GIVING THANKS

 

When it was getting late, the disciples came to Jesus and said, “This is a desert place, and it is getting late; dismiss the people …” (Mark 6)

I am not a thankful person in the ordinary course of life. I do not stroll through the wilderness like Snow White, singing to the bunnies and butterflies. I do not make like Sister Maria, romping over the mountains and hills while belting out tunes in the Sound of Music.

No, I mostly schlump my way through life doing the things that need to be done. I don’t think about them, and I certainly don’t sing about them, either. I’ve never headed out to handle a task whistling, “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work I go …” If I am inspired to sing or whistle, it is more likely to be the menacingly martial music of the soldiers marching around the witch’s castle in the Wizard of Oz.

However, be that as it may, I also know the importance of being thankful. It is the fuel that powers the engine of joy.

I may play the curmudgeon or grump, but I’m not really either of those things. Neither am I Happy the Dwarf or Sleepy, the somnambulant little person. No, I’m just an ordinary duffer taking life one day at a time, coasting more than is probably good for me. Coasting has its place, but it’s probably not the best way to make a positive impact on the world in which we live. Meteors coasting through space crash into the planet all the time. Ask the dinosaurs what they think about coasting, eh?

No, coasting has its place, but I have found it much better for health of body and soul to keep on moving, and to do so with positive energy. That positive energy comes from an attitude of gratitude. Some may think that thankfulness needs to spring up spontaneously, the way it does when one finds a $5 bill lying on the ground when out for a walk. That isn’t thanksgiving, though, as much as it is serendipity – that happy feeling one gets when something delightful happens.

Now, one can certainly cultivate a garden of gratitude if one is in the habit of planting seeds of delight in the world they inhabit. A woman walked past me the other day at the store, recognized me from church (which has been a virtual experience these past seven months or so) and said, “Hey, I’m so happy to see you! You can’t tell (with my mask), but I’m smiling!”

I smiled (through my mask as well) and said, “I see your smile; It’s in your eyes. You couldn’t hide it if you tried!”

My heart leapt for joy. One can curse the mask for the inconvenience it may cause (less inconvenient than a respirator, but that’s just my opinion), or one may find delight in seeing (and recognizing) a neighbor. Either response is there for the taking. I know which one the curmudgeon in me wants to grab a-hold of, but I’ve found that choosing joy is so much more pleasant for me and for those around me.

It seems so easy, and yet it also seems hard. Why is it when I know gratitude makes me feel good, and irritation makes me feel like heck I should find myself reaching for the rusty ring of perdition? Who knows? Maybe it’s because I am Swedish; maybe it’s because I am human. Either way, I have a choice, and over the years, I’ve learned to reach for the golden ring of thanksgiving (over the lousy loopy of p**py).

Naturally, each of us will need to decide how we will approach the holidays during the pandemic. Some will choose to darn the torpedoes and move full speed ahead. Others will choose to isolate and pray (with some bitterness) that next year will be better and brighter. Still others will decide to be thankful they’ve made it this far, and rejoice.

Happiness, it turns out, is in our hands. I’ll continue to mask up and smile. I’ll continue to wash my hands often (and well). I’ll continue to keep my distance and isolate, for love of God and country. And I’ll do it all in thanksgiving for all of you here in this, our valley.

The End of War

 “Day is done, gone the sun …” Rukard Hurd

“Why do the nations rage?” asks the psalmist. “Why not?” answers this writer. 

“Why do the people plot in vain?” continues the psalmist (Psalm 2). Because that’s what people do.

To ask why people, parties, and nations do what they do is like asking water why it flows downhill, or the wind why it blows. It is the nature of water to seek and find the low spot. It is in the nature of wind to be restless.

We rage because we are under the illusion that we have power. It is an illusion, and so we rage against the night. We rage against the storm. We rage against injustice, or the threat of injustice, or the fear that something unjust may occur. Our rage is not in vain. Even if it does not seem to accomplish anything, we get it out of our system so that it will not consume us with our anger, fears, frustrations, or the many (or few) slights we suffer.

We rage because it is in our nature to rage. We don’t like what is, so we face our options. We can work to change what we do not like, or we can complain. One involves thought and labor; the other requires little more than a waggable tongue. Like water, most of us follow the path of least resistance, so we wag our tongues. We imagine (vainly) that our complaints carry the same weight as action. They don’t, so we add more complaints to the pile, assuming that the more detritus we pile on, the weightier our argument will seem.

We rage because we are blowhards. Raised voices always sound more commanding and authoritative to nervous nellies willing to listen to them. 

“‘My ways are not your ways,’ says the Lord. ‘For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.’” (Isaiah 55)

What does God expect of us? What does God expect of godly people?

“You shall go out with joy. You shall be led forth with peace. The mountains and hills will break forth into song, and the trees shall break forth into applause.”

We rage because it is in our nature to rage, but that is not our only alternative. We can recognize injustice or inequality, and instead of denying it, we can accept it for what it is, and ask, “How may I help make this right? How may I help fix it? How may I help repair the breach? How may you and I work together so that everyone has what they need, and no one is ever shut up or thrown into outer darkness?”

We rage because we know no better. We have been trained to rage, to fight, to bully. Cain clobbered Abel because he was jealous of his brother. He hated his brother. Notice, though, that God did not clobber Cain. God placed a seal of protection – salvation – upon him, warning the world to leave him be. God has placed a seal upon each of us, as well. It’s not enough to simply leave one another alone, although if that’s the best one can manage, then go for it.

Jesus reminds us in the Gospel that we are called to a higher place. We are called to love God thoroughly, and to manifest that love in how we approach one another. We are not enemies; we are neighbors. Our sacrifices do not cancel or vitiate the sacrifices others have made. God values and honors every sacrifice made with as pure a heart as we have to offer.

We celebrate Veterans Day this week, honoring those who serve (and have served) in the armed forces. The men and women of the armed forces staff fence-lines so that we may sleep in peace, safety, and security. When called to fight, they are unequalled, but their true strength is found in their dedication to peace.

When you get right down to it, they don’t rage. They serve. They serve with honor and distinction. They provide us a good and godly example of how to live peaceably. While tempted to rage (because that is my nature), I shall strive to emulate their good example in my life, and here in this, our valley, and pray you’ll join me.

Day is done / gone the sun / from the lake / from the hill / from the sky / all is well / safely rest / God is nigh. (Taps, words by R. Hurd)

A Political Wish List

 

I Believe

We put too much stock (and power) into the hands of the President (no matter who he or she is). While an Administration may have “Policy,” the fact is that laws are passed by legislature. Congress passed tons of legislation last/current term, and yet the Senate (under McConnell) failed to bring forward hardly any for discussion or debate. That is lawlessness, pure and simple. That is one man obstructing the work of the Peoples’ House.

We need to eliminate gerrymandered districts. The people should choose their representatives and not the other way around. 

The Senate must be required to bring legislation from the House to the Floor to be voted up, down, or remanded for more work.

The Administration must be required to follow all laws (Hatch Act, NSA, etc.) and respond to all subpoenas. A new law clarifying what we understand (High Crimes and Misdemeanors) to be, and the President clearly held accountable for his/her actions in office.

Congress needs to pass a law that specifies that every President MAY be indicted while in office for any act that would be a felony if any other citizen were to engage in that same conduct.

God Bless America. God Bless our President-elect.

The Grim Creeper Came a’calling

 I looked, and there before me was a pale horse … Revelation 6:8

Former Speaker of the House, Tip O’Neill, is reputed to have said, “All politics is local.” I would modify that slightly and report that all pandemics are local, too.

I recently contracted the Covid-19 virus (despite taking the usual and customary precautions). Working with the local health department, we did all contract tracing, testing, and sharing of information with everyone and anyone with whom I’d been in contact and kept the disease confined to a very small bubble, for which I am thankful.

In a shift from my usual banter here in this space, I’m going to share a bit about my experience with the disease and note that these are the thoughts and reflections of a layman; nothing read here should be considered medically or scientifically authoritative.

I (unknowingly) contracted the disease in early October, but was symptom free for at least a week. Being symptom free, I became a potential spreader, but living in a self-imposed quarantine (except for immediate family), the danger was limited to those few people with whom I’d been in contact – my pod.

The early symptoms were typical of the flu: coughing, headache, low-grade fever, body-ache. I took over-the-counter meds for the fever and cough and took advantage of the drive-through testing center the health department has been running for months. The next day I received a call from Isabel confirming my worst fear. Indeed, I was Covid-19 positive, and so I provided her with the contact information she would need to begin the contract tracing.

I was placed in isolation (stay at home, no trips or walks past the mailbox, stay away from people, etc.). I learned the difference between isolation and quarantine (which I had always thought of as being synonymous). Isolation was my staying away to protect others; quarantine is a separation intended to protect the self. I had been in quarantine to protect myself and family for lo these past eight months. Now I was ordered into isolation to keep from spreading the disease any further.

My symptoms, while unpleasant, were not as severe as I had feared they would be. I never got to a point where I needed hospitalization. While we hear a lot about the mortality rate (about 2.4% – which is about ten times the mortality rate of the common flu), the vast majority of people do recover, and that’s good to know. It doesn’t lessen the seriousness of the pandemic, but it does keep it in perspective. I find (for myself) that not knowing is always worse than knowing, no matter what the topic. Although I’d been reading about and hearing about Covid-19 since January (with a constant focus on its deadliness, which it IS) I found myself constantly worrying about whether or not I’d contracted it every time my allergies kicked up.

Well, now I can report with some confidence that the illness is every bit as bad as reported. It is like the flu, but worse. It is like the common cold, but much worse. It has all the symptoms of those more common strains, but on steroids. And it lasts longer. While the main issues were short-lived, the coughing has persisted. Breathing with Covid-19 is like taking a deep breath outside when it is 20 below zero. The lungs feel very raw. When I speak, I am barely into the third word of a sentence when the urge to cough rises and throws me into lung-spasms. This, I’m told by Isabel, should go away in a few weeks. I hope so.

The other matter that hit me when I was almost a week into isolation was the sudden loss of my senses of smell and taste! I’d heard that happened to others, but didn’t realize it seems to be an almost universal side-effect of the virus. Now, my cooking skills are such that it could be a blessing in disguise, but to lose my ability to enjoy my morning cup of coffee – now THAT was a bridge too far!

But, at the risk of one more cliche, it is what it is. I had let my guard down for one moment in the past eight months and caught that which I had assiduously striven to avoid. It happens. I was fortunate. I got side-swiped with a relatively mild case. Despite having a “clean” bill of health now, I will continue to practice safer and better social distancing. Partly for myself, of course, but more for the sake of those I love in this, our valley.

I Can See Clearly Now, the Fog is Gone

 

“Kind words do not cost much, yet they accomplish much.” Blaise Pascal 

I’ve been living in Fog City this past week. No, the town hasn’t changed its name, but we have hit the foggy season, so each morning I arise, look out the kitchen window, and find visibility is often down to less than a hundred feet. 

I love the fog. It is so thick and mysterious. Distant foghorns sound as ships creep and crawl past one another upon Puget Sound or the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Despite the wonderful technological marvels of radar and sonar, they make their way ever so slowly lest tides and currents steer them unwittingly onto the rocky shores or across dangerous reefs. If the waters are too crowded or too perilous, the ships come to a halt, drop anchor, and wait until it is safe to venture forth again. 

This “Year of the Pandemic” seems to have put us all into a bit of a fog-bank, hasn’t it? It has for me, anyway. I find I am more lethargic, less energetic, perhaps even less daring than I would normally be (not that I was ever in danger of being mistaken for Errol Flynn, Harrison Ford, or Hugh Jackman). I haven’t exactly dropped anchor, but I’ve slowed down. I know slow and steady wins the race, but at the pace I’ve set for myself now, I suspect when I get to the finish line the human race will have evolved into something completely different: Homo-Covidians (or something).

That’s OK, though, because we’re not really in a race. There are no winners and losers. There are just opportunities to become gentlers and kinders. Can you imagine what the world might look like if we were to let our better angels be in charge?

The challenge, of course, is with the worser angels who like to take advantage of the better angels. Like the speed demon who weaves in and out of traffic because those driving safely and legally are “in the way” and he (or she) is late, owns the road, or whatever. I am reminded of the fellow who put a nice piece of furniture out on the sidewalk with a “FREE” sign taped to it. No one wanted it, so he put a “$75” sign on it and it was immediately stolen that night. No one wants “free” when they can steal something of value, right?

So we know there is tension in the world. Our good hearts want to be kind, do good, live humbly and gently, but we’re surrounded by bad dudes and dudettes. Or so we think. In fact, we’re not really surrounded by a ton of bad people; there are simply enough bad people around to keep us on our toes (and local locksmiths in business).

I don’t want to live in fear. I don’t want fear to rule my life or shape the decisions I make. I want to be as authentically who I am as I’m able. And so, while idiots may make waves, I’ll continue to putter across the seven seas unperturbed. When thieves break in and steal, I’ll simply learn to live more simply! When bullies strike me on the cheek, I’ll probably just hit back (for I may be a Christian, but I’m not perfect – just forgiven). But who knows, I might be given grace enough to turn the other cheek (for I also believe in miracles).

The point is that a day will come when the Son (or Sun) of righteousness will appear and burn away the fog. When that happens, we’ll be able to see more clearly, and we won’t need to be about the business of blowing our own horns. And that, come to think about it, would be a welcome change for us as we hit the home stretch of this election cycle, too, wouldn’t it?

Until then, I’ll just continue to make my way through the murky soup of life here in this, our foggy valley. Until next time: be kind, wear masks, wash up, and smile.