tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-345251632024-03-07T23:07:27.189-05:00Against a Brick WallLindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.comBlogger282125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-46012283210078659782015-04-05T12:30:00.001-05:002015-04-05T12:47:15.225-05:00Good Friday thoughts on Easter morning<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I have to admit I’m glad I’m not a minister this Sunday.
I would hate to have to preach today. It’s Easter morning, but I find my mind
caught up in Good Friday thoughts. I guess I’m not ready to declare hope and
peace for the world yet. While I haven’t given up on hope, I don’t believe for
a moment that we as a human race have in anyway recognized the extent to which
we are mired in destruction and injustice. We’re caught up in outrage about
many things, but are they about the real injustices? I wonder. I worry that
we’re in greater danger of falling for a false hope than we are prepared
for the truth about the hope that the resurrection is meant to bring us.</div>
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This week I’ve watched and listened as Christians claimed
victory over their “persecution” as the Religious Freedom Restoration Act bill
was passed in Indiana, with changes in the wording from the federal bill that
was passed years ago, that effectively opened the door for businesses to
discriminate against certain people on the basis of religious conviction. One
couple proudly proclaimed their pleasure with the bill, as it would enable them
to refuse to cater a same-sex wedding, even while not refusing service to gays
and lesbians in their pizza shop. The left has poked fun, while the right has
used the couple as a tool in their propaganda machine (see this article <a href="http://www.forwardprogressives.com/the-indiana-memories-pizza-fundraiser-is-a-conservative-media-scam/" target="_blank">who started the GoFundMe campaign for the couple</a>). Like many I’ve been outraged and
at times even amused by the whole story. But now I’m just sad about the whole
thing. I don’t think the couple is evil. I don’t believe they’re stupid. I’m
not even entirely sure I think their refusal to cater the same-sex wedding is
an egregious offense. Do I believe that we need bills and laws to protect the
civil rights of marginalized minority groups? Yes, I certainly do, as much as I
ever have. But I believe with all my heart there is a much wider, larger
context in which that concern has to be addressed. </div>
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I wonder if this situation is much like the night before
Jesus was crucified. The authorities’ displeasure with Jesus’ message and leadership
was no secret. As he gathered in the upper room with his disciples and later in the garden when he struggled in prayer, he sought
to prepare them for what was about to happen. They, however, were still caught
up in political ideas about what Jesus was going to do for them. They wanted
him to save Israel. He was calling them to love and care for the whole world around them.</div>
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There’s no greater demonstration of this conflict than in
Jesus’ prediction that Peter would deny him. It didn’t require magical thinking
or a crystal ball to see what was about to happen. Jesus knew he wouldn’t fight
back against the authorities. Peter was ready to fight. When Jesus refused to
be the savior, the leader that Peter believed he was, Peter was done with him.
Such was the disillusionment he felt about Jesus’ message. All that Peter
believed they were working toward was lost in Jesus’ refusal to fight back. I
believe Peter bought into a false hope…one that depended on
nationalism and political maneuvering. I believe he was so convinced that was
the answer that everything he heard Jesus say throughout his ministry was
twisted somehow to support that conviction. Sure, he had moments of seeing things
more clearly, but in the end his deeply held convictions about the unique
nature of the nation of Israel and its importance to God’s plan for humanity
blinded him to Jesus’ relatively consistent message of equality, turning the
other cheek, giving food and water to those in need, to his championing of the
marginalized.</div>
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These days I see Christians, liberal and conservative,
evangelical and progressive, equally blinded by their own ideas of Jesus’
message. They stand ready to defend Jesus, when Jesus simply accepts his fate,
mind and awareness fixed on the bigger picture of injustice in the wider world around
him rather than on the paltry battles of majority religious people in a land of excess,
battles about who’s right and who’s wrong, whose rights are being abused most,
about who gets to decide what Christianity is supposed to look like. Yes,
Christians we are no different than Peter, sword in hand, swinging it wildly,
defending against what we believe to be the real evil, all the while missing
the very real possibility that it’s not about us at all, and is in fact, more
about surrendering our power and privilege, so that the world’s suffering may
be eased.</div>
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<br /></div>
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It troubles me how much attention has been given to the
situation in Indiana this week, while <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/03/world/africa/garissa-university-college-shooting-in-kenya.html?_r=0" target="_blank">the story of 147 Christian college students who lost their lives</a> in an attack at Garissa University College in
Kenya was barely mentioned. One-hundred forty-seven black African Christian
bodies killed and so little outrage that such could happen. Yet, the ever
growing GoFundMe campaign of the Indiana pizza shop owners is still trending on
the news. Liberals and conservatives battling it out over whether or not
Christians have the right to refuse to serve pizza at the wedding of two people
whose relationship they believe goes against God. In the few mentions I’ve seen
of the massacre in Kenya, so little was known about the situation that those
commenting on it mistakenly reported it happened at University of Kenya, when
it actually happened at Garissa University College. Our vision is so narrow and
skewed. This is just this week’s example of it.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I believe we’re still in the darkness of Good Friday, not
really ready to understand the source of hope for the world. We haven’t even
gotten to the point of screaming with Peter, “I NEVER KNEW HIM!” We haven’t reached the point of disillusionment yet. I think the
disillusionment that screams “You aren’t what I want you to be!” at the top of
our lungs to the idols of God that we have erected in our churches and
institutions of faith is a critical step to accepting true hope. We have to let
go of our own notions of the solutions to injustice so that we can embrace the
self-emptying kind about which Jesus preached during his time on earth, the
kind that Jesus lived during his life on earth.</div>
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My hope for us rests in the fact that somehow between Good
Friday and Easter, Peter got it. He let go and began to see what Jesus was
saying all along. I wish I had the same kind of trust in today’s Christians
that Jesus had in Peter. I do want to believe we’ll get it, but I wonder what
it’s going to take to get our attention. How long, O Lord? How long?</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-43713328077462703872014-12-28T13:14:00.000-06:002014-12-28T13:16:29.070-06:00Mom's blackberry jam cakeI inherited my mom's recipe box when she died a couple of years ago. I haven't had the heart to do much with it since then. It's been sitting on the shelf collecting dust. Thoughts of a Christmas favorite compelled me to take it down to see if, by chance, there was a recipe for it. I was lucky. There in the midst of three recipes for lime jello pineapple salad was the folded and stained recipe for blackberry jam cake.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjvcQyQWq2asc8G0Y47FuZxeSVT4GfUS822fFhLpvsNHR566elYlMk6SFCzXYzzCQd-w8tquBD_naXtzsN_yWipMHIdqpGd8IHmi2JrEgHW08PAEUVrSTyz1LpZ7wrdjIezS8/s1600/20141228_115757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTjvcQyQWq2asc8G0Y47FuZxeSVT4GfUS822fFhLpvsNHR566elYlMk6SFCzXYzzCQd-w8tquBD_naXtzsN_yWipMHIdqpGd8IHmi2JrEgHW08PAEUVrSTyz1LpZ7wrdjIezS8/s1600/20141228_115757.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
The recipe is in my sister's handwriting, I think. My mom's is less artistic, though pretty similar. I suspect my sister asked my mom for the recipe which was not recorded anywhere and wrote it down for her, making an extra copy to leave in mom's recipe box. There are recipes for other things in my handwriting that were written down when I asked how to make something that was just in her memory or was on an old recipe card so worn out from use that it was barely readable. The stains fascinate me. I suspect they are drops of batter and oil from hands that greased the pan before she poured in the batter. Whatever this was copied from, no doubt, looked equally used.<br />
<br />
Blackberry Jam Cake is a family tradition passed down from my mom's family. It's a southern dessert, representative of my mom's upbringing just south of Nashville, Tennessee. The cake has a little sugar, but not much. Most of the sweetness comes from the jam, which no doubt would have been homemade using wild blackberries picked in the summer.<br />
<br />
My mom loved picking blackberries as a child. She wore her brother's overalls and long sleeve shirts, a pragmatic concession to the strict rule that girls should only wear dresses. They took buckets with them and picked all day. The purplish stains around their mouths betrayed their claims that all berries went in the bucket. As mom admitted, the warm berries were too hard to resist and they often ate enough to make them sick to their stomachs while they picked.<br />
<br />
Her mom made the blackberry jam cake for Christmas. It, along with a wheel of cheddar cheese that they enjoyed with their morning biscuits, was a special treat, a cake too expensive to make more than once a year, but a Christmas staple. My mom brought the tradition to our house. Even after we grew up and left the house, my mom would make each of us a jam cake for Christmas. I've been known to freeze pieces of mine before it got stale to have for later in the year.<br />
<br />
The cake is quite moist, and resembles a spice cake in flavor. The nuts and raisins add great flavor. As you can see from the recipe above, she did not specify what nuts to use. As I recall, she just used what she had on hand. Often at Christmas time, we had black walnuts, English walnuts, and pecans around the house, either to eat as a snack or to use in baking. I remember loving the distinct flavor of the black walnuts in the cake. <br />
<br />
My brother texted me on Friday night saying, "I wish I could share a piece of my jam cake with you." I'm not sure how he knew I was craving it at the moment. I had already pulled the recipe out earlier that day. His wife took up the tradition several years ago. I called her yesterday for some pointers. I'm glad I did. As is often the case with my mom's recipes, there were things missing, nothing especially important, but little tips that help make it a better cake baking experience.<br />
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Here's the recipe (with helpful additions from my sister-in-law):<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh815-A_koq5c7nvfcvVbh2_454tVqIFilPw06E71cCu8f5RO7lHVfuOdYAOHgcm_EamWCarVXYOq66xKfam3Hfejyv0nrb8JfmMmnKX90g3run-dfiHbEjuFMIw2N3oDBU6Tr4/s1600/20141228_102808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh815-A_koq5c7nvfcvVbh2_454tVqIFilPw06E71cCu8f5RO7lHVfuOdYAOHgcm_EamWCarVXYOq66xKfam3Hfejyv0nrb8JfmMmnKX90g3run-dfiHbEjuFMIw2N3oDBU6Tr4/s1600/20141228_102808.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
5 eggs<br />
1 C sugar<br />
2 C jam (blackberry, seedless)<br />
1 C nuts (I used black walnuts)<br />
1 Tbs baking soda<br />
1 C butter<br />
3 C flour<br />
1 C buttermilk<br />
1 C raisins<br />
1 Tbs cinnamon<br />
1 Tbs allspice<br />
<br />
Preheat oven to 250; grease and flour a large bundt pan. Toss raisins and nuts in flour to prevent them from floating to the top in the batter.<br />
<br />
Separate the eggs. Beat the whites until stiff and set aside.<br />
Sift flour, baking soda and spices together and set aside. <br />
Cream butter and sugar. Add the jam and blend. Add egg yolks one at a time and blend after each addition. Add flour/spice mixture and buttermilk alternately and blend after each addition. Add nuts and raisins. Fold in egg whites.<br />
<br />
Pour in greased/floured bundt pan. Bake in 250 oven until done. Use toothpick to test doneness. Bake time is approximately 3 hours. Remove from bundt pan and let cool on wire rack. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJ3C_9Zm4Gp-zMdH1lUtpfmG4HH80p8uLjjMF02U_AOxqfO23a2kweRZGk_bAiRe0maDyf2HChdK_irQpfEy3P8PJf7c7Xwh8X84NIALsdZ6JIcyCFEZ26GUknT6xYky2y9P1/s1600/20141228_131041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJ3C_9Zm4Gp-zMdH1lUtpfmG4HH80p8uLjjMF02U_AOxqfO23a2kweRZGk_bAiRe0maDyf2HChdK_irQpfEy3P8PJf7c7Xwh8X84NIALsdZ6JIcyCFEZ26GUknT6xYky2y9P1/s1600/20141228_131041.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-41027365709059713372014-12-24T06:04:00.000-06:002014-12-24T15:32:42.326-06:00Christmas Eve Confession of Faith<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
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That Jesus was born in a stable makes more sense to me now that I’ve
been a farmer for a few years. The barn is often holy ground. It’s a place of
birth, of feeding, of sleeping, of waiting for the storm to pass, a place of
death. <br />
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Our barn was that kind of sacred space a few nights ago. I went out to
feed the guardian dogs like I always do, just after dark, in the hour when it
seems darkest to me…all light of the sun gone, stars twinkling but not yet
noticeable in my intense concentration to see what’s in front of me. I balanced
the scoop of dog food in one hand while I held my smartphone in the other, the flashlight
app shining in front of me, searching for one food bowl and then the other.</div>
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When I stopped at the second bowl, I noticed our old ewe lying on her
side, half inside the barn, half out. She was barely moving. I knelt down to
lift up her head and immediately saw that she was weak. I tried to stand her
up, but she couldn’t unfold her legs for me to get her up. I called Lisa. I
needed her help to move her into a warm area of the barn. I wanted her to have
a chance to say goodbye. I’ve seen this before. I knew we were losing her. They
say a down sheep is a dead sheep, and we most definitely had a down sheep. </div>
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The ewe is our oldest animal, a sheep that came from a flock from which
Lisa first started her own flock. We call her Left Teat, her proper name long
ago forgotten after she was christened with the new upon losing half of her
udder to gangrenous mastitis. Left Teat is a battle axe of a ewe. She has a
deep, raspy bleat that sounds like she’s smoked two packs a day her whole life.
Her thin legs hold up her large, sagging body. Aside from the infection in her
udder, she’s never been sick a day in her life, well, at least not that we know
of. She sat vigil with her grandson and later with her daughter when they each
died earlier this year. She’s slow now, but she has a powerful will to live.</div>
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Lisa came out and sat down next to her. She held the ewe’s head in her
lap. I filled the dog food scoop with sweet grain, a treat that a sheep or goat
with any life at all left in them can’t resist. I placed the bowl in front of
her. She plunged her head into it and ate vigorously. A good sign, I thought.
But, I’ve been tricked by that before. I know better than to believe that’s a
guarantee we can nurse an animal back to health.</div>
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Lisa heard some gurgling in her lungs, so I ran into the house to get a
syringe with an antibiotic that we know works well with respiratory illnesses.
I drained the nearly empty bottle dry. We had just enough to give her one dose.
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After her shot, Lisa and I moved her to a comfortable area in the
middle of the barn, free of drafts and away from the hay feeder where the goats
were jockeying for position to get dinner. Lisa quietly held her head. Tears
were streaming down our faces. We decided to see if we could get her to stand. Her
weak legs struggled under her weight, but she stood, and stayed that way until
a young goat, inexplicably, rammed her and knocked her down. We helped her sit
up and sat down next to her, waiting, crying, trying to make meaning of the
tears.</div>
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We’ve had sheep and goats long enough now that the older animals are
reaching the natural end of their lives. We lost several this year. There was
Spot and Sunshine, Jewel and Belize, all fixtures in the Living Kitchen
barnyard. Each died after what would be considered a normal lifespan, but still
too soon for us. With each one’s death, we’ve wondered if we still have what it
takes to farm with livestock. It takes a toll. We share a special connection with
the animals, and they with us.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEEWFc3DjHYubsX78JLIsMuZ2RaMa2G3jjyTAGL-M_p7GlassF9ZRje999Qntw8CuKtnf5g6S3kG_DfXGXSdpDUw13UkFXPi2-_ddv0ASe2NnOsb15dnXOr4rdGtFnU6CJTs2/s1600/Sally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEEWFc3DjHYubsX78JLIsMuZ2RaMa2G3jjyTAGL-M_p7GlassF9ZRje999Qntw8CuKtnf5g6S3kG_DfXGXSdpDUw13UkFXPi2-_ddv0ASe2NnOsb15dnXOr4rdGtFnU6CJTs2/s1600/Sally.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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After we got Left Teat comfortable, Sally, our oldest goat, walked over
to where we were sitting. She lowered her head and nuzzled her nose into Left
Teat’s neck. She stood like that for several minutes. We cried harder, moved by
the gesture. Sally lifted her head from Left Teat and began to lick the tears
from Lisa’s face. For the next several minutes she comforted first Left Teat
and then Lisa. </div>
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We didn’t want to leave, but it was getting late. The dogs needed
attention and we needed to make a gesture toward eating dinner. Before I turned
in for the night, I went out to check on her one more time. I walked slowly
toward the barn, dreading the sight, already feeling the frustration and anger
of losing another animal well up from deep inside my gut. When I passed through
the barn door, tears were already falling from my eyes. </div>
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The light reached the pile of hay where we’d left Left Teat and with
one more step covered her, revealing two animals sitting up, side by side,
chewing their cud. Goat and ewe were cuddled up, doing what they do. Not only
was Left Teat still alive, she was better, holding up her head, faraway look in
her eyes as her jaw slowly gyrated from side to side. I was shocked.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhldEOVytFsb2ac_KXrUwBeHjuvpOI56HHRVavpsQCm53ldwgyrAtexX06xc1fwJKsC06OerDURHbRxr7Q973yP00QTSabxyuE3L9d-jY6XaVSI5kHwAt20sjBAOFg3FwX5i3ML/s1600/Left+Teat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhldEOVytFsb2ac_KXrUwBeHjuvpOI56HHRVavpsQCm53ldwgyrAtexX06xc1fwJKsC06OerDURHbRxr7Q973yP00QTSabxyuE3L9d-jY6XaVSI5kHwAt20sjBAOFg3FwX5i3ML/s1600/Left+Teat.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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I slept more peacefully that night than I expected. When the alarm went
off the next morning, I put on my boots and coat and grabbed the flashlight. I
didn’t want to lie in bed one minute wondering if she was still alive. When I
got to the barn, I found her on her side, several feet from the spot where we’d
left her. Sally was still lying in the spot next to where Left Teat had been. She
hadn’t moved an inch. Left Teat let out a deep-throated bleat when she saw me
and started struggling to get up. She didn’t quite have the strength to do it,
so I helped her. I moved her back over to the spot next to Sally. She sat up
and started chewing her cud. She’d lived through the night, the loving care of
an old goat to keep her company. A few hours later, she was up wandering around
the barnyard. Lisa let her into the yard, where she grazed all day. Later that
night we found her in the barn sitting between Sally and another goat, Dottie,
head held high, chewing her cud.</div>
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I fear I project too much onto the animals, making meaning of their
gestures that so anthropomorphizes them that I perpetuate a ridiculously
romantic notion of what it means to care for animals on a farm. They are
animals, not people. I don’t have any real idea what they understand and how
they make sense of what happens, but something bigger than me, than the animals
was at work that night in the barn. No scientific explanation would diminish it
for me. It moved me in a way that no experience with the animals ever has.</div>
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Alan Lightman, author of The Accidental Universe and a professor at MIT
with dual appointments in science and the humanities, says this, </div>
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Faith, in its
broadest sense, is about far more than belief in the existence of God or the
disregard of scientific evidence. Faith is the willingness to give ourselves
over, at times, to things we do not fully understand. Faith is the belief in
things larger than our selves. Faith is the ability to honor stillness at some
moments and at others to ride the passion and exuberance that is the artistic
impulse, the flight of the imagination, the full engagement with this strange
and shimmering world.</div>
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Maybe faith is the ability to believe that an old goat can sense our
distress and offer comfort where we can’t, to sit with an old ewe with a powerful
will to live, keeping her warm, assuring her that she isn’t alone, until the
medicine can work its wonders. Maybe it’s the ability to let go of any scientific
notions about the separation of species and believe for a moment that sometimes
we can care for and save that which is vastly different than us because we are
connected in time and space, breathing the same air, walking the same ground,
feeling the same sunshine on our faces and the same cold, biting wind cut to
our bones. Maybe its believing that will to live, care, love, and empathy are
as important as medicine in curing an ailing being, accepting that animal and
human are equal in their inability to make an illness just disappear, but also
equal in their ability to offer care for one who is suffering.</div>
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I think there’s no mistake this happened at Christmas time. Jesus' birth
was really not so different from the healing of an old ewe. They both remind me that
God came to us in the same way I experience life with these animals…connected
with us in time and space, flesh and blood, able to feel what we feel and participate
in those things that are much bigger than our selves. Much theological training
has left me knowing very little with certainty these days, but on this
Christmas Eve, this is my confession of faith.</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-39193739091237862172014-11-01T15:25:00.000-06:002014-11-01T15:25:22.658-06:00Conversation with the Autumn Wind<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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wind blows. It gusts with such urgency, heaving from deep inside the lungs of
the earth to expel all that is left of summer. In its wake the air slowly grows
cool and crisp. Leaves turn to gold and red and surrender their hold on the
branches of the trees.<br />
<br />
Something inside beckoned me away to a quiet place to reflect. I hiked to a
small pond, a place of solace and respite. I sat on the soft ground, dead leaves
crackling under my weight. I looked out past some trees at the edge of the pond
to a log that was protruding through the surface of the water. A turtle had
been resting there, soaking in the warmth of the sun. He was no longer there,
but a quick glance around the pond revealed his whereabouts. He was swimming. The
chiseled, angular shape of his head looked like the tip of a branch floating
across the water.<br />
<br />
The pond was full of clear, fresh water. It was darkened by the shade of the
trees that surrounded it and the layer of dead leaves that had fallen to the
bottom. My thoughts turned to the dark that had enveloped me for several days.
It sneaked up on me from behind, reaching around to cover my eyes. It refused
to speak. I hadn't been able to name it.<br />
<br />
Sunlight filtered through the high branches of the trees, yet the water
remained dark until gusts of wind rippled its surface. Small waves caught the
light and spread it across the dark surface in glittery explosions like
fireworks in a summer sky. As the wind died down, the pond darkened and settled
again.<br />
<br />
I asked the autumn wind to blow through me. I begged it to awaken the dark
surface of my grief with ripples of sacred light, explosions of truth and
meaning, of joy and hope in all that has come from what is no more. The wind
spoke to me and said, "You are a turtle. You wear your fear on your back,
retreating, hiding at the first sign that someone sees you, knows you."<br />
<br />
I wanted to argue, but I surrendered instead, breathing deep, allowing the
truth to reach inside me. "Yes," I said. "I am known in this
place. It scares me, yet I long to know and be known more fully."<br />
<br />
The air grew still for a moment. I sat with the tension of my awareness. The
feeling's familiarity turned fear to dread. Tears began to flow. The wind spoke
again. "Fear's call to retreat leads you into the dark waters of your
grief. You swim in that darkness, looking up occasionally, checking to see if
it is safe. I am the wind blowing through you. I am a fierce autumn wind. I
have the power to break loose the hold of that which is dead inside of you,
making room for the new to take hold."<br />
<br />
"Why do I hold on to the old, dead things? Why does it feel safer than the
new things I've worked hard for?"<br />
<br />
"You cling because you do not yet trust the new things to be different
enough to change you. You cling because you do not yet trust that <i>you</i> are
different."<br />
<br />
"Then what must I do?"<br />
<br />
The autumn wind breathed deep and let her words ride on the gust of her warm
breath. "Trust is a leap of faith. You are different. You can trust
yourself. You can trust those around you, but you must have faith. Surrender
and let me blow through you. I will turn your fear to trust."<br />
<br />
I laid back on the soft ground, fists tight and teeth clinched. The warm breeze
blew across me, relaxing the tight muscles in my face, my arms, my stomach. I
took a deep breath, letting the autumn wind sweep through me. It blew with such
strength that I feared losing everything, that it would sweep away even that
which is new. I cried out, clinching my fists in anger, demanding that it take
only the dead things. The gusts continued and I felt myself relax again. A deep
peace and calm held me. I sat up and looked around me. The pond had a new layer of dead leaves
skimming across the top like tiny sailboats at the mercy of the wind.<br />
<br />
And the turtle was on the log, legs and neck stretched out to soak in the
autumn sun.</span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
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Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-12247930182305198672014-10-10T18:16:00.004-05:002014-10-11T12:44:01.746-05:00Learning to farm<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I live with a comfortable attentiveness on the farm. The routine of morning and evening chores dissolves the endless deliberation over how to structure the day into a kinetic reflex. Feet hit the floor with purpose before the head is fully engaged. My body knows what to do. There is no question. But it’s not a mindless motion, at least not after the first cup of coffee. The animals see to that. I’ve been caught off guard too many times not to fully show up for chores.<br />
<br />
I haven’t always been a farmer. My teachers are not office-dwelling writers of books. Instead I’ve learned from those who by their nature live instinctively in the world around them. That is the art of farming: the awareness of environment, of one’s impact on it, how elements in the surrounding world influence each other. It requires an intense commitment to being present, an awareness of the vast amount of information one’s senses convey in a split second.<br />
<br />
One of my earliest teachers was a stray black dog who showed up at the farm a few years before, her body pocked with buckshot and patches of skin burned from the grass fire out of which she emerged, like a phoenix rising. Lisa patiently removed the shot and tended the burns and wounds and Sadie settled into our home.<br />
<br />
Sadie moved like an Oklahoma wind rushing through the prairie, a streak of shiny black racing through fields of daisies and tall slender Johnson grass. Her chiseled muscular body was in constant motion. Undisciplined and adolescent, her presence raised anxiety and increased chaos wherever she went. I loved her. I loved the sheer esquiteness of her running, the delightfully shy smile she would offer when I greeted her each day. Her companionship during chores was not a constant guarding presence. She popped in and out as I went through each chore, assuring me that she was always near, even when I didn’t see her. <br />
<br />
The day she became my teacher, I was feeding the animals as I always did. Pascal the llama, long-necked guardian of the sheep and goats, stood silently in the middle of the chorus of bleats and baaa’s, goats and sheep scolding me for my tardiness. I opened the gate and pushed a wheel barrow full of alfalfa through. The herd followed, stumbling over each other to reach for mouthfuls of the sweet grass. The gate swung open wider than I needed, opening a gap between it and the wheel barrow. Pascal, uninterested in alfalfa, took advantage and bolted through the opening. He headed for the street. <br />
<br />
My throat tightened as my pounding heart expanded into it. I was alone on the farm that day. Of all the scenarios I thought I might encounter, an escaped llama was not one of them. There had been no drill ahead of time, no lessons on llama herding, not even a hint that the llama would do anything but dutifully guard the sheep and goats.<br />
<br />
Thoughts of what to do struggled to reveal themselves in the dense fog of anxiety. An icy wind slapped me in the face. Getting the gate closed was the first priority to prevent the goats and sheep from following Pascal. I pushed the wheel barrow with the alfalfa up closer to the barn and dropped it in the swirl of greedy goats and sheep, then ran for the gate. Sadie came flying from the back of the pasture and met me there, passing through just as I swung the gate closed. She raced after Pascal. Her presence increased my anxiety. What would she do? How would Pascal respond to her?<br />
<br />
I closed the gate and searched to see where Pascal had gone. He turned out of the gate and headed for the garden area. The fence on the front of the garden was open, a passageway for the truck to get to the back pasture. Pascal headed for the opening, but Sadie caught up to him. I stood frozen, fearful, feet heavy and mind blank. She raced past Pascal and headed for the opening. She stood in front of it waiting for him to come to her. As he drew closer she charged him, forcing him into the fenced part of the garden. Every time he inched back toward the opening, she ran for his feet, herding him back. Defeated, Pascal looked toward the garden and searched out the patches of green grass sprouting up around the edges of the furrowed ground.<br />
<br />
I was amazed. How did Sadie know what to do? Her quick instinctive response gave me time to think. I closed two areas of the fence that were open, shutting Pascal into the garden. He was enclosed except for the area where the fence was down, near the front of the garden, close to the street. Sadie who had been guarding the opening, ran off to dig a hole in search of a gopher. <br />
<br />
I stood in the middle of the garden watching Pascal graze, wondering what to do. I kept glancing over at the barn, knowing that sweet grain was surely the key to getting him where I needed him to go. He loved the sweet crunchy corn and oats, so much so that we had recently taken it out of his diet to help him slim down his bulging middle. I looked around and saw Sadie some distance from the opening. I had no choice but to trust she would spring into action if Pascal tried to escape. <br />
<br />
I ran to the barn, grabbed the bucket and dropped a scoop full of sweet grain in the bottom, then ran back to the garden. Slowing down, I walked toward Pascal, his soft, brown, searching eyes looked up from the ground and caught mine. He was curious. He looked at me, then looked at the bucket. As I edged closer, he stood taller. A knowing gaze took over his face and he started moving purposefully toward the bucket. I let him stick his head in and get a mouthful, then pulled it away and started backing up toward the gate. He followed me, eyes fixed on the bucket, neck and head bobbing for it as he walked. With one hand on the bucket in front of me, I reached for the gate behind me, opened it, and backed through, leading Pascal back in to the barnyard.<br />
<br />
I tightened the latch on the gate and backed away, watching Pascal devour his grain. Sadie raced up and sat beside me, her tail sweeping a fan-shaped pattern in the powdery brown dirt. I knelt down, put my arm across her neck and pulled her in close as we both looked out on the herd, safely corralled in the barnyard, quietly eating their breakfast. Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-21394665844052151342014-06-03T05:30:00.000-05:002014-06-03T17:04:06.409-05:00An Open Heart and the Will to Live (Revised)The following is a piece I wrote a few years ago. I revised it for a project....there was a piece of the story that was really important for me to remember that was missing from the first version, so I've edited it to add that piece of the story.<br />
<br />
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An Open Heart and the Will to Live<br />
<br />
We operate with a simple rule on the farm: If a sick animal shows us she wants
to live, we will do everything we can to help her get well. The rule was at the
forefront of my mind the day Lily was born. A lamb born to a ewe that was too
young to be bred, Lily came into the world without all she needed to survive
the first few hours of life on her own.<br />
<br />
When she was born, she didn't take the usual first steps within minutes of
birth. It is critical that a lamb stand up soon so that she can get the
necessary nutrition from her mother. I waited for Lily to stand until it was
obvious she was too weak. I carried her to a protected area in our barn and
coaxed her mom there with some clean hay. The air was warm with the first hints
of spring, but a cool breeze from the north made it clear it would be cold that
night.</div>
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I prepared a bottle and brought it out to the barn where she
lay. The smell of sweet, fresh hay permeated the air. I took a deep breath and
reached for Lily, placing her limp, weak body on my lap. I put the nipple to
her lips, holding her chin up to give her support while she ate. Her mom
watched cautiously from the corner of the barn, a growing look of concern
taking over her face. She took a few steps toward us and watched curiously.
Then she approached my side and took position next to Lily's back side. She
reached forward and licked Lily's back, just as she would do if Lily was
nursing from her, an action that helps stimulate a young lamb to suck. Lily
started sucking vigorously and within a few short minutes, emptied the bottle.
I knew then that she had a strong will to live.</div>
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It's hard to describe that moment, to capture all that I was
thinking and feeling in those few, short minutes of cooperating with the two of
them to help that lamb have her best shot at life. I was new to farming, and
was dealing with my first newborn without my partner Lisa's help. I wasn't at
all sure I was up to the task, but Lily's mom called me to the task. In that
moment, I was ordained, chosen by a ewe to be shepherd to her struggling
newborn. It left me breathless, humbled.</div>
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I took Lily in the house as night fell and the temperatures
dropped. I held her to my chest while I talked to Lisa on the phone. It had
been a hard winter at the farm. We had lost some animals and my heart had been
broken more than once. Lisa knew immediately what I needed as I described the
situation. I had the basics down, all the necessary care to help keep her
alive. But I was tentative and scared. Lisa affirmed all that I was doing, but
quickly zeroed in on what was lacking. “You have to open your heart to her.
She’s going to break it. You have no control over that. It may be tonight. It
may be tomorrow. It may be ten years from now, but she will break it, so accept
that and let her in.”<br />
<br />
I nuzzled Lily against my chest, and let her rest in my arms. I prayed for my
heart to open. Tears fell as she nibbled on my chin. I felt a deep connection
to her. I struggled with fear that she would die. I knew the odds. If a lamb
doesn’t get up on her own in the first few hours of life, she isn’t likely to
live. I felt an impending sense of doom, a deep dread fueled by memories of
losing animals in a blizzard on Christmas Eve. I wanted her to live but I was
afraid to ask for it, afraid to believe that it would happen.<br />
<br />
I let her sleep near me. Every few hours, she stirred and I fixed a bottle. For
nearly 48 hours, I fed her and stood her up. I talked to her and sang to her. I
watched her struggle to get up on her own. Time after time, she’d almost make
it, only to collapse with a thud. Until, finally, almost two days after she was
born, she got up. Her shaky legs barely able to pull her up, she stood and in
seconds began to walk around the room. She walked circles around me while I
danced and laughed. I felt the wall that I had so carefully erected around my
heart come crashing down. Salvation came to both of us. With an open heart and
the will to live, joy returned and lifted us to the sky.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Salvation<br />
by Rumi<br />
<br />
There is no salvation for the soul<br />
But to fall in Love.<br />
It has to creep and crawl<br />
Among the Lovers first.<br />
Only Lovers can escape<br />
From these two worlds.<br />
This was written in creation.<br />
Only from the Heart<br />
Can you reach the sky.<br />
The rose of Glory<br />
Can only be raised in the Heart.</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-90638237459453449132013-08-25T19:01:00.001-05:002013-08-25T19:05:31.644-05:00Broken<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Tomorrow I’m going to see a doctor. Those close to me know
that I have been experiencing some joint and muscle pain pretty much all over
my body for a good while now. I had to work through some things regarding
insurance to get to a doctor, so I’ve been waiting a good while to begin
getting some answers. In the meantime, I have had some relief from someone who
has done <a href="http://www.feldenkrais.com/" target="_blank">Feldenkrais</a> with me and have gotten a great deal of encouragement from
a friend who is a massage therapist. <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I honestly have no idea what the problem is. I started out
thinking, maybe assuming, it was one thing, based on my experience with it as a
medical researcher and as the sibling of someone who has it. The observant eyes
of people who work every day with folks who have this kind of pain have helped
me come down from my mountain of assuredness about what the problem is. I’m
both encouraged by that and a bit more frightened. Encouraged, because what’s
wrong may be completely treatable and I won’t have to take nasty drugs for the
rest of my life and still watch my body slowly lock up and deteriorate over
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Frightened, because now I’m back
to uncertainty and as long as the cause is uncertain, there’s the possibility
it could be even worse than what I’ve assumed it was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s the bottom line, though. Over the past few months, I’ve
progressively lost strength. I’ve also lost about 25 pounds. There are days
when I can barely move at all when I get up in the mornings. Other days, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I move just fine. Every single day, though,
carries with it a degree of pain in my neck, shoulders, hands, wrists, knees,
and ankles. I am, to put it succinctly, worn out from dealing with it and
beyond ready for answers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you are the praying sort, I would
welcome your thoughts and prayers over the next few days/weeks as I work with
my doctor to sort through the potential causes for the pain, stiffness, and
loss of strength. To say that I am frightened a little may seem to some as a
lack of faith. It isn’t to me. I’m scared and I’m pretty sure God gets that.</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-7820473176152632902013-01-13T12:50:00.000-06:002013-01-13T12:57:09.299-06:00On leaving ministry for farming<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’ve been asked if I view this next step in my career/vocation as ministry. It’s an interesting question. I think there’s only a small segment of the population -- a segment with which I happen to spend a lot of time -- that would ever think to ask it. I guess when a person who’s spent her whole adult life making a living in some way working for the church or churches or those who love churches, then it makes sense to ask when she’s almost 48 years old and decides to leave theological education to become a full-time farmer if she sees this next step as yet another movement of following God’s call into ministry.<br /><br />I’m overly educated as a pastoral theologian. I’ve spent the better part of my life viewing the world through one theological lens or another. I’m inclined to make meaning using theological concepts. And, on a practical level, viewing this next step as just another movement of God’s call into ministry helps justify the student loan payment I continue to make, as well as the heavy investment of my time, energy, and soul over the last 26 or so years. It’s natural to want to see ministry as one continuous thread through my whole career. Then, maybe, my life would make sense, in some grand narrative way. Right?<br /><br />On the one hand, there's a temptation to use the question to point to a growing sense that the church needs as broad a definition of ministry as it can muster to accomplish the enormous task of being salt and light in the world. Certainly caretaking of the earth and environmental stewardship is part of accomplishing God’s work in the world. I don’t want to do anything that takes away from a renewed sense that ministry is something in which all people of faith participate. If calling my new work “ministry” helps accomplish a deeper awareness of Christian vocation, then I say confidently, “Yes, Of course it is.” Thinking theologically comes relatively naturally to me and I am inclined to continue considering how my work in this world is in some way connected to God’s work in this world. Certainly I pray that it always is, well, at least for as long as I believe that’s a helpful way to view the world and my work in it. And, I believe churches would do well to encourage all people of faith to consider these questions about their work. I don’t, however, think that’s where this question posed to me is coming from though.<br /><br />The question leaves me uneasy, perhaps because it is a flashpoint for the grief of leaving behind work/career/focus to which I’ve given a great deal of attention for a long time. When I committed to such work, I never imagined I would do anything else. I believe when we step out of what we’ve known for so long into that which is unknown to us, we often do so with a search for what is familiar. We cling to forms we recognize, and do so at our own peril. When we look for what is known, we run the risk of missing the beauty that the unknown can bring to our lives.<br /><br />The answer to the question of whether I view this next step as ministry is simple. No. I’m farming. It’s the most honest answer, at least from my theological perspective. I believe ministry belongs to the church. It is not for me alone to decide whether or not my work is “ministry” per se. I don’t feel any particular need to label it ministry to somehow add value to the work I’m doing. Its value is inherent in the work itself, not the label I or anyone else gives it. Any urge to label it ministry for me is only an attempt to cling to that which I have known, instead of letting go, so as to embrace fully the graces and gifts that this next step offers. In saying no, I also don’t fall down some slippery slope of defining how one person’s farming is ministry and another’s is not. And it allows me to state firmly and confidently that I don’t think that what God was up to when I chose to follow along a path that led to ministry 26+ years ago was any more or less significant than what God is up to in my life now. Neither God nor I have abandoned the other. <br /><br />My theology professor in seminary taught that from the perspective of the Christian scriptures, there really is only one call that can be identified. It is the call to follow. Period. I’m okay with that. It’s worked just fine up to this point in my life. And I have to admit there’s something really freeing about remembering that right now.</span>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-67323954569149484182012-10-14T16:08:00.002-05:002012-10-14T17:39:10.673-05:00Boxes of a lifeIt took me a week and a half to take the boxes of memories out of the car. Pictures, keepsakes, her jewelry, recipes, all filled the trunk and back seat of my car, the smell of yellowing paper and fading photographs overpowering the new car smell for days. I waited to bring them in the house, like I thought that if I left them there, somehow, miraculously, they would find the right place for safekeeping. I'm not ready to be the keeper of the family pictures, but I guess that's a time that finds us, however ready or not we may be.<br />
<br />
My mom is the last of her generation, nine kids altogether, eight of them already dead. There is no aunt or uncle to turn to to bring a sense of our history to my perspective. My mom has slipped from us so quickly in the past nine months that it's clear now that what I know of our family's history is perhaps all I will know. I may be able to piece together a little more from cousins, but the personal connection to the past is gone.<br />
<br />
Questions linger. I find them coming to mind on the drive home from work and I reach for the phone to call and ask her, but as I punch in the first number, I remember that the number I know by heart doesn't work anymore, and the one I don't know never reaches her, though the phone sits near the chair where she waits, day after day, for one of us to call. On good days, she doesn't know how to answer it, on bad days, she doesn't hear it at all. I've asked most of the important questions, but it's the little ones that linger, the curiosity about that special thing she did with her fried chicken that made it taste better than any I've ever eaten, the wondering about how on earth she managed to make sure all of us kids, seven of us, went to college on the salaries of two people who never graduated high school, about where she found the courage to leave behind family and home in Tennessee and never return. And then there's the reality that she's never met Lisa, and will never likely comprehend and be grateful for the incredible joy she and our life together bring me.<br />
<br />
The boxes sit in the corner of a room in my house, unpacked, like they're waiting to go where they really belong, what's left of my mom reduced to a few boxes, scattered between Oklahoma and South Dakota, items with stories that will come quickly to mind as I pull them out of boxes, others that will make me wonder, never really knowing for sure the story they tell. Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-89292098978756650342012-08-20T10:47:00.002-05:002012-08-20T11:18:33.952-05:00Beyond the Impasse of Polarizing ConversationBeyond the Impasse of Polarizing Conversation<br />A sermon for the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Tahlequah<br />
August 19, 2012<br /><br />Reading: <a href="http://www.onbeing.org/program/words-shimmer/feature/praise-song-day/1429">“Praise Song for the Day”</a> by Elizabeth Alexander<br /><br />Who is tired of political ads and public wrangling among candidates? Already? We still have just two months to go before the election. We are bombarded with interviews, debates, ads, articles, all pointing to the great divide in our country between the Democrats and the Republicans. We hope relief will come after the election, assuming that at least the ads will stop and we can return to our TVs, radios, and the internet safely. But will it end there? Is our fatigue and disenchantment only with the process by which we elect our public officials? Or is there a wider problem that comes into full focus when election time rolls around?<br /><br />Somehow we’ve come to a place in our civil discourse when issues of great importance to us become issues of either-or. Either you are pro-life or pro-choice. Either you are Democrat or Republican. Either you are for marriage equality or you are for the “traditional” family. And where we stand on these issues becomes the litmus test for whether or not we belong in certain groups or whether or not we can be in relationship with certain people. After a while, under the influence of a steady stream of narratives that demonstrate this either-or thinking, we begin to think the divide can’t be overcome. We throw our hands up in frustration, unable to find a way beyond the impasse of polarizing conversation. Many of us say with the poet, “I know there’s somewhere better down the road. We need to find a place where we are safe.” We’re looking for solutions, aren’t we?<br /><br />People sometimes throw out suggestions when conversations reach the point of heated intransigence. “Can’t we all just agree to disagree?” A nice thought, perhaps, but in most cases, even if we think it’s a good way to end, it leaves us feeling less than satisfied with the outcome. It’s an attempt to bridge the divide, but that bridge comes up short. It ends the conversation, but those on either side of the issue return to their respective camps unmoved and unchanged, assured of their rightness and the other’s wrongness and without much hope for any movement forward.<br /><br />The problem, at least in part, I think, is that we believe the only way forward is for one group to win and the other to acquiesce. Imagining a world in which our viewpoint is no longer the dominant one seems less than satisfying, so we feel compelled to fight for the cause. Sometimes we’re even spurred on by a sense of righteous indignation. The other side represents injustice. We have to fight for justice! We are convinced of the rightness of our opinion. To move to any common ground with the other is to surrender ethical high ground, to let go of things we value highly.But as long as winning is the motivation for engaging others in conversations about things that matter, we will surrender any real possibility of solving problems, of achieving true justice, all for a chance to be right.<br /><br />Frances Kissling, long time president of Catholics for Choice, has been engaged in the abortion debate for over thirty years. Much of that thirty years has been spent as an activist, advocating a pro-choice position. However, in recent years, she’s shifted away from the role of activist to one of seeking relationship with those on the other side of the issue. This new pursuit has changed her. In an interview with Krista Tippett, host of the NPR program On Being, Kissling was asked, “[W]hat goes wrong in our culture as we try to navigate this issue of abortion? Where would you start to talk about that?”<br /><br />
Kissling replied, <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I think … I always had an approach to abortion that was somewhat different from that of the mainstream choice movement in that politics never interested me very much. You know, the idea that abortion was about getting the right people elected, that there were extremists on the side of those opposed to abortion and rational people on the side of choice never quite fit for me completely. I think that, since I did this work as a Catholic, even though many Catholic venues were closed, I probably talked to more people over the years who were opposed to abortion than most folks in the choice movement. And while I certainly think there is a twin absolutism between those who think there is only one value at stake, the value of women's identity and rights, or on the opposite side of the spectrum, the value of the fetus, that for most people, including me, both of those values exist and the abortion issue is one in which one mediates those values and others.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftn1">[1]</a></blockquote>
This assessment demonstrates how most of these issues aren’t as black and white as we’re led to believe. A person who is pro-choice isn’t for killing babies, as the opposing side likes to portray. Likewise a pro-life person isn’t necessarily anti-women, as they are often portrayed. Kissling believes more people hold both values: the value of women’s rights and the value of the fetus. In the process of mediating those values through the issue of abortion, they often get pulled to one side or the other.<br /><br />Psychologist Ken Gergen describes a relational process he calls “bonding.” He believes as social creatures we are pulled toward “the co-creation of shared realities, and the comfort, reliability, and trust that accompany them.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftn2">[2]</a>” He posits that the loss of security from the erosion of shared realities in our contemporary world may be what intensifies our need to bond with others who share our view of reality. The drive is enhanced, perhaps sped up, by the ease of access to likeminded people through the internet and social media. <br /><br />In the process of bonding, the “I” slowly gives way to the “we.” In other words, the narrative that I tell about my own life and how I see the world gives way to the narrative of the group, which holds up those things on which we agree. Slowly, as we take on the narrative of the “we,” what we hold individually becomes less and less important, particularly if it isn’t the same as that which the group holds in common. We lose sight of the values we share with those whose narrative of “we” is different from our own. It’s the “enchantment of ‘we’” that pulls us in that direction.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftn3">[3]</a> The sense of belonging takes on a transcendent importance to us. We express our satisfaction with it by saying things like, “These are MY people. We really click.” Or, “Our connections run deep.”<br /><br />Bonding is important. But when it’s done at the exclusion of recognizing what we hold in common with others, it can become dangerous. If we allow the transcendent importance of the “we” to take on a certain absolutism, we run the risk of creating a fundamentalism, a sort of rigid outlook on life, one which can never be touched by the other, which never shifts or changes.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftn4">[4]</a><br /><br />This, I believe, is the danger we face in our culture today. It’s the danger of allowing our sense of belonging to one group to become so important to us that we can never find any value in the other. And while we fight for the values of the group to be upheld, ironically, we surrender values that are important to us as individuals.<br /><br />After thirty years of engagement with one of our culture’s most polarizing issues, Kissling says, <br /><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And the polarization that exists on the abortion issue in which people have called each other names and demonized each other for the past 30 years speaks against — it definitely speaks against any level of trust that enables people to come to some commonality, and so that you really have to start with this first idea that there are some people — not all — who see some benefit in learning why the other thinks the way that they do. And, you know, some of it's the simplistic stuff of humanization that the person becomes a real person, not an extremist, not evilly motivated, you know, that perhaps for some people you can overcome the epithets that we have charged each other with. And that, I'm a very strong believer in.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftn5">[5]</a></blockquote>
Do you see a value in understanding how people who differ from you think? What motivates them? How were their values formed and shaped? What are the stories they tell about how they arrived at the positions they hold so dear?<br /><br />There’s a lot of risk involved in asking such questions. But, I wonder, what we would discover about our own positions if we took the time to ask them of someone who thinks differently than we do. Kissling encourages people to risk in two ways: one, to find what is good in the other’s position, and two, to acknowledge what is troubling about our own position. In doing so herself, Kissling and others found themselves engaged in a dialogue in which the issue of abortion shifted from whether or not it should be legal to a scenario in which is legal, but efforts are made together, people on both sides of the issue, to make it less necessary for women to seek abortions. In a sense, then, people on both sides of the issue let go of the either-or and arrived at a place of both-and. No one changed her or his position necessarily, but they were able to find a perspective in which both views were valued.<br /><br />The Sufi poet Rumi says, <br /><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,<br />there is a field. I’ll meet you there.<br />When the soul lies down in that grass,<br />The world is too full to talk about.<br />Ideas, language, even the phrase each other<br />Doesn’t make any sense.</blockquote>
Do we dare imagine such a place? That field beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing. Who will we meet there? And what will we create together? Is it a place where both-and solutions might exist? I’ve seen this movement. I’ve seen it with theological students moving to work together, regardless of theological position, to ensure their community is hospitable toward all people. I’ve seen it in communities where Democrats and Republicans who differ greatly on issues related to welfare and how much government should be involved in meeting the needs of people who struggle financially, work together to build community gardens and make access to healthy, safe food possible for everyone. The world needs more both-and solutions.<br /><br />What are you willing to do this week to hear what’s good in someone else’s view? Where are you willing to risk acknowledging your own uncertainty about your position? I believe if we will take this challenge, we take one step closer toward dwelling in that place of both-and solutions. Let us dare to be people who let love beyond all that bonds only with those with whom we agree cast a widening pool of light that leads us to a way forward.<br /><br />May it be so.<br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a>
Frances Kissling, “Listening Beyond Life and Choice: Interview with Krista
Tippett,” On Being, 2011. <a href="http://www.onbeing.org/program/listening-beyond-life-and-choice/transcript/504">http://www.onbeing.org/program/listening-beyond-life-and-choice/transcript/504</a>.
(Accessed on August 18, 2012) </div>
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<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span></span></span></a>
Kenneth Gergen, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Relational Being</i> (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2011), 175.</div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span></span></span></a>
Gergen, 179-190.</div>
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<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span></span></span></a>
Gergen, 175.</div>
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<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5;" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span></span></span></a>
Kissling.</div>
</div>
</div>
Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-62439056585981394222012-07-11T07:12:00.000-05:002012-07-11T11:09:16.670-05:00I'm alright now: Part 2<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
Part 1 is <a href="http://against-a-brick-wall.blogspot.com/2012/07/im-alright-now-story-of-religious-and.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Home is an interesting concept. I have mixed emotions about
it. If it refers to that place where my biological family exists, whether it’s
where they live or where they gather together from time to time, I don’t get
the feelings of nostalgia and warmth that many people do. In this sense, home
is where I’m known, at least a part of me is known, that person who lived with
them until I graduated high school and moved out of the house. My experiences
after that changed me in ways that made going home increasingly difficult.
Coming out as gay and sharing with them my theological transformation created a
chasm between my family and me. My changes were taken personally, seen as a betrayal of all that's most important to the family. To their credit (and mine, too, I suppose) there
is at least enough decency in our family values that we have not cut each other
off completely, but what connects us is a thin, worn thread and the effort it
takes to keep that thread from breaking is exhausting.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Home can also refer to that place where we live. That gives
me much warmer feelings now. Until four years ago when I met Lisa, home in this
sense was a place where I kept my stuff, slept when I was in town, and
occasionally hung out when I couldn’t find something better to do. It was
practical and functional, but not warm. Now, home has a sense of connectedness
that gives me a feeling of security and acceptance. It’s a place where I love
and am loved, where I let down my guard, allow myself to be vulnerable to the
point where I know heartbreak is only a single breath away at any moment, but I
wouldn’t trade it for anything. What Lisa and I have created together has given
me the greatest sense of satisfaction and contentment I’ve ever known in my
life. And home extends beyond the
boundaries of the place where live to include a group of friends who are
family, people who accept us and share in our lives and when I think of them I
get the warm, nostalgic feelings that many share when they talk about the homes
in which they grew up. With all of these
people, there isn’t a part of me that I’m afraid for them to know. My past is
of no consequence. Many among our friends share it, and for those who don’t, it
doesn’t raise any red flags. It’s just a point of great curiosity. Likewise, who
I am now is allowed to grow and change. That kind of acceptance, of past and
present, gives me a deep sense of support, like the kind of support roots that
run deep into the soil offer a plant that flourishes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">I am a fortunate woman. I am grateful for it every day of my
life. Having all this finally has helped me come to a place where, perhaps for the
first time in my life, I know I’m alright. I don’t feel like I have to be
anything other than what I am now and that feeling provides the foundation for
much healthier choices about what I will become than at any other time in my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">But experiencing home in those relationships has
helped me see that the welcome I’ve received in churches over the past few
years is just that, welcome, but it is not home. And while the most recent of those choices
has come close and could in time feel more that way to me, it doesn’t for the
simple fact that I feel like my past as an evangelical Christian, specifically
a Baptist evangelical Christian, isn’t understood, that it’s something I have
to leave behind for people to think that I’m really one of them.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small; line-height: 115%;">To be continued (you know you're going to get tired of this).... </span></div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-62003758776581312012012-07-10T17:08:00.000-05:002012-07-10T17:08:29.021-05:00I'm alright now: A story of religious and spiritual exile<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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Religiously speaking, I’ve been an exile for the last 14
years. I grew up Baptist, went to a Baptist college, served as a Baptist
missionary for two years in South Korea, and graduated from, as well as served
as an administrator at, a Baptist seminary. Somewhere along the way, I started
asking questions and the answers to those questions for me led me on a journey
that made it harder and harder to identify as Baptist. I attribute that in part
to my own theological shifts and changes, but the distance grew to a chasm by
the changes that were taking place in Baptist life at the time as well. No
doubt, the debates in the 80s and 90s about the Baptist Faith and Message and
what one has to claim theologically in order to remain in the fold (odd reality
for a group that, historically, claimed to be non-creedal) sped up my own
theological transformation. Nothing creates a greater crisis of conscience than
realizing one’s own livelihood depends on holding to ideas and claims that no
longer work for her. For me, it was a matter of integrity that I leave,
integrity as a woman called by God to serve the church in capacities Baptists
would not support, integrity as a gay woman increasingly aware that the prayers
I prayed for God to change me and take away my desires were prayers that could
only be answered no if God were to remain true to God’s character.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I fear the path I’ve taken since then looks radical at best
and wishy-washy at worst to those who consider stability and loyalty to
institutions values worth upholding. There were a few years at a church
affiliated with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship where I experienced Baptists
who were open, but not enough, and who, at least at that time, were more
committed to telling a story of how things used to be than they were in the
kind of radical change I was going through in my own faith. I quit going to
church for a while, though I was still working as a chaplain and completing
coursework for a PhD in pastoral theology and pastoral counseling. Knowing that
the day was coming when I would need to be ordained/endorsed for continued
employment I finally got serious about finding a church I could join. I found
myself in Presbyterian church and after a year entered the inquiry process, the
first step toward ordination.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was in a relationship with another woman at the time and
conscious that while I felt some sense of “at-home-ness” with the PCUSA, being
open about the relationship was not a possibility if I wished to successfully
complete the ordination process. I’ve come to realize in the years since that
there may have been a little sub-conscious self-sabotage in my choice. I really
didn’t want to be ordained in the Presbyterian church. My grief from all that
I’d left behind left me cynical and jaded and unwilling to trust churches
enough to consider any kind of covenantal relationship with them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the day that I went for my first interview
with the Committee on Preparation for Ministry of my local presbytery, I had a
full-blown panic attack, my first and only ever. That should have been a clue,
but I didn’t heed it. I kept moving forward through the process until finally
the relationship I was in exploded in a mess that threatened more than my
future as a minister and I chose to drop out of the process before being out-ed
to the committee on someone else’s terms. The day I mailed that letter was the
first day I had felt free in years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found a job at a seminary doing admissions and recruiting,
a job I have to this day. I made a conscious decision to choose a church that
felt like home, where I could be person in the pew and not someone who was
preparing for ordination for a while. I visited a lot of churches and spent a
lot of Sundays sleeping in when I first moved to Tulsa. I finally found a home
at All Souls Unitarian Church and joined. My attraction to All Souls and to UUs
in general was based on the freedom of religious/theological expression. I
wanted a place where I would be able to remain within the fold as my theology
continued to grow and shift and change, something that I’d come to realize was
a natural progression for a thinking spiritual person. After a while, I
considered the possibility of ordination with the UUs. I ultimately dropped it
but could never articulate what my resistance was. While I felt welcome with the
UUs, I didn’t feel at home. I now realize there’s a big difference.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To be continued….</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-21479467520417892552012-04-25T13:52:00.003-05:002012-04-25T14:10:28.758-05:00Digging up the theological roots of the environmental crisisA sermon preached in chapel at <a href="http://www.ptstulsa.edu/" target="_blank">Phillips Theological Seminary</a>. This is one I can't let go of. It doesn't feel as well-developed as I'd like for it. Nonetheless, it's done for now. This was a different kind of sermon that I typically preach. I am more of a narrative preacher, rather than a theological expositor. This falls more in the category of theological exposition.<br />
<br />
Here's the <a href="http://ptstulsa.edu/Chapel042412" target="_blank">podcast</a>, where you will hear me stumble over my words a lot. Glad this one is over.<br />
------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Digging Up the Theological Roots of the Environmental Crisis</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Genesis 1:26-31</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Phillips Theological Seminary</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
April 24, 2012</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
I want to start
with some congregational participation. I’d like to see how many of you have
ever heard one of the following responses regarding global warming and other
environmental issues from a co-worker, family member, friend, etc.:</div>
<ol>
<li>We need to be concerned about people, not the
planet. God will take care of the planet. He created it and sustains it. We
don’t need to worry about it.</li>
<li><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>People before animals and earth. That’s the way
God ordered things.</li>
<li>God gave us the earth for us to use as we see
fit. We are to have dominion over it, to rule it. That’s what the Bible says.</li>
</ol>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
Even if we don’t personally hold any of these views, we are affected by
them every day of our lives. These views and the theology that’s used to
justify them are at the heart of the environmental crisis and our country’s
response to it. As shocking as it may seem, intelligent, well-educated people
hold to these views. My partner Lisa met someone who is well-educated and holds
an upper level administrative position in a university who told her, “We don’t
need to worry about things like plastics in landfills, etc. God will eat the
garbage!” Where does that theology come from and what are we to do about it?
That will be our focus today, because as one who is theologically trained,
environmentally aware, and deeply concerned about the issues we are facing
regarding the environment, I believe it is of utmost importance that Christians
and others be able to address the concerns from a theological perspective. As
religious leaders, we need to pay close attention to what the Bible says and
doesn’t say to help us respond to those who use it to justify practices and
opinions that endanger the future of the earth. If theology is at the heart of
the problem, then perhaps theology can help lead us to solutions.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
The book of Genesis
opens with a declaration of God’s creative work. It states that what existed
when God’s creative work began was a formless void, covered in darkness. God
swept over the darkness like a wind, and with God’s own words, spoke into
existence light, a separation between sky and earth, a separation between water
and land, vegetation, stars, sea creatures, animals, and finally humans. At the
end of each day, God declares that creation is good, and at the end of the
sixth day (the day on which humans were created), God declares that it was very
good. Traditional Christian theology holds that this story establishes a
hierarchy in creation. The story is a narrative that builds to a climax at the
creation of humankind. God says that God’s work on each of the first five days is
good, but upon the completion of God’s work with the creation of humans, that
it is all very good. I grew up learning that humankind is the pièce
de résistance
in God’s creative work, a bit ironic, I think, considering how terrified some
in my church were that we kids would all become humanists if we paid too much
attention in school.<br />
<br />
At the point of that climax in this story, God says to
humankind, “Have dominion over” the earth. A mere 26 verses into the Bible and
already we’re in trouble. It’s that word dominion that has caused us trouble.
What does dominion mean? I wish we could find an alternate translation that
reveals more a sense of care and less of power. Instead, some have taken it to
mean that all of creation was made for the sake of humankind. In the hands of
humans for far too long the idea that humans were given dominion over the earth
has been used to justify hunting of animals for personal gain, for sport, all
with no concern for the hunting’s impact on the species themselves, drilling of
oil and extraction of other natural resources for the “good” of humankind, with
no concern for the impact of the methods used or the amount of the resource
taken from the earth. This view is used to justify the commodification of
animals, plants, and other resources of the planet. Coupled with a firm
commitment to God’s ordaining of free-market capitalism as the way things are
meant to be, animals, plants, habitat, all are considered expendable if growth
of human wealth and progress is to be gained. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_edn1" name="_ednref1" style="mso-endnote-id: edn1;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">[i]</span></span></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
As good students
of the Bible, you already see the problems with an interpretation of dominion
that justifies exploitation of creation. Many have called for a tempering of
this interpretation and claimed God’s intent was not for us to rule the earth,
but to be good stewards of the earth. It keeps a hierarchy in place, but puts
God at the top of the hierarchy and moves humankind to a position of being
God’s managers, ones who use the resources wisely. This view was explicitly
stated in a comment from Republican presidential candidate Rick Santorum who
said the following about the Endangered Species Act, “It’s a radical ideology
that says we are here to serve the Earth instead of man having dominion over
the Earth to serve him and to be a good steward of that Earth.” In light of a
more exploitative approach to our relationship with the earth, the shift to understanding
ourselves as stewards seems helpful, on the surface, because it at least
recognizes that there is not an endless supply of resources, that not all of
humankind’s uses of those resources are good, and that we have responsibility
for determining the right use of them. There are problems with this view,
though. In the hierarchy of God first, humans second, and everything else
existing to serve humankind, there is a devaluing of the earth. Such
devaluation leaves the earth vulnerable to human exploitation. Viewing the
earth as a resource to be used for our own benefit is not sustainable. To end
the current environmental crisis and to ensure the future good of the
environment, a different kind of relationship with the earth is needed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
So, can the creation
stories from Genesis be understood in a way that points to a different kind of
relationship with the earth? For starters, it helps to read the creation
narratives together to enable us to see to more dimension to the relationship
we are to have with creation. The second creation narrative in Genesis 2 helps
temper any tendency to understand dominion as a justification for exploitation.
Hebrew Bible scholar Richard Lowery points to the second creation narrative
which tells us that the earth was a formless void until humans were put on it
to “serve” it. Repeatedly, this story tells us that God put humans on the earth
to till it and to keep it. So, Rick Santorum had it completely backwards in his
critique of environmentalists. Earth does not exist to serve humans. Humans
exist to serve the earth. If humankind is to serve the earth, dominion then,
can be understood more clearly to be a relationship of care, of bringing some
discipline perhaps to what might otherwise be utter chaos. It is the work of humankind
on the earth that helps creation to flourish. Neither exists without the other.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
This turn in interpretation
can lead us to see the earth as a subject with whom we are in relationship, not
a resource which can be used, whether wisely or not. It privileges
interconnectedness, rather than power. But we are far from living this in
reality. We live in a world where science often serves corporate wealth and
greed, rather than the earth and its inhabitants. We inhabit a place where
those who would spend their lives working to provide us with food become
indebted to corporations bent on engineering food, sometimes even in the name
of ruling or subduing the earth. We are witnesses to environmental disasters
that destroy habitat for all living things, humans included, all in order to
feed the insatiable hunger for petroleum which fuels the nation’s economy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
If we are to have
hope for the future of the earth, as faith-full people, we need to work to help
shift the cultural understanding from a view that gives humans superiority and
unlimited power to one that privileges interconnectedness with all of creation,
that no longer views the earth and all of creation as resources to be used, but
as subjects with whom we are in a mutually supportive relationship. It requires
us to temper our consumerism, to ask ourselves how our relationship to things
impacts on our relationship to the earth. It requires us to consider outcome
for all of creation against outcome only for humankind. Though it is important
to continue pressing on specific issues related to the environment, no real
change will come until we make a cultural shift away from a hierarchical view
to one of interconnectedness. I think we have to start with ourselves, by
asking where do our own self-interests leave the environment vulnerable to
exploitation. My partner Lisa and I work hard to use sustainable practices in
our farming and in our lives. We have not arrived at a place of complete
sustainability. We ask ourselves constantly what we can do differently to be more
sustainable. We seek to hold in reverence the interconnectedness of our lives
with the earth. It’s evidenced in the way we structure our farm. Each creature
has a purpose. Chickens provide food, but they also help clean up parasites on
the pasture after the goats and sheep have fed there. The goats and sheep
supply fertilizer which helps restore nutrients to the earth after what we
plant absorbs them. When we’ve harvested all we can from the garden, the goats
and sheep go in and feast on what’s left. We plant cover crops and leave plots
unused for periods of time to allow the land to rest and restore. We use
natural approaches to pest and weed control. We compost our waste from food
preparation to return nutrients to the earth. Still, the relationship we share
with our environment calls us increasingly to ask how do we better serve the
earth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
Not all of us can
farm. That’s not really even the point, but whether we farm or garden or not,
whether we even enjoy the outdoors and appreciate nature for its beauty, we are
dependent on the health of the environment. We are all in relationship with the
earth. It’s up to us, though, to decide what the nature of that relationship
will be. Today, I ask you, how would you characterize your relationship with
the earth? For starters, when was the last time you paid attention to who you
share your space with. I don’t mean just the inhabitants of your home or
workplace. I mean all of creation that exists in your space. Do you hear the
birds singing in the morning? Do you see the scores of bugs that crawl through
your yard? Do you know what the plants are that grow in your yard, in spite of
your best efforts to have only the most beautiful grass? Pay attention to these
things. Cherish them. Ask them that what you can learn from them. Then ask
yourself what you must do to honor your interconnectedness with all of
creation.</div>
<div style="mso-element: endnote-list;">
<br />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="edn1" style="mso-element: endnote;">
<div class="MsoEndnoteText">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=34525163#_ednref1" name="_edn1" style="mso-endnote-id: edn1;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">[i]</span></span></span></a>
Ariel Edwards-Levy, “Rick Santorum Worries Endangered Species Act Values
‘Critters Above People,’” Huffington Post, March 12, 2012.</div>
<div class="MsoEndnoteText">
<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/12/santorum-worries-endanger_n_1339896.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/03/12/santorum-worries-endanger_n_1339896.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009</a>
(accessed April 21, 2012).</div>
</div>
</div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-79578414190702289582011-10-30T18:35:00.004-06:002011-10-30T18:36:07.014-06:00Yogurt WafflesSo, this week's share comes with the following:<br />
<br />
1/3 lb lettuce mix<br />
1/2 lb spinach<br />
1 bunch Tokyo turnips<br />
1 bunch French breakfast radishes<br />
1 bunch of arugula<br />
1 pint yogurt<br />
1 7oz container of garlic-herb chevre<br />
1 dozen eggs<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgml3R-3ac2enhmY3Nr-Hb_dZ-V8HxKgMxC6UvQoTg8Q1jFuNrnP7IAViFLZx7l_rYUuK_nrc74VrJVzv6poIatECgX7Yuqt_6h-0wJAwrZC3bF-_YjS0_LtatjeKGk3eK7aZ2S/s1600/IMAG0022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgml3R-3ac2enhmY3Nr-Hb_dZ-V8HxKgMxC6UvQoTg8Q1jFuNrnP7IAViFLZx7l_rYUuK_nrc74VrJVzv6poIatECgX7Yuqt_6h-0wJAwrZC3bF-_YjS0_LtatjeKGk3eK7aZ2S/s320/IMAG0022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The first meal using the share was yogurt waffles and fried eggs for breakfast this morning. Some of our CSA members have commented that they don't eat yogurt, or on occasion forget that they have it and are concerned that it may be too old to eat. I LOVE yogurt, especially our goat milk yogurt, so I seldom ever have a problem considering how to use it. I'm happy to have it with a little honey for breakfast or an afternoon snack. However, yogurt, like buttermilk is great for baking, acting as a leavener to give bake goods a nice fluffy appearance and texture.<br />
<br />
Here's the recipe for yogurt waffles:<br />
1 1/2 cups flour<br />
1 Tsp baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp salt <br />
1 Tsp honey<br />
3 eggs<br />
1 1/2 cups yogurt (plain, whole milk is our preference)<br />
1 Tsp cinnamon<br />
1 tsp vanilla<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYHeTIzBY2-LbfbaMt2aQtl4mT7YLQziKFRICeiuZK7ow1xBf3sMuCWrRqjTDVVwqN-jxu5hqNODT_4RcAih35JHW40mIi4jskvU427Ei3FU-A6DGzExKgOVs_2M9fo94VAIH/s1600/IMAG0020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSYHeTIzBY2-LbfbaMt2aQtl4mT7YLQziKFRICeiuZK7ow1xBf3sMuCWrRqjTDVVwqN-jxu5hqNODT_4RcAih35JHW40mIi4jskvU427Ei3FU-A6DGzExKgOVs_2M9fo94VAIH/s200/IMAG0020.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Preheat waffle iron. Mix flour and baking powder and set aside. In a separate bowl, mix the remaining ingredients. Add wet ingredients to the dry, mixing just enough to get the batter blended. It will be thick. Do not over stir the batter. Doing so will make the waffles tough.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo6Lv-Wz7l6skHZUX-YvXTxZiXzrbFpoTc12O7hLi_9LUZcgaEqgvnAtsDbrjBRuG__PNFY8hggLk0rtPjIl-HHelsaNdfEIsqCVd75cmDjUkCosmYAX6sOe7hugmJ5ciP7f22/s1600/IMAG0021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo6Lv-Wz7l6skHZUX-YvXTxZiXzrbFpoTc12O7hLi_9LUZcgaEqgvnAtsDbrjBRuG__PNFY8hggLk0rtPjIl-HHelsaNdfEIsqCVd75cmDjUkCosmYAX6sOe7hugmJ5ciP7f22/s200/IMAG0021.jpg" width="200" /></a>Add a little oil to the waffle iron, pour batter on (1/3 cup for standard size waffles). Waffles are done when they are a light brown. Once cooked, enjoy with yogurt and fresh fruit or with butter and maple syrup.<br />
<br />
This recipe makes 10 standard size waffles. Though we don't eat that many, I cooked all of the batter and froze the leftover waffles. They'll be good for a quick breakfast another day, placing them in the toaster to heat them up.<br />
<br />
Yogurt works well as a replacement for buttermilk in most of your favorite recipes. I use it in corn bread, biscuits, Texas chocolate sheet cake. Oh, sheet cake! That sounds good!<br />
<br />
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<br />Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-341434364058567472011-10-02T14:42:00.009-05:002011-10-02T15:14:14.825-05:00Sunday meal planning for the week of Oct 2-8Sundays are our weekly meal planning days.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We take inventory of what we have already, look at the calendar to see what who is available and for how long to fix dinners, and then we decide what we’ll have each night.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A new commitment to having healthy, low cost options for lunch at work means that I will also be considering what I can cook that will ensure leftovers, or what I can prepare ahead of time to have on hand to take to work.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Once meals are planned, we make a list of the things we need from the grocery store (we can’t, after all, provide our own flour yet!).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This is an especially important step for us, though we aren’t always good about sticking with it, because we are 9 miles from the nearest grocery store.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Although I do pass several on my commute to and from work, our time is limited enough that making one trip for all that we need for a week really helps.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We’re trying to get better about that.<br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">I did an invento<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXY5yJnTy7ag5dXUPzFtCB00yezdeLfJ2oqfgAbMtEJ37kaiLeR7RcUb24kUa5NHh-CSq6nJwbc7TbC6rZz1MYdFYBOWsylD_jr-4Izeq_MtM96KfcvrVvW5_X6jwLXyXA5P3/s1600/grocery+list.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXY5yJnTy7ag5dXUPzFtCB00yezdeLfJ2oqfgAbMtEJ37kaiLeR7RcUb24kUa5NHh-CSq6nJwbc7TbC6rZz1MYdFYBOWsylD_jr-4Izeq_MtM96KfcvrVvW5_X6jwLXyXA5P3/s200/grocery+list.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658986191608970066" border="0" /></a>ry today.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I walked through the kitchen with a pad and pen and wrote down all that we had on store that could be used for meals.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It took about five minutes to do it, and already that five minutes has saved time (and, I suspect, money) on the meal planning front.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>While doing the inventory, I was able to identify several things that I could potentially make this week.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Here’s what we’ve got to work with:<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><b style="">CSA Share</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">The shares provided a lot of fun stuff to work with this week….some of my favorite things since it’s greens season.</p><ul><li>½ pound of broccoli rabe and/or ½ pound of Asian braising mix (con<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZtGbKNgWlAXUVQ2Ty3yBDyDM5V1CsoV6AEN-k-_eC-ILNOgkdcYHAqd7yW_CJo1T41jV7g1lM19UsGeBdg6yt6l5QcpqG2SYMMOotIgCZorNh_fLqi9qDE5LKOoUsDlE6JFb/s1600/brocoli-rabe31.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZtGbKNgWlAXUVQ2Ty3yBDyDM5V1CsoV6AEN-k-_eC-ILNOgkdcYHAqd7yW_CJo1T41jV7g1lM19UsGeBdg6yt6l5QcpqG2SYMMOotIgCZorNh_fLqi9qDE5LKOoUsDlE6JFb/s200/brocoli-rabe31.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658986425678579090" border="0" /></a>tains bok choi, red mustard, pea shoots, and broccoli rabe) (My share has both so that I can provide recipes for each.)</li><li>½ pound of baby arugula</li><li>7 oz each of a choice of two cheeses:<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>feta, cottage cheese, plain chevre, jalapeno chevre, and garlic herb chevre (My share has feta and cottage cheese.)</li><li>A few sweet peppers and/or two servings of okra (My share has both, again to provide recipes that use each.)</li><li>1 pint of yogurt</li><li>½ gallon of goat’s milk</li><li>1 dozen eggs</li></ul> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Pantry</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">Here’s what we already have on hand in the pantry (not including spices, oil, etc.):</p> <ul><li>Sweet potatoes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTeVH49vWu-LXfjcgTzqc7H5B1SarqjWCVLyYrq-96EKpozhNYcJbwoZ7B2GN1E5dbxKpi0Vu5u5sEXmxiUIp28vhQZqqz3r8X08JtDQ81EVAu7H1ucBTaDBcwP29XVptQT0U/s1600/db+stocked+cupboard.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTeVH49vWu-LXfjcgTzqc7H5B1SarqjWCVLyYrq-96EKpozhNYcJbwoZ7B2GN1E5dbxKpi0Vu5u5sEXmxiUIp28vhQZqqz3r8X08JtDQ81EVAu7H1ucBTaDBcwP29XVptQT0U/s320/db+stocked+cupboard.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658987660349951858" border="0" /></a></li><li>Potatoes</li><li>Onions</li><li>Garlic<br /></li><li>2 cans of crushed tomatoes</li><li>Corn meal</li><li>Flour</li><li>White rice</li><li>Brown rice</li><li>Pinto beans</li><li>Great northern beans</li><li>Spaghetti noodles</li><li>Polenta</li><li>Barley</li><li>Lentils</li><li>Dried morita chilis</li></ul><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Freezer</b> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.25in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"> </p><br />Our freezer is a little bare right now, except for a few frozen roasted peppers from last summer (2010) which probably should be thrown out, a couple of pounds of pork fat, and several p<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6r_yG12gXEEXK7AnHLE70i-FXp5dggdFeJgSBhan2R5z9qSNTvE6OGyA_Jego9f8pV3GoDOtGBGtuqLIAWd3KA7qGQnLLCFuk7y733-T35LU8ySrqrRSOGSgHzwGMdIApcarJ/s1600/freezer.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 96px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6r_yG12gXEEXK7AnHLE70i-FXp5dggdFeJgSBhan2R5z9qSNTvE6OGyA_Jego9f8pV3GoDOtGBGtuqLIAWd3KA7qGQnLLCFuk7y733-T35LU8ySrqrRSOGSgHzwGMdIApcarJ/s320/freezer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658987980460767298" border="0" /></a>ackages of lamb ribs, about three or four bites of homemade salted caramel goat’s milk ice cream in two containers that need to be eaten or thrown out, and Lisa’s empty ice cream bowl and spoon (when you have an ice cream craving, you don’t want to have to walk the extra steps to the cupboard, you know). <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.25in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; line-height: normal;"><b style=""><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.25in; line-height: normal;"><b style=""><br /></b></p><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">This Week’s Plan for the CSA Share</b><br /><br />So here’s what I plan to do with the CSA share this week: <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:0in;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:.25in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:normal"> </p><ul><li>The ½ pound of broccoli rabe will be braised with an anchovy paste and served with creamy polenta and marinara sauce. This will feed the two of us for dinner and provide some leftover for lunch the next day.</li><li>I’ll make an Asian salad with the Asian braising mix (it’s young and tender and can be eaten raw) with miso dressing and serve it with fried tofu and rice. Again, it will serve the two of us for dinner, and provide some leftover for lunch.</li><li>The arugula and peppers will be used for two salads for lunch and one for dinner to be served with pan-fried okra, lentils and rice. The rule in our house is that salad dressing has to be homemade, so I’ll post a recipe for a basic dressing.<br /></li><li>I’ll take the cottage cheese to work to have on hand for a quick afternoon snack.</li><li>Eggs and yogurt are for breakfast.</li><li>Goat’s milk will be used in coffee and will be heated with vanilla and honey or almond extract and honey for a warm evening beverage before bed. I may use it for other things as well. </li></ul><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal">Pictures and recipes will be posted as I cook this week.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What are you planning for meals?</p>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-5728316582966552212011-09-25T15:22:00.003-05:002011-09-25T15:24:07.740-05:00A year of eating seasonallyThe conversation usually starts something like this:<br /><br />Lisa: What do you want for dinner?<br />Linda: [After a quick mental note that “I don’t know” usually results in disappointed glares] Ummm…what do we have to cook with?<br />Lisa: The usual. The same kind of stuff we harvested for the CSA. Cheese. Eggs. Lentils. Rice.<br />Linda: Well, I could make lentils and rice with feta. That’s one of my favorites.<br />Lisa: Why don’t we have soufflé, braised greens, and some roasted potatoes.<br />Linda: Sure, that sounds good. I’ll make the potatoes.<br /><br />What’s behind all of this, of course, is the difference between the way an average cook, used to shopping in a grocery store for what she fixes, a wide array of options available to her on the shelves of the store, anything to feed whatever craving may strike, and a trained chef, who has the creative ability to see a fabulous meal in the oddest combination of ingredients, function when it comes to meal prep. Unless I plan ahead and know exactly what I’ll be fixing and can assure that we have the ingredients on hand, I’m stumped, driven only by a craving that can’t be satisfied, or so I think, and unable to see a simple, healthy meal in the beautiful food growing in the garden. I want to get over that stuckness and expand my cooking skills enough to have a much wider repertoire of dishes I know how to prepare so that I can more fully participate in meal preparation at our house and more fully live into the values I claim and which drove my desire to be closer to the source of my food.<br /><br />I live on a farm, with a farmy chef for a partner who raises all (and, believe me, I mean all…well, almost all, until she figures out how to raise crab in the ponds out here) of her favorite foods. I have an abundance of good, healthy food at my disposal and all too often I’m struck with culinary dumbness. I have no idea what to fix for dinner and after 15 or 20 minutes of mulling it over, by which time I’m usually starving, I’m ready to go out for cheap Mexican in the next town over, food made tolerable only by the immediate gratification of chips and the slightly spicy ketchup with passes for salsa and the dulling of the margarita consumed before the food arrives. That’s a habit I want to break. I have much better use for that $25. <br /><br />We are a farm that operates largely from<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPKIqTtei2hPwP33tRLdK_PCA164muzC7otbFSezkvgEDCeIxO25NCSHw-UpEOIb0funDsO5Hob-EqK3Q5reLhqRJPuL9DU-5nWq9PpTX9PdX9AolI0XDeDlyWfXRjaxHtT24/s1600/box+share.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJPKIqTtei2hPwP33tRLdK_PCA164muzC7otbFSezkvgEDCeIxO25NCSHw-UpEOIb0funDsO5Hob-EqK3Q5reLhqRJPuL9DU-5nWq9PpTX9PdX9AolI0XDeDlyWfXRjaxHtT24/s320/box+share.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656395439015540322" border="0" /></a> a CSA model. CSA stands for community supported agriculture. The idea behind the CSA is to have a community of consumers who wish to support local, small farmers and have access to good healthy fresh food on a regular basis. CSA members pay a fee at the beginning of planning and planting for a coming season. In exchange, they receive a weekly share of the harvest. Being a CSA member requires a person to be willing to cook 4 or 5 nights a week, to try new things and be open to whatever is available seasonally, and to understand the highs and lows of farming, such as the effects of extreme heat on the egg production of laying hens or the rampant infestation of squash bugs on the zucchini and squash harvest.<br /><br />I have asked Lisa and Kathleen to harvest an extra CSA share each week beginning next week. That food will serve as the basis for my meal planning for the week. I plan to do this for a year. So, in effect, it will be a year of eating seasonally. I know that the CSA share does not cover all meals for an entire week and so there will be room for the occasional out of season, not local indulgence, but the discipline of cooking with a CSA share should help me focus on learning better to prepare meals using the bounty of the farm, and thus, to better live into the values that led me to a life of farming to begin with. I’ll share the experience here, including pictures and recipes, what worked, what didn’t, solicit ideas, and provide a space for our CSA members to exchange ideas as they seek to be as creative with their shares as well.<br /><br />So, stay tuned for my new culinary adventure. You might find some interesting recipes. You might learn a lot about what NOT to do. I suspect you’re pretty much guaranteed an occasional laugh, and who knows, maybe someone else out there will be inspired to live much closer to the source of their food.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-1075025291935102512011-04-07T15:30:00.004-05:002011-04-11T15:09:10.784-05:00The ridiculousness of hope: A sermon for the fifth week of Lent<a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=29303352">Ezekiel 37:1-14</a><br /><br /><a href="http://ptstulsa.edu/ChapelRecordings.aspx?nid=101204">Audio recording of this sermon delivered in Meinder's Chapel at Phillips Theological Seminary, April 7, 2011.</a><br /><br />Is there a more vivid image of utter hopelessness than a valley full of dry bones?<span style=""> </span>The lifeless structure of what has been, left behind, bleached and brittle, nothing more than a reminder of what has been lost.<span style=""> </span>It is not just a scene of death.<span style=""> </span>It’s a scene of annihilation, perhaps a battlefield or the scene of a horrible disaster.<span style=""> </span>The explanation for the bones’ presence in the valley is unimportant.<span style=""> </span>The vision of the dry bones is given for its impact on our psyche, for the feelings of hopelessness that it evokes.<span style=""> </span>Unlike Lazarus, in the gospel text for this week, who has been dead a mere four days and, in the words of the beloved King James English, stinketh, the life that inhabited those left behind in this scene of destruction in Ezekiel is long gone.<span style=""> </span>With Lazarus, we’re tempted to think like the wise Miracle Max from the movie The Princess Bride, “He’s not dead….he’s MOSTLY dead. <span style=""> </span>Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead<span style=""> </span>there’s only one thing you can do.<span style=""> </span>Go through his clothes and look for loose change.”<span style=""> </span>Lazarus still had flesh and muscle and sinew, signs that blood flowed through his veins and breath through his nostrils, an indication that maybe life could return, a ridiculous prospect, true, but perhaps more believable than seeing the potential for life in dry bones. <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Have you ever known hopelessness?<span style=""> </span>The kind that sucks the life out of you, sapping you of any energy, leaving you wondering if you can go on.<span style=""> </span>Perhaps you’ve seen it in others when tragedy strikes or when years of suffering and struggle catch up with them and begin to turn their vision away from the future and back to the past.<span style=""> </span>Hope, in the words of pastoral theologian Andrew Lester, is “the configuration of cognitive and affective responses to life that believes the future is filled with possibilities and offers a blessing.”<a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=34525163&postID=107502529193510251#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:";font-size:11pt;" >[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style=""> </span>He explains that theologically speaking, it “describes a person’s trusting anticipation of the future based on an understanding of a God who is trustworthy and who calls us into an open-ended future.”<a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=34525163&postID=107502529193510251#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:";font-size:11pt;" >[2]</span></span></span></span></a><span style=""> </span>There are times when that sense of God is lost and when the future seems overwhelming, for it,in our mind,promises nothing more than what we’re already experiencing, more suffering.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Ezekiel explains to us in this passage that he is speaking of Israel.<span style=""> </span>We understand that Ezekiel’s vision came at the period in the history of the Hebrew people when their nation had been destroyed and they’d been sent into exile.<span style=""> </span>All that they had hoped for as a people was lost.<span style=""> </span>The future no longer held for them any possibilities.<span style=""> </span>Their trust in God’s goodness and justice was lost.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">How does it feel when you’re confronted with hopelessness?<span style=""> </span>What goes through your mind on your way to sit with a family who’s suddenly lost a loved one?<span style=""> </span>Or when someone talks to you about their experience of being without work for months?<span style=""> </span>What about when you see children and youth caught up in cycles of violence and abuse? </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">What must it have been like for the prophets, like Ezekiel, looking at the destruction and hopelessness of the people of Israel?<span style=""> </span>When I stop to consider the times when I’ve looked hopelessness in the eye, Ezekiel’s vision takes on a distinct quality of ridiculousness!<span style=""> </span>Speaking to dry bones of life?<span style=""> </span>Saying words of hope to the hopeless?<span style=""> </span>Sometimes ministry is ridiculous.<span style=""> </span>It calls us to trust in a transfinite hope, to use a concept from Andy Lester again, one that defies reasoning, a hope and trust in a God we are sure keeps promises of deliverance, liberation, and salvation.<span style=""> </span>It assures us that what is now will not always be.<span style=""> </span>That trust compels us to stay present with those who are suffering, to offer the smallest dose of hope that can be tolerated.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">The process of bringing the dry bones to life in the Ezekiel text mirrors that of the creation stories in Genesis.<span style=""> </span>First the body is created, then God breathes into the form the breath of life.<span style=""> </span>The measured way in which the dry bones are returned to life reminds us that the process of returning to hope is one of recreation, enlivened by the spirit of God, and the minister’s task sometimes is simply to speak the ridiculous words of life in the midst of lifelessness, to be a non-anxious presence, sites fixed on the future promised by a God who does liberate and save.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Now, before we get too excited about participating in this work of restoring hope, I want to ask us to slow down and make an observation about this passage’s presence in our Lenten journey.<span style=""> </span>There’s some introspective work required here, I believe.<span style=""> </span>If we have any expectation whatsoever about staying with the hopeless in their efforts to regain hope, we must first face whatever hopelessness exists within us.<span style=""> </span>There is a risk in life that we get so preoccupied with the tasks facing us in the present that we bury our own hopelessness, paying no attention to it, ignoring it because to look at it carefully is to feel our very breath being sucked out of us.<span style=""> </span>What makes you hopeless?<span style=""> </span>What steals your confidence in the possibilities for the future?<span style=""> </span>Where do you need to experience the breath of God blowing through you like a strong Oklahoma spring wind, fueling fires that burn up all that’s dead, making room for newness and life?<span style=""> </span>Are you willing to uncover it and face it?</p> <div style="border-width: medium medium 1.5pt; border-style: none none solid;"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; border: medium none; padding: 0in;">You see, we’re getting close to Easter, a time when the focus is on resurrection.<span style=""> </span>Many of us sitting here is this room right now know the dread that comes every year, that dread of focusing on something we’re not really sure we believe in anymore.<span style=""> </span>We get caught up in theological arguments about where the notion of Jesus’ resurrection originated, was it in an actual true event?<span style=""> </span>Or was it a story told by those closest to him for any number of reasons?<span style=""> </span>And while I am the first to line up for a good a theological debate on this very issue, I wonder if our preoccupation with it doesn’t sometimes keep us from believing in resurrections that are truly possible for us right now, ones that come when hope is restored in what seems to be the most hopeless situation.<span style=""> </span>The person who has been hopeless and has experienced the return of hope knows resurrection is real.<span style=""> </span>If we don’t confront the hopelessness pushed aside in our own lives, we will never have the confidence to stand as Ezekiel, calling forth the breath of God from the four winds to restore life where it seems it will never exist again.<span style=""> </span>Are you willing to do that?<span style=""> </span>To make yourself truly ready to hear the message of resurrection when we get to that empty tomb on Easter morning?</p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: normal;" align="center">BIBLIOGRAPHY</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Lester, Andrew D.<span style=""> </span><i style="">Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling.</i> Louisville:<span style=""> </span>Westminster John Knox, 1995.</p> <div style=""><br /><hr width="33%" align="left" size="1"> <div style="" id="ftn1"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=34525163&postID=107502529193510251#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:";font-size:10pt;" >[1]</span></span></span></span></a> Andrew D. Lester, <i style="">Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling</i> (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995), 62.</p> </div> <div style="" id="ftn2"> <p class="MsoFootnoteText"><a style="" href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=34525163&postID=107502529193510251#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-family:";font-size:10pt;" >[2]</span></span></span></span></a> Lester, <i style="">Hope in Pastoral Care and Counseling, </i>62.</p> </div> </div>Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-14112695776367182362011-01-06T06:10:00.000-06:002011-01-06T06:35:49.870-06:00Exposing the editor in my headI wish I could download the dialogue going through my head right now. Exposing it might shut it down. Let me give it a try:<br /><br />Linda the blogger: I wonder what I should write about today.<br />Linda the editor: Don't write about the farm. People are going to get tired of hearing about that.<br />Blogger: I doubt they're getting tired of it.<br />Editor: Okay, maybe they aren't but people at work might think you don't like your job anymore.<br />Blogger: Why would they think that?<br />Editor: All you ever write about is the farm.<br />Blogger: That's silly.<br /><br />Am I the only one who has conversations like this in my head? I know better than to pay attention to them, but I'll admit to getting shut down by them from time to time. Sometimes the conversation doesn't even get past "What am I going to write about?" The thought of arguing with the editor in my head is too exhausting, so I move on to reading the newspaper or Facebook or something else entirely and give up on writing. I thought I'd write about this craziness today in an attempt to steal some of the editor's power and move beyond getting shut down. I'm not looking for advice. I know what to do. I'm just being honest about what goes on in an attempt to change it.<br /><br />I think I have to make up my mind that writing is my choice. Whether or not anyone reads it is her or his choice. Writing for me serves a purpose well beyond entertaining a reader. It's a way of capturing my experience in the world and making meaning from it, however tentative and fleeting that meaning may be. To the extent that it connects with someone else, a reader, is going to vary from time to time, but that doesn't make the process any less valuable to me. Like all good disciplines, just doing it on a day when the greatest meaning I find is "Well, I did that," helps ensure that I will be where I need to be to do what I need to do when the times come for finding treasure in my experience, for new understanding to emerge out of the words that flow from my mind onto the computer screen or paper, sometimes with barely any consciousness of them before they appear in front of me.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-84728865394835474542011-01-04T06:07:00.003-06:002011-01-04T06:36:09.876-06:00CommutingI did a quick interview with a local radio station yesterday. A friend texted me saying a reporter he knows was looking for someone who commutes into Tulsa from a rural area. He wondered if I'd be willing to talk to her. I agreed to do it.<br /><br />It was a short interview, only about two minutes, maybe three. She wanted to know how far I commute, why I do it, whether or not I have any special vehicle, and how I pass the time. What more is there to say about commuting? Not much, but I'm blogging about it anyway.<br /><br />I commute 100 miles round trip four days per week. I don't really think about it much anymore. I do it because we have this amazing opportunity to lease the farm we're on, a place that's a great match for what Lisa does. Anytime I get bummed about how far I have to commute and how much time I spend in the car, I think about the cabin where we hold the dinners and the ohs and ahs of guests when they see it for the first time. I think about walking in the woods when there is time for a hike. In my mind I see sheep grazing on rotation and goats running up from their pasture when I call them. It's really hard for me to stay bummed when I think about all that I have here. A long commute is a small price to pay.<br /><br />The thing the interview didn't touch on (it was a FOX news radio station, after all) is how I feel about the environmental impact of my driving. I really regret that part of it. It runs counter to what we're about on the farm. I have a truck. I've toyed with the idea of trading for a more fuel efficient vehicle, but then I think about all the times that it helps to have both trucks here. I start doing the math and realize, while I could save some money, a more fuel efficient vehicle will not be so significantly less that it's worth giving up the value of having the other truck on the farm. I don't know of anyone in this area who commutes into Tulsa, so at this time, carpooling is not an option, though it's something that I remain open to if I make the right connections. If I had the extra cash, I'd consider a compressed natural gas conversion for my truck, but I don't so that is not an option right now either. For the time being, I'm stuck being a gas-guzzling, long commuter.<br /><br />Any thoughts on other ways I could cut back on the environmental impact?Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-51124893577411167522011-01-03T06:08:00.008-06:002011-01-03T07:06:43.235-06:00A change of paceIt's been a quiet week on the farm. I've been home for 10 days, except for a couple of days early last week when I went up to my mom's. Lisa and I have relaxed a lot and while I don't doubt we needed it, there were a few moments when we got a bit stir crazy. Apparently we like to be busy.<br /><br />One day from last week illustrates the change of pace. Lisa worked in the greenhouse and I did odds and ends around the farm. We knew there was a hole in the fence where the goats were getting out. It hadn't been a huge cause for alarm. They always come straight to the back yard and stand by the gate until someone let's them back in the barnyard. Nevertheless, most of them are pregnant and a little on the wide side. We had some concerns that a couple of them might get stuck trying to get through or under the fence. So, I went in search of the hole.<br /><br />Ordinarily, such a search happens an hour before both of us are about to leave for the day. It's a little frantic. When the hole is found, everything within 20 feet of the hole is fair game for blocking it until a couple of hours can be spared to fix it properly. The repair is made and then we dash off to whatever demands our attention next, praying the fix holds and we don't return to find goats in the hen house or garage.<br /><br />On this day, I headed out to the pasture and noticed that Jai, the miniature dachshund was following me, on the other side of the fence, right into the woods that border the pasture on the south side. Coyotes live in those woods, so it's not a good idea for him to go traipsing around in them. I went out the gate and around the fence to the area where he was now chasing a rogue chicken. The hen was running wildly in circles around and through the trees, doing her best to lose him, but he matched her step for step, paying no attention at all to my calls. I called and called. Nothing. He disappeared for a few minutes and after what seemed like an eternity, reemerged, head high, panting and tail wagging. A tired chicken could be heard squawking in the background. Jai sat down 20 feet away from me and refused to come. I took one step toward him and he started running around again, so I stopped and waited until he was tired of his game and finally came to me. I picked him up and took him to the house.<br /><br />On my return to the pasture, the goats followed me out. I walked slowly along the fence line and found a spot not far from the barnyard. It's an area where water rushes into a dry creek after it rains. There has been a lot of erosion. The dirt under the fence crumbled away just enough to allow for the goats to get out. A couple of the goats were curious about what I was doing. I stood back to watch what they did around the hole. One pawed at it and started to go under, then turned and saw me and pulled back. I knew then that I had the place they'd been using.<br /><br />I pulled the fence down, took a thick branch that had fallen to the ground, weaved it through a few sections of the fence and pulled on it until it weighted the fence down and kept it at ground level. Then I put some other debris in front to prevent the goats from breaking my fix. Two or three of the goats hovered around me while I worked, occasionally nudging my arm, an attempt to distract me perhaps or just to beg for a little attention. Goats are curious animals, never satisfied to leave us alone if we're anywhere close.<br /><br />With nowhere in particular that I had to be after I finished the "repair," I turned my attention to the goats. I sat on the ground and waited for them to come to me to rub their necks and jowls. Several crowded around me, butting others out of the way to get to a position in front of me. I love sitting where I can look them in the eye and see the soulfulness deep inside each animal. It's a treat to spend that kind of time with them, but such moments usually have to be stolen here and there. On t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmgg0SaiOIPkkBwC_uNNFVdq4u-sZOF06qixDqaIMBYxLLkrpVlviUHr3blKQ2X16TV5NNa2DIUCRwPJ-whsD36giBp-C29O7Vs8Bu0SFtgWclzvxVUSdehoXhgO4CsZnwXAL/s1600/biscuit.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmgg0SaiOIPkkBwC_uNNFVdq4u-sZOF06qixDqaIMBYxLLkrpVlviUHr3blKQ2X16TV5NNa2DIUCRwPJ-whsD36giBp-C29O7Vs8Bu0SFtgWclzvxVUSdehoXhgO4CsZnwXAL/s320/biscuit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557939282707689010" border="0" /></a>his day, I had no concern for the work that was being neglected while I spent time with the animals. It was pure pleasure.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IsR6eFlCG_AByQd2CKW9SxHNQ3S3f8krIjuCzOaGCSHm-9iFjVWOR3ed1cIVcHNBzJVtHTOlrK49S1QATYSIjUTFyhNXMtJQfuAs9glDVUp8DhUWG2_Xt-EbVsGN2Bxfi7Ip/s1600/teeny+on+hay.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 154px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IsR6eFlCG_AByQd2CKW9SxHNQ3S3f8krIjuCzOaGCSHm-9iFjVWOR3ed1cIVcHNBzJVtHTOlrK49S1QATYSIjUTFyhNXMtJQfuAs9glDVUp8DhUWG2_Xt-EbVsGN2Bxfi7Ip/s320/teeny+on+hay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557942372002883138" border="0" /></a><br />While I was occupied with a few of the younger goats, I looked up to see Teeny Tiny, one of our milk goats, head for the place in the fence where the hole used to be. She stood staring at it for a good while, then pawed at it, trying to get the branches and debris out of the way. Obviously, she's the leader of the break outs. I have suspected as much. Frustrated with my work, she gave up and turned to a broken down round bale of hay. A chunk of the bale rested on the ground, creating a small hill. She climbed on top, ready to challenge any goat who dared to get up there with her. Others grazed nearby, eating dried leaves and the occasional acorn off the ground. I sat back and watched, feeling the warm sun and breeze on my face.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-13651289761531500852010-12-30T09:31:00.004-06:002010-12-30T10:26:04.191-06:00Reverb 10: Gift<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Gift: This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?</span> (Author: Holly Root)</span><br /><br />Early in the year one of our CSA members contacted us about some English shepherd puppies they had. They knew we were researching herding dogs and planning at some point to get one. Initially, we said no. We were swamped and felt that any dog we brought into the house at that time would likely become just another pet for lack of proper attention to training.<br /><br />The conversations continued, though, and through their persistence and after further research we decided an English shepherd might very well be a good match for us and the opportunity was one we could hardly pass up. They brought a couple of the puppies by the market for us to meet and a decision was made that the best of the bunch would be Lachsmi, a female that was bossy with the rest of the dogs. We thought she'd make an excellent herding dog. Sometime in early May, we met them in Tulsa and picked her up.<br /><br />What happened after we returned to the farm is hard for me to write about. While walking with the dog, I tripped and fell and dropped the leash. Lachsmi ran. The leash caught hold of the leg of our barbecue grill and sent it flying, landing on the ground in a big crash. Lachsmi bolted and ran for the garden. I went after her, trying not to let my panic lead me to do things that made her think I was chasing her. I found her in the garden, against the fence on the far side. I was slowly approaching her when a truck with a cattle trailer came down our road, banging and clanging and making a lot of noise. Lachsmi bolted under the fence and out to the road. I ran back to get my truck so that I could try to catch her. By the time I got out to the road, our neighbors pointed across the highway, saying she'd gone that way. I slowly crossed the road and parked. I saw her in the field. She stood and looked at me for a minute. I called her name and took one step toward her. She bolted again, disappearing into the tall grass. I never saw her again.<br /><br />I searched for her all afternoon, talking to everyone in the area where she disappeared that I could find at home. We made fliers to post. I put them up at intersections in the area and in a couple of stores in the small town close to us. I searched again the next day, walking all over the field where I last saw her, driving up and down roads, walking through more fields. I saw no sign of her. The friends from whom we'd gotten her came out with Lachsmi's mom and the three of us plus the dog searched again. Nothing.<br /><br />I felt horrible. I still get a sick feeling in my stomach every time I think about it. The thoughts of what happened to her as a result of my clumsiness and failure to keep things under control were hard to bear. It didn't help that the situation reminded me of another painful experience with a dog that had happened a little over a year earlier. I wondered if I was destined to keep repeating the same mistake over and over. I was sure I should never be trusted with a dog again, maybe no animals at all. It was hard to sit with the awareness of how many people and animals had been hurt by my clumsiness and lack of control in those two situations.<br /><br />Days went by and my heart ached. I found myself looking for her every time I drove by the area where she disappeared. I even stopped a few times and walked along the roads calling her name. As time went by, I began to accept that she was gone and so I prayed that she was safe in someone else's home, someone who simply never saw the signs we posted or didn't get a visit from one of us when we went door to door.<br /><br />I went out of town on business and the time away helped. The pain began to ease up some and I found myself starting to let go a bit. A few weeks later we received an e-mail from the friends who gave us Lachsmi. They had another pup and after a lot of conversation in their family, had decided that it would help them with their healing if we would receive the other pup as a gift, no charge, and train her to be a sheep dog.<br /><br />Tears streamed down my face as I read the e-mail. I did not feel at all like I deserved such a gift. I was scared to death that I would blow it again. But I could see in Lisa's face that she really wanted her and knew that it was the right thing to do. I knew that I had to get past the experience if I was ever going to survive living on a farm with so many animals under my care. We agreed to take her and responded to them with appreciation for the amazing grace they demonstrated in making the offer to us.<br /><br />The next Saturday, they brought Gaia (now called Maya) with them when they came to the market. When market was over, they handed her off to Lisa who brought her home. I was nervous at first. I found myself keeping my distance. We kept her inside for a week, taking her out on a leash to go to the bathroom. We walked her around on a leash outside, slowly introducing her to the animals. Her response was completely different than the other dog's. She was calm and curious, very attentive to us, clinging to Lisa's side whether in the house or outside.<br /><br />With fear <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBb_pKSCoFN6RYX0SIyXGqd8MZ2_h1Ewum_mO_G2pvCjFbYttHYJJhp6HklyIIExhbTSZJGTWhBf9m7TYpCO0Qlmb7Rl8aHratIVbXrYMiRtI97qFKidhtd9KQqzOxHT9R8vUJ/s1600/maya.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBb_pKSCoFN6RYX0SIyXGqd8MZ2_h1Ewum_mO_G2pvCjFbYttHYJJhp6HklyIIExhbTSZJGTWhBf9m7TYpCO0Qlmb7Rl8aHratIVbXrYMiRtI97qFKidhtd9KQqzOxHT9R8vUJ/s320/maya.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556511990224056690" border="0" /></a>and great concern a week later, we let her out for the first time without the leash. She sniffed around, did her business, ran around the yard a bit, but came back to the door, showing no signs at all that she was going to run away. Gradually, we began to relax more and trust that she was going to stay.<br /><br />In the months since, Maya has found her place on this farm. Though initially intimidated by the animals, she is becoming less and less afraid to be around them. She's right at our side now whenever we work with the sheep. She goes out for hikes with us, always running up ahead of us several then stopping until we catch up to her. She is our miniature dachshund Jai's best companion, playing with him in all his craziness.<br /><br />And with time, I let my guard down and let her in. Every morning, she jumps up on the bed and lays next to me while I journal and write. She lays at my feet at the dinner table and when I come home from work, she runs to greet me.<br /><br />Sometimes I look into her dark eyes, the serious gaze that comes from her sober face, and I see the greatest gift of all this year, the trust of a dog who found her way into my heart and the grace of friends who decided to give us another chance.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-7915555758981750812010-12-27T06:54:00.003-06:002010-12-27T07:27:22.432-06:00Reverb 10: Ordinary Joy<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Ordinary Joy: Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year? </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">(Author: Brené Brown)</span><br /><br />There was a time not long ago when I wasn't exactly sure what joy is. It had been so long since I had any that I just didn't know what it felt like anymore. Those days are gone, thankfully, and joy, both ordinary and extraordinary, have returned to my life.<br /><br />For me, joy is more a state of being than an experience. Certainly my experiences can bring joy, but if I am not open to feeling it, the most common joyful time will not break through the darkness and fill me up. I've learned there are things I can do to cultivate my heart so that joy can be experienced. Writing, journaling, exercising, spending time outside, listening, laughing...all of these are ways I make room for joy to take hold.<br /><br />It's hard for me to choose one most joyful ordinary moment. There are many everyday, from the moment I wake up lying next to the person I love to the first deep breath of fresh air when I step outside or the time spent around the lunchroom table with colleagues and students and again at the kitchen table having dinner with Lisa. I feel joy when a goat nudges up against me, nibbling at my coat sleeve or when I watch lambs and kids hop around the barnyard. Jai, whose very name is an expression of joy, exudes it running around the farm at top speed. It's present when I introduce prospective students to the seminary and the great things offered there and when I sit with my small group for the ITE class and watch as the group members discover new ideas for the first time. Joy fills my chest when I hear the laughter and chatter from the porch at the cabin on the night of a farm table dinner, the gasps of delight when guests take first bites of each course brought out to them.<br /><br />I agree that our most profound joy is often experienced in the most ordinary moments. I think this is true because it isn't the experience itself that causes joy. Joy comes when we are awake to it, when our hearts have been opened by grace, and we know that it's the ordinary things in our lives that save us everyday. It's an expression of our deepest delight in being alive.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-39464851750786487612010-12-26T07:22:00.002-06:002010-12-26T07:49:58.892-06:00Reverb 10: Soul Food<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Soul Food: What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul? </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">(Author: Elise Marie Collins) </span><br /><br />I could write about this for days. It probably isn't fair how well I eat every single day. The food grown on this farm and Lisa's preparations of it are one of my greatest pleasures. But there is one meal from this year that stands out.<br /><br />On the 4th of July, we went for a hike on the farm. While walking through the woods, we noticed some beautiful orange mushrooms in several spots. We harvested a few, pretty well convinced they were chanterelles, but not certain enough to harvest a lot. We brought them back to the house, did some research online to make sure we had the right thing and then cleaned them. During the hike, we also gathered blackberries and sand plums. Lisa's mind went immediately to work on the perfect way to cook the mushrooms.<br /><br />That night I sat down to a dinner of seared pork chop with a chanterelle-sand plum-lavender sauce. The first bite sent me soaring. Lavender and chanterelles are the perfect marriage of flavors and the fruitiness of the sand plums added another dimension, tart and sweet at the same time. It was the best meal I had all year. Later, we went out with the interns and harvest enough chanterelles for Lisa to use in one of the Farm Table Dinners. Not completely satisfied with how tart the sand plums were, she switched to peaches in the sauce. Also heavenly, but by then I was no longer surprised by how perfect the combination of flavors is. Still, it was absolutely amazing.<br /><br />I'm not a big fan of mushrooms, but the chanterelles have a fruity flavor and nice texture that make them exceptional. I can hardly wait for the 4th of July to come again so we can harvest some more.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-46079441550045035412010-12-22T05:48:00.003-06:002010-12-22T06:25:14.645-06:00Reverb 10: Travel<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Travel: How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year? </span>(Author: Tara Hunt) </span><br /><br />I travel quite a bit for work and 2010 was no exception. I go to exotic places like Wichita, KS, or Jefferson City, MO, or Oklahoma City, OK. These are destinations I can easily reach by car and generally rent one to make the trip. Depending on the time of year, the drive isn't bad and sometimes the scenery is pretty decent, but these are not necessarily the locations that rank high on my list of places to visit for anything other than work.<br /><br />Work travel did afford the opportunity to travel to the west coast this year and ordinarily that is occasion for great rejoicing. It was to be a quick trip to Eugene, OR, with a couple of quick meetings in and around Portland, and of course, a detour along the coast long enough to fill my salty-air-starved lungs with some ocean breeze. I made it as short a trip as possible so that I could get back in time to see the first of our baby goats born.<br /><br />Alas, that was not to be. The Oregon trip was, shall we say, a bit longer than I'd planned. In fact, what was to be a 2.5-day trip turned into a week. I learned a lot on this trip. For starters, I learned that it is worth every penny of the $20 charge with Southwest to have them automatically check you in early. I learned Southwest Airlines is very well aware of the limits of our rights as travelers and will exploit them, no matter how well known they are for customer service. I learned that Enterprise Rent-A-Car remains true to their customer service reputation.<br /><br />Being stranded for 4.5 extra days was infuriating to say the least and it took me about 3 of those just to calm down. I hiked and walked along the beach and then returned to my hotel room to write, only to feel the anger rise again. The irony is that under completely different circumstances, I would have been thrilled to spend a long weekend at the coast.<br /><br />So, how will I travel in 2011? Hmm....not on Southwest Airlines, if I can avoid it. That said, I do hope 2011 brings some opportunity to travel for fun. Lisa and I are planning a long weekend trip to Seattle in late January or early February. It will be our first overnight trip together in some time and we're pretty excited about that. I look forward to seeing where she grew up and to sampling some of the restaurants she loves from that area. And, of course, it will be good once again to drink in that salty Pacific air.<br /><br />For work, travel will take me to New Orleans, Minneapolis, and Nashville, in addition to the usual local exotic locations. Fortunately, these three offer some great eating opportunities, which is always a priority in travel for me. Sadly, <a href="http://www.cafebrenda.com/">Cafe Brenda</a> in Minneapolis is now closed, so the opportunity to revisit one of the best meals I've ever had will not happen, but I'm sure I'll find some other good places, perhaps <a href="http://spoonriver.com/">Spoonriver</a>, for example. In Nashville, there are already plans for several of us to eat at <a href="http://www.tinangel.net/index1.htm">Tin Angel</a>. And New Orleans, where do I start? Maybe another visit to <a href="http://www.frommers.com/destinations/neworleans/D41560.html">Dooky Chase's</a>?<br /><br />Traveling is all about eating and nature for me.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34525163.post-32912455276002933302010-12-21T07:18:00.000-06:002010-12-21T11:37:52.055-06:00Reverb 10: Future Self<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-style: italic;">Future Self: Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?) </span>(Author: Jenny Blake)</span><br /><br />Advice for my current self from my 50-year-old self: The joy you feel is real. Enjoy it. But...that back of yours isn't going to last forever. Take good care of it.<br /><br />Dear Linda in the 36th year of your life,<br /><br />It's nearly Christmas and this year for your gift I'm giving you a top-10 list of things you should know to save you a lot of heartache and anxiety in the coming 10 years:<br /><br />1. The llama will get out and head for the road, but the crazy black dog that just showed up on the farm is actually a rare breed herding dog. No one's trained her, but she knows exactly what to do. Trust her.<br />2. Llama? Farm? That...well...that part might be best left to discovery.<br />3. It is not failure to stop doing something that isn't working for you.<br />4. Jesus was wrong about the sheep versus the goats. Goats are superior animals. And it's okay to occasionally act like one yourself.<br />5. 35 is not too old to find love. In fact, 43 isn't either. It isn't necessary to settle for the first woman who comes along after you are honest with yourself about who you are. Therefore, don't waste another day stuck in a bad relationship. See #3 above.<br />6. Start writing. Now. Don't stop.<br />7. Get outside as much as you can everyday. The clean, fresh air filling your lungs, the sun warming your face, the freedom felt in the expanse of the sky will save you, over and over again.<br />8. Go with the spikey hair. You know you want to.<br />9. Hold on to the leash. Whatever happens, don't let go.<br />10. Love may not be constant from any one person, but it is always present in your life. Keep your heart open to it.<br /><br />With love,<br />Your much wiser 45-year-old self<br /><br />P.S. A bonus #11: There is life in Oklahoma. Really. I wouldn't lie to you.Lindahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03167212722339582049noreply@blogger.com1