The Work of My Heart

My heart never stops working
The always pumping muscle constantly in motion
Perfectly timed
Defying gravity
Never sleeping
Or on holiday
No taking a lunch break
Or coffee break
Generally not complaining about overtime

The work of my heart is like that of a mother's
Never ending
Unseen
Unrewarded
But felt when it stops

The work of my heart goes beyond traffic management
My heart works to love unhindered
My heart yearns to create beauty
My heart longs to heal cruel wounds
My heart desires to build reconcilation
My heart wants to end injustice
My heart toils in wants, needs, and desires

My body is too weak
The strong, unyielding work of my heart
Longs to break free
Lord, I offer up my heart's work to You.

If I were the owner of Hobby Lobby . . .

If I were the owner of Hobby Lobby, I would have done things differently. Let me be clear that this is not because I have moved from being pro-life to pro-choice. I strongly believe that abortion hurts and kills more than an unborn child. However, I have also come to strongly believe that litigation like that pursued by Hobby Lobby and legislation often pursued by other pro-life groups merely applies a pretty pink Barbie band-aid to a gaping, festering, and infected wound. Working with band-aids is somewhat quicker work, definitely cleaner, and you have something to show for it in the end. But I'm not sure that is what matters; I'm not sure that is the kind of witness we are called to be.

So, as the fictitious owner of Hobby Lobby the wound is where I would have focused my efforts.

Personally, the reaction to the ObamaCare policy that I see as much more of reflection of Christ's love is to convey this message to my employees in person, through video, and hand-signed letter:

Dear Valued Employee, (insert name),

I am follower of Jesus Christ. As such, I believe in the dignity of human life from the moment of conception, and some of the medicines and procedures we are required to provide in the new health care policy bring out a termination of life. I would ask that you respect that belief and not use the company provided insurance to procure such medicines and procedures.

But I also want to go beyond this to say that as a family-owned business I believe you are a part of my family. As such, I want to be available to help you in times of need. If you find yourself in a situation where you feel that these types of medicines or abortion procedures are the only option, I have contracted with a counselors in all store location areas, who can help you through these situations. These counselors are independent resources and do not report to me or store management. I am also including special cell phone number that I will carry if you want to talk directly to me.

(This is the first alternative I could come up with, but this is where I would pull together wise colleagues for help and ideas).

Sincerely,
Kathryn A Lee
Not the Owner of Hobby Lobby

I know this method may not have garnered any media attention, and certainly would not have ended up before the Supreme Court. And, I'm sure to some it seems way too soft on the hard issues and touchy-feely. I am also sure that it would not have put a significant dent in the numbers of abortions the next year. But, for the one or two who felt loved, seen, and cared about - that is where it matters, that is the hands and feet of Christ at work.

Jury Duty Induced Denial

Last week I took part in a great American rite of passage:  jury duty.  Hearing so many before bemoan the duty of serving on a jury, I was not very excited about receiving a summons.  My husband, on the other hand, was completely excited about my opportunity to do my civic duty. 

On this side of the experience, I still do not think getting a summons will induce the same giddy excitement that an Amazon package does.  But, I do know now that it will be a very curious and interesting day of observing human behavior, which is why I am writing about it now.  Actually, why I'm writing about it NOW (a whole week later) is so that I am not found to be in contempt of court or some other legal babble that goes along the plain speak lines of "Do Not Discuss This Case."  However, now that the trial is over - let's discuss. 

There were 62 of us stuffed into every available seat of courtroom G in the Marin County Court House designed by Frank Lloyd Wright - that in itself proved to be fascinating and entertaining.  We were in a circular, wood-paneled room with recessed ring of bubble lights that I was sure were going to give birth to aliens that would eat us all.  Then, there was the exercise of the seating of the 62.  Who knew it would take a bailiff armed with a taser and handgun to get people to sit right next to each other?  Then there were the late comers to the room, who were forced to take seats in the jury box before the court clerk had actually called their names, who would give the bailiff a double take; please don't make me; oh, wait, she's armed look before shuffling off to their seat. 

Next, came the first round of name calling and the initial wave of denial.  18 names were called to play musical chairs with those unfortunately seated in the jury box and alternate's chairs, and all 62 of us were praying hard that our name wouldn't be called.  No one wanted to get called to the box.  If they did they would have jumped up and run to it like a contestant on The Price Is Right (Oh, yes I was going to do it.  You know it!).  The amazing thing was once they go to the box, their dogged determination to stay there as demonstrated by their answers to the judge's and attorney's questions.  Please note that the names and circumstances have been changed to protect the oddly determined and me (that whole contempt of court thing again), and to provide great comic relief.  By the way, this was a DUI case with no accident or injuries to anyone. Also note that I am not trying to making light of the crime involved in this case, only the reactions of the potential jurors. DUI is a serious and far too often deadly offense.

Judge:  Do any of you know the defendant?
Potential Jurors:  Nope.
Judge:  Do any of you know either of the attorneys?
Potential Juror #8:  Well, I actually know the defense attorney.  He was my first love in high school, we dated for 3 weeks, and then he broke up with me to date my best friend.  But, I can be impartial here, your honor, I swear.  The fact that every relationship since then has failed will not bias me in the least.  I know this will not affect my decision in any way.  Please, please keep me.
**FAIL**


Judge:  Have any of you been arrested for DUI?
Potential Jurors:  Nope
Judge:  Have you ever had a family member arrested for DUI?
Potential Juror #3:  I have not had a family member arrested, but I am in this wheelchair today because of a drunk driver.  However, I have had extensive therapy, so I'm not bitter, and I can be completely impartial in this case.  I know it.  I promise.  Really, I can. 
**FAIL**

These are just two examples of the jury vetting, between the judge and the two attorneys they eliminated 20 people on the basis of "um. . .sure, you can." So, I began to wonder what would lead to this deep seated denial and determination to hold on to something that nobody wanted at the start of this day.  I decided it was all to do P.E.  That's right, Physical Education classes.  All, but maybe two, people in the room that day had grown up with dodge-ball and kickball team picking in PE class.  That dreaded, anxiety-inducing ritual of hoping and praying that you would not be the last person picked for a team and the semi-athletic attempts to prove that you were worthy of being first round draft next class time.  And, all of this is ridiculous, because just like jury duty no one wants to be there in the first place.  Girls do not want to get all hot and sweaty in the middle of the school day, and boys would rather play football than kickball. 

So, maybe I am looking forward to my next jury duty summons as more and more non-PE educated folks join the ranks of potential jurors.  Will they try to hold on to the dreaded hot seat?

A letter to the CEO of Papa John's

Yes, I did actually print this letter and mail it in the old fashion form as well.  The address is there for anyone who would like to do the same.

November 11, 2012

Papa John’s Corporate Headquarters

Attn:  John Schnatter

2002 Papa John’s Boulevard

Louiseville, KY  40299

Dear John:

I have just read the news announcing layoffs and cut backs for Papa John’s employees because providing healthcare for those employees will cost $0.11 to $0.14 per pizza.  This news deeply saddens and troubles me.  To hear news like this makes me think that corporate America has reverted to the days of land barons, who sought to get every ounce of work out of the serfs they owned to make themselves more comfortable.  My hope is that this has been some mistake and you will reply to tell me that you are proud to take up the responsibility of providing for and taking care of your employees.

But, I know that my hope will probably be crushed because too often these days people are only concerned with what it will cost them, instead of what would be best for their neighbor or employee.   I do not understand  why anyone would not see it as a moral imperative to help their employees and their families have access to such basic needs as a living wage and healthcare.   I know many business owners would say that their business would fail because they are so small and run on such tight budgets, and that may be true for a small percentage of businesses.  However, I hardly doubt that yours would qualify in that category, so I do not think you can say that this news statement is about anything but yourself and greed.

I recently moved to an area where there are no Papa John’s, and initially I was disappointed by that.  But over the last few years, I have found myself moving away from buying products from companies that seem to go out of their way to get out of taking care of their employees.  It looks like Papa John’s may be added to that list, and if so, I will be just fine living without Papa John’s pizza.

Your former customer,

Kathryn Lee

Hitting the books

When my husband and I moved to California, we put getting new drivers' licenses near the top of our to-do list.  This was not because we both wanted better pictures and smaller numbers for our weight, but because you have to have a drivers' license in order to get a library card.  Yes, we are that nerdy.

On my first trip to our new library, I picked up the book A Woman in the Crossfire: Diaries of the Syrian Revolution by Samar Yazbek.  I was curious to read a first hand account of what was happening in a country that I know little about.  I also put in a request for Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman by Robert K. Massie, which I had seen in bookstores as we traveled across country.  I have had a strange girl crush on Catherine the Great since jr. high when I read my first biography on her and went to a grand exhibit on her life where I even bought a t-shirt with her picture on it, which I proudly wore on a weekly basis for many years.  Again, yes, I am that nerdy. 

As I have read these two books, some interesting things began to happen.  First of all, reading the news has taken on new dimensions as I had some background and another perspective for the information I was receiving.  Although, I will admit that when reading Yazbek's book I wish I had known even more of the history and culture of Syria to give me more understanding of her account.  Second, I began to question the historical references I was hearing in the news.  What does it mean for the economic recovery measures of today to be compared to the New Deal of the 20's?  If a presidential candidate is compared to Ronald Reagan, is that a good thing?  I wasn't exactly tuned into the political scene during Reagan's time as president, so the only impression I have of his two terms in office is from the music video to Phil Collins' "Land of Confusion." 

The 50th anniversary also occurred as I read these books, and ignited in me a desire to get to all that history that got skipped or skimmed over in history classes while I was in school.  Been there, done that a hundred times over on the Civil War, the Revolutionary War and WWII (not sure what happened to WWI, but it is a little foggy for me).  But what exactly happened during those intense days of the Cuban Missile Crisis?  What happened down in Central and South America in the 70's and 80's?  I've seen vague references that those events are tied to the flow of immigrants from the area into the US.  What exactly did Che Gueverra do to earn himself a spot on so many t-shirts?  What about African history other than the focus on Egypt and the American slave trade of the colonial era?  I would like to do is fill in some holes from neglected continents and decades of the recent past.

I realize the easy route for this would be to watch the numerous and highly entertaining movies that are based on historical events.  I want to avoid those for now, because I realize that movies have to be abbreviated and condensed, so you lose some of the details, motivations and background for events.  Also I fear that in order to be entertaining and draw in audiences events are sometimes exaggerated in movies (not that inaccuracies are not found in books as well), but I want to have more than one source for my information.  I will probably read several books on JFK and the Cold War, so that I don't get just one perspective.  

Another fascinating thing about studying history is seeing how history could have been vastly different if one event had been delayed or happened sooner.  As I read the book on Catherine the Great this weekend, I learned of the nearly complete defeat of King Fredrick the II of Prussia during the Seven Years' War.  Prussia was spared defeat and more than likely dissolution of the country by Russia, Austria and France by the sudden death of Empress Elizabeth of Russia.  This brought her heir, Catherine's husband, Peter II to the throne.  Peter had an unhealthy man crush on the King of Prussia, and quickly hit undo button on all military victories and alliances Russia had over and against Prussia.  This begs the question: What if Empress Elizabeth had lived another year to see the war to its end and Prussia completely defeated?  Would we then have been spared World War I? 

Since my husband has gone back to school and has to read 30 plus books every 4 months, I have been inspired to continue in a  little academic reading myself and the answering of some of my wonderings above, filling the blank spaces and asking new "what if" questions.  For my reading list, I am using a list of the Best History Books from Good Reads, but I welcome your suggestions as well.  Until then, I have a lot of reading to do. . .

An Ode to the Bicycle Man

Oh, bicycle man, where are you going?
You look like a CEO from a corner office.
Why aren't you at work?
Or have you found a money tree
that affords you the fancy bike and slick accessories.

Oh, bicycle man, why do you wear white?
No one should or wants to know
that your padded seat makes you sweat.

Oh, bicycle man, are you crazy?
This road has an 18% downgrade.
I will share this road with you
as long as my brakes work.
Now you are turning around
to go up once again.

Oh, bicycle man, why the funny shorts
that seem to highlight the fact that you
are a man with their white stitching?
I do not want to look, but your shorts
scream out like a sunburned obese
European tourist on a nude beach.

A New Adventure: Call to Confession

While on our road trip from Texas to California, my husband, Andrew, and I stopped in Iowa to visit his family and friends from his college days (they are now very much my friends as well).  One of our stops for the Iowa leg of our trip, was the church where Andrew's college roommate is the pastor.  As much as I loved singing from the Country and Western Hymnal, I really appreciated the Call to Confession and Prayer of Confession that they used for their service, and I wanted to share them.

Call to Confession (said by the pastor):
With trembling hearts, knowing that we seldom discern our own errors, we turn ourselves to God.  Now is the acceptable time to come to the One who takes no delight in burnt offerings, but accepts sincere prayers of confession.  Let us repent and believe as we pray.

Prayer of Confession (said by congregation):
O Sovereign God, we confess that our plans for ourselves ignore the needs of many of our sisters and brothers.  We try to shut out the larger world that does not fit our comfortable design.  We are angry when called to account and bitter when circumstances do not work out to our advantage.  We are quick to see the sins of others and slow to recognize our own.  Keep us from throwing stones, O God, and protect us from the missiles others would throw at us. Forgive our preoccupation with minor concerns and lead us to focus on sharing love and forgiveness.  Through Christ.  Amen.

Now I know many would say that a pre-written prayer could never work for confessing our sins to God, because we have to name them specifically in order to repent and receive forgiveness.  I don't know about you, but when I say this prayer out loud it definitely brings to mind the sins of omission and commission, especially in areas that if it were up to me, I would skip right over and keep going in my usual merry sinful way.  So, I would encourage those who have not tried a pre-written prayer of confession, give it a go.  You might be surprised what the Holy Spirit does through it.  Let this be a new adventure for you.

A New Kind of Patriotism

Over the last ten years or so, I have struggled with the 4th of July and celebrating America.  I am sure part of that comes from living overseas for so many years and feeling like a foreign country is now part of my definition of home.  But, I think there is more to it than that.  Since returning the the US, the patriotism I have encountered is a flexing of the biceps, manly grunting, "look at how tough we are" kind of patriotism.  It is a militant, arrogant statement of "we are better than them and thank you, Lord, for recognizing that" kind of patriotism that has left a sour taste in my mouth.

But I struggle because I do appreciate the land of my birth.  I know it is a great privilege to live here.  Also, as an Army brat, I do want to honor those who have made the commitment and sacrifice to serve in our military.  But as a country and a people, I know we have some problems that need to be addressed and still have a lot of learn. 

As my husband and I journeyed west to California, I spent much of the time in awe of the changing landscape from the sweeping green plains, to the majestic mountains, to the desolate deserts.  Along the way, I imagined the hardships and joys of those sojourners from long ago, who traveled without a car and paved highway.  I envisioned Native Americans freely riding wild mustangs across the rolling hills and through ravines.  We listened to a lot of Rich Mullins' songs on our trip as well.  I realized that he loved America, but had the proper perspective of the land that I have been looking for.  He sees the beauty of the land, and celebrates it as God's creation.  He sees the beauty of the people, and celebrates them as God's children. I think he says it best in his song, "Here in America" from A Liturgy, a Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band:

Saints and children we have gathered here to hear the sacred story
And I'm glad to bring it to you with my best rhyming and rhythm
'Cause I know the thirsty listen and down to the waters come
 
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America
 
And if you listen to my songs I hope you hear the water falling
I hope you feel the oceans crashing on the coast of north New England
I wish I could be there just to see them, two summers past I was
 
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America
 
And if I were a painter I do not know which I'd paint
The calling of the ancient stars or assembling of the saints
And there's so much beauty around us for just two eyes to see
But everywhere I go I'm looking
 
And once I went to Appalachia for my father he was born there
And I saw the mountains waking with the innocence of children
And my soul is still there with them wrapped in the songs they brought
 
And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America
 
And I've seen by the highways on a million exit ramps
Those two-legged memorials to the laws of happenstance
Waiting for four-wheeled messiahs to take them home again
But I am home anywhere if You are where I am
 
And if you listen to my songs I hope you hear the water falling
I hope you feel the oceans crashing on the coast of north New England
I wish I could be there just to see them, two summers past I was

And the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America

So, I am seeking to adopt a new kind of patriotism that recognizes God as Creator and Sustainer of this land, but remembers that this is just a temporary home.  I am seeking to be welcoming of those God brings into my path here in this land by reflecting His love.  And I know that the Holy King of Israel loves me here in America and wherever He may take me.

The New Adventure

The Airplane of Adventure

This airplane symbolizes the beginning of an adventure.  During our one week of face-to-face dating (that's a story for another blog), my now husband, Andrew, and I went to Lake Worth in Texas where we assembled this plane.  We did a pretty good job, if I must say so myself, since the instructions used engineering and aviation terms, and neither of us are engineer-ial or aviators of any sort.  We then spent time flying the plane in the park where I pulled a Charlie Brown and got it stuck in a tree.  That probably accounts for its slightly damaged nature.  In this midst of this goofy fun, was when Andrew proposed and I accepted.  Thus, began the adventure of marriage for us.  And, oh what an adventure it has been.  I would not say it has been a ride off into the sunset adventure that all the chick flicks promise.  It has been filled with economic struggles, a failed business, yucky jobs, trips to the ER, family misunderstandings and good times too.  I think the fact that we looked on all of these things, the good and the tough, as adventures - not always the fun Indian Jones type of adventures, but adventures nonetheless.  And the plane has remained with us as a reminder that we embarked on this adventure together - another key element to surviving the not-so-fun adventures that come your way. 

Now the plane is sitting on the dashboard of our car as we set out for a new adventure as Andrew returns to school and we head west to California. I know we will encounter difficulties and have a lot of fun at the same time.  I also know that the adventures we have already encountered will help us weather any new storms that come out way.  Most importantly, I know, and Andrew knows, we are on this adventure together. 

Getting Tipsy at Communion

Before I got married, one of the things I envisioned about my marriage was to serve with my husband in ministry.  I am beginning to lose count of the ways that God has answered that prayer.  Andrew and I embarked on yet another ministry opportunity together a few weeks ago - serving as worship leaders in our church.  For many of you, I know that title brings visions of Andrew and I standing at the front of the church singing and leading praise choruses for the church - and that would probably move it from a ministry to a miracle.  In our church, worship leaders help lead prayers, read Scripture and assist the priests with serving communion. 

I was doing pretty well my first day on the job - remembering when to stand, kneel, turn, bow - until we got to communion.  That's when it all fell apart.  Again, for those of you who know me, yep, that means crying.  My task was simply to offer the communion cup (yes, we all drink from the same cup) and say, "The Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation."  I thought my biggest hurdle would be not pouring wine down someone's front.  Boy, was I wrong.  It quickly became not freaking people out as I came up to them with shaking cup blubbering like a baby. 

You may be asking yourself, what about this weird religious exercise could possibly bring someone to such a state of tears.  Well, first off. . . Hi, my name is Kathryn and the Hallmark crown makes me burst into tears.  But beyond that, and much more importantly, is something my priest said once, "The Eucharist is the Body of Christ coming together to take the Body of Christ."  I love that imagery and carry it with me every Sunday as I go down to the rail with the other members of my church; as we all come to Jesus.  But then to be on the other side of the rail, serving the Body of Christ - looking into the faces of those who have prayed for me and with me, laughed with me, supported me through ups and downs and served me Sunday after Sunday.  It was so beautiful, I just couldn't contain it and I rejoice in those tears for a church body that I love dearly. 

And to cap it all off, after the last person has been served, I joined hands with my husband, my partner in ministry, before the altar and bowed in reverence to Lord who allows me to serve in such a sacred manner. 

*For the record, I may have forgotten the words the first time, but I did not spill wine on anyone.

Oh, yeah, did I mention the color robes we wear too?

The Gay Marriage Debate: What's the big deal?

I have seen a lot of posts on both sides of the gay marriage issue in the last two days.  I don't have an answer or a decisive opinion on one side of the fence or the other.  I mainly have questions, impressions and some confused feelings on the matter, so here is one believer just trying to work it out.

In some ways, I don't understand why the government's definition of marriage is a big deal.  I highly doubt that if the government were to pass a new law saying that marriage is acceptable between man, woman, bean sprout or alien, that I will turn to my husband and say, "Well, honey, I think I need to reconsider this whole thing." 

What I mean is that the government decided in 1973, before I was even born, that abortion is a legal practice.  However, that government decision did not stop my parents, Sunday School teachers, the church and other believers in my life from teaching about God's view of the sanctity of life. 

If the government declared tomorrow that going to church was illegal, would we all just throw our hands up to God and say, "Well, it's been real.  Catch ya on the flip side."?  Again, I highly doubt it.  I have a feeling the texts and tweets would be flying about "meeting at Joe's for a 'swimming party.' "
 
So, here is my big question:  Is all this debate and hullabaloo because we, as believers, are looking to the government to justify and verify our beliefs and values?  That seems rather backwards to me.

One thought that does come to mind that I want to keep at the heart of any discussion I have on this issue:  We are not just talking about a right/wrong, black/white issue.  We are talking about people and their lives.  I don't necessarily agree with how the gay community lives, but I don't want to forget that they are flesh and blood humans. 

Those are my random thoughts for now. 

Reading, Writing and Arithmetic

My mother told me that once I was out of school I would read more because I would be able to read for fun.  She was actually right.  The people at the library know me by name.  Although, that might be because my husband works there.  My mother also told me that the more reading I did, the faster I would read.  Granted, I no longer read haltingly like a kindergartner, but I am no speed reader.  I barely manage finishing the two books I have on loan for the span of four weeks, while my husband breezes through two books a week.  I just finished reading Tina Fey's Bossypants, which was quite the quick read for me.  I only had to renew it once.  I am also working on Stephen King's 11/22/63.  That one may go unfinished simply because the ginormous book is too heavy to pick up and read.  Forget about laying down in bed and trying to read it.  I do try to read a variety of books - not just fun, but educational as well.  Although, I have found that educational books seem to create anger for me.  My husband asked me recently to stop reading books about health care and the woes of the American insurance system because when I shared the information I had learned veins on my forehead would begin to pop out.  So, I think I will stick to the fun reading that won't lead to blood pressure medication.

Writing has always been laborious, but a love for it blossomed living overseas when I would write word pictures of my adventures and trials for friends and family back home.  I started with simple newsletters once a month or so, and then the blog was born.  Obviously, I am not the ardent blogger with a new post every day.  Writing evidently takes more discipline than I have at the moment.  I wanted to blog about advertising two months ago.  I still have the empty potato chip bag that inspired the blog in my head.  I had planned to blog about Easter this past weekend, but that got pushed aside in the pursuit of rest.  Good thing for me, I am Episcopalian and Easter lasts for another two weeks.  I made the mistake of admitting to a friend that I wanted to write a book.  She asked me what it was about and if I had started.  I gave her the basic gist and that I was struggle with the usual, discipline.  She challenged me to complete 16 chapters by April (the challenge was issued before Christmas).  Oh, and don't get to excited - these chapters are about two pages each.  I thought that would be a simple challenge to knock out and feel good about since I already had 11 chapters written.  It's now mid-April and I still have 11 chapters written.  Granted, if I could download my brain I would have about 23 chapters, but alas . . .still working on that writing discipline.  Maybe it would help if I had some monetary motivation (this is where you can feel free to send me monetary motivation).

As far as arithmetic goes, I don't have much to say.  I just couldn't break up the trio.  Although, I will say that I don't think I use math as much as my teachers always promised me.  Although, I did enjoy math up to a point.  Calculus, stay away from calculus.  The main reason I don't use math as much as my teachers said I would is because I discovered Microsoft Excel.  Why do math when you do complicated formulas that do it for you?  So, my advice is learn to do your Algebra homework in Excel.  It will impress your teachers and future employers.

Oh, look, I wrote something.

Plarn It: The Seedy Unberbelly of Crafting

I have hit an all time low in the pursuit of the crochet craft.  I have become a thief.

Plarn materials

It all started one day at work when I got bored - good things rarely come from being bored, such as a life of crime.  I stumbled across this blog article that opened my eyes to the world of plarn, yarn made from plastic bags, and the not so green side of recycling plastic shopping bags.  I then did a quick Google search for a visual tutorial on making plarn, and from there the need to make plarn was set for addictive levels.  I immediately put out the call to my co-workers to bring me there unwanted, overflowing supply of plastic bags.

I started my first plarn ball alternating Wal-Mart bags with Kroger bags, which are a tan color.  But I quickly ran out of Wal-Mart bags, and the dilemma ensued.  I had already talked about plarn with many of my co-workers and they were anxious to see what this was all about.  The asked for demos and to see my finished product.  They brought me every sort of bag from every sort of store except Wal-Mart!  I was becoming desperate, and I knew where I could get my hands on those supplies easily.  No one pays attention to weird things that happen in Wal-Mart.  Well, actually . . .I guess I did run the risk of finding myself on www.peopleofwalmart.com (no, I am not going to put a link in for you).  When I found myself at Wal-Mart with my husband late one random Thursday night, the recycling bin called out to me with freshly discarded bags in desperate need of upcycling.  I had already resisted their charms once at Kroger mainly because I would have had to wrestle the bags out of 3 inch slit in the top of the barrel that stood to the side of the exit doors.  I still had some dignity left at that point.  But the white bags with blue writing were flowing out of this recycle bin just waiting to be plucked by a passing plarn crocheter.  Plus, my unfinished bag with 30 out of it's 44 rows called out to me in need of completion.  So, with a wink and nod from my husband I casually picked up a wad of bags with the non-nonchalance that would make a CIA handler proud.

Plarn tote bags

Since that incident, I am happy to report that my friends and colleagues have kept me well stocked.  I do still eye the recycle bins at any box store and get a giddy feeling any time a cashier puts a single item in a bag.  However, I must warn you that you invite me over I may just eye your supply of plastic bags and you may find it a little diminished at the end of the evening.

I Have A Prayer

A Disclaimer:  This post is also a reflection of my personal beliefs and convictions, and not necessarily position of the agency I currently work for.

This morning, my husband and I listened to Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech in commemoration of  this day.  As I listened, it reminded me of something a co-worker recently said in a meeting, "This [poverty] is this generation's march."  I am serving on a committee at work that is looking at what our community (Fort Worth, TX and Tarrant County) would like look out of poverty, and this statement was said as a part of one of those meetings.  I pray that Dr. King will be honored today as I create my own version of his speech for this generation's march.

 I pray for the day when employers will go beyond the minimum wage and pay a living wage to their employees and take up their honorable duty to provide medical benefits to all employees no matter how many hours they work, so that parents do not have decided between medical care or groceries for their families.

I pray for the day when medical care is provided for everyone despite employment status, so that no one has to live in fear of getting sick or injured.  I pray for the day that the World Health Organization does not rank the United States "slightly ahead of Chad and Rwanda, but just behind Bangladesh and the Maldives" (The Healing of America: A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care, Reid, T.R.) in terms of fairness in access to medical care.

I have a prayer today!

I pray for the day when those who do not worry about paying bills will not pity and disparage those who need assistance, just assuming that they are lazy, but will reach out a hand and walk side-by-side with a neighbor no matter how they found themselves in need. 

I pray for the day that high school graduates do not have assume a mortgage sized debt in order to get a college degree.

I pray for the day that healthy food is not only accessible to all, but affordable as well. 

I pray for the day that poverty does not lend itself to creating victims of modern and sexual slavery.

I have a prayer today!

I pray for the day that that Body of Christ will look past denominational labels and come together in being the hands and feet of Christ to carry out His words in Matthew 25: 34-36.

I pray that God will show me how to care for "the least of these" in my community.

But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining a world without poverty, we must not be guilty of just throwing money at a "problem."  Let us not seek to relieve ourselves of discomfort at the sight of those in need by drinking from the cup of disdain and indifference.  We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of love and compassion.  We must not allow a creative protest against social injustice to degenerate into a pat on the back.  Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting material complacency with soul conviction.

The marvelous new awareness of poverty, which is engulfing communities must not lead us to a distrust of all those with means, for there are many who seek to alleviate the burden of poverty.  And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to the freedom of those in poverty.

We cannot walk alone.

The Missing Piece of the Picture

The week before Christmas I got stuck in traffic.  There is nothing unusual about getting stuck in traffic during the holidays or the drive home from work, but this traffic slow down had a lasting effect on me.  Here is what I saw and why it stayed with me:

The first thing I saw over the cars in front of me where the flashing lights of an ambulance in the midst of the accident scene, which immediately prompted prayer for anyone with possible injuries.  The two cop cars blocking the lane I was in came into view next.  As I passed the cop cars, I spied a group of three teenagers that seemed most out of place with the rest of the scene.  They huddled together holding an iPhone out in front of them with "We're so happy to be here together" smiles taking a picture.  Dumbfounded, I continued to inch forward looking for an answer to the scene unfolding before me.  The cops and paramedics were huddled around the ambulance some 20 feet away from the teenagers not paying attention to them.  On the other side of the ambulance, was the rest of the story.  A man in his thirties stood with a look of despair on the other side of the ambulance.  Just past him was a silver Mercedes C-class with no apparent damage and a 90's model Buick LeSabre with damage to the front end.

I would love at this point to make a heap of assumptions about who is at fault and what actually happened, but I don't really need to in order to be concerned about what I saw.  No matter who is at fault, I am bothered that this group of teenagers who were so blissfully calloused to the fact that someone could have been seriously injured.  I am bothered that they did not seem to care that someone's, possibly including theirs, property was damaged and that it costs time and money to have it repaired.  What exactly are they going to do with that photo? Post it on Facebook with the caption, "And this is us at the scene of the accident. Aren't we so cute? Our hair didn't even get messed up." 

My prayer that day changed from requests to sustain life to asking God to open the eyes of these teenagers to others around them and give them a genuine concern for others.  As an aunt, a youth leader and a general role model to anyone I encounter, I pray that this prayer would be true in my life first and foremost.  I have a feeling that this is what was the greatest missing piece in this picture.  Be a role model of caring for those you know and those you don't know.

Tis the Season . . .

For seven and a half years, I lived on a tropical island in the South China Sea, which put a very interesting spin on what makes it feel like Christmas to me.  First of all, December falls during the rainy season.  Nothing like snuggle up with the a/c blowing, a storm brewing and a cup of hot cocoa.  But the best part of December was the fact that it was finally pomelo season.  Oh yeah!  What is pomelo, you ask.  Indulge me for a few minutes while I share with you about my favorite fruit.

I present to you, the pomelo.

Pomelos are a citrus fruit and you will often see them labeled as a grapefruit, which is very wrong!  It is a pomelo.  Same family, different fruit.  An orange is not a grapefruit - that's all I'm saying.  But I guess until you actually try one you go with the what you know.  So, when you see pomelos mislabeled in your grocery store, know that someone is missing out on a fantastic fruit experience.  Can you tell I like pomelos yet?

Personally, the best way to enjoy a pomelo is to camp out on the cold tile floor with your knife, a bowl and a good movie.  That is not very practical for most Americans, but please do not let that stop you either. Here is a little guide to enjoying a luscious pomelo.

The first step is to select your pomelo at the store.  If you can find pomelos that come from The Philippines, you have struck pomelo gold.  Second runner up would be Thailand, then Malaysia followed by anything from the Western Hemisphere (unfortunately that is what I find most around here, but it is better than nothing.) Select two pomelos and notice which one is heavier, i.e. which one has more juice in it.  You can do this hand scale thing for a few more, but you may want to switch hands.

Now that you have your pomelo home with you, and you have danced a dance of joy, score the rind all the way around twice in opposing circles to create four sections.  Pomelos have a very think rind (up to 1/2 inch thick), so cut deep but not too deep.

Look ma! No hands!

Next, peel like you have never peeled before.

I told you it was thick.  You didn't believe me, did you?

Once you have it all peeled you find a pretty treasure inside.

Rind on the right, treasure on the left.

Peel as much of the fluffy white stuff as possible, mainly cause it's fun.  Maybe that is just me.  Unlike, other citrus fruits you really don't want to eat the skin of the pomelo section (it's just really thick).  Once you break open the skin the meat comes out quite easily with your teeth or fingers.  Yummy! 

I prefer the white flesh pomelos, but this will do.

I know what you are thinking - looks like a grapefruit.  Let me assure you that it has a much more mellow sweet flavor than that tart tang of a grapefruit.  It is very refreshing.  Just go try one already.  Oh, and Merry Christmas.

Letter to an Immigrant

A Disclaimer:  This post is quite a bit different from my recent posts.  This post is also a reflection of my personal beliefs and convictions, and not necessarily position of the agency I currently work for.

 

Hello,

I don't really know who you are, although, I have heard the stories and stereotypes.  I am sure I have passed by you on the street and in the store, but I do not really know who you are.

Everyone around me is drawing lines in the sand saying you are a problem that needs to be solved.  Problems can be dissected, broken down, solved, compromised and walked away from.  However, I see you as a person, who is complicated and delicate, not easily discarded.  That makes my thoughts and feelings all the more confusing.  I have lived in a country as a foreign resident with a green card appreciating the tight controls in place at borders.  But, I wonder if all countries are the same.  My heart wants to offer a cup of cold water, but my head asks if you come just to take advantage or fleeing the law and if I will get hurt opening my hand to stranger.  However, if I am following the example Jesus set before me; do I even get to ask those questions?  If I look at the hands He offered, I will see the scars of offering. 

I wish there was a way to sit down and talk to you.  In all the discussion about this issue of immigration, there does not seem to be many people talking to you.  I do not know that any of us truly understand why you come or if we ever really will.  We have theories and probably uneducated guesses, but I do not know that anyone has actually stopped to ask you why you come.  We have seen hard times, here in the US, but I doubt that many have experienced desperate poverty.  What does make you so desperate to leave your country that you would risk your life to come here?  Do the rumors and movies make life look so fantastic here that you just have to see for yourself?  Is it the poverty and watching your oldest child give up his dinner, so that his younger siblings can eat?  Is it the drug gang violence that threatens to swallow up any possibility of a better life for your children?  Was it even your choice to come? Or were you taken from your home and family as a victim of the sex trade, and then dumped on the streets in a foreign land because of disease or pregnancy? 

I want to understand.  I want to listen.  I want to know you, instead of just throwing up walls and fences to insulate myself from real people.  I know many will consider me liberal or just plain crazy for saying all of this. I also know that I cannot solve the problems of your country that may bring you here.  But I do know that I never want to stop seeing the value of a human life no matter how that life was brought to my doorstep. 

Sincerely,

Your neighbor

Weekend Crochet Warrior

My husband and I spent last weekend coming down with and recovering from a head cold respectively.  In other words, we sat around in our pajamas doing nothing, randomly whining about how we feel or comparing snot.  Oh, the joys of marriage. . .

The upside for me is that I was on the road to recovery and actually had unfogged enough to do something - crochet.  Since I was sick, I decided to focus on crocheting something for myself.  It's so hard to think of others when you don't feel well.

Fingerless gloves with mystery yarn

My first project was a pattern for fingerless gloves from The Chicks with Sticks Guide to Crochet by Nancy Queen and Mary Ellen O'Connell.  Since this is an item that actually has to fit, I tried to pay attention to gauge. I have to be honest and say that I have never crotched a swatch like the books always recommend.  Usually, I'm just making a shawl - it's either long and wide enough or it's not.  I haven't gotten into any of the complicated patterns with different motifs, so I'm sure at some point I will be forced to really figure out this gauge thing until then . . .I used some fuzzy blue yarn that came from the donation pile at church (don't worry, I didn't use it all on myself).  So, being mystery yarn, the gauge didn't exactly come out as specified in the pattern.  I tried changing to a smaller hook twice to no avail, so I went with the original hook size.  Everything turned out A-OK in my book.

Flapper Hat Model with cute curly hair

My flapper hat attempt

Now, the hat is another story.  I then attempted to crochet this lovely flapper style hat with some Caron Simply Soft that my mom gave me. Again, I could not for the life of me, get the gauge to come out correctly.  Also again, it is possibly because I didn't use the exact yarn called for in the pattern.  What is a cheap crotcher to do?  So, needless to say the hat did not come out quite as cute as the picture (hence the rubber ball as a model head, and not mine).  Or maybe it was some weird hope that if I made this hat and wore it on my head, I would suddenly have cute curly hair and when that didn't happen I was disappointed in that hat?  Nah, I would never have an irrational thought like that!

Those who can't create - MODIFY!

Since it has been almost a year since my last blog post, which had nothing to do with being crafty, I'm sure you are all thinking I have given up on yarn.  For those who were betting on a passing fancy, you were wrong - it was the blogging that fell to the wayside.  So, here is my attempt to revive my blogging efforts and share more of my adventures in craft, yoga, journeying with God, marriage and more.

For my first entry, I must submit my latest creation . . .alteration.  My best work is taking something someone else has done, practically destroy it, and put it back together again.  Take for example, my costume for the 8th Annual Wonder Girl Costume Party:  a 20's flapper dresser fashioned from last year's 60's girl group dress.

2010 Costume

Yes, please ignore the fact that I am not very photogenic.  Also keep in mind that I did not make the dress on the left or achieve the 60's hair on my own.  Yes, someone else did the sewing and the back combing for this costume.

2011 Costume

 On the right, is a complete modify of last year's dress that I somehow managed to do myself.  Ok, so I had a little bit of input from my mom, who actually knows how to sew and my husband helped place a few strategic pins.  Actually, when I first consulted with my mom we discussed tucking the shoulders in a bit and creating a deeper scoop neck.  I decided to go in a wee bit different, and more drastic, direction, and basically just cut off the top 6 inches of the dress.  My first thought also was to use some of the fringe as straps for the dress, but as everyone warned me - that stuff is expensive - and looking at the material I cut off, I decided to make golden straps from the scraps using my new wonder tool - Stitch Withcery. That allowed me to have the strip of fringe across the top, which I think really looks good.  For attaching the fringe, I used Steam-A-Seam, which is a thinner adhesive cousin to Stitch Witchery.  The only actual sewing I had to do for this project was under the arms where the arm hole was and tacking the straps in place.

Now, another major work of fine craftsmanship for this costume is the hair.  And for anyone who has ever helped me fix, curl, shellac my hair into something other than board straight boring, you will appreciate this one.  I evidently did learn something in those various lessons on hairspray, curling irons and bobby pins.  With many thanks to White Rain, I give you my pin curled 20's hair-do.

In closing, I must once again thank the Wonder Girls for giving me an opportunity to hone my modification skills, Hobby Lobby for such wonderful coupons and staff, White Rain for helping me achieve hair success and a slight buzz. 

The Christmas Tree Affair

There has been much ado in the news and on local radio about the Chase Bank in Southlake, TX taking down a Christmas tree in their lobby.  http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/40492366.  I found the article while I was at work and listened to people phone in with comments to my favorite radio station during my 30 minute drive home.  It took me awhile to process it, but I realized I did not see this situation the majority of my fellow believers in Christ and Christmas celebrants do.

On one hand, I will agree with most that I think it is pretty silly for people to be offended by an inanimate piece of decor and that the bank felt the need to take it down.

On the other hand, I am kind of happy this happened.  I hope that this will serve as a moment to step back and consider some things this Christmas.  I know it has for me.  I think too often we, American Christians, rely on our outward symbols to tell others about Jesus.  We proclaim it in our bumper stickers.  We wear it on our t-shirts or in the jewelry around our necks.  We build buildings.  We erect ornate Christmas trees and flock our windows with "Merry CHRISTmas."  But we sometimes fail to let the message penetrate to our hearts and radiate back out from there. What does our message sound like when we take away our outward symbols?  Are we breathing in Christ's Word, so that the words we speak are filled with Him?  Are we allowing the love of Jesus to live in us, so that they know we are His disciples by our love for one another?

I write this as a challenge to myself, more than anyone else, as I await the celebration of the birth of Jesus this Christmas.  May He be brought to life in new and amazing ways this season in my heart and mind, and my you see it in me and not my t-shirt.