Remembrance

Memorial Day:

On the front page of today's Greensboro News and Record were photographs of the young men and women from this area who have died in Afghanistan and Iraq, and I came face to face with Jake Carroll.  Jake was a sophomore when I taught him at Trinity High School, not the most graceful stage of life for kids.  The name itself means "wise fool," a description that fits most of us at 15.  We know it all; older people are stupid; we'll live forever.

Most of us live long enough to gain some of the wisdom we thought we had, long enough to know what we don't know.  But Jake did not.  His 20-year-old face looked out at me this morning, and I was struck again by how very sad war is.

And yet I'm also grateful for the service of those who choose to defend our country from enemies.  I think of my father and my father-in-law, both of whom served during World War II.  Had they not defended us and others, we would be living in a very different world today.

So it is with mixed feelings that I say thank you to those who have served and that I remember in prayer those who did not come back - and those to whom they did not return.

Intrinsic Beauty

My recent exploration of the hammered dulcimer has been a treasure trove of insight.  Some insights are mechanical - how the tuning arrangement of the strings allows me to play rather easily in three different major keys just by moving up or down the courses, that the chords all fall into one of two patterns and so are easily added to melody, how to hold the hammers so they don't "wander" off to the left or right.

Some insights are more cosmic in nature.  This instrument makes beautiful sounds for whomever plays it.  It matters not whether you are a beginner or a master.  The tone is just lovely (even, as observed before, when the notes are wrong).  This characteristic of the dulcimer appears as a parallel to the characters of people.  Those with beautiful personalities - the altruists, the care-givers, the listeners, the empaths - are lovely even when they make errors.  In contrasts, those who are self-centered and uncaring can act correctly (i.e. play the correct notes) but their "music" doesn't ring true.

I wonder what would happen if we all worked more on our "tone" and less on the "notes."

The Gift of Music

Over the years I have loved listening to the hammered dulcimer - its mellow tones, the way the notes linger after the hammer strikes.  And I confess that I've envied those who own this instrument and know the secret to playing it.  So imagine my elation when a friend said, "I have a dulcimer and I want you to have it.  I can't play it any longer and want someone to enjoy it."

Enjoy it I do!  I've had this beauty for less than 24 hours and have loved making its acquaintance.  I love listening to the beautiful sounds it makes - even when I hit wrong notes.  What an amazing gift!  Lee Ann, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Morning Song

Refreshed by night rain
Soft caress of pure, cool air
Dawn's unsullied kiss

Sticks and Stones

The old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me" may be one of our biggest cultural lies.  Bones heal and the pain is forgotten.  Words linger and remain just as hurtful in retrospect as they were at first utterance.

Loss, Hope, Motherhood, and Other Random Thoughts

Mother's Day finds me missing my own mother.  It happens every year, that pang of loneliness for someone who was totally unique in my life.  No one else can fill that void.

But it also finds me loving being a grandmother.  There is no guilt in my relationship with my children's children.  I'm not responsible for their development, their school performance, their chore completion.  I'm only supposed to love them; and oh, how I love them.

I also have enough life experience to see the bumps in their roads as just that.  Bumps.  Not insurmountable mountains.  Not depths from which they'll never emerge.  Bumps.  We all lived through them.  This realization is not only freeing to me as a grandmother; it is hopeful in the broader sense.  If our kids' pendulums can swing, isn't it possible that our cultural pendulums can as well?  Isn't it feasible that the current lack of civility - a lack which is sadly apparent at all levels of our national character - might one day disappear?  Isn't there the potential that we can stop condemning each other and begin to respect other ways of life, points of view, religious beliefs?

On this Mother's Day, I choose to hold onto that belief, even if I have to cling to it for dear life!

Hiphop

This is Hiphop.  He's a little Manx cat who adopted us just before Christmas last year.  As sometimes happens with his breed, he has a birth condition that affects his back and hind legs.  The technical term is sacro-coccygial dis-genesis.  What it means is that Hiphop does just that; he hops like a bunny.

There are those who would see Hiphop as damaged goods - a group which likely includes whoever dumped him out at our church on a cold Saturday night in December.  But they'd be wrong.  This is the most loving, funny cat we have ever owned.  He has no idea that he's "defective," but enjoys every minute of every day.  He rushes to the door to bid Fred good-bye every morning and runs to the door again to welcome us home every time we go out.  He sits in the window and watches the birds at the feeders.  He loves to chase toy mice and wrestle with stuffed animals.  And most of all, he loves to sit in our laps, to snuggle, to purr, to share the moment.

If only we could emulate this attitude.  If only we could truly accepted ourselves as we are - without regard for weaknesses or physical imperfections.  I see in him a comfort and ease with self that I envy and try to achieve.  What Hiphop does effortlessly, I work at.  And humans are the "superior species" because....?

Love or Judgement?

We must scrupulously guard the civil rights and civil liberties of all our citizens, whatever their background. We must remember that any oppression, any injustice, any hatred, is a wedge designed to attack our civilization.

                                                                                            Franklin D. Roosevelt



This quote expresses a deeply-held belief.  Each of us is worthy of fair, just treatment.  I believe this to the core of my soul.  And today Fred's "little talk" in church dealt with the bedrock of that belief.  His source was 1 John 4:


"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.  Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love."


Loving one another is not easy - often it is downright difficult.  But I think the action that grows out of trying to show love for others (please note, I'm not saying liking or even wanting to be around some of those others) is healing.  Healing to a given situation, healing to a specific societal problem, healing to those society would marginalize, healing to the one who perseveres in love despite the odds. Loving action supersedes tolerance; it affirms the worth of those with whom we do not agree.


Saying "I love the sinner, but not the sin," does not reflect true caring for each other.  It reflects judgement and a sense of superiority that diminishes us all.  Working to achieve understanding and equal regard for everyone recognizes the value of each of us and makes us all stronger.  I wish us all strength in the quest for a peaceful, loving world.

Soul Food

Often we forget how important those small kindnesses are.  Smiling at each other.  Listening profoundly.  Sharing quiet time.

This truth hit home today when a friend -  recovering from recent surgery - asked me to bring the "same tuna salad" I'd made for her twenty years ago after another illness.  Tuna - such mundane food - suddenly assumed  deeper meaning - embodying friendship, love, mutual care.  Today it's more than lunch;  it's a banquet, a feast for the soul, and it's nourishing both of us.