“…an everlasting dominion…”

permanent marker

Permanence. Like black markers. “That ink is permanent,” laments every mother who has tried to remove it from her walls or upholstery fabrics! Our weight; it fluctuates. We’d like to be permanently young and at the perfect weight. It just doesn’t happen. It takes lots of work and dedication. Looks are not permanent. It is the heart and soul of a person that remains, even until their dying breath. We are who we are, deep inside. And who are we?

 

blue suburban

We are contemplating a new car. I dread the car payments and car insurance, so I am dragging my feet. And I dread driving a different car. I have had my car since 2004. I love this car. It fits me perfectly. People say, “Get a newer model.” Well, I would, except they stopped making it at my model year. Which I never did understand, because I see them everywhere. And my knee-jerk reaction, and preference, is to go for my favorite car ever, my Suburban. I loved – well, thoroughly enjoyed – that car. But it seems silly for an almost-empty-nester, and grandma, to drive such a large vehicle. I can haul my grandkids in it, yes, but not regularly enough to warrant driving that large of a vehicle. But when faced with obtaining something new, I reach for the familiar, the more permanent fixture in my life, because it is well within my comfort zone, and I have deliciously wonderful memories driving that blue Suburban everywhere. I was sad the day I traded it in for the car I have now. I would love to keep my current car, but if I need to replace it, I automatically want to return to my happy car!

Twin Towers Burning

So many things come and go, and in reality, very little is permanent. This weekend we watched a movie about 9/11 and off and on during the entire show, I wept. I remember that day like it was yesterday. I recall how one of the Fire Chiefs they interviewed said that this was a day that was “out of our playbook.” And that “we have no plan to deal with a disaster of this magnitude.” And I remember feeling so helpless as people jumped from the buildings; I cannot imagine the grief of their family members or of those watching it in person. It was a frightening day. I cried all over again, as they said that over 200 people died jumping from those buildings. The Twin Towers were meant to be a permanent landmark to the free market and an icon in New York City. They were a permanent part of who we were, as a people. That day brought our country together. We did not care what color we were, or what sort of career we had, even which building we were fleeing from. We just helped the people next to us. Because, as a country, we had been cocky enough to not plan for an attack of this magnitude on our own soil, we had to rely on one another. And it did this country some good, being taken down to our knees, quite literally.

Ash covered people

As this show went on, my husband and I lamented that the nationalism that we felt during that time is gone. It was not permanent. The social tension is so high right now, and it explodes to the surface at the least stimulation. People are lashing out at one another. People attack and kill one another; we steal from one another and we have no respect for our neighbor, or his property. It is ridiculous how many break-ins we have had over the past year in the little area in which we live. We were chalking it up to teens being bored during the summertime, with its 20-hours of sunlight daily. But now we have learned it is just flat-out crime. People stealing cars out of driveways, 4-wheelers, shovels (I am not kidding), tires, dogs, breaking into cars and stealing ID and money and goods in the cars; destroying things just because they want them. Things that do not belong to them! Race and other factors have not entered into it. They are crimes of convenience. Nothing is sacred to anyone. Anything they want, they just think it is okay to take it. There is no thought of “we’re all in this together.” There is no nationalism, not even pride of neighborhood, home, and hearth. The country is far more divided and violent than it was on September 11th, when those planes struck the Twin Towers.

“And to Him was given dominion, glory and a kingdom, that all the peoples, nations and men of every language might serve Him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion which will not pass away; And His kingdom is one which will not be destroyed.”  Daniel 7:14

I believe that the Lord is ever in our midst. I do believe He weeps at the horrific ways we talk to one another and treat one another. I do believe He is allowing the evil one a presence in among our people, in order for us to learn. We need experience to teach us some pretty tough lessons. A priest friend once told me, “Do not pray for patience. Because when you do, that is when God will give you situations to learn patience. It cannot be gifted; it has to be learned.”

“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, or lose heart when He rebukes you. For the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and He chastises everyone He receives as a son.” Hebrews 12:6-7

If you cant fly MLK

Sometimes I wish things would remain static, but I know change comes through movement. I pray that people would gain wisdom and see the error of their ways. In this country, we have so much freedom and we spit in the face of it almost daily. The new controversy over this football player who refuses to stand for our National Anthem annoys me more than I can properly express. Yes, he has the right to express himself. Yes, it is a First Amendment right – something we take seriously in this Land of the Free. But it is also the Home of the Brave. And to not stand, to me, is an insult to those who fought to bring us these freedoms. Beginning with the farmers who would not bow to an imperial presence in our Colonies, to even my son, who served in two arenas of battle in recent years. So many have given all, so that this athlete can make a statement at a football game, even while insulting those who afforded him that right. A comment I read on Facebook today pointed out that he is nothing more than an entertainer. Athletes are entertainers. The corporation that hired him to put on his show at games, they are responsible to the people who watch those shows of athletic prowess. And there are lots and lots of financial supporters who put their dimes in, too; sponsors by the truckload. I would love to see people boycott the corporations that say it is okay to not stand, because they think that “we are a company that believes it is more important to express your personal rights than it is to show allegiance to the very country giving you this right, while you earn all the money we pay you.” Money, by the way, that comes from endorsements, and fans who wear their gear and go to their games to eat $25 hot dogs. If companies can come out in support of gay rights – the whole debacle about Target’s bathroom privileges comes to mind – then companies should be able to say things like, “If you are our employee, please be respectful and show respect in public for our country by standing for the National Anthem.” Period. But I doubt the NFL will require its players to stand for the National Anthem. Perhaps we fans of the game and the entertainment it provides us, should make our opinions known more forcefully, as in boycotting? You can choose to not attend games, not support this particular team, perhaps not purchase that jersey – or not.

I am expecting that in the media, there will be backlash and controversy over this player’s comments and statements, and his refusal to stand. And there will be arguments. And ugliness. And if someone asks everyone to stop…just stop…and pray for one another? Ha-Ha. They would be laughed at. Because this is not about God. And that is where I beg to differ. In a sense, it is about God because this is a Christian country. Yes, some of our founders were not exactly your typical church-goers. But they whole-heartedly believed in keeping God in our country. They prayed. They prayed a lot. God was mentioned by them and through the process of putting together our founding documents. None of it was done without seeking the blessing of God. There are those (who number less than 8% combined, between atheists and agnostics) who profess no religion. There is a hefty 22% who profess no formal religious affiliation at all (although that does not necessarily mean they have no faith). That leaves 70% of the population who believes, and who try to attend Church, and identify as a Christian. 70 %.  Where are they all???? The streets are empty of them; the media certainly is empty of them, for the most part.

house-rostrum

The above is in both the Senate and the House. In God We Trust. We entrusted our country to His providence because it is permanent. It does not change. It is something we can rely on and count on. Always. We do not espouse one practice of religion over another. We do, however, espouse a belief in God. That is not just a pithy statement. We had people who fled the religious persecution of England to establish a country free from that. We have welcomed those who are being persecuted for their faith to come and establish lives in America. We’re an open country like that (ask those who have fled countries that do not allow the practice of their faith. And those countries who persecute women. And those countries who put to death their citizens who disagree with the organizations in power). We do not, however, believe in removing God from all aspects of our public lives. We are not sneaking around, holding meetings in back rooms, but rather, we are bold in our faith. That is a laudable thing. An enviable thing. An attractive thing.

pray for persecuted

There are so many ways to handle persecution. Our country has opened its doors to pretty much anyone who wants to come here. (Something I am not all that happy about. But that is a different subject). There are so many avenues available for those who want to defend the defenseless. We can become pro-life in all its aspects. We can honor those who choose life. We can assist the poor and the shut-in. We can honor our neighbors and our neighborhoods by helping make them a safe refuge. Grab a broom and sweep your streets. Wash graffiti off the walls. Clean up trash. Help the elderly who can no longer care for themselves. Support causes and organizations that go around doing good for others. Sitting down when all others are standing in honor, and creating a furor, sends so many mixed, and wrong messages. “If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. … We need not wait to see what others do.” That quote from Gandhi is what was morphed into, “Be the change you want to see in others” for bumper stickers. But the message is intact. We need to change ourselves, our tiny neighborhood, in order for the ripples to be felt nationwide and worldwide.

MLK nonviolence

One of our most vocal and loved social thinkers and leaders was Martin Luther King. Jr. (He was an Independent. He did not adhere to either party in politics). He was a deep-thinking man who believed in God and equality for all men. He would be appalled at the violence in this country. He preached kindness and meekness, and love for your fellow man. He believed that love trumped all else. He once said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” I truly believe that if we cling to the permanent love of God, and embrace our neighbors as ourselves, we can conquer this ugliness that is pervading our country, and pervading the world. We are in a dark and difficult time and I am scared for my grandchildren. My grandmother apologized to me once, saying, “I am sorry for the mess my generation is leaving you. We had so little, and with the wars we went through, we wanted our children to not “want” for anything. They in turn sought that for you. But we made a tragic error in that we did not teach our children to work for what we gave them. They did not understand sacrifice. And now your generation, even more spoiled, does not either.” And I think she was right. We’re so entitled, we think someone else should take care of it. There is no sense of personal responsibility.

cursive

It’s silly, really, to bring this up, but they are not teaching cursive much anymore. There is no time in the day to do it. Teachers have to prepare kids for all these tests they require using Common Core-styled curriculum. So they allow kids to just print. It’s just an example of the shifting of our culture to being ever more technology-driven, and service-oriented. No one creates, makes, builds much in the USA any  longer. We just service what we buy. And we use the internet for everything else. Subsequently, our next generation will no longer be able to read documents that give you original information, as they are written in cursive. The Declaration of Independence, for example. They’ll have to read it printed online somewhere. Pretty soon, cursive will be the same for future historians as Egyptian hieroglyphics were for the early historians in the 1800s. A mystery to be solved.

And this brings me to my lament about permanence. There is so little. So much is transient these days. How we feel right now rules how we act right now. We do not adopt permanent beliefs about much of anything. Nothing sticks! We do not stand up for anything in a strident, permanent way. How the wind blows is how we vote. We chose this past president, twice, because he was different. We did not stop to think about qualifications for the office of President, we voted with the entertainers who were endorsing him. We went with public sentiment. And boy, have I met so many with regrets for that error! As I stated above, roughly 70% of our population, according to a 2014 census, identified with a particular Church. We are allowing the other 30% who have no belief in God, or who couldn’t care less about faith or God, run this country. I think it is time to reassert our permanent adherence to our collective faith in God. We need to stand for our National Anthem, we need to love our brothers and even our creepy neighbors, and we need to be people of character. We need to say “no” to the Hillarys of this world and deny the naysayers a place at this table. It is time we resolved to learn about this country of ours, learn about the issues and the candidates, and to take America back. I do not want to see another 9/11 happen in order for us to wake up.

MLK INject love

If you are part of this glorious 70%, please take a moment to think and to pray. What is the heritage you are leaving for who is coming after you? Are you leaving a safe and Godly place for others to flourish? What are you doing for your neighbor? I am angry. I am frightened. I am frustrated. And I feel so very helpless and inadequate to the task of taking this country back. “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Matthew 18:20. As a collective body of voters and citizens, united in faith, we can remedy this situation! Whoever deigns to read this, take a moment to think about this and to pray about this. Determine your activity level, your involvement in making this country better. How can you help? Boycott something! Write a letter. Blog about it. Reach out to friends, family, neighbors. Be kind. Change your little corner of the world. Do something pro-active to ensure God remains permanently at the reigns in this country. Hit your knees and pray for our country and for each and every one of us in it. Be proactive at making sure God is the sovereign of this nation always and forever.

House serve lord

 

“…do it alone, person-to-person.”

Saint_Innocent_Orthodox_Cathedral_Anchorage_Alaska

This is Saint Innocent’s, the Russian Orthodox Cathedral in Anchorage. There have been some amazing stories about the influences here in Alaska from the Russian Orthodox Church. There are gorgeous onion domes all over this state. We just celebrated the wonderful, “Seward’s Folly” anniversary in March. The United States paid Russia $7.2 million in 1868.

Holy Assumption_Kenai_Church

The oldest Orthodox Church is Holy Assumption in Kenai, pictured above. It was built in 1840. I love that! And it is still in use today. We have so much to thank the Russian Missionaries for, here in Alaska. The combined Orthodox and Native cultures are such a blessing here. I love learning new things and have thought of learning a native language…just not sure which one I would choose, as there are over 20 of them to learn!

Alaskan Native Map

Our Alaskan heritage is rich, in both culture, foods, and also in faith. There are so many differing faiths in such a relatively un-populated state. There are more than 36 denominations of Christian churches in Alaska, which include the Orthodox. But there is no list that contains other faiths, such as Jewish or Muslim. The variation is amazing, considering this state only has about 600,000 year-round residents in 663,300 square miles. The population density, if it were to be placed in Manhattan, would have 14 people living there. Ha-Ha! Conversely, if Alaska had the same population density of Manhattan, then there would be 40,843,544,807 people in Alaska. Or approximately 5.8 times the current population of the entire world. It is fascinating to me that a state as large as Alaska, with as few people as we have, expresses itself so diversely. We have the top three most diverse high schools in the entire NATION. It is really interesting.

StAndrewsEagleRiver

Why bring this up? Well, we have started attending (fairly regularly) a parish, pictured above, very close to home. And yesterday, as I looked around the Church, I noticed this diversity. It was not only in race, but in gender and age, too. There were several families with handicapped children of various ages. There was this one couple where the husband struggled with his wife’s wheelchair, commenting to us, “Thank goodness the way back to the car is downhill!” One of the men helping to organize the upcoming Mass asked our son to assist in bringing up the gifts (something he’s been asked to do more than once before). And as they walked in with the gifts, I noted the diversity of those walking up. Two boys, two girls. One hispanic, one black, one white, one native. How cool was that?

And so we worship as a family…all of us gathered under that roof. We knelt as one body, in worship of Our Lord. The Russian Missionaries came to this land, not able to communicate with the native peoples living here, and yet they brought many to the Church. Our local parish offers us anonymity and yet allows us to share and be a part of something larger than ourselves. We come together, sharing a common faith, sharing at a common table. We come so very damaged, in search of the Divine Physician. Our souls ache with all the disparity and violence in this life, seeking a commonality with like-minded believers. We struggle, each of us, with our personal salvation. Each of us, when it comes right down to that last breath, have a personal salvation we need to work out. Each of us approaches our Lord a little differently, and He is there for each of us, in our differences and in our likenesses. But He encourages us to seek one another, to share in our life of faith. He encourages community, because “No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.” (John Donne).

Racial hands prayer

When we chose to adopt outside of our race, we knew many on both sides of the issue would have problems with it. Most who did, had the problems because they were (1) unfamiliar with interracial adoption, or (2) had never interacted with someone of another race on such an intimate level before, or (3) were afraid it would not last and the child would be rejected because of the interracial communion within a family, or even (4) could not imagine one race wanting a child of a different race. Of course, for us, it was all unfounded. I love the son of my heart like I love my sons of my flesh. I forget he is of another race, because he is just my son. He shared that all this “Black Lives Matter” thing is messing with his mojo. He said people are afraid to talk to him, thinking he’ll get upset or something. And he says it is hurting the mixing of races, which is something he has never had a problem with until recently. He also told me, “Mom, we really are not different races. We are just the human race. The rest is just dressing.” We talked about how under the skin, we all look the same. All our parts are in the same place; surgeons don’t learn different procedures for different races. So why is there still so much separation? Anger? Hatred? Distrust?

Mother Theresa

It’s funny that the organizations that purport to want racial equality are the very ones who are inciting unrest and violence. They are not fomenting peace when it is so desperately needed. They are not protecting the “least of these,” but rather further the disintegration of the society they are supposedly trying to save. When the Russian missionaries came to Alaska, they did not wait for someone to tell them what to do. They saw a need and they fulfilled it. Mother Theresa was like that. She did not wait for the government to act. She took children off the streets and cared for them. She took people no one else would touch, and washed their wounds and fed them, giving them her undivided love and attention. She did not care who they were, what their creed was, or where they came from. She cared for everyone equally. The communities that are the most downtrodden have the most violence. There is the most unrest where there is the least work. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop,” was a saying derived from Scripture: “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece. An evil man sows strife; gossip separates the best of friends.  Wickedness loves company—and leads others into sin.” Proverbs 16:27-29. Perhaps we need to encourage all that brain power that goes into organizing protests, into organizing their communities. Perhaps organizing clean ups or job fairs or child care options. Helping each other out of the conditions they are in, and making them better. Mother Theresa established her missions in the poorest areas of the world, and started by just picking up a broom.

Broom

We all need to stop pointing fingers, as I sort of was above, and put our shoulders to the wheel, as they say, and doggedly pursue peace and love throughout our communities. We cannot wait for leadership to show the way. We need to reach out, quite literally, to the people who live next door. I ashamedly met my next door neighbors this weekend. We have lived next to them for over three years, but quite honestly never see them. They had a garage sale and we went over, introduced ourselves, and purchased a couple of goodies from them. What a shame we wasted all this time, because we enjoyed them so much. It’s wasted because they are putting their house up for sale, and will soon thereafter move away. What could we have had, these past three years, had we met them sooner? We had an amazing soup kitchen, homeless program at our old parish. We were told it could not be done. So many in our own church told us it could not be done. It has been going on every week for over 10 years now, reaching out to the people who live around that little mission church, feeding them, bringing them in from the rain, counseling them, and being a presence in that very poor neighborhood.  It has to happen, one person at a time, one prayer at a time, one choice at a time. We cannot wait for directions on how to do this, we all just need to reach out…one soul at a time. Person-to-person.

one person at a time

“…can go with a stream…”

Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars… Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.                 Martin Luther King.

This is just such an ugly day in America. There have been so many ugly days. And it seems to be escalating. It makes my heart just sick.

Our family has had an interesting history in America. My parents immigrated here in the 1950s. They were met with extreme prejudice by shopkeepers and others they had to interact with. They put their money in Bank of America because they thought that was the bank for all Americans. They tried to buy their goods at local shops. They collected “Green Stamps” and joined local civic organizations, trying to assimilate. They even attended American churches, so they could learn how “they did it.” My mom watched soap operas, trying to learn American culture. They were repeatedly turned away from retail establishments like the butcher shop, because they could not be understood. My mom was told to come back when she could speak “English.”  The funny part? My parents are from New Zealand.

My in-laws are from Russia. They are called “Germans from Russia” because they are Germans who were brought to Russia during the reign of Catherine the Great, who was German, and wanted to bring Russia into the more modern age. She brought skilled workers to Russia, to share their expertise with her new country. My husband springs from these “Volga River Russians.” When they came to America, to escape communism, they settled in the farmlands of Kansas and Colorado. It resembled their homeland. They developed communities and built churches, but they were not allowed into the “white” areas of these towns. They could only attend schools and churches they built themselves. They were not particularly welcome. During WWII when German distrust was at its highest in the USA, our last name was definitely a hinderance to them. My father-in-law had stories of his youth that made me just shake my head. He was going through all of that in the heartland of the USA at the same time my parents were trying to assimilate on the west coast. Just a bit prior to my lifetime.

I have friends who were “Creole” and escaped the South because they were not welcome in either community – black or white. They relocated to the melting pot of Southern California, where there is pretty much representation from every country on earth. They were strong Catholics and became well-known in local Catholic circles. They brought their deep faith, nurtured in the Deep South, to Southern California. Their mom told me they escaped the South because she could not sit on the same bus or eat at the same restaurants that she could in SoCal. She said it was easier to “pass” in California, but that in the South she had a rough time of it. She said in SoCal she could just be a woman…not hyphenated by black or white. This was very much in my lifetime. *Shaking head* *Sad face*

blackwhitehands

Fast forward 18 years ago and we adopted a child outside our race. Last night, as news of Dallas was shared around the dinner table, I laughed as my very pale grand daughter cuddled with her favorite uncle, many shades darker. I asked her if she loved her uncle and she squeezed his neck and covered him with kisses, saying over and over, “My uncle, my uncle…will you jump on the trampoline with me?” Pure bliss and love and no thought to color.

As a mixed race family, my joke has always been, “I can never have a bad hair day, because people always notice us.” And it is true. I have been hassled by both communities. But truthfully, prejudice is a learned behavior. It is introduced to children. As Webster defines it (it can be both a noun and a verb):

prej·u·dice
ˈprejədəs
noun

preconceived opinion that is not based on reason or actual experience.

verb

give rise to prejudice in (someone); make biased.

My parents raised me in a very mixed race area. I attended inner-city schools wherein I was in the minority. We lived through the Watts riots, up close and personal. My best friend was black and I often stayed with her family, attending Church with them where I was the sole white person for miles around. I was set upon and beat up in the 8th grade because I liked a Mexican boy (oh, the memories of Armando!!) that a black girl also liked. She set her “gang” on me when I had my legs in casts (my knees were a problem as a girl). My little 4’11” mom saw a pile of girls with chunks of hair flying and dove in, not knowing I was on the bottom! Mom to the rescue. Later, my younger brother was attacked by her younger brother. We decided to sell and move out. We relocated to a very white area, with a few Mexicans thrown in, and I was in culture shock. Seriously. I missed my multi-cultural life and my friends who were black. Several made the trek out to see me, taking busses to get there. But it was too hard to maintain a friendship being so far and having no means to get to each other.

God gave me this opportunity, I believe, so that I do not see color. When I look at my youngest son, I just see my son. When we were in the adoption process, the social worker asked us if we were prepared to raise a good black man. My husband’s response was, “No; I am prepared to raise a good man.” We have never differentiated between our children. And my son never realized he was different until a kid in 4th grade said to him, “Dude, your dad is white. I saw your mom. Dude, you are adopted.” My son’s response, “What’s adopted mean?” He had no idea he was different. He always said he was chocolate and we are peach. He said that when he gets a cut, he has skin like me…peach. And when I get a cut, I get scabs that are brown like him. He also commented that our feet and hands match. He’s hanging out right now with his best friend, who is strawberry blonde, blue-eyed, and freckled. They don’t see color first, either.

love your enemies

The only way we are going to free our country from becoming something none of us recognize, is to love everyone. And trust me, I know it is hard. I find it difficult to love everyone. I have practiced selective elimination of people from my life who are toxic. I get that not everyone can be tolerated. And I don’t espouse blind love, either. We need to keep our eyes open, yes. But we also need to not judge people, prejudicially. How can you hate someone who is different, just because they are different?

Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over the cattle and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” 27God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them. 28God blessed them; and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”…Genesis 1:27

God created every creature that roams the earth. Everything. Everyone. No, I do not agree with some creeds and beliefs. I do not. But I believe that God will reach each person in the best way they can be reached. I do not believe that because they have not been “saved” nor ever heard the “Word of God,” that they will be eternally damned. That’s the anthropologist in me! But it is also the Mercy of God. I cannot be friends with everyone. Some people just rub me wrong. And I am sure I rub others the wrong way, too. God did not intend for this world to be perfect; that is for the perfection of Heaven, in an eternity of Grace with God. But on this world and in this life, we are called to love others, even those who persecute us. We are called to allow others to make their choices in how they believe, where they live, how they act, what they eat, what they wear, who they marry, what career they choose, etc. Which is pretty much what freedom is all about and why so many come here. So many come here to have a better life, or to escape persecution. Some were brought here, generations upon generations ago, against their will and have lived here for 100s of years, assimilating as best they can, into our American melting pot.

jesus prayer 2

The only way we can affect true change in America is to change ourselves. We cannot expect our government to change for us. We cannot expect our neighbor to change for us. The change has to start in my heart and my soul, in my relationship to God and those around me. It would create a ripple, reaching all the corners of our world. We cannot always go out and fix the world at large, when our backyard is a mess. I really hate it when people criticize how people keep their house, when they are secret hoarders or something. My opinion is that we have to stop criticizing our neighbor and get out a mirror and affect change in ourselves. I am a poor sinner. A poor sinner. And I fall to my knees every, single, day! The choice I make is to seek my Maker, and get back up again. Each and every Christian needs to examine themselves and then reach out, refreshed in the Spirit of God, to their neighbor, one heart at a time. And we have to stop being dead in the political world, the marketplace, the schools, the neighborhoods. Enough is enough.

logjams

“A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it.” – G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man, 1925

“Whatever you did not do…”

I had such an ugly experience on Wednesday. It colored my entire day. I even made a chocolate cake (I have not been eating cake or sweets in awhile) because chocolate usually helps. I also showered… twice! Did you know they make Godiva Chocolate Liqueur? So good.

I was sipping my morning coffee and perusing my newsfeed on my Facebook page. I came across a disgustingly vivid photograph that apparently a friend had “liked,” that was in fact, pornography. I was so shocked. I immediately made sure my son was nowhere near me.  Then I proceeded to complain to FB admin.  If you have any knowledge of FB, you know how ridiculous their administration of their pages are. They will remove photos of women breastfeeding as being too offensive, but they allowed porno on my wall. And trust me when I say that this photo was so bad, it made me sick to my stomach. After I complained to FB and requested it be removed, I also did the same to those who had posted it. I was then verbally assaulted through instant messages by the owner of this particular photo.  The verbal tirade made me sick to my stomach, again, and caused me to shake. Literally. I also cried at one point. No one has ever used such vehemence combined with such horrible terminology towards me – ever. I finally figured out how to block the person from my FB wall, as well as from instant messaging me. (They are two separate procedures). I never heard from FB, but when I spoke to my friend who had supposedly “liked” it, we could no longer see the photo; I guess FB pulled it. We both decided to change settings and passwords and move forward. But it really got me thinking.

I will be 60 on my next birthday. I just never thought of myself as 60 years old. The friend this happened to, well, we share the same birthday and have been friends since High School. I have 4 grandchildren and my baby is almost 17 years old. My oldest son is almost 30 years old. I go to church at least weekly, if not more often. I read a lot. We watch a little TV, usually things we have TiVo’d, or DVDs we have purchased. I choose my entertainment carefully. I do not have interaction with pornography, nor even profanity (at least not of my choosing). We just don’t cuss. I have gray hair, for heaven’s sake. I cannot fully express to you how horrid this experience made me feel. I felt sick and dirty, somehow. The worst thing was the verbal tirade this man assaulted me with. I felt vulnerable and kind of scared. His words frightened me. I shared with with my youngest son, who still lives with me. I even called my husband, who is off traveling this week. I know they listened. I told a couple of friends. I know they listened. But I don’t think any of them appreciated how I felt. And I know it’s silly, but in a way it is not. Can you imagine how women who are physically abused or assaulted feel? Women who are brutalized in war zones and through ethnic cleansing in war-torn countries? Women who are forced to be sterilized, impregnated, or mutilated simply because they can be? All that happened to me was I saw a pornographic photo of a woman, and then had a man verbally harass me because I complained about it. It was not in my face, but on my phone. But I felt that assault and that vulnerability and I was frightened. I was able to lock him out and change passwords for access by anyone else. But what about those who are vulnerable and cannot change a password or privacy settings? What about the thousands of children who are attacked on a regular basis, who have no options, no control over it? I cannot help but think of the Sheep and the Goats in Matthew 25:31-46:

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. 

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,  I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ 

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

“Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’

“They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’

“He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’

“Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”

How do we help those most vulnerable around us? How do we comfort and clothe and care for the sick around us? This hit home yesterday, when I felt somehow violated and unable to protect myself. In reality, I am perfectly safe. But emotionally? Not so much. God is good and the shower, the chocolate, and some great movies with my son helped me feel much better. And when I went to bed, I prayed and thanked God for keeping me safe. I tried to forgive the man who verbally assaulted me. I prayed for the woman in the photograph, hoping her life is better than that now. And I prayed for all the vulnerable around us. I do not want to ever feel helpless and vulnerable again – and I certainly don’t want anyone else to feel that way, either. How can we all buckle down and really, truly, and honestly help those around us who need it? Sometimes it’s just listening. Or a smile on a bad day. Letting someone cut in front of you on the highway or check out line. Taking cookies or coffee to a friend who needs it. Saying “I love you” even when it’s not necessary. Or saying “thank you” when it is unexpected. Saying a simple prayer and letting God put it to its best use. No prayer is ever wasted. The difference in our world has to start with each one of us. We have to protect those who cannot protect themselves, especially the innocent in the womb, our most vulnerable. It has to start with me.

“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”