One (not so) Little Word 2017

January 11, 2017 / a samaritan woman / 4 Comments

I’ve never before officially participated in the #onelittleword challenge. There have been many times when I’ve set an intention for a specific period of time – whether a day, a week, a liturgical season…but not officially for the whole year.

Recently, though, one of my Sacred Sisters posted something about it on facebook. We were semi-serious, as it was a stressful time and we were managing to laugh at the stress.

Then, I got to thinking. I like this #OneLittleWord idea. I’ve never been much for New Year’s Resolutions, but one word to sum up intentions for the year – I like it. So, what’s my word?

What started as a joke actually has, after quite a bit of thought, become my word for 2017: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Seriously. This one not-so-little word pretty much sums up my intentions for 2017. Before you click away from this page thinking I’m making fun of #onelittleword, I assure you I’m not. Let me explain: The word is an antidote. (If I’m making fun of anything, I’m making fun of myself.)

It was made popular in the movie Mary Poppins. This children’s classic (starring Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke) was groundbreaking for its time with its use of animated sequences and live actors in the same scenes. Mary Poppins had just won a horse race, and she’s asked for her response. There’s a word to sum it up, she says, and they break into song: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! An amazing word to sum up an amazing feeling.

Dick Van Dyke and Julie Andrews in Mary Poppins.

I want amazing – in 2017 and beyond. I want childlike awe, joy. I want to dance and laugh about the good things in life, whether big or small – because there are always good things. There are many negative things in the world, but there are always good things in God’s creation. I am realizing that the word is also a sort of shield for me. The littlest things can be good, joyful, worth laughing about.

Talisman.

One day recently, a group of our Sacred Sisters met, prayed, and burned what we wanted to release from our lives. We sang together, and shared our words for the coming year. I suddenly realized that I’d been thinking that I SHOULD have a sensible, serious word for the year – I don’t want anyone thinking I’m poking fun at the idea! But once again, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious danced in my brain, and I realized… it is my antidote for should.

You see, SHOULD is not the voice of conscience for me; rather, it is a hoax, a pretender, a thief. It is sly, masquerading itself as good when it is, in truth, an attempt to derail my true self.

In prayer, I have asked that Divine Guidance use different terminology when nudging me to act or not act. The results have been interesting. My soul whispers “you might want to….” or “consider this…” I listen, I pray, I consider, and often act. However, if I hear “you SHOULD…” I take a very careful look at the suggestion, for should negates free choice. Should is coming from somewhere other than Divine Guidance.

I didn’t realize this particular characteristic of being an antidote of my chosen word until we stood at the fire pit and shared our words and how they came to us.

Sometimes things just…pop into consciousness.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. The word itself is nonsensical, meaning (according to various dictionaries) “fantastic,” “awesome,” “something totally indescribable” or simply “the longest word you can come up with.” Wikipedia (as well as a few other sites) break it down into roots, and come up with something along the lines of “atoning for educability through delicate beauty,” which to me sounds like something found on a poorly-translated fortune cookie.

Songwriters Robert and Richard Sherman have described the word as similar to one from their youth, and that the final form of the word as we know it came from their actual songwriting process. Ah!!

Christmas Day 2016 in south Louisiana. Don’t we all need some silliness at times?

So my “one not-so-little-word” for 2017 began life as a nonsense word, which was finalized in the craft of songwriting. Through the magic of creativity, it took on a life of its own. As a magical word, it becomes my shield. It connects me to childlike wonder and reminds me to slow down to see the beauty in the world. It reminds me that I don’t need to take myself so seriously. It reminds me to act out of love rather than out of rigid duty. It slays the shoulds.

The other day, after sharing my word (and reasons for it), we all broke into song:

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough you’ll always sound precocious,
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

…at which point, Patti and I started dancing and continuing with “dum diddle diddle ay dum diddle ar, dum diddle diddle ay dum diddle ar…”

I’m reminded that God has a sense of humor, and that yes, we are made in God’s image.

Here’s wishing you a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious year.

Lighting the fire

January 1, 2017 / a samaritan woman / 4 Comments

It’s the last few hours of 2016. It’s been a drizzly day, and I have a pot of blackeye peas on the stove for tomorrow. Fireworks, various pyrotechnics and fires in general have long been a family tradition around the turn of the year, and this year has been no exception in spite of the rain. Long before the “garden firepit” came onto the scene, we built fires in the backyard.

Each Christmas saw my brother and me heading to the hardware store or fireworks stand to carefully select penny skyrockets, roman candles, and other goodies. Firecrackers were best suited for blowing up crawfish castles (the small chimney of mud that remains above ground when crawfish set up housekeeping). We still enjoy fireworks, and in recent years have undertaken a bonfire tradition.

There’s something primal about a fire, this momentary return to the light as the days grow ever-so-slightly longer. We in south Louisiana don’t have to deal with long periods of darkness, but even so, we love our bonfires, campfires and fire pits. A friend made a fire kettle that is suspended from a tripod. Spent ashes fall through the hole, and fresh wood is added to the top. In the fall and winter, we often hang out around the fire in the evenings. I find myself soaking up the peacefulness – or engaging in discussion about anything from theology to politics to history or philosophy – you know, the fun, lightweight stuff.

Cast iron firepit, site of many lively discussions.

Yesterday we had our end of the year bonfire. (Said bonfire can be any time we have enough wood, energy, and dry, cool weather around Christmas / New Year / Epiphany. If those things don’t converge, we don’t have a bonfire.) David (husband), Greg (brother) and Bubba (music partner/friend) outdid themselves in the planning and execution.

Scrap wood used for shipping is bonfire fuel.

The plan was to start it burning at the top so that it would burn evenly and not collapse too soon.

Fireworks (bottle rockets) were strategically placed along the top, pointing in safe directions. Firecrackers were tucked inside. Of course, our bonfire site is in the open, well away from anything that could catch. Fortunately, south Louisiana isn’t the tinderbox situation that exists in some areas.

My brother, always the ham. I don’t blame him for being proud of this one, though. They added a “porch,” decorative top and bottle rockets prior to lighting.

Gumbo, potato salad, mulled wine, family and some friends made it a great way to celebrate the return of the light. I can’t help but think of how many families and communities since the dawn of time have celebrated the promise of renewed light with a fire. (Power tools only a recent invention, too!)

Starting at the top of each section.

Whoosh!! If 2016 was a good year, celebrate!

This past year was a good one for some, a bad one for others, and a mixed bag for most. Each year, regardless of how the year has been, we celebrate the return of the light at Christmas. We turn inward during the dark of the year. We can either join the fear of the dark, or celebrate the light.

And if 2016 was a bad year, torch it!

The other day I was in a store, browsing some after-Christmas discounts, and a woman walked by and said “you see a lot of stuff left this year – that’s because no one has any money! People don’t have any money!” I recognized her frustration, and her fear. The repercussions of low oil prices have rippled through Louisiana and beyond, leaving thousands without jobs. For many, unemployment benefits have run out. Some are relocating against their will. Many are fearing this darkness, as well as the darkness elsewhere in the world. We turn to faith and the promise of Christmas.

And we light a fire, whether for warmth, light, or just fun. In doing so, we connect with ancestors of long ago and not-so-long ago as we watch the flames, knowing that light will always dawn again.

Light awaits.

It is the season of light and miracles. We are still in the “12 days of Christmas” as we move towards Epiphany. This year, the first day of Hanukkah coincided with Christmas Day. I pray on this New Year’s Eve that these ancient celebrations of light and miracles bring positive changes, peace and the ever-growing light of love to all.

Better than a movie.

December 25, 2016 / a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

Tired, overwhelmed, maxed-out shoppers. People trying to “get everything done.” Kitchen overload (at least here in the land o’ food, south Louisiana). Choirs and choir directors ramping up for Christmas, wondering why the season with the best music is also one of the shortest liturgical seasons.

Hot chocolate, giftwrap and Hallmark Christmas movies. NOW we’re talking…

Thursday’s end-of-workday chatter focused on Hallmark Christmas movies. My husband has seen every one of them (more than once). I’ve managed to see quite a few, and it seems that quite a few of the folks at work watch them, too.

Sappy? Sentimental? Trite? Formula? Who cares? Christmas movies (Hallmark and otherwise) remind us that we humans yearn for happy endings.

Christmas, though, is a season of happy beginnings.

There are many people who struggle with depression during the holiday season. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, New Year’s…all are milestones, and the years are marked by memories. Family gatherings can be joyful – or bring out the friction. We hear endless talk about “the reason for the season,” yet live in a world where many people hesitate to show faith.

Well, heck. I say Merry Christmas (unless I’m singing at the Temple or texting my adopted brother, in which case the greeting is a sincere Happy Hanukkah, and this year the dates coincide.) We can bemoan the “commercialization” of Christmas ‘til the cows come home (OK, cornball manger metaphor there), but there is a big commercial element, like it or not.

I refuse to moan. I take joy in giving, and remind myself to receive gratefully and to not wonder if my gift in turn was “good enough.” My white tree #1 is turning a bit…yellowish. The popsicle stick and gold glitter Star of David made by one of my children in first grade (they each did that craft, and I don’t know whose star is up there this year) is my tree-topper, which I find very appropriate. It’s not Home & Garden, but it is spiritually and biblically satisfying. I don’t expect much holiday company, but if they show up, they will be offered whatever’s in the fridge – probably chocolate cashew milk or red wine – and whatever leftovers are hanging around. In other words, “treated like home folk.”

tree-topper

As for old memories – well, we can be sad by what is gone, or we can rejoice in what is. And what IS is…

…God incarnate, man divine. Jesus, the miraculous fusion of God and human, relatable to us AS us. Savior for all, way-shower for a path of love and our guide to the kingdom of heaven. We are reminded, with the passing of the winter solstice and the celebration of the birth of Christ, that light returns. We look around, see our fellow humans’ (and our own) best and worst sides all on full display around the holidays, and make a concerted effort to find the good because hey, it’s Christmas. We deal with our own struggles in life and keep rooting for the underdog in the spiritual and global war of good versus evil. Sometimes we wonder who or what is winning.

Christmas, though, reminds us that there is always a new beginning. Christ is born, and we can welcome His changing power of love in our hearts, and His healing presence when we are overwhelmed with doing too much or remembering too much. When we welcome the Christ Child fully into our hearts and lives, the question of “which side is winning” becomes a no-brainer.

This is better than a Hallmark movie, because it’s real. In the end, love always wins.

I wish you all the miracles of Christmas.

Making Sugar (part 2)

December 17, 2016December 17, 2016 / a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

In Part 1, we got the cane from the field, unloaded it at the mill, chopped up, and now… into the mill it goes.

Cane is crushed before it even enters the mill.

The cane is pretty much pulverized along the way, and the juice extracted. In another part of the cane mill complex, a core laboratory is analyzing samples from each load of cane to determine sucrose, moisture and other factors which indicate the sugar yield from each truckload. The cane is pulverized through the mill – usually involving a series of rollers – and the juice is extracted. The remaining pulp is called bagasse, and is usually incinerated to fuel the running of the mill. There’s an awful lot of bagasse, though, and the sugar content means it will ferment quickly – there’s that stench a lot of people complain about.

Ground cane being processed

Ground cane being processed (more!)

The juice itself is like any other raw juice – a thin liquid, and frankly, not exactly clean. It’s cleaned up with slaked lime, and the dirt settles out and is usually returned to the fields. The juice heads off to evaporators so that it can be boiled down.

Bubble, bubble, boiling sweetness!

If by now you have the idea that a sugar cane factory is a large, hot place with a lot of very massive machinery…you’re right. Most of the “smoke” people see billowing out of the plant is steam, and both air and water exhaust is monitored and must meet environmental regulations.

Making sugar is an art as well as a science. It’s one thing to boil the juice down into syrup; it’s something else to coax it into crystalization. It’s a tricky process.

Checking crystals

Once the magic of crystalization happens, the syrup heads to centrifuges where the crystals are separated from the liquid. Voila! Raw sugar, which is dried and sent to a warehouse.

Taking a quick sample from a centrifuge.

Louisiana is home to 11 sugar factories which produce raw sugar, which is sent to refineries that will produce refined sugar and similar products. Because of the sugar content of the cane, it must be processed quickly after it is cut. The raw sugar is usually stored in warehouses until it can be shipped to a refinery.

Cane goes from the mill to a warehouse on a conveyor belt. It pours into a mountain of sugar.

At the warehouse, the sugar is transferred to dump trucks, which take it to barges, which will take the raw sugar to a refinery.

I often wonder who figured out that the tall, thick cane held this amazing sweet stuff in it. Since cane was introduced into Louisiana, I don’t think it was the same brave soul who looked at a crawfish and said “I wonder how that tastes?”

So when you sit down to enjoy something sweet this Christmas or Hanukkah, take a moment to think of all those who had a hand in your holiday baking. Chances are many of those folks are at work on Christmas day, because grinding doesn’t stop until all the cane is done. Think about all of those who’ve had a hand in your entire holiday meal, no matter how extravagant or simple, and say a prayer of thanksgiving.

Now I’m going to post this and bake some Christmas cookies with – yep, you guessed it – home-grown Louisiana raw sugar.

Making Sugar

December 6, 2016December 7, 2016 / a samaritan woman / 2 Comments

I live in the heart of sugar cane country. I am literally surrounded by cane fields. From my front porch, I have a view of oak trees and cane fields and in the summer, you can indeed hear it grow (the cane, that is). Our world has changed so much over the past decades that more and more people don’t quite realize exactly where their food comes from. Well, I can tell you a bit about sugar.

Right now it’s harvest time in south Louisiana. We actually have a relatively short growing season – cane is planted in the late summer of one year and harvested in the fall of the next. Most sugar consumed (sugar, not corn syrup or other sweeteners) comes from sugar cane (about 20% comes from sugar beets), which is actually a grass. A grass that can grow really, really tall.

Sugar cane in mid-summer. Tall, but still with some growing to do.

In some growing areas of the world where the cane has a longer season, it flowers. Wow! Not in south Louisiana as the cane must be harvested before it freezes. Harvest time, or “grinding,” starts around the beginning of September.

Harvested cane in carts await unloading at M. A. Patout sugar mill in Patoutville, LA.

Cane is cut, loaded into carts or large (18-wheeler) trucks, and brought to the mill. In years past, the cane would be burned after cutting and before loading in order to remove the leaves. Fortunately, newer harvesting techniques results in “billet” cane which is chopped shorter during the harvesting process – eliminating most (but not all) of the need for burning the cane. It may be a pretty sight, but it does put a lot of smoke and soot into the air.

Burning fields at dusk between Lydia and Patoutville, LA

Anyone driving on a two lane highway in south or central Louisiana knows to “watch out for the cane trucks!” because they do tend to move more slowly than regular traffic. A pet peeve of mine is the folks who zoom around them recklessly or who complain about the trucks. What, you’re late for work? You should know better this time of year, and the person driving the truck is at work already.

Sterling Sugars in Franklin, LA

Sugar mills are where the cane is crushed, juice is extracted, then boiled down to yield sugar crystals (and molasses). Sounds simple? Well…the idea is simple, but sugarmaking is as much of an art as it is a science. But first things first. Cut the cane, load it, haul it to the mill and unload it there.

A truck filled with cane arrives at Cajun Sugar Co-op, New Iberia, LA

Methods of unloading cane are pretty impressive.

At Cajun Sugar, the truck body is lifted to dump the cane.

Sometimes the entire truck is lifted!

At Sterling Sugars in Franklin, LA, it’s a similar process.

But wait…I’m getting out of order a bit. When the trucks arrive at the mill, they are weighed (they are weighed again after the cane is dumped). A “core sample” is taken at that time as well. Think giant hypodermic needle and you get the concept.

The core sampler at Cajun Sugar.

The sample goes directly to the core lab where it will be analyzed for sugar content. Samples are tracked by barcode, and the load-specific barcode is generated when the sample gets to the core lab. That info is tracked in the mill’s database so that each farmer can be paid properly. Pretty neat, huh? (I remember my grandfather at the mill, counting his truck arrivals – a common thing back then.)

Once the core sample is taken, the trucks are unloaded and the cane is stacked up in a massive yard. From there it is transported into the mill for grinding.

Not quite a “big ol’ rock candy mountain,” but a mountain of sugar cane.

The cane is chopped more before going into the mill.

Between the cane yard and the actual mill.

On the way into the mill, the cane will be on a conveyer belt and “make a pass” under some giant magnets. A stray piece of metal can mess up the mill, and possibly harm a mill employee.

Generally speaking, the cane will be chopped, smushed, macerated, and more or less rendered into mush/goo/yucky looking stuff and the juice extracted. Hence the term “grinding!”

But how does the juice from this overgrown grass become sugar? Ahh, that’s the next segment of this series, as I’m now going to have a cup of coffee sweetened with raw sugar. Stay tuned!

Stay grateful, my friends.

November 24, 2016 / a samaritan woman / 3 Comments

Here it is, Thanksgiving Eve, and I’d like to say that I’ve written an insightful, well-thought-out, finely-crafted post on gratitude.

However… an outdoor fire and a margarita called my name. I’m weak, human, and subject to temptation. Instead of writing, I sat around said fire with the margarita, family and friends, and a Sonic hamburger (and mosquitoes).

We’ve much to be grateful for in the simple things. So instead of writing, I thought I’d just share some photos of just a few of the many everyday things I’m grateful for.

An evening walk with my dog.

The August flooding didn’t get bad at all here.

Planting cane.

This little guy by my office. Fortunately, he’s not far from home.

Bird sanctuary at Avery Island, Louisiana. Yep, I’m 15 minutes away from where they make Tabasco.

Sugar cane, by home.

Harvest time, hauling cane to the mill.

This little fella by my kitchen door. He sings, too.

A route in Pecan Island, Louisiana.

Rain for the cane. (Sugar cane fields)

Sunset seen from my front porch.

The view on my morning walk to work.

Life is filled with challenges, trials, fearful things, obstacles and broken dreams. There will always be an unsoothed ache, a hidden hurt, a lost chance.

Thankfully, there will also be more beauty, chances, hope and love in life, in plain sight, waiting for us to grab it, share it, celebrate it. The choice of where to look is up to us, and I prefer to see the beauty and hope in the world.

Stay grateful, my friends.

Live Steam!

November 12, 2016 / a samaritan woman / Leave a comment

For some years my brother Greg has been after me to attend the Soule’ Live Steam Festival in Meridian, MS. Now, you’d have to know my brother (and some of you do). Like my husband has the “guys at the camp,” with Greg it’s “the guys at the shop.” The guys at the shop, however, have an affinity for steam engines and just about anything that’s large, heavy, made of iron and runs on steam. (Or gasoline. Or diesel.)

The Soule Live Steam Festival is an annual event held at the historic Soule Steam Feed Works / Mississippi Industrial Heritage Museum the first weekend in November each year. It’s a delightful, educational, family-oriented event, and visitors will see many steam engines at work.

Greg and his friend Eddie brought several of Eddie’s steam engines, and they weren’t the only exhibitors. But the heart of the event is the Soule Steam Feed Works itself. The company manufactured machinery and steam engines for the lumber industry from the late 1800s through the first part of the 20th century. At that time, steam was king – and it was portable. Soule’ built a rotary steam engine that was portable. A visit to the factory/museum is a step back in time, but not quite so far back as one might think. Steam is still used in manufacturing – in south Louisiana, steam runs the sugar mills that grind cane and product syrup and raw sugar.

At Soule, steam fans come together, along with railroad afficionados. The railroad station is close by the steam works, and the weekend also hosts Railfest, a short walk away from Soule Steam Feed Works.

Some of the more portable engines on exhibit at Soule’.

I attended on Saturday, and in addition to steam engines and a look into a not-so-distant manufacturing past, the event hosted several attendees and exhibits from the Carousel Organ Association of America. THESE INSTRUMENTS ARE COOL. I’ll admit, this was a deciding factor for me.

Greg: “lots of steam engines!”

Me: “more than you and your friends have?”

Greg: “Yes.”

Me: “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

Greg: “They also have carousel organs. They’re neat.”

Me: “I’M IN!!!!”

Yes, it’s a functioning baby pipe organ.
There was nonstop carousel organ music in one of the large workshops. At one point, two organs played a duet – which was fairly excruciating, because one was tuned to C and the other to Eb. Ouch. Somewhere Over the Rainbow sounded more like Somewhere under the Stormy Weather.

I can also say that I’ve now heard Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance on carousel organ. I couldn’t stop laughing. (You can find out more about the carousel organs here: http://steamfest.weebly.com/ ) A gifted bagpipe player also provided wonderful musical entertainment on the grounds. (I love bagpipes, so this was a real treat!) The museum had historic printing demonstrations, a spinning and weaving display, and a broommaking machine. I even brought home some freshly ground cornmeal, ground on site by one of the exhibitors.

Two of the many engines on display in the museum.

Right before sunset, Alabama Art Casting held a demonstration of melting, pouring and casting iron. “Industrial heritage”is a term you don’t hear everyday, but think about it. Progress is made by industry, and industry is born out of humanity’s desire to make life better and easier. The “Industrial Revolution” isn’t just something taught in school; this is how our country – and others – were built.

Molten iron, poured from furnace into a heated crucible.

Later in the evening, we attended the volunteers’ dinner at the Temple Theater. This is an historic theater, built in the 1920s in “Moorish Revival Style” by Shriners. The barbeque was delicious, and just being in this beautiful place was a treat. Visit their website at https://templetheater.wordpress.com/

But it got better. After dinner, we were treated to an organ recital and silent movie – with live organ accompaniment. The theater has its original Robert Morton organ, and we sat back to watch a Buster Keaton classic – with a live organist providing the soundtrack. What a treat! Greg, Eddie and I agreed that it was an outstanding weekend, with the guys pronouncing this the “best ever” of the numerous Live Steam Festivals they have attended there. Visit their website here: http://www.soulelivesteam.com/home.html – if you can’t make it for their festival, they offer tours throughout the year. It’s well worth a visit.

I drove home Sunday in a car scented with cedar – one of the exhibitors had a large lumber saw set up (powered by a steam engine) and was milling lumber. Leftover cedar shavings were there for the taking, and they’ll provide great garden mulch. All because of the power of steam!

During our regular weekly prayer group the other day at the Sacred Center, we had a guided meditation that brought up the image of fire. My recent steam adventure came to mind. Nearly everything I’d seen last weekend had been powered by steam and fire. During our subsequent discussion, I mentioned my trip to Meridian and the Soule Steam Festival. These are massive machines, all run on steam power. We can think of fire as being consuming, cleansing…but also transformative, an agent of change, and a source of power and energy. Just as fire can provide incredible energy, a spiritual fire can refine us, and it can also magnify our strength to do what may seem impossible.

– – – –

See some sights and sounds of the event, including Bad Romance on a carousel organ: https://youtu.be/RS2Xl_tGB1Y (you may have to copy and paste)

The Quagmire

November 2, 2016 / a samaritan woman / Leave a comment

I told myself months ago that I wasn’t going to get into political musings on this blog. So this isn’t intended as a political discussion, but rather my own musings on trying to “remain untainted” by the dirty business of politics in our flawed world.

I often hear comments like “I avoid politics” and “I vote, but that’s it.” Sometimes I think that may mean “I vote, but don’t actively engage in supporting specific candidates.” Fair enough. Or perhaps it means “I don’t want to talk about it.” I can understand that, too.

To ease the pain of a political post, here’s a photo of a happy dog. You’re welcome.

But what if it means “I’m going to vote the way I always do because I don’t want to be exposed to the negative energy of the election?” Therein lies the spiritual challenge to each of us.

In writing this blog, I try to apply spiritual principles to everyday life. I subscribe to the idea that I am what I think about most – and who wants to think about politics? It never ceases to amaze me how we can wind up with so many candidates for so many offices that disgust us so much. “I avoid all that! I don’t want to go there!”

Neither do I, but I do. It is one of the challenges of living as a part of a community, one of the lessons we as humans must learn. To say one is disengaged from the political process “but vote, and that’s it” is to abdicate power and participation in the process. It’s irresponsible.

We hear much in the media about “uninformed voters,” which can mean “someone who doesn’t vote the way I do.” Unfortunately, most major news outlets are extremely biased, and even closely following major news outlets does not necessarily result in being informed.

Personal disclaimer: I did not vote for either presidential nominee in the primary. So, I am one of those who may be tempted to not vote, or to write in the name of my initial choice. But I won’t. (Didn’t. I voted early.)

Louisiana’s “I Voted” sticker. Not necessarily a political commentary…

WikiLeaks.org and projectveritas.com have released (and continue to release) bombshells. I won’t use this space to dig into the findings of either of those websites – why deny you the fun of doing it yourself?

Here’s where our challenge comes in. United States citizens have a right to vote. It is also a responsibility, not to be taken lightly. Don’t give up the opportunity to learn as much as possible about the candidates presented because it’s depressing and you really don’t like either one of them. If we took that attitude towards all distasteful tasks, the human race would have died out long ago because dealing with babies means dealing with a lot of merde.

I also urge you to avoid the easy way out. “_______ is a ________!” Ask yourself truly: am I just repeating a soundbite?

No candidate is perfect. We are all flawed human beings, and most of us do NOT live our lives planning a run for political office. Somewhere along the line, we’ve pissed some people off with careless comments. We may have mismanaged our own affairs – which provides one with great lessons. Some of the “regular” questions are easy to ask: What has A achieved? What is B’s stance on C?

The big questions facing us about our candidates are ones we never thought we’d ask, and hate the idea of having to address them: Has X seriously endangered national security? Can Y be bought? Did Z commit treason?

Am I making the right decision? Is there a right decision in this election?

Yes, I do believe there is. There is no perfect candidate, so each must voter choose an imperfect one. I am reminded of Louisiana’s 1991 gubernatorial election: “Vote for the crook, it’s important.” A choice between Edwin Edwards (who was later convicted for racketeering and served 10 years in a federal penitentiary) and former KKK wizard David Duke taught me to never say never. I didn’t like Edwards, but I held my nose and voted for him anyway.

Jesus hung out with sinners, lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors and took on the establishment of his day. He didn’t let the “bad energy” dissuade him from bringing light into the world. King David was a pretty flawed guy, but did great things for God anyway.

I’ve always said you couldn’t pay me enough to run for political office – I wouldn’t even run for dogcatcher, as the saying goes. (I’d want to take all the dogs home!) Politics challenges us as individuals, and as spiritual beings. We want a world with peace, equality, hope, opportunity, love, religious freedom. We don’t want to have to go “slumming” in the stinking gutter of the political quagmire and would just rather steer clear of it all. We don’t want to have those discussions with friends that vote differently from us. We say why can’t we just all get along?

This is the human condition, so participate. Pray for the process, our country, and the candidates. Don’t sink low. Realize that you can dive into the yuckiness of politics and still be a light in the world. In spite of her flaws, America is still an example of freedom in the world. Exercise your free will and vote.

Above all, we must realize that no arsenal or no weapon in the arsenals of the world is so formidable as the will and moral courage of free men and women.
–Ronald Reagan

Become the prayer for goodness your lips have uttered.

October 6, 2016 / a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

A couple of years ago I wrote about singing at Temple Gates of Prayer in New Iberia, La. There is a small Jewish congregation here, and I have been blessed and honored to sing for their rabbi-led services for some time. Fall is the season of High Holy Days, which encompass Rosh Hashanah, Shabbat Shuvah and Yom Kippur.

This is a Reform congregation, who uses the New Union Prayerbook. There are many beautiful prayers within the covers of the regular book as well as Gates of Repentance, used during HHD.

Monday, during the morning service for Rosh Hashanah, these words leapt off the page at me:

“Be among those who cherish truth above ease, and whose prayers are shafts of light in the darkness….Aspire to be loving, compassionate, humane, and hopeful. Become the prayer for goodness your lips have uttered.” *

Become the prayer for goodness your lips have uttered.

Sounds deceptively simple. It’s certainly challenging. I know I am often overwhelmed with day-to-day minutiae, and tend to get onto the “just get-it-done” track. I’m not rude, cruel, dishonest or treating anyone badly, I’m just…getting things done. Work. Errands. Housekeeping. Paying bills. Doing laundry. Autopilot.

Peace window in memory of Jack Wormser, who was a man whose life was his prayer of peace. Temple Gates of Prayer, New Iberia, LA

The apostle Paul wrote:

Rejoice always, pray continually. ~ 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-17

What if we were to become the prayer? I cannot bring peace to the world, but I can be peaceful. I may not be able to cure someone, but I can be a healing presence. Kindness towards others – even a smile – can be prayerful.

Intention is the difference.

Now, more than ever, our country and our world are torn by voices of division. We hear so much about what’s wrong, about oppression, aggression, unfairness, shaming, blaming, hatred. Individual pain is exploited for political gain, and groups and individuals become game tokens in power plays. Individuals wonder what can I do?

Make a difference. Even this snail makes tracks.

Do what you can. Be open and aware. Set an intention for kindness. Show gratitude. Smile. Pray continually.

Then, become the prayer for goodness your lips have uttered.

~~~~~~~~ * 1984, Central Conference of American Rabbis: Gates of Repentance: The New Union Prayerbook for the Days of Awe. P. 187. (New York)

Armor of God

September 8, 2016September 8, 2016 / a samaritan woman / 2 Comments

I recently met a lovely woman, V, in a centering prayer group. The group meets during my workday, but I attend occasionally when I can slip out for a while. While the group attendance fluctuates, we stay connected through the internet. I, a newcomer, have been welcomed with love, open arms and many emails.

During the recent flooding here in south Louisiana, several group members’ homes were flooded; V’s was one of them. I’d only met her a few times, but my heart went out to her, as to so many. Flood recovery is a wet, stinky, moldy, yucky mess and there are no words that accurately describe it. Part of the process of post flood repair is replacing soaked sheetrock. The ruined parts are cut out, exposing the studs and timbers beneath. An email went out with a request from V to send scripture verses that would be written on the exposed beams before covering them again.

I thought of the V’ahavta:

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. ~Deut. 6: 4 – 9

Favorite verses were shared, then an invitation – Monday, we’ll gather at her home to help write these verses on the exposed beams.

Monday arrived, and a small group of us had gathered. We waited, but V never appeared. One member tried calling, but got her voice mail. Well, phones and voice mail had been very messed up since the flooding, and we just thought that something had come up or AT&T had freaked out. Plan for another day.

Later that afternoon, I heard a news story on the radio that a car had crashed through the wall and into a local post office.

My phone began buzzing with emails. V wasn’t at her house because she had been at the post office when the car crashed. She had been pinned between the car and a desk, both of her legs broken. We stormed the gates of heaven with prayer, waited for news of her surgeries – and continue to pray.

Then, in the middle of this, I read a blog post from Beauty Beyond Bones; she is a young woman with a history of an eating disorder. Prayer and Divine help got her beyond the bleakness of her deadly illness and into recovery. In her post, she described how her identity had been stolen recently, and spoke of Ephesians 6 – about putting on the full armor of God. Sometimes you need it!

What is it with these obstacles that fall into the way when one is seeking to fulfill Divine Purpose? Is it “Satan trying to mess things up?” Or is it something within one’s self, deeply hidden in the unconscious mind that fears and hinders forward movement? I have heard both explanations – and all in between.

If I look at the first option, then “it’s not my fault.” It is something completely beyond my control, and I am a helpless, powerless victim.

If I consider the second, “it’s ALL my fault, but I don’t want this!” Yet on some deep unconscious level I must invite failure. I am responsible for my own downfall. Gee, I have a lot of power, don’t I? (haha)

Neither extreme makes much sense to me. It is probably the oldest question ever asked: Why do bad things happen to good people? Well, we don’t know. Sometimes, sh*t just happens.

In spite of everything, God’s world is still a beautiful place.

Perhaps instead of trying to figure it out and control the outcome, we can just roll with the punches. When you think about it, no matter what you believe, your response can be the same: Get up, show up, keep going. Don’t stop. Put on the full armor of God, and lean on the Spirit which is greater than us and keep going. You – alone – will sooner or later run out of steam, but if you tap into God’s love and power, you have an infinite source. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to risk it alone.

Somehow, some way, it will work out – and usually in a way that surprises us. It may not be the way we would have chosen, but sometimes we have an outcome that is more amazing than we ever could have imagined.

Why do bad things happen to good people? I know I won’t get the answer anytime soon, and I’m not even looking for it anymore because I don’t think we can understand the answer (at least not in this lifetime). We cannot understand with our minds, but with our hearts and our souls. Such things are of faith, and not of reason. I am inspired and deeply moved by faith such as V’s.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
~ 1 Corinthians 13: 11 – 13

Faith. Hope. Love. This is what the armor of God is forged of. Put it on, and – like V, and Beauty Beyond Bones – keep going.

a samaritan woman

Meanderings and musings on & off a Spiritual path

Author: a samaritan woman

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