May the Force Be with You!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rQSJDLM8ZE
(you should click here for appropriate background music to read by)
May 1977, I saw Star Wars at the Tower Theater in Springfield MO. I was 21. It was fantastic (awesome wasn't a word back then) and the Force soon permeated the culture.
To this day Star Wars is iconic and generational.
In 1977, I like, many in my generation, probably identified with Luke, a rebel with a cause. Looking for ourselves in a world that seemed to only want to funnel us into a universe of materialism and stability. We didn't like Uncle Owen, he just wanted us to work, work, work, but we wanted adventure. Not the kind our just older friends had experienced in the just ended Vietnam war, but something fantastic and with a REAL purpose.
Obi Wan got himself killed, nobody wanted to be him.
Han Solo wasn't somebody I identified with. He was a space cowboy/punk/hood who really just thought of himself and money. He reminded me of those high school and college jocks. Popular and egotistical. He did somewhat redeem himself at the end of Star Wars, but he just didn't appeal that much to me.
Yes, I wanted to be Luke, but in reality, I turned into Uncle Owen.
Then in 1980 came The Empire Strikes Back: Episode V. Something had changed. I'm not sure if it was Han or it was me, or both. Han's semi-commitment to Leia ( " I love you." "I know") and his rescue of Luke, made him more like a person more like me. A responsible, heroic and caring man. I wanted to be Han. I could no longer identify with the unfocused Luke, who was still trying to find himself, whining to Yoda in the swamp.
In Episode V, Han Solo was a great role model, loyal, smart mouthed, bold, brash and not the sharpest light saber in the drawer. He turns out to be lovable and loved and would do anything to help his friends.
When Luke does find himself in this movie, he loses his hand and his innocence. Luke dresses much better, but Obi Wan, is hanging around in Luke's head with the Force.
Han just goes on his gut feelings and loyalty. Much better to be Han.
1983 brought the "galaxy far far away" back to our galaxy again. The Return of the Jedi was a good movie in my opinion, although many disagree.
I didn't care much for the Ewoks/Care Bears cuts fading in and out between the serious fight scenes of Luke and Darth Vader. Luke is older and more mature, in control, mostly.
I'm almost 28, and I too am so much more mature, so much so that I don't think about who I identify with, it was just a good continuation of a story I liked. Real life was working for minimum wage in a bad economy, hoping for something better, as were all the characters in Return of the Jedi. Yes, even the Emperor and Darth Vader. That I could identify with.
Now I'm 58. This Sunday is May 4th, and Star Wars is still here. Bigger than just about any of it's peer movie franchises or anything new.
My boys grew up with it and so have my grandsons. Jaxon, who is 4, knows all the characters and I believe the Star Wars theme plays in the background of his brain all the time.
Tonight I spent time with college students who are the age I was when Star Wars came out. They aren't steeped in it like my clan, but they do know the iconic "May the Force be with You!".
In my conversations with them, it came to my mind that I am now identifying with another Star Wars character. Yes, I am finally Obi Wan Kenobi, not Ewan McGregor from Episode I-III, but Sir Alec Gunniess from Episode IV-VI.
I find myself spouting things that sound old and sometimes wise (sometimes just wise-cracks) and sometimes just very dated. I speak warnings about how to live. Suggestions to be patient. Telling them to follow their hearts, the force inside, the passion. Sometimes I'm just wishing to become a hermit living among the Sand People.
Maybe that's how it goes for a Star Wars fan. The phases of life take you from Luke to Obi-Wan, and then eventually to Yoda.
Yes, I expect that at some point in the future, I will lose the ability to speak in whole grammatically correct sentences, will have a short crooked cane and wear a thread bare robe as I wander about the gardens at Windrock. I know this will happen and as far as looking like Yoda. Well, I have a good start on the wrinkles and every man that lives that long gets the ears. True, that is, you know.
Peace and truly May the Force Be With You!
Welcome to Windrock
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Running through wind, over rock and dirt@ One Run For Boston 2
One Run for Boston 2 started on March 16 in California.
On March 30, I, my oldest son, Jason and my oldest grandson, Logan, ran a leg 158 at 2:30 am from Warwick OK, to Chandler OK. My most excellent friend from Kansas, Steve Thompson, drove a couple of hours to come and drive our support car as we ran on Route 66 under a clear cold sky. It was 10 miles of epic.
Two days later, Jason and I were at it again. This time it was sunrise, rush hour, leg 184, as we ran from Republic MO to Springfield, with Melissa, James and Whitney. Fighting a mostly north headwind, we arrived ahead of schedule at the Discovery Center, where I work. We were greeted by the next group, friends, family, Danny and Kate (the organizers) and the media. It was 11 miles of awesome.
The night before, being in a euphoric state of mind after Oklahoma, I decided that I would sign up for one more leg, number 188. So about 6 hours after we finished 184, I was back running. This leg was the same one I ran last year, 9.5 miles from Sampson, through my hometown, Conway, ending at Phillipsburg and the Worlds Largest Candy Store. I made it. R
unning with Greg and Scott and accompanied by the Conway Volunteer Fire Department it was excellent.
Some of my younger co-workers were amazed that today I was still using the stairs and not the elevator.
The One Run for Boston intends to raise $1 million for the One Fund and to arrive in Boston on April 13 at 5:45pm. You can still be part of this visionary quest. Even though I raised $500 for my Missouri stage, I have not raised any for my Oklahoma stage, so consider giving to Logan, Jason or me. Here's the link.http://www.onerunforboston.org/
Thanks for your consideration,
Peace my friends.
On March 30, I, my oldest son, Jason and my oldest grandson, Logan, ran a leg 158 at 2:30 am from Warwick OK, to Chandler OK. My most excellent friend from Kansas, Steve Thompson, drove a couple of hours to come and drive our support car as we ran on Route 66 under a clear cold sky. It was 10 miles of epic.
Two days later, Jason and I were at it again. This time it was sunrise, rush hour, leg 184, as we ran from Republic MO to Springfield, with Melissa, James and Whitney. Fighting a mostly north headwind, we arrived ahead of schedule at the Discovery Center, where I work. We were greeted by the next group, friends, family, Danny and Kate (the organizers) and the media. It was 11 miles of awesome.
The night before, being in a euphoric state of mind after Oklahoma, I decided that I would sign up for one more leg, number 188. So about 6 hours after we finished 184, I was back running. This leg was the same one I ran last year, 9.5 miles from Sampson, through my hometown, Conway, ending at Phillipsburg and the Worlds Largest Candy Store. I made it. R
Some of my younger co-workers were amazed that today I was still using the stairs and not the elevator.
The One Run for Boston intends to raise $1 million for the One Fund and to arrive in Boston on April 13 at 5:45pm. You can still be part of this visionary quest. Even though I raised $500 for my Missouri stage, I have not raised any for my Oklahoma stage, so consider giving to Logan, Jason or me. Here's the link.http://www.onerunforboston.org/
Thanks for your consideration,
Peace my friends.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Unexpected Christmas Song
Christmas music has been playing for a while now. Some people have boycotted their favorite station because they began so early. Others have embraced it and can't get enough. No matter where you fall in this discussion, you are probably looking forward to hearing your favorite(s) from now to Christmas.
This week a new album appeared on Spotify, one of several internet listening stations. Titled High Plains Christmas by Phillip Aaberg the pianist collection was loaded with typical Christmas tunes, some that had titles to lend themselves to the album. In all it is a very enjoyable 55 minutes of listening.
As I was listening while reading, my brain picked up a tune that did not exactly go with the theme which it had been following, Christmas. The song? Oh Happy Day! Yes, the one where "Jesus washed my sins away!" I really couldn't believe it so I went to the computer, sure enough there it was. I asked myself, "how is this a Christmas song?" and I had to admit that it does have all the things needed to be a song of the season.
I wondered why I had never thought of it that way. It doesn't have any baby references, no stars, or wise men. So why did Phillip Aaberg choose this for his Christmas recording? I don't know the answer, but I do think, it has a better message than incorporating Three Dog Night's Joy To The World into a medley with Joy to the World by Issac Watts and Handle. No bullfrogs, no fishes in the deep blue sea, just happy days and Christ in our hearts for everyone to see.
Merry Christmas! Oh Happy Day!
Peace my friends.
This week a new album appeared on Spotify, one of several internet listening stations. Titled High Plains Christmas by Phillip Aaberg the pianist collection was loaded with typical Christmas tunes, some that had titles to lend themselves to the album. In all it is a very enjoyable 55 minutes of listening.
As I was listening while reading, my brain picked up a tune that did not exactly go with the theme which it had been following, Christmas. The song? Oh Happy Day! Yes, the one where "Jesus washed my sins away!" I really couldn't believe it so I went to the computer, sure enough there it was. I asked myself, "how is this a Christmas song?" and I had to admit that it does have all the things needed to be a song of the season.
I wondered why I had never thought of it that way. It doesn't have any baby references, no stars, or wise men. So why did Phillip Aaberg choose this for his Christmas recording? I don't know the answer, but I do think, it has a better message than incorporating Three Dog Night's Joy To The World into a medley with Joy to the World by Issac Watts and Handle. No bullfrogs, no fishes in the deep blue sea, just happy days and Christ in our hearts for everyone to see.
Merry Christmas! Oh Happy Day!
Peace my friends.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Running into Blessings.
I have been running for more than 25 years. Running is a thing and a descriptive word used in our culture. I'm not grammatical enough to go through all the technical ways to use it, but you probably know what I mean, so I'll stop before this becomes to much of a run on sentence.
This morning I've been thinking about running, the physical kind, and how it has been a blessing to me.
I began running to relief stress from work. I was not and still do not consider myself an athlete or any sort of elite class of person. I'm just someone who found that running worked for me. A way to blow off steam. As I got older it was a pretty easy way to control my weight. These were the reasons I ran. I was not an athlete. At some point someone urged me to enter some races, fund raisers the annual turkey trot stuff like that. I was still just a runner, because to say I began to "race" would be a very large exaggeration.
These races were a blessing. Here I met people who became my friends and peers. I met Ronnie, who ran by my house every Sunday morning on his 20 mile training run, and told me that if I could run these 5k's I could go farther. He was right.
I met Brent, who became my training partner, sounding board, source of hilarity and who convinced me that a marathon (26.2 miles) would be fun (the jury is still out on that definition).
I renewed friendship with Raul who I knew back in high school. Joked about getting older (slower) with Ted and Clark. I met many other runners who, like me, did not see running so much as a competition, but as a thing they did because they enjoyed it.
Over the years I, like my friends, endured comments about our sanity and warnings of injuries, especially how our bodies would wear out or our hearts would explode. These things did not happen (yet, they would say) and I was blessed to stumble into choosing Rick as my in network physician, he is a runner. I probably get a little more time at those appointments because we share this blessing of running.
About four years ago our oldest grandson, Logan, had been running laps at the fitness center while his mom worked out. He proposed to me that he was ready to run a 5k. He was 11. I found there was a small 5k in my hometown and we ran. I was a little skeptical, but knew whether he finished or not, I was blessed to have this opportunity to run with him. We had a great time. I'll never forget, with a mile to go, I asked him, for probably the fifth time, if he was doing okay. With a big smile he said yes. I said "You like this don't you?" "Yes" he answered, with an even wider grin. A runner was born.
So how does this blessing thing keep running into me? I kinda took an accounting this weekend. Logan, who is a freshman, ran at Cross Country Sectionals on Saturday, and his coaches say he has great potential, and he still likes it!
On Sunday I ran another half marathon (13.1 miles), starting it surrounded by people I know. Our oldest son Jason (Logan's uncle) who ran cross country in high school (even went to state his senior year) was running his first half marathon. We started together,but he finished pretty far ahead of me. At the start line were Shane and Angie, Trina, Matthew, Ted, R.C, Jon, April, LaToya,David and a host of Idiots. There were many others I did not see until after, Jenny, Les, Linda,Heather, Travis, Dave and Helen, Jay and Terri, Theresa, Nikki and the list could go on.
When I first took Logan to a large race, he was pretty bored as I talked to my friends. He didn't understand the blessing of community. The running community is a great one. Now he is known by all these older people, and with the cross country team he is beginning to get "community/team."
So for me I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and I know I'll keep having these collisions with blessing.
Peace my friends.
This morning I've been thinking about running, the physical kind, and how it has been a blessing to me.
I began running to relief stress from work. I was not and still do not consider myself an athlete or any sort of elite class of person. I'm just someone who found that running worked for me. A way to blow off steam. As I got older it was a pretty easy way to control my weight. These were the reasons I ran. I was not an athlete. At some point someone urged me to enter some races, fund raisers the annual turkey trot stuff like that. I was still just a runner, because to say I began to "race" would be a very large exaggeration.
These races were a blessing. Here I met people who became my friends and peers. I met Ronnie, who ran by my house every Sunday morning on his 20 mile training run, and told me that if I could run these 5k's I could go farther. He was right.
I met Brent, who became my training partner, sounding board, source of hilarity and who convinced me that a marathon (26.2 miles) would be fun (the jury is still out on that definition).
I renewed friendship with Raul who I knew back in high school. Joked about getting older (slower) with Ted and Clark. I met many other runners who, like me, did not see running so much as a competition, but as a thing they did because they enjoyed it.
Over the years I, like my friends, endured comments about our sanity and warnings of injuries, especially how our bodies would wear out or our hearts would explode. These things did not happen (yet, they would say) and I was blessed to stumble into choosing Rick as my in network physician, he is a runner. I probably get a little more time at those appointments because we share this blessing of running.
About four years ago our oldest grandson, Logan, had been running laps at the fitness center while his mom worked out. He proposed to me that he was ready to run a 5k. He was 11. I found there was a small 5k in my hometown and we ran. I was a little skeptical, but knew whether he finished or not, I was blessed to have this opportunity to run with him. We had a great time. I'll never forget, with a mile to go, I asked him, for probably the fifth time, if he was doing okay. With a big smile he said yes. I said "You like this don't you?" "Yes" he answered, with an even wider grin. A runner was born.
So how does this blessing thing keep running into me? I kinda took an accounting this weekend. Logan, who is a freshman, ran at Cross Country Sectionals on Saturday, and his coaches say he has great potential, and he still likes it!
On Sunday I ran another half marathon (13.1 miles), starting it surrounded by people I know. Our oldest son Jason (Logan's uncle) who ran cross country in high school (even went to state his senior year) was running his first half marathon. We started together,but he finished pretty far ahead of me. At the start line were Shane and Angie, Trina, Matthew, Ted, R.C, Jon, April, LaToya,David and a host of Idiots. There were many others I did not see until after, Jenny, Les, Linda,Heather, Travis, Dave and Helen, Jay and Terri, Theresa, Nikki and the list could go on.
When I first took Logan to a large race, he was pretty bored as I talked to my friends. He didn't understand the blessing of community. The running community is a great one. Now he is known by all these older people, and with the cross country team he is beginning to get "community/team."
So for me I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and I know I'll keep having these collisions with blessing.
Peace my friends.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
The Mysterious Disappearance of Weeds from My Lawn!
The lawn service truck slowed at the end of the block. The routine started again. The endless battle of the lawns. A friendly unspoken competition in our neighborhood, best lawn, best grass, no weeds. Weeds are the enemy. Grass, luxurious, deep green, thickly bladed. The mark of the victor.
"Got a couple of dandelions there." Gene pointed out. I know Gene, even without his usual name on his shirt. Gene drives the lawn service truck. I see him at Little League games, Kiwanis, sometimes at church.
"Yeah." I said, "I see 'um."
Dandelions; scourge of the lawn. Always sticking up there happy yellow faces. Why yellow?
"Gonna take care of those?" asked Gene.
"Sure, gonna take care of them." I said. I don't use the lawn service.
I went to the library and got books on common weeds, weeds that bloom, weeds that creep, weeds that look like plants people like. Wild geranium, bull nettle, ox-eye daisies, dandelions. I Googled plantain, spurge, Russian thistles and Virginia creeper.
And those dandelions? They spread over my whole yard, and soon plantain knee knockers were everywhere and some ox-eyed daisies had made a stand on the sunny side of the drive. Every week I saw Gene frowning from across the street.
Last Monday, as I was cutting a path to the mailbox, Gene suddenly appeared.
"Thought you were gonna take care of those dandelions?" he declared.
" I did, Gene," I replied, "they are doing just fine!"
(This was an exercise I did for the Garden Inspired Writing Retreat with Missouri Extension specialist David Burton. Thanks for the title David!)
"Got a couple of dandelions there." Gene pointed out. I know Gene, even without his usual name on his shirt. Gene drives the lawn service truck. I see him at Little League games, Kiwanis, sometimes at church.
"Yeah." I said, "I see 'um."
Dandelions; scourge of the lawn. Always sticking up there happy yellow faces. Why yellow?
"Gonna take care of those?" asked Gene.
"Sure, gonna take care of them." I said. I don't use the lawn service.
I went to the library and got books on common weeds, weeds that bloom, weeds that creep, weeds that look like plants people like. Wild geranium, bull nettle, ox-eye daisies, dandelions. I Googled plantain, spurge, Russian thistles and Virginia creeper.
And those dandelions? They spread over my whole yard, and soon plantain knee knockers were everywhere and some ox-eyed daisies had made a stand on the sunny side of the drive. Every week I saw Gene frowning from across the street.
Last Monday, as I was cutting a path to the mailbox, Gene suddenly appeared.
"Thought you were gonna take care of those dandelions?" he declared.
" I did, Gene," I replied, "they are doing just fine!"
(This was an exercise I did for the Garden Inspired Writing Retreat with Missouri Extension specialist David Burton. Thanks for the title David!)
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Will You Be My Neighbor?
At the end of 2012, my career came to an end when the company of my 25 year employment downsized. In the 8 months since then I have been considering what the next phase of life will be.
I explored some jobs outside my experience, and also began to volunteer. Ozarks Food Harvest is very user friendly and quickly adopted me as a known individual. Here I have been exposed to those who are on the fringe of the world I live in everyday. I also was reintroduced to the non-profit that works exclusively in Nicaragua, The Rainbow Network. During this time I also participated in the One Run For Boston cross country relay. All these things were asking me for time and money for someone I would never really know.
What kept coming to mind was Jesus' story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37). The question "And who is my neighbor?" kept nagging me. Was it the people at the food distributions? The victims of the Boston Marathon bombing? The people in Nicaragua who want for a house, job, medicine, and education?
Of course I knew the answer. Jesus tells us in the story, "The one who showed him mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." It is all of them.
In one week in June, I worked at Ozark Food Harvest, ran a leg of the One Run For Boston and volunteered at The Rainbow Network office.
Within in a couple of weeks, Regina and I found ourselves planning for a trip to Central America. Nicaragua, to be specific and not exactly a vacation. It was, I hesitate to use this term, a mission trip. How did that happen.
Mission trip often conjures up visions of going to a place where you are totally inconvenienced by the location. You know, sleeping on the floor of some church, no showers, working hard everyday for and with people who don't have the will or means to do what you can do. You do it for 3 or 4 days or a week, and then you come home and everybody either says what a saint you are or wonders why those you went to help can't do it themselves. It can be really awkward, because it is neither of those, and there's no way to explain it.
We didn't have it rough, we stayed in hotels and had showers and hot food, but we did work hard!
Regina was on the medical team with 15 other people and they traveled to rural areas where they conducted clinics in schools and peoples homes. They worked with the six Nicaraguan doctors that work for Rainbow Network. Communicating via translators, they traveled to some very remote areas where they dispensed medicine, listened to peoples' complaints and were amazed at the resilience of people who have lived poor and oppressed for so long.
I spent my days helping build houses.When I say helping, that is exactly what I mean.
The Rainbow Network has been at this for awhile and make no mistake, the Nicaraguans were in charge and they know what they are doing. This is not mission work of directing and supervising, no way, this is Americanos (what we were told by the Nicaraguans to call ourselves, not gringos) lending a hand.
We did grunt work, literally. All of us. Americanos and Nicaraguans. Together.
We dug holes, grunting to drive the rock bar deeper to break up hard pan clay was necessary or to throw a shovel full of dirt up and out of the hole.
We grunted moving hundreds of concrete blocks fire brigade style up the bank to the house site.
We grunted sifting sand and carrying 5 gallon buckets of cement up the bank to pour footing and foundations.
We grunted tying wire time after time on re-bar to make reinforcement for houses. We grunted,we sweated, we became tired and silly sometimes.
So we laughed. Together.
We laughed about not understanding each other.
We laughed about getting soaked in a rainstorm.
We laughed at threatening goats and stupid jokes.
We laughed and smiled with children who couldn't keep their eyes off us while we watched their classroom.
We laughed with people who were so happy to get a micro loan to keep their business open, or build on their house.
We laughed with translators who thought we were silly.
Then as we were leaving, we prayed with these people that God loves.
We prayed for their new homes.
We prayed that God would bless them.
We prayed that others would give to Rainbow so more could be done.
We prayed that they would not give up.
We prayed that we would not forget them and that they would pray for us.
And though there were times it made me sad or uncomfortable to be there, it did not break my heart. I thought of Jesus' words about showing mercy. Although in the story it says the Samaritan "was moved with pity." I believe that what these people need is mercy, not pity.
And so I'm going with mercy, as defined by Dictionary.com:
"an act of kindness, compassion, or favor: She has performed countless smallmercies for her friends and neighbors.
By the end of the week we had shared acts of mercy together.
We arrived on Sunday and we flew home on Saturday. I have not been able to stop thinking about Nicaragua since then.
When we got back Megan Munzlinger (Development Director of Rainbow) gave me a copy of Meet Me in Managua a book that tells a brief history of Nicaragua and the story of Keith and Karen Jaspers' vision for The Rainbow Network. Now that broke my heart. I recommend it. Read it before you decide if a charity deserves your support and especially before you go to Nicaragua.
This week in a conversation with someone who had been on a mission trip to Mexico, the person commented. "But didn't you find the people to be happy?" Happy? I told this person that I wouldn't say "happy", ambitious yes and seeking a better life. I don't know about happy.
When I told Regina about this she said, wisely, that she thought maybe it wasn't so much "happy" that was Nicaraguans state of mind, as it was that they were able to find "joy" in their lives despite their situation.
That, my friends, is probably a thought for all of us to ponder.
Peace.
I explored some jobs outside my experience, and also began to volunteer. Ozarks Food Harvest is very user friendly and quickly adopted me as a known individual. Here I have been exposed to those who are on the fringe of the world I live in everyday. I also was reintroduced to the non-profit that works exclusively in Nicaragua, The Rainbow Network. During this time I also participated in the One Run For Boston cross country relay. All these things were asking me for time and money for someone I would never really know.
What kept coming to mind was Jesus' story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10: 25-37). The question "And who is my neighbor?" kept nagging me. Was it the people at the food distributions? The victims of the Boston Marathon bombing? The people in Nicaragua who want for a house, job, medicine, and education?
Of course I knew the answer. Jesus tells us in the story, "The one who showed him mercy." Jesus said to him, "Go and do likewise." It is all of them.
In one week in June, I worked at Ozark Food Harvest, ran a leg of the One Run For Boston and volunteered at The Rainbow Network office.
Within in a couple of weeks, Regina and I found ourselves planning for a trip to Central America. Nicaragua, to be specific and not exactly a vacation. It was, I hesitate to use this term, a mission trip. How did that happen.
Mission trip often conjures up visions of going to a place where you are totally inconvenienced by the location. You know, sleeping on the floor of some church, no showers, working hard everyday for and with people who don't have the will or means to do what you can do. You do it for 3 or 4 days or a week, and then you come home and everybody either says what a saint you are or wonders why those you went to help can't do it themselves. It can be really awkward, because it is neither of those, and there's no way to explain it.
We didn't have it rough, we stayed in hotels and had showers and hot food, but we did work hard!
Regina was on the medical team with 15 other people and they traveled to rural areas where they conducted clinics in schools and peoples homes. They worked with the six Nicaraguan doctors that work for Rainbow Network. Communicating via translators, they traveled to some very remote areas where they dispensed medicine, listened to peoples' complaints and were amazed at the resilience of people who have lived poor and oppressed for so long.
I spent my days helping build houses.When I say helping, that is exactly what I mean.
The Rainbow Network has been at this for awhile and make no mistake, the Nicaraguans were in charge and they know what they are doing. This is not mission work of directing and supervising, no way, this is Americanos (what we were told by the Nicaraguans to call ourselves, not gringos) lending a hand.
We did grunt work, literally. All of us. Americanos and Nicaraguans. Together.
We dug holes, grunting to drive the rock bar deeper to break up hard pan clay was necessary or to throw a shovel full of dirt up and out of the hole.
We grunted moving hundreds of concrete blocks fire brigade style up the bank to the house site.
We grunted sifting sand and carrying 5 gallon buckets of cement up the bank to pour footing and foundations.
We grunted tying wire time after time on re-bar to make reinforcement for houses. We grunted,we sweated, we became tired and silly sometimes.
So we laughed. Together.
We laughed about not understanding each other.
We laughed about getting soaked in a rainstorm.
We laughed at threatening goats and stupid jokes.
We laughed and smiled with children who couldn't keep their eyes off us while we watched their classroom.
We laughed with people who were so happy to get a micro loan to keep their business open, or build on their house.
We laughed with translators who thought we were silly.
Then as we were leaving, we prayed with these people that God loves.
We prayed for their new homes.
We prayed that God would bless them.
We prayed that others would give to Rainbow so more could be done.
We prayed that they would not give up.
We prayed that we would not forget them and that they would pray for us.
And though there were times it made me sad or uncomfortable to be there, it did not break my heart. I thought of Jesus' words about showing mercy. Although in the story it says the Samaritan "was moved with pity." I believe that what these people need is mercy, not pity.
And so I'm going with mercy, as defined by Dictionary.com:
"an act of kindness, compassion, or favor: She has performed countless smallmercies for her friends and neighbors.
By the end of the week we had shared acts of mercy together.
We arrived on Sunday and we flew home on Saturday. I have not been able to stop thinking about Nicaragua since then.
When we got back Megan Munzlinger (Development Director of Rainbow) gave me a copy of Meet Me in Managua a book that tells a brief history of Nicaragua and the story of Keith and Karen Jaspers' vision for The Rainbow Network. Now that broke my heart. I recommend it. Read it before you decide if a charity deserves your support and especially before you go to Nicaragua.
This week in a conversation with someone who had been on a mission trip to Mexico, the person commented. "But didn't you find the people to be happy?" Happy? I told this person that I wouldn't say "happy", ambitious yes and seeking a better life. I don't know about happy.
When I told Regina about this she said, wisely, that she thought maybe it wasn't so much "happy" that was Nicaraguans state of mind, as it was that they were able to find "joy" in their lives despite their situation.
That, my friends, is probably a thought for all of us to ponder.
Peace.
Monday, July 22, 2013
You Can Be Epic, Part: Last
The One Run For Boston was gaining steam. The story had made it to USA Today with a great photo of Danny Bent running a long deserted desert highway. All the legs were covered and people were continuing to sign up to join others. A major story had been in USA Today! It, we, the relay was a big story. Epic.
June 20th, "Miles" the baton entered Missouri. This was the day. Sometime that evening I would be carrying Miles on a 9.5 mile leg from Sampson to Phillipsburg MO. But not alone.
The day before I got a very unexpected phone call from, of all places, Boston. Eric Moskowitz, a Boston Globe reporter, called to confirm that he would, with my permission, join me on my leg in order to write a story about One Run For Boston. I was stunned. Why me? I asked. Eric said they wanted to do a story about an average runner who had decided to be part of this epic (I'm not sure he said epic) relay. Someone had suggested me or something.
Okay.
Eric came, met me at the hand off to leg 170 and along with photographer Greg Kendall-Ball, shadowed me the rest of the day.
The relay was still behind. After meeting the next group for hand off, Greg taped a video interview and Eric was writing down everything I said. It was weird. You can watch the video, I won't bore you with the details.
June 20th, "Miles" the baton entered Missouri. This was the day. Sometime that evening I would be carrying Miles on a 9.5 mile leg from Sampson to Phillipsburg MO. But not alone.
The day before I got a very unexpected phone call from, of all places, Boston. Eric Moskowitz, a Boston Globe reporter, called to confirm that he would, with my permission, join me on my leg in order to write a story about One Run For Boston. I was stunned. Why me? I asked. Eric said they wanted to do a story about an average runner who had decided to be part of this epic (I'm not sure he said epic) relay. Someone had suggested me or something.
Okay.
Eric came, met me at the hand off to leg 170 and along with photographer Greg Kendall-Ball, shadowed me the rest of the day.
The relay was still behind. After meeting the next group for hand off, Greg taped a video interview and Eric was writing down everything I said. It was weird. You can watch the video, I won't bore you with the details.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U25PtxLe80
It was the most fun and epic run I have ever had. It was once in a lifetime.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)