with books, with quiet and solitude, with making meals from scratch.  Re-evaluating the course ahead calls for large doses of reflection, awareness, and patience.  That's why on random days when I am not subbing or volunteering somewhere, I might be found on a long walk or at the Jesuit Center's library or with my pen in my journal.  It takes time to discern the way ahead, and like we've said before, tread mills don't slow down.

I also sit out more often because I have learned the wisdom that the journey is more important than the end point.  Few people meet their "endpoints" (or accomplish their dreams in life), and those who do often feel disappointed when they finally get there.  The view wasn't as great as they had anticipated, and when they look back down the mountain, they realize they passed a lot of roses that needed smelling--many they even crushed in their effort of climbing.  I don't want to walk by any roses without stooping to drink in their unique fragrance.

I don't want to rush by any child of God who needs a smile (the kind where your eyes crease), whether that be my own two little ones or the sweet, quiet man who returns my grocery cart at Giant.  I don't want to pass by the trees when they have something to teach me or miss out on the beauty of a sunset or full moon because I have "somewhere to go."  I don't want to be so busy in "my important pursuits" that I can't hear the heartache in my friend's voice or see the stress on my husband's brow or feel the cuddle of my child who is growing up too fast.  I still want to be able to hear that still small Voice within me, the Voice which is usually only heard when my mind and body are stilled.

So what has this slowing down taught me so far?  I'm learning a lot of things actually.....

I've learned that my kids don't have to try EVERYthing out there to be happy.  "One thing at a time" has been working out pretty well.  We all are a lot happier when we spend a few nights a week at home, digesting our food slowly, talking about our days, perhaps reading, playing a game, or just doing our own thing side-by-side.

Sleep is a gift... and it is necessary to treasure it!  Burning the candle on both ends eventually gives me a headache, compromises my immune system, and always leaves me irritable.

Homemade bread is oh-so-delicious!!!  The process of kneading and waiting and rising binds me somehow to women around the world who spend long hours preparing food for their families.

Being is just as important as doing, maybe even more.

Taking care of the body is a sacred act.  Practicing yoga, walking, eating real food, and resting keeps me healthy and limber and allows me to give of myself more effectively.

Deep friendships need nourishing and are not to be taken for granted.  Coffee with a friend fills my soul and strengthens my steps for the journey.

Quantity of time does not equal quality of time.  I can spend many hours "living" under the same roof with my family members, but if those hours aren't infused with love and deep listening and patience and FUN, well then... they don't count.

God does not impose God's self.  Yet God's Spirit is always present.  My spirit tends to be dry, cracked, and infertile unless warmed and watered by the Spirit's presence.  It's really tough to be aware and open of this Presence when I am on a treadmill.

Will you join me in sitting out the rat-race of life every now and then?

Meet Caroline

I'm excited to introduce you to the newest member of our family.  Her name is Caroline. She lives in Kenya. She is twelve years old, and she shares the same birthday as mine.  We met her through Compassion's child sponsorship program, and she is the fourth child our family has had the opportunity to sponsor.

The story behind our coming to know her is very cool.  See, Jarred and I had been considering sponsoring another child for quite some time.  When we first got married we continued to sponsor James from Haiti, the boy I had been sponsoring since I was in high school.  When Jarred moved into a sales position five years ago, our income increased, and we decided to sponsor an additional child, Deboshree from India.  About a year ago, James had to leave the program, so we began sponsoring another little Haitian boy, Marvens.  Just recently, we refinanced our home, which helped decrease our monthly mortgage payment.  We talked about sponsoring an additional child but drug our feet.  Spending increased during the holidays, and we were waiting to see how things shook out.

Then right after New Year's, I met with a friend for lunch, and at the end of our outing, she handed me an envelope to open in the car.  She told me she felt like she was supposed to give it to me.  When I opened it, I was shocked.  Inside were five $20.00 bills!  What?!  I thought.  Doesn't she need this more than me?  Her family is going through a major job change, and so I am assuming their financial security is much shakier than ours.  And yet she was moved to give during this shaky time.  I was very touched by her generosity and thought I must put this to good use.  It didn't take me long to realize now was the perfect time to begin sponsoring an additional child.  No more excuses.  That $100 would nearly cover the cost of the first three months of sponsorship.

So we sat down as a family and did a search for children who shared my birthday.  I was drawn to Caroline for a couple of reasons.  First of all, she's a girl.  The saying goes something like this: when you educate a girl, you educate a village.  The empowerment of women is directly linked to the decrease of poverty, violence, and disease around the world since girls become women and women become mothers.  Secondly, I had the opportunity to visit Kenya when I was in college and so have a special place in my heart for Kenyans.  Thirdly, Caroline's community has been touched by HIV/AIDS and other life-threatening diseases, so I love that we are able not only to help her receive an education but to have access to health services and nutritious meals.

I believe that child sponsorship is one of the best ways to combat some of the greatest social evils in our world.  When you provide the basic needs of a child, you are helping a child remain in his or her family (combating the need for orphanages).  You are offering a child an education (combating illiteracy and ignorance). You are offering a child a future (combating extreme poverty or prostitution). You are offering a child health (combating starvation and disease).  You are offering a child love and hope (combating violence and despair).

If you are considering sponsoring a child, I would urge you consider these two sponsorship programs, Compassion and World Vision.  Both are highly reputable and allow you to have written correspondence with your child, which I think is of vital importance.  Our family likes to send family and school pictures, stickers, bookmarks, and handmade notes and pictures to our children.  Consider changing the world, one child at a time.

Big, Beautiful World!

The world is a beautiful place, isn't it?  So rich in diversity!  I have not traveled it extensively by any means, but I feel that one of the blessings of living in a suburban area such as mine is that you get to rub shoulders with a lot of different people!

Take just today for example.  This morning I ventured into the city, a ten minute drive from my home, to teach my weekly ESL class.  Most of our students are Latino, but there is a quiet Iranian woman who wears some beautiful head scarves and an elderly Chinese woman with a big, toothy smile and a passionate zeal to learn.  After that I drove to Lancaster County to visit my Mennonite friend for spiritual direction.  Then I made a stop at an Amish grocery store where I listened to a conversation between the Amish girl with a Dutch accent behind the counter and her customers--a short, elderly couple with a strong Asian accent.  That's when it hit me.  Wow!  Such diversity!  In my own backyard!

Two weekends ago I had another experience that struck me with how huge, but also how close, the world is.  I attended a spiritual retreat at a Jesuit Center, only fifteen minutes from my home.  If you don't know much about the Jesuits as I hadn't, they are a priesthood of the Roman Catholic Church.  At this enormous, grand Jesuit Center with statues and stained glass windows was a quiet Quaker woman who gave a seminar on the topic of discernment.  The woman who sat beside me during the seminar was a first generation Philipino-American pastor. And the other retreatants I met during the weekend seemed to come from a wide range of faith backgrounds.

I am often reminded that my story, my understanding and experience of life, is just that... mine.  There are countless other stories, understandings, and experiences that are separate from my own.  Our world is definitely getting smaller, and if I want to get along with my neighbors, I must listen to their stories.  I must try to understand other perspectives.  I must be willing to learn from my brothers and sisters from around the globe and from my brothers and sisters who may have a different faith perspective than my own.

This is a part of the "glo-burban" journey I am on.  I believe it is the journey of life.

Remembering Haiti Today

I was going about my morning.  I jumped in the car to head over to my daughter's class to volunteer.  NPR was on, and that was when I was reminded that today marks the two-year anniversary of Haiti's 35-second nightmare.  Though I like to keep up with current world events, I am one of those types that cannot watch the news.  The violent images and overall negative commentary is sometimes too overwhelming.  What I find much more appealing is learning about stories of hope and how I can become a part of those.  I came across this article written by Tom Arnold, CEO of Concern Worldwide, a very highly rated NGO on Charity Navigator.

Mr. Arnold highlights some of the amazing strides Haiti has made over the last two years as well as explains the many challenges to rebuilding.  I was impressed by his understanding that rebuilding successfully relies on the partnerships of the community, the government, non-profits, and international aid.  When all of these are working together that is when long-term solutions become possible.  (Too often non-profits or other nations giving aid assume they understand a community's needs better than the local community, and too often money, time, and energy is wasted needlessly.)  Concern's model of "Returning to the Neighborhoods" is considered by Haiti's government the best practice in helping families resettle, and already they have reached 237,000 people through their emergency and recovery programs.

This article makes me hopeful that the nation of Haiti has much potential to come out stronger than before this devastation.  I'd encourage you to read this short article, check out the work of Concern Worldwide, and pray for continued Light to lead Haiti out from its dark night and into a bright new day.

Sacred Food

What is it about food that makes it such a powerful force in our lives?  And isn't it just that... a powerful force?  Don't our lives, our very physical existence, revolve around food?  Around meals?  And isn't it more than that?  More than just energy for the body?

I was challenged once by a book I read to look at ordinary things of life as sacred.  The Catholic faith tradition has named seven sacraments, but this author prefers to look at even a cup of coffee as sacred.  And I like his way of thinking.  I think it is not the cup of coffee that is sacred in and of itself, but the intentional enjoyment of its rich, warm flavor upon the lips of the drinker that creates a sacred moment.  When the one drinking the coffee reflects on the gift of coffee beans and the labor of those harvesting and roasting the beans and the amazing sense of taste, all of a sudden the act of drinking a cup of coffee has become a sacred moment.

I used to look at food through two lenses that I believe inhibited my ability to see the sacred nature of food.  The first lens was that of How will this affect my taste buds?  And usually if the food tasted very sweet or very salty (like my childhood favorite of a McDonald's strawberry milkshake and french fries), I deemed the food quite "good." The second lens developed in my teen years: How will this affect the shape of my body?  And since it was the Fat-Free Craze of the 90's, I tried to prevent my body from growing fat by eliminating almost all meat, cheese, and fats of ANY kind from my diet. I literally stopped liking those foods.  I lived on "fat-free" carbohydrates... Nutri-Grain bars, meatless spagetti, banana bread, apples, corn bread, carrots, bread with jelly (never butter!), graham crackers, bread, bread, bread....

These two views of food left me largely unsatisfied with food.  I could not understand why I continued to crave more food even after stuffing myself (with sugars and carbs).  It took me years to learn that my body was telling me that it was still hungry, hungry for other fuels such as fats, proteins, and vitamins.  Food became my enemy... a wild animal that I must control lest I grew huge and unattractive.  I tried skipping meals.  I tried making myself throw up when I could not restrict my eating.  I compared what I ate to everyone around me. I thought about food ALL the time.  It was a terrible way to live.  

A nutrition class during my freshman year of college began shaping my understanding of how food functions in the body.  There I learned that we need fat in our diet to burn the sugar and carb calories.  I began eating a varied diet and found that I felt much more satiated and did not blow up into a balloon (I actually lost weight).  When I became a mother, I began paying attention to which foods lined my pantry.  All of a sudden, I didn't want to buy milk with added growth hormones (could this send my innocent child into early puberty?) or produce with chemicals sprayed all over them (could this cause cancer in that perfect little body some day?)  Over the last few years it is safe to say I have developed a passion for nutrition.  I now find it fascinating and fulfilling to discover which foods our bodies were meant to eat and how to prepare them in delicious ways. 

My food lenses have changed. I now desire to eat real food, food that nourishes my body, causing it to feel healthy, energetic, and strong.  Afterall, if what I ingest is not nourishing my body, can I really call it food?  Isn't the very definition of food something that nourishes?  And isn't this physical nourishment a sort of sacrament?  I now find it a near holy act to sit down before a table of garden greens, homemade soup, and fresh-baked muffins and share in a nutritious, delicious meal with loved ones.  

There is something also in the preparation of food that makes it sacred.  A beautiful circle of creativity is involved to bring food to the table. Foremost, our Creator has graciously created an earth to sustain--to nurture--human life.  Think of the many kinds of meat, the vegetation, the vines which produce fruit and berries, the bees which produce honey, the cattle which produce milk, the birds which produce eggs, the trees which produce nuts and syrup, and the oceans which produce fish.  Then there is the faithful nurturing of the earth which we owe our gratitude to the farmers (especially to those who farm in a manner that respects the earth and human life).  And finally there is the love, time and creativity given by the hands of those who prepare the food into tasteful dishes... into food that nourishes, pleases, and satisfies.

While attending a spiritual retreat in West Virgina last summer, I was struck by the simple yet profound blessing the retreat leader gave before our meals.  It went something like this:

"We give thanks to God, to the earth, and to the hands that prepared this food."

I wonder where else we might see the Sacred if we looked more intently.



For a documentary on the problem with our American processed foods, click here.  For a list of 12 of the highest contaminated fruits and vegetables, click here.  To learn more about grassfed animals, click here.  For an excellent blog about cooking with local, fresh ingredients, click here.  And for a great cookbook on eating what's in season, click here.

Resolving to Read

I love making New Years Resolutions.  Some only last so long, such as the annual resolution to go to bed earlier and wake up earlier.  Others have been almost life-changing, such as when a few years ago I resolved to "giving up TV" except for watching The Office, the only show that Jarred and I both shared in common.  I realized that I had become addicted to wasting time watching "reality shows" on a screen rather than living in reality.  It was then that I became a reader and found other more important things to do in the evening.

So this year one of my resolutions is to read one hour a day.  I have a long list of books waiting to be read as well as a large pile gifted to me for Christmas.  I cannot wait to delve inside their covers and get lost in the novel my brother gave me.  But I am especially looking forward to reading some of the non-fiction books given me.  There are so many amazing people whose lives have created beautiful, inspiring stories--stories that continue to inspire new stories in new people.

Since I am trying to live with a greater global perspective, I want to read stories outside the walls of my familiar territory.  I want to learn more about the movers and shakers of world history, not just of American history.  I want to learn from those outside of my own religious upbringing.  I want to learn from those whose economic and social and ethnic backgrounds differ from my own.

I am beginning with one of my Christmas books from my mother-in-law, Where There is Love, There is God, words and teachings from Mother Teresa, edited by Brian Kolodiejchuk, M.C.  Here is a life of a devoted Catholic nun, an Albanian woman who spent most of her life ministering to the poorest of the poor in Calcutta, India. Though I have only read the first chapter, I am already amazed by this woman's love for God, her simplicity, and her love for all people.  This woman's close connection to the Source of Love enabled her to see God's imprint on every human being, even the Hindu Indians with whom she lived.

Mother Teresa did not believe that everyone was called to Calcutta as she was, though thousands of Missionaries of Charity, sisters and brothers, were spread around the world at the time of her death, loving the poorest of the poor just as she had.  She believe everyone ought to find their own Calcutta.

There was once a man from Holland who came to her and told here that he had a lot of money.  She told him that she didn't need his money.  He asked if he should sell his big house and his expensive car.  She told him, "No.  But what I want you to do is to go back and see some of the many lonely people that live in Holland.  Then every now and then, I want you to bring a few of them at a time and entertain them.  Bring them in that big car of yours and let them enjoy a few hours in your beautiful house.  Then your big house will become a center of love--full of light, full of joy, full of life" (Where There is Love, There is God, p.28).

So at the start of this New Year, I am asking myself what does it look like for me, for you, to create "centers of love"?  In our own homes? In our own communities?  In the larger world?