Today, when I was out feeding the homeless, I gave a meal to a woman I hadn't seen on our route before. There haven't been very many women since I've been doing this, and each time I see one, it really tears at me for some reason. Somehow, I guess, seeing the men out there is sad; it's mostly sad because you realize what they must've been through to bring them to the streets. But somehow, it almost seems like the streets are an end to some of their worst struggles. It almost seems like the streets are a place of refuge for them.
When I see a woman, it's a little bit different though. Some of the women, you can tell they can handle it. There's this one woman who hangs with about three other guys. The guys are middle aged and she's probably in her early thirties. She's tall, big, with long, dirty blonde hair. She has a rough voice and an attitude, but she's not entirely unfriendly. I don't worry about her. Somehow I know she's fine.
But the woman I saw today was different than that woman. She looked to be in her fifties, though she was probably only forty-something, so hardened was her face. Despite the wrinkles and the hardened look, you could see a definite femininity, a softness that remained beyond her experience. She was very greatful for the meals we gave her and thanked us and smiled.
With many of the people we see, I can imagine that they choose to be homeless. Society is not something they want to put up with and so they duck out. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe that's just a belief I have to make it easier for me to greet these people with a only a meal. With this woman, though, I imagined that she did not choose homelessness. I think she would have wanted a home. I don't know what her story was and is, and I wonder about it. And I'm writing specifically of women; however, in thinking about it, I've seen some of the men are this way too--there are ones who don't choose to be homeless, but they don't know what else to do. These are the ones I would like to help beyond simply giving them a meal. I'm not sure what to do.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Fight or Flight
Life is sometimes difficult. And I have learned that living a life of peace is more difficult--in the beginning anyway. I am in that beginning.
I had a friend tell me that when I made this decision, and then followed it up by writing about it in this blog, that I would have difficulty--be tested, essentially. He was right. Something I've learned is that, when we surrender our "right" to fight the fleshly fight, we must begin a different kind of "fight." This is the fight against ourselves, and our own fleshly wills or desires. My first fight against my self started long before I decided to live a life of peace, but when I came to that decision, it came to the forefront. According to my friend, that should have been no surprise. But I didn't realize the intensity in which it would show up. My "fight" was in living peaceably with my husband, accepting him for who he is and still having peace in that relationship.
I recently lost this fight. We will be divorced next week.
This is my first failure as a pacifist. But something tells me this is okay. I have been assured that ultimately, while God esteems the promise of marriage very highly, he is more concerned with my soul. The fight that ended my marriage was not just a fight against my marriage. It is a fight for me. This fight I must win, and I know I will in the end. I must start again--this is something I grow tired of--starting again--I often feel I fail and must "start again," but this too is something I am learning. I am not starting again. I am continuing. I've been knocked down, but I'm getting back up. It's the same fight.
Who is my opponent? What is my opponent? I can say it's the enemy--the devil, and perhaps that is indirectly true. But what I really believe is that it's me. I wrote in my last posting about the "ugly" or the "dark" in me. This is what I am fighting against. And thinking of that posting, "Why I Run," I am thinking I should redefine what it is I am doing. Perhaps what I am doing is not fighting at all, but running. Paul wrote of the Christian faith in Romans, I think, that it is a race. That we need to race for the prize, for the goal. As a pacifist, I like this new definition--that I am running a race. Fighting makes me tired. Running energizes me, cleanses me, gives me hope. And this is a good race. For the prize is life. I can run. I can keep running.
I had a friend tell me that when I made this decision, and then followed it up by writing about it in this blog, that I would have difficulty--be tested, essentially. He was right. Something I've learned is that, when we surrender our "right" to fight the fleshly fight, we must begin a different kind of "fight." This is the fight against ourselves, and our own fleshly wills or desires. My first fight against my self started long before I decided to live a life of peace, but when I came to that decision, it came to the forefront. According to my friend, that should have been no surprise. But I didn't realize the intensity in which it would show up. My "fight" was in living peaceably with my husband, accepting him for who he is and still having peace in that relationship.
I recently lost this fight. We will be divorced next week.
This is my first failure as a pacifist. But something tells me this is okay. I have been assured that ultimately, while God esteems the promise of marriage very highly, he is more concerned with my soul. The fight that ended my marriage was not just a fight against my marriage. It is a fight for me. This fight I must win, and I know I will in the end. I must start again--this is something I grow tired of--starting again--I often feel I fail and must "start again," but this too is something I am learning. I am not starting again. I am continuing. I've been knocked down, but I'm getting back up. It's the same fight.
Who is my opponent? What is my opponent? I can say it's the enemy--the devil, and perhaps that is indirectly true. But what I really believe is that it's me. I wrote in my last posting about the "ugly" or the "dark" in me. This is what I am fighting against. And thinking of that posting, "Why I Run," I am thinking I should redefine what it is I am doing. Perhaps what I am doing is not fighting at all, but running. Paul wrote of the Christian faith in Romans, I think, that it is a race. That we need to race for the prize, for the goal. As a pacifist, I like this new definition--that I am running a race. Fighting makes me tired. Running energizes me, cleanses me, gives me hope. And this is a good race. For the prize is life. I can run. I can keep running.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
why I run
running, 5 a.m.
this is strength,
stamina;
this is freedom rushing in
--a new beginning
first moments of foot to pavement
like old friends reunited,
milk and honey to an impoverished soul.
mind wanders with no restraint
free, finally, to soar
unswept heights
mysteriously,
elusively,
like the eagle it thinks it is--
for there are miles to go
and the body will keep the time,
this time.
running 6 a.m.
shadow to the west--
this is my dark
the light is revealing to me.
its movements appear weaker
than my own.
no effort instilled
no passion aroused
for the run.
my pernicious dark
merely gliding along beside me,
laughing, I think,
at the sweat that does not
wet her brow,
barely lifting her legs
to go the next mile.
But her desperation
is hidden
at the edges of my feet--
in how she clings,
holding there with resolute ferocity--
this is my dark
the light exposes to me.
this is my dark
I can not out-run.
in--7 a.m.
and still
my dark remains
but this is the race
that I have finished--
despite her.
This is good to remember.
This is why I run.
this is strength,
stamina;
this is freedom rushing in
--a new beginning
first moments of foot to pavement
like old friends reunited,
milk and honey to an impoverished soul.
mind wanders with no restraint
free, finally, to soar
unswept heights
mysteriously,
elusively,
like the eagle it thinks it is--
for there are miles to go
and the body will keep the time,
this time.
running 6 a.m.
shadow to the west--
this is my dark
the light is revealing to me.
its movements appear weaker
than my own.
no effort instilled
no passion aroused
for the run.
my pernicious dark
merely gliding along beside me,
laughing, I think,
at the sweat that does not
wet her brow,
barely lifting her legs
to go the next mile.
But her desperation
is hidden
at the edges of my feet--
in how she clings,
holding there with resolute ferocity--
this is my dark
the light exposes to me.
this is my dark
I can not out-run.
in--7 a.m.
and still
my dark remains
but this is the race
that I have finished--
despite her.
This is good to remember.
This is why I run.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
go the way of peace
As of late, there is something I've been going through that has kept me from writing. I haven't written during this, because I didn't want to get away too far from the peace theme. But I am now starting to think that what I'm going through is part of the peace theme--because it's my peace journey. On this peace journey, I have found that it's not always easy to live in peace. What happens when a situation arises that is in conflict with your beliefs? What happens when resolving that situation will cause a conflict no matter how you decide to resolve it?
My husband has always said that when making a decision, you should "go the way of peace." This has always made sense to me, despite the fact that it comes from someone who is a notoriously bad decision-maker (not that he makes bad decisions--he just has a hard time making any decision, whether it be a good one or a bad one). So, I've looked at my situation, trying to find whether this decision or that decision might be "the way of peace," and no matter how I look at it, I realize that there is no clear way of peace in this situation. I suppose then, that the only thing I can do, is to make a decision, and then rely on God to bring the peace in the end. I presume this is where faith comes in.
This is scarey.
So, I just wanted to give an update on where I am in this peace journey. And this is where I am--it's a crossroads. I've been traveling a single path, going forward until suddenly I've reached this crossroad. And this just occurred to me: since being on this peace journey, I have learned that Jesus' peace exists in places and in ways that I never would have expected--he exists in and out of my religious box. So maybe the divergent paths shouldn't be so scarey after all, if I just remember what I have learned on this journey.
My husband has always said that when making a decision, you should "go the way of peace." This has always made sense to me, despite the fact that it comes from someone who is a notoriously bad decision-maker (not that he makes bad decisions--he just has a hard time making any decision, whether it be a good one or a bad one). So, I've looked at my situation, trying to find whether this decision or that decision might be "the way of peace," and no matter how I look at it, I realize that there is no clear way of peace in this situation. I suppose then, that the only thing I can do, is to make a decision, and then rely on God to bring the peace in the end. I presume this is where faith comes in.
This is scarey.
So, I just wanted to give an update on where I am in this peace journey. And this is where I am--it's a crossroads. I've been traveling a single path, going forward until suddenly I've reached this crossroad. And this just occurred to me: since being on this peace journey, I have learned that Jesus' peace exists in places and in ways that I never would have expected--he exists in and out of my religious box. So maybe the divergent paths shouldn't be so scarey after all, if I just remember what I have learned on this journey.
Monday, May 5, 2008
a day to grow on
There’s something special
about the first lemonade stands on the spring sidewalk
in the morning,
like tossing our flip-flops
from our toes and feeling the cool grass
between them.
Like red-sucker rings and icecream on a cone
that somehow manages to fall,
But that’s okay because
Mom’ll get you another one.
And there’s something great, like at the beach
when we swim in the summer sun,
our shoulders growing red,
our noses too.
Let’s eat popsicles till our stomachs
make those swishy noises inside
and we feel just a little sick.
But let’s eat another one anyway,
just because it’s there.
Lets laugh and play and make fun of each other
just for fun. Until mom calls us in for lunch.
And lets beg to skip our afternoon, after school nap
And gobble three cookies with milk
instead of two.
And lets dart outside before dinner and
climb the trees that are beginning to change
their colors already.
And let’s remember not to remember
dinner until mom calls us in
and we sit at the dinner table
and ask rudely where it is,
why’d you call me in so soon if it’s not ready yet?
And lets whine to stay up later
just a little later
so we can catch lightning bugs
our feet crashing through the crisp, colored leaves
our noses growing cold with the
cooling night air.
And there’s something wonderful
about staying out just a little longer
because we don’t think about
the morning and feeling grouchy
especially when it’s the first snow
And you know the ice has finally frozen
and it took forever
and you just got a new pair of skates
for Christmas
And a really cool bongo sled that’s red
And you can’t wait to try it out,
even if it is pitch dark outside.
It took forever to get your winter clothes on
And by the time you get them off
it's time to go to bed
and it’s almost spring again.
about the first lemonade stands on the spring sidewalk
in the morning,
like tossing our flip-flops
from our toes and feeling the cool grass
between them.
Like red-sucker rings and icecream on a cone
that somehow manages to fall,
But that’s okay because
Mom’ll get you another one.
And there’s something great, like at the beach
when we swim in the summer sun,
our shoulders growing red,
our noses too.
Let’s eat popsicles till our stomachs
make those swishy noises inside
and we feel just a little sick.
But let’s eat another one anyway,
just because it’s there.
Lets laugh and play and make fun of each other
just for fun. Until mom calls us in for lunch.
And lets beg to skip our afternoon, after school nap
And gobble three cookies with milk
instead of two.
And lets dart outside before dinner and
climb the trees that are beginning to change
their colors already.
And let’s remember not to remember
dinner until mom calls us in
and we sit at the dinner table
and ask rudely where it is,
why’d you call me in so soon if it’s not ready yet?
And lets whine to stay up later
just a little later
so we can catch lightning bugs
our feet crashing through the crisp, colored leaves
our noses growing cold with the
cooling night air.
And there’s something wonderful
about staying out just a little longer
because we don’t think about
the morning and feeling grouchy
especially when it’s the first snow
And you know the ice has finally frozen
and it took forever
and you just got a new pair of skates
for Christmas
And a really cool bongo sled that’s red
And you can’t wait to try it out,
even if it is pitch dark outside.
It took forever to get your winter clothes on
And by the time you get them off
it's time to go to bed
and it’s almost spring again.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Friendship is Groovy
Friendship is groovy
kind of like an Oreo cookie
held together with something sweet.
No top, no bottom,
just depends on how you
twist it, dunk it, lick it, eat it.
Friendship is groovy
kind of like purple bubble gum
snap! Snap! Snap! It goes
all over your face;
you pick it off and chew it again
with an eyelash and a grin.
Friendship is groovy
Kind of like your favorite song
played over and over in your mind.
You think you’re singing in tune
even though you’re not
but it doesn’t matter—
Because you’re singing in sync.
And you know the words,
The tune, the feeling—
You’ve built memories on it.
Friendship is groovy
Kind of like this poem
It’s simple and easy to get
It will never win any contests
because it doesn’t do what it should do
but that’s probably why you like it.
And it will stay with you forever
if you let it.
Friendship is groovy
kind of like an inanimate object.
You can look at it
toss it, bite it, hug it, love it, throw it
and then pick it up again
when you want to
and it’s like you never left it.
That’s groovy friendship.
kind of like an Oreo cookie
held together with something sweet.
No top, no bottom,
just depends on how you
twist it, dunk it, lick it, eat it.
Friendship is groovy
kind of like purple bubble gum
snap! Snap! Snap! It goes
all over your face;
you pick it off and chew it again
with an eyelash and a grin.
Friendship is groovy
Kind of like your favorite song
played over and over in your mind.
You think you’re singing in tune
even though you’re not
but it doesn’t matter—
Because you’re singing in sync.
And you know the words,
The tune, the feeling—
You’ve built memories on it.
Friendship is groovy
Kind of like this poem
It’s simple and easy to get
It will never win any contests
because it doesn’t do what it should do
but that’s probably why you like it.
And it will stay with you forever
if you let it.
Friendship is groovy
kind of like an inanimate object.
You can look at it
toss it, bite it, hug it, love it, throw it
and then pick it up again
when you want to
and it’s like you never left it.
That’s groovy friendship.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
time to serve
since i understood for myself jesus' gospel of peace, i have been searching for where and how i can serve that gospel--where do i fit in? my church recently had a "justice revival" where they talked about social justice issues and encouraged us to reach out to those who are hungry, oppressed and in need of any kind. it was a three day revival that ended with a fourth day (a saturday) where we went out and actually did service of some kind. the team i served on went to a food pantry in columbus to give food to the hispanic population in need. for me, it wasn't enough. it was such a small thing to do. and all it did was make me want to do more.
many people look for a sign. "just give me a sign, god, that you exist and then i will believe," they say. these same people look at the hurt and injustice in the world and say "god doesn't exist. for how could a loving god exist and allow all of this evil to happen in the world?" i believe god exists. and i believe he is mighty aware of the hurt and injustice in the world. and i believe that is why he made me. and that is why he made you. it's really time to do more. jesus is out there. i know that he is out there somewhere and i need to find him. i am thinking of the passage in scripture where jesus tells his disciples that they did, indeed, clothe him, feed him, care for him in prison when they did these things for anyone who was in need of them.
i was up late into the night looking at charity and social justice organizations on the internet. there are so many places to serve, so many needs that need to be met. i am writing this here because i believe it's time to get aggressive about serving those who are hurting. i'm not looking for a sign. the hurting cry out loudly. they are my sign. but i won't see it until i serve them. i need to start reaching out, somewhere, anywhere--i don't think it matters. i don't think finding "my place" is important. i just need to do--even if i feel i am groping in the dark as i begin to do it. i believe it's time to seek the face of jesus.
many people look for a sign. "just give me a sign, god, that you exist and then i will believe," they say. these same people look at the hurt and injustice in the world and say "god doesn't exist. for how could a loving god exist and allow all of this evil to happen in the world?" i believe god exists. and i believe he is mighty aware of the hurt and injustice in the world. and i believe that is why he made me. and that is why he made you. it's really time to do more. jesus is out there. i know that he is out there somewhere and i need to find him. i am thinking of the passage in scripture where jesus tells his disciples that they did, indeed, clothe him, feed him, care for him in prison when they did these things for anyone who was in need of them.
i was up late into the night looking at charity and social justice organizations on the internet. there are so many places to serve, so many needs that need to be met. i am writing this here because i believe it's time to get aggressive about serving those who are hurting. i'm not looking for a sign. the hurting cry out loudly. they are my sign. but i won't see it until i serve them. i need to start reaching out, somewhere, anywhere--i don't think it matters. i don't think finding "my place" is important. i just need to do--even if i feel i am groping in the dark as i begin to do it. i believe it's time to seek the face of jesus.
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