So THAT'S What I've Been Doing Wrong ~

I forgot my list.  Everyday I start with a list of things to do.  It follows me around nagging me and pushing me all day.  Then in a final triumphant flourish, it makes me feel guilty for the things I didn't get done.  Today, I flat out forgot it.  Just now I had a moment of panic.  What if I forgot something really important?!?  So I made a list of the things I've actually done today. 

1. made bed
2. made kids make their bed
3. made breakfast
4. walked for 30 minutes on treadmill
5. unpacked my suitcase
6. unpacked kids' suitcase
7. started laundry
8. vacuumed living room (with at least 20 minutes spent picking up stuff in floor so I could vacuum)
9. switched laundry
10. made lunch
11. cleaned kitchen
12. folded first load of laundry
13. called about reservations for trip to Pensacola in June

I've been doing it all backward!  Instead of a "to do" list in the morning, I need a "Ta-DAH!" list in the evening.  I'm feeling so goooooood right now, I'm not even feeling the slightest bit of guilt for being on Xanga in the middle of the afternoon. 

Love The Person You See

Sometimes I find a passage in my reading that is so wonderful that I want to share the whole thing.  This is one of those passages from a essay written by Soren Kierkegaard.

      To love another in spite of his weaknesses and errors and imperfections is not perfect (complete) love.  No, to love is to find hom lovable in spite of and together with his weakness, errors and imperfections.  Let us understand each other.
     Suppose there are two artists, and the one said, "I have traveled much and seen much in the world, but I have sought in vain to find someone worth painting.  I have found no face with such perfection of beauty that I could make up my mind to paint it.  In every face I have seen one or another little flaw.  Therefore, I seek in vain."  Would this indicate that the artist was a great artist?  In contrast, the second one said, "Well I do not pretend to be a very good artist, if one at all; neither have I traveled very much.  But remaining in the little circle closest to me, I have not found a face so insignificant or full of faults that I still could not discern in it a more beautiful side and discover something glorious.  Therefore, I am happy in the art I practice, though I make no claim to be an artist."  Would this not indicate that precisely this one was the artist, the one who by bringing a certain something with him found them and there what the much travelld artist did not find anywhere in the world, perhaps because he did not bring a certain something with him?  Was not the second the real artist?
     In it a sad upside-downess, altogether too common, to talk on and on about how the object of love should be before it can be loved.  The task is not to find the loveable object, but to find the object before you loveable - whether given or chosen - and to be able to continue finding this one loveable no matter how the person changes.  To love is to love the person one sees.  As the Apostle John reminds us: "He who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen."  ...
     If then you wish to become perfect in love, strive to love the person you see, just as you see him, with all his imperfections and weaknesses.  Love him as you see him when he is utterly changed, when he no longer loves you, wehn he perhaps turns indifferently away or turns to love someone else.  Love him as you see him when he betrays and denies you.  Love the person you see and see the person you love.

I can easily see the irritations, the disagreements and the failures in my relations with people near me.  I make note when I have an expectation that is disappointed, and I fret over the lack of understanding and empathy that I feel is my due.  But when I turn my eyes off myself and onto the other person, when I see him as he is not as what I want him to be (for me) I love him more purely and more completely.  Paradoxically, when I love in this way, without ignoring the flaws but not focused on them I find it easier to love myself.  My own flaws diminish in scale until I see myself as I am. 

     Love Builds Up ~ To build up is to construct something from the groudn up.  Everyone knows what the foundation of a house is.  But spiritually speaking, what is the foundation of the life of the spirit?  It is love.  Love is the origin of everything and it is the deepest ground of the life of the spirit.
     When we speak of hte building work of love, we must either mean that we implant love in the hert of another, or that we presuppose that love is in the other's heart and that with this presupposition we build up love in him.  One of the two must exist before love can build up.  Can a person implant love in the heart of another?  No.  All energetic and self-assrtive zeal in this regard, all thought of creating love in another person neither builds up nor is itslef up-building.  It is unthinkable. 
     Love is not what you do to transform the other person or what you do to constrain love to come forth from him, it is rather how you constrain yourself.  Only the person who lacks love imagines himself able to build up love by constraining the other.  The true lover always believes that love is present; precisely in this way he builds up.  In this way he only entices forth the good; he "loves up" love; he builds up what is already there.  For love can and will be treated in only one way - by being loved forth.

Long Ago, And Oh, So Far Away ...

When I was in seventh grade at Malvern Junior High School where my father was the Principal and everyone thought that meant I got special privileges, a family with a daughter just my age moved into my neighborhood.  Mary and I spent hours and hours talking, sitting on top of the jungle gym in my backyard and looking down on the world.  We wrote stories incorporating all the "zinger" insults we could devise.  We studied astrology for hints about why were so alike and yet so different (she was born on the first day of Gemini, and I'm almost the last day.)  And most important of all, we practiced shuffling cards so that we would never had to do that choppy way of mixing the cards that revealed total lack of sophistication. 

Then Mary's family moved away.  (And took her with them.)  Fastforward to just about 2 years ago.  Mary found me through the magic of the internet and serendipitious registration with Classmates.com.  She and I renewed our friendship and have since visited each other several times.  We would have gotten together more often except that real life keeps intruding on my plans.  In philosophy and lifestyle we inhabit opposite ends of the spectrum.  My kids are still young and look like they never plan to leave, her oldest two have moved away from home and her youngest is in high school.  We still have much in common as well.  We both still write.  We both study philosophy for hints about the nature of people.  We both love games, card games are okay, but if you want to really see intense put us in a room with a Scrabble board.  She paints, I quilt, crochet, cross-stitch, scrapbook, sew, cook, and (I started to ask Tim here what other crafty things I do, but he gets a bit touchy when he considers the expense of my crafting supplies so I won't do that.)  She actually finishes projects ... Well, I finish projects eventually. 

So the point of all this is that Mary has a newly renovated website.  I'm putting a link to her here on my Xanga page.  And she's asked me to describe my Xanga site in a couple sentences to accompany the link she's given me.  She asked me for this a week ago.  I still haven't come up with a single good sentence that (in my mind) describes what I do here.  Any suggestions?

~On the Road Again!

Terri and the boys are on the road today heading back to Indiana.  She left this morning about 6 am and, when I spoke with her on her cell phone about an hour ago - they were traveling happily down the road heading toward Missouri.

Thanks to all of you who have been keeping my family in your thoughts and prayers.  Mom is continuing to improve.  I checked on her this morning on my way to work and she was dozing in her recliner.  Grandma had a good night and my Dad was asleep on the couch.

Even though I am not writing on my site I have not forgotten you guys and I am reading you whether you realize it or not. 

Take care and have a good weekend!

Fugitive

Spring Cleaning ~

It's time for my annual gripe session.  I'm sorry, I know that it's not much fun to listen to someone else moaning and groaning to high heaven about something or another that no one else cares about.  It's even worse that I go through the same song and dance every single Spring.  But, here's the ticket.  It's Springtime.  I'm in the south - I've been wearing shorts. 

Can anyone explain WHY a simple razor (with spare blades) would cost $20!?!  Yes, I like smooth legs.  So I'm going to shave them.  I'm gonna have to start selling something on ebay to support my habit.

With warmer weather I'm starting the countdown to my summer vacation.  It's back to Florida.  June 9 (I think.)  We're going down a couple days early for kind of a pre-vacation on the beach in Pensacola before we hit the main event in Disney World.  Fugitive is meeting us there with her boys and I'm anticipating a major blast.  Michael and I will have our birthday while we are in Orlando and I'm hoping we'll be able to get tickets for Cirque du Soleil that night.  In my head I figure I have about 73 days left to prepare. 

The importance of advanced preparation for vacation cannot be overstated. 

1. Music with surf sounds embedded - check
2. Flippy little beach skirt - check
3. Swimsuit purchased - check
4. Diet to lose enough weight that swimsuit won't fit properly - check
5. Second swimsuit scoped for when behind reaches that magically smaller proportion - check.
6. Kids indoctrinated to say "I much prefer that we have dinner at a grown-up restaurant than McDonalds" -
7. Husband indoctrinated to say "I think that if you really like those earrings, you should have 2 pairs" -
8. Emergency beach reading sealed to insure I don't read it before I get there - when DOES George R R Martin's next installment come out? 
9. Husband indoctrinated to say "You girls look like you could use an evening out, why don't I stay here with the four boys while ya'll go party?" -
10. Sister indoctrinated to say "Hey, you guys look like you could use a night out, why don't I stay here with the four boys while ya'll go party?" -

Well, I have half my items checked.  Good thing I still have 73 days. 

La Primera Vez, Que Bese Su Boca ...*

Did you guys watch Celine Dion's Las Vegas opening night concert on CBS?  I missed the first part and was so sad when I realized.  I tuned in just before she sang "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" - those of you who speak Spanish will know that the title of my blog is a line from that song.  It's the line I remember best from when I performed it in Spanish when I was in High School.  Each year our Spanish teacher took us to a competition where students performed drama, music, recited poetry. etc.  Our class was allowed to decide democratically who would represent us in each event.  I always wanted to be in the drama but for three years, I was selected to sing. 

I don't remember what I sang the first or third year.  My sophomore year I was to scared to know what I was singing, and my senior year I had so much other stuff in my head that I'm just pleased that I remembered when to show up.  But my junior year, my teacher asked me to sing this particular song.  It had special meaning to her, and because she requested it, it came to have special meaning to me.  I don't know whether or not I won anything that first or third year.  The year I sang for Mrs. Rowan, I know I brought home a trophy.  Isn't it odd the things that we remember and the things we forget as time passes?

I remember the phrase "moon and stars," "heart beat like a bird" and a few others that still pop into my head from time to time when I hear one of the words from those phrases.  (As I'm typing I'm remembering a few more phrases that I hadn't thought of in years.)  At 16 I didn't have any more than imagined understanding of the meaning behind that song.  I barely overcame my consternation at singing "The first time ever I lay with you" and I don't think I could have done it if my parents had been in the audience even if they couldn't understand the words. 

Usually when I think of this song, it evokes a bittersweet longing for romance in the old sense of the word.  The music is a veil between myself and high adventure, noble purposes, far-away places, purity of heart, mystery, and chivalrous love.  I smell it and taste it, I can almost touch it.  Somehow the so called "real" world pales and recedes beside the shadowy glimpse of transcendence. 

*The first time, that I kissed your mouth . . .

Everyone has an opinion ~

The trees here are leafing out.  My parents have lovely oak trees in their backyard.  Not very old trees since my Grandmother went on a tree killing spree about 15 years back and had every tree on the place chopped down.  That was sad.  There were 50 and 60 year old mimosas, fruit trees, a wonderful old cottonwood ... anyway, when my parents made the decision to sell their house and move here.  Their first order of business was to plant trees.  So we are now enjoying the shade of young oaks, maples and a pecan tree. 

I've had good news today.  My Mom got a good report from her doctor.  Blood pressure down, blood sugar down, blood caffeine level at normal ... So it looks like I'm cleared to leave for home on Friday.  (yes, everything does come down to me.)

We've heard from the kid I used to babysit.  He's not a kid now, he's flying a Blackhawk helicopter in Iraq.  He was in the background of a news feed on CNN yesterday.  Then, the reporter embedded with his unit let him use the satellite phone to call home.   So we are thrilled to know that he's okay.  He's shaken over having used his weapons to destroy targets.  I'm praying for him and for his unit.

Everyone has an opinion about the war.  A few people even had an opinion about my opinion expressed yesterday.  I thought long and hard before I posted that blog.  I could probably have coasted along fine without ever broaching the topic, but I was starting to feel as though my silence were dishonest.  I don't mind knowing that some of you disagree with me.  I mind it very much if I somehow mislead you.  That statement seems pompous and self-important.  In the wide scheme of things, there are no world leaders calling to ask my opinion on these matters.  And I'm pretty sure that isn't because I have an unlisted number.  

My Protest

The war is definitely on.  We've lost troops to friendly fire.  We've lost troops to accident.  We've lost troops in combat.  Worst of all.  We've had soldiers captured and apparently some of these POW's were executed in a cold-blooded fashion.  I support our troops.  These men and women serve for very little pay under difficult conditions during peacetime.  During a time of war, they put their lives on the line.  They deserve our respect, our gratitude, and our support for their fidelity to duty. 

Our President sent them into the field this time for confusing and uncertain reasons.  In his State of the Union Address, President Bush talked about the dictator who had killed his own people, wiping out their villages.  He said this is "evil" and is sufficient reason for us to launch a War against him.  I question why, if we consider this to be an acceptable provocation to war, we didn't launch our offensive 20 years ago when Sadam began this practice of evil against his people. 

In more recent weeks he has said that we must invade Iraq to enforce a U.N. resolution.  Never mind that the U. N. Security Council never asked him to make such a move on it's behalf, he's such an enthusiastic supporter of the U.N. that he's willing to step up to the plate without putting them to that trouble.  Which might be greater comfort to the member states of the United Nations if he hadn't also made such statements as "we don't need your permission" before he gave the order to drop the bombs.

The Constitutional scandal of the 20th century has been the disappearance of the Declaration of War provision.  (Section 8)  In the last 50 years we have been told that the rules of modern warfare do not make it practical or reasonable for a President to request a formal Declaration of War prior to acting.  However, the build-up for the present Invasion of Iraq has been on-going since the weeks immediately following 9/11.  The progress toward war has been deliberate, public, with less urgency and more leisure than any military action we have taken in the history of our nation.  Yet, our President did not submit to the clear checks and balances of our Constitution, he condescended after the troops were dispatched to the field to accept a blank check resolution from legislators cowed by their unwillingness to be see as unspportive of the soldier.

The United States even prior to World War II has not only conformed to international constraints on the right of any nation to begin a war, but has been aggressive in it's application of the "Just War" doctrine which forms the basis of the Geneva Conventions.  This President, with no apparent embarrassment, brushed aside a millennium of progress toward civilized and diplomatic adjudication of national disputes. 

Sovreign nations have the right to defend themselves and President Bush has attempted to frame his argument as exactly that, self-defense.  Waiting for an enemy to launch a first strike is tantamount to suicide.  So what's wrong with Bush's policy and position?

First of all the right that Bush is asserting has no limits.  The special conditions he is claiming apply in this case, aren't special.  Striking first against an enemy amassing troops on your border is one thing.  Striking against an enemy which may or may not have weapons, which may or may not be a threat to you, sometime out in the future is quite a different thing. 

Putting all this together, Bush is asserting the right of the United States to attack any country that may be a threat to it in five years. And the right of the United States to evaluate that risk and respond in its sole discretion. And the right of the president to make that decision on behalf of the United States in his sole discretion. In short, the president can start a war against anyone at any time, and no one has the right to stop him. And presumably other nations and future presidents have that same right. All formal constraints on war-making are officially defunct.

Sometimes, when faced with a dangerous regime, it's naive and ultimately dangerous to deny that "might makes right."  We must recognize that there are definite disconnects between people of varying worldviews which make it impossible for diplomatic channels to prevail, there will never be agreement.  There are obviously times when it seems that might must be the most important tool in the chest.  However, there are important and practical reasons why might and right together must defer to procedure, law, and the judgement of others.  One of these reasons is uncertainty.  If we knew which babies would grow to be evil dictators, we could confine them from their youth.  If we knew which babies would be wise and judicious leaders we could crown them king.  Another reason is mercy for civilians who cannot help becoming collateral damage.  A third reason to hesitate marching down the path of "might makes right" is the precedent we set for the future. 

At this time, no significant check exists to halt President Bush from any course he should choose to take.  Let me be very clear.  He is at this moment the closet thing to a world dictator that has existed since the days of the Roman Caesars.  He has commited hundreds of thousands of troops and billions of dollars to a War that has not been Constitutionally declared.  He has disrupted decades of diplomatic negotiation in the least stable region of the world.  He has set the most dangerous precedent I can imagine for the future of the presidency.  It makes me long for the days when the worst thing going on in the Oval office was a bit of hanky panky with a Cuban cigar.

Weekend Thoughts

Has this not been a strange week?  My mother's recovery continues to bless us.  She is due to have her medications adjusted on Monday, so I'm going to hang around in Arkansas until next weekend.  Then I'll be heading back for my second Spring in Indiana.  The television is filled with adrenaline charged announcements by reporters on scene in Kuwait and Iraq.  I've mourned with a family who learned that their loved one perished in the desert via the network broadcasts.  I've cried with relief at the sight of those long lines of men who surrendered to the invasion force at their first opportunity.  I've prayed with a woman I've known for 30 years, I used to babysit her children when I was in high school.  Now one of those children is a pilot flying a Blackhawk helicopter.  And perhaps the worst insult on top of injury, the NCAA Basketball tournament (go team!) pre-empted CSI on Thursday. 

Even though I just finished it a few weeks ago, I brought Brennan Manning's book Ruthless Trust for a second reading.  I first heard of the Ragamuffin several years ago, but didn't pick up my first volume of his work until last Fall.  Describing Manning's work to someone who hasn't read him, it's difficult to know what to say first.  He's different.  I highly recommend him to anyone walking the spritual path.  So rather than giving you a sales pitch, I think I'll let him speak for himself.

Pundits have long maintained that the only person more arrogant than a newly certified physician is a newly ordained priest.  At the age to twenty-nine, with the holy oils of ordination still wet on my hands, I sallied forth to teach theology at the university level.  Exuding a brisk air of professional enthusiasm and a uffocating spirit of hubris, I expostulated so brilliantly on the mystery of God that after one semester, there was no mystery left.  When I heard an elderly and saintly friar in the monastery comment, "The older I get, the less I understand about God."  I assumed that it was his sincere attempt at modesty.  Secretly, however, I pitied his shallowness. 

. . . speak to me sitting on a curbstone along General Meyer Avenue here in New Orleans.  I am intoxicated after a relapse with alcolhol.  My clothes are in tatters; I reek with rancid body odor; I am unshaven.  My face and belly are bloated, my eyes bloodshot.  I am clutching a fifth of Smirnoff vodka -- only a few ounces left.  My marriage is collapsing, my friends are near despair, and my honor is broken.  My brain is scrambled, my mind a junkyard of broken promises, failed dreams, unkept resolutions. 
     Fifty yards behind me is hte detox center of F Edward Herbert hospital.  As I take the last swig, I shudder at the pain and heartache I have caused.  Going to A A meetings, working the Twelve Steps, talking to my sponsor, reading the Big Book, praying -- these have all worked for others.  Why have they not worked for me? ... When I wake up the next morning, I learn that two staff members had come our on the avenue and carried me into detox. 

Placing my security in my resume, I always felt the need to read another book, listen to another tape, make another retreat.  Whenever I heard the words, "Blessed are those who know they are broken" I thought, "Hell, that blessing was for publicans and prostitutes who did not have my track record of unstinting service to the Kingdom of God!"

... a friend allows me to be myself, thoughtful one moment and silly the next.  Between us, trust grows.  If a word of fraternal correction is needed, the friend offers it directly, but the pained expression on his face tells me how difficult the reproof is for him.  Yet he has the courage to tell me something unpleasant but necessary.  Something others should tell me but do not.  (They renege for fear that I will not like them anymore.  Their emotional equilibrium is more important to them than my spiritual growth.)

This man writes beautifully about the glory of God.  He describes the compassion of our Abba, (literally 'daddy').  He carries us high into the realms of theology and adoration.  But the only way he's able to convince me to take that journey is by revealing himself in brutal strokes to be exactly as weak and needy as I am.  For a long time I bristled when I heard someone quote Karl Marx "religion is for the weak."  Then I pitied those who don't know they are weak.  Now I pity myself for the days that I forget that I'm weak.  Brennan Manning never forgets that he's weak.  I listen to him.

The effects of "beholding God" -- that is contemplating the glory of the Lord -- are profound and far-reaching ... The aptitude to appreciate the grandeur of divine Reality, born of te brush with [glory], takes pride of place and begets an Isaiah-like spirit of speechless humiility and breathless amazement at the overpowering splendor of God.  After the encounter, a Christian will resonate to the words of [Jewish philosopher] Abraham Heschel on his deathbed when he said to his friend, "Sam, never once in my life did I ask God for success or wisdom or power or fame.  I asked for wonder, and he gave it to me." 

Got Grace?

Each morning I dialogue with my neuroses and inquire whether they are in a state of acute agitation or in their normal debilitating state.  If the former, I ask for grace to draw deeper reserves of empathy, if the latter, I rely on my regular reservoir of compassion.  Later in the day, this helps me to be gentle with the nuttiness of my neighbors.  from Ruthless Trust, by Brennan Manning