For Mami, On The Occasion of Her 70th+1 Birthday

Because no one has taught me more about this than you.

How do you know you have faith? In anything? You can say you do. You can say you don't. But the truth is you have no way of proving it to yourself or anyone else, unless it's tested. And even then, having faith isn't something you can show to anyone anyway. You either have it or you don't and it either helps you or it doesn't. You only know it for sure yourself. More, your faith only serves others in your outward demonstration of its tenets, not in the truth of it. That belongs to you and your Creator.

So insisting someone have faith is rather wasted toil. You'll never know if you succeeded, and the object of your effort will never be able to satisfy you in truth, because only he will know if he is alive in faith.

I've come to terms with this idea as I have had my faith tested a few times over the past six months. All is well and, in part, that is what has me centered on this concept.

I have always considered myself a person strong in faith, but willing to and engaged in doubt. I don't trouble myself at all that I have questions or find some faith practices flimsy in their connection to the God I hold close. I happen to like bacon, I think my Muslim friends are moral and deserving of afterlife (if such exists), and many of my gay friends are more honorable in their marriages than their hetero counterparts. I deny them nothing. If I'm right, so be it and if I'm wrong, so be that too. If I were believing only to avoid damnation for my doubt, what truth would there be in that?

So I've come to terms, too, with the idea that my faith may not be wearing the garments some might right with approval. I'm not looking for approval. The truth, whether mine or theirs, will be whatever it is without account of our faulty measures.

Still, I surprised myself in each of these last few tests by the power of my connection, my absolute willingness and submission into the hands of the unknown. I found myself bemused, really, over the weakness of my doubts in the face of this overriding strength. Not what I would have forecast were it left to me to say.

I am glad for it, relieved and glad. I am not washed of doubt, but I have faith and that is enough. And although my faith may not cure every instance of injury or injustice, I lead with it nonetheless. I am compelled by it, in fact, even when I am certain of my futility.

In this way I am reminded of a question I asked a young girl once who told me she thought it was unimportant to vote. Her voice did not matter, she told me. I asked her, "If you were at a crowded intersection in New York, bustling with people, lights, and noise and you saw a young mother across the street, pushing a stroller into traffic, and you knew if she kept going her baby would get hit, and you knew it was impossible for her to see or hear you amidst the chaos of the intersection, would you scream and wave your hands from across the way, or would you stand mute and let her get hit?" "I'd scream, of course," she said. "Yes," I told her. "Go vote."

That is faith. In spite of it all, against all reason, and sure that you may not be able to make good, you are good, and you do believe that you can do good. You can and you can and you do believe, even in doubt. Your faith is what makes you strong and sure and keeps you even in your darkest moments. It is comprised of you, gifted to you, entirely for you. And it is there, even when you (and others) have no idea you have it. That is faith.

We're Protecting the Wrong Thing

"When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."The U.S. Declaration of Independence begins with these words.I was having a conversation with Tony this morning about a piece on NPR which discussed the growing epidemic of heroin abuse in wealthy subsets of the population. It was an interesting piece, the elements of which included:- the culture of drug use as recreation, beginning with taking parents' prescription drugs just to try the high- the need for public awareness about this issue and the political will to address it with dollars and resources- the capacity for other drugs to block the effects of opiates, allowing users to withdraw more easilyAnd as I was talking to Tony about it, these words from the Declaration of Independence came back to me. Because what I said to him was that I didn't understand why we kept focusing on helping people deal with addictions once they had them, but we seem driven to intentionally ignore the number of people who become addicted in the first place. Doesn't anyone want to know why a wealthy kid from the suburbs with seemingly every advantage wants to get high? Doesn't anyone want to know why his mother has prescription drugs that help him get high, when she, too, would seem to have every ingredient for happiness at her disposal? Why aren't these people already happy?I think the answer is we have been protecting the wrong thing.The idea of America is a good one, and it is one worth protecting and serving. But the reality of America in the last half-century ~ more probably ~ is that we are no longer pursuing happiness and so we are no longer happy. That's why our politics are so angry and weird. That's why our public education system is perverse and our children are so frail in the face of simple (let alone complex) adversity. That's why we shoot one another and smirk at the President who sheds tears over the loss of small children. That's nuts, you know? Nuts.We've become convinced that our happiness is tied to possession and accumulation, hoarding of abundance is what my daughter calls it. We're so sure that more iproducts and more guns and more plastic crap from China will make us happy that we'll do anything - including letting our children be killed massacre-style, or allowing them to sink into sickness and depression, crawling behind needles and fevers. Our forefathers may have wanted to protect our freedoms, but right now we're focusing on the pursuit of freedom to tax and spend on crazy programs to treat drugs with drugs so we don't remain addicted to drugs, when the source of our unhappiness remains untended. That's dumb. I'll bet our forefathers would agree that was not what they fought and died for. Our society, our culture, and our government need to get busy figuring out why Americans are so damn miserable. And we need to be brave enough not just to deliver that message, we need to hear it and act upon it as our forefathers did so we can make good on the sacrifices that came before us.That's a declaration and a truth that needs to be heard.

Thank You Mejenis

Just this morning my nephew posted something on FB, one of those goofy questionnaires the kids put up, and for that I owe him great thanks.

The first line of the posts asks you to indicate whether you are ‘single’ or ‘taken’. I chose to answer ‘given’, because that is how I view my marriage. I am not entirely my own self anymore but I am not taken from myself at all. I am given with great intention to my partner.

And that got me to thinking.

What if I did the same in the New Year with other things? What if instead of being taken by force toward a healthier life I gave myself with intention to that life? Knowing its faults but loving it anyway?

What if instead of casting myself away from those who do good work - remaining single in my efforts, so to speak - I gave myself to those who touch the world in places I think are meaningful?

What if I married my ideals, instead of making them dating material, easily cast aside for the next, remembered only with a wistful smile? 

I’m thinking instead of being resolved, I will be given in the New Year. I will compromise. I will  approach opposition with the idea that we must work together somehow and pursue that end. I will show affection for tire, I will step away when a break is needed but always with the intent to return. I will keep at it and at it, wanting the success of it with all my might, whatever it is. I will love and smile and give my best, and have a laugh now and then at my own expense. I will offer what I’ve got knowing there may be nothing but my offer for that day. Some days I’ll receive without asking and that will be reward enough. 

I will not be resolved, not single, nor taken.

I will be given.

Is It Right?

As I write this, my husband has gone off to work, my children are just beginning to wrest with the warm sheets of their slumber, a fresh pot of coffee waits in the kitchen. Lena Horne and I keep one another company in this room bright with sun and ribbons that sparkle. A snapshot that delivers.

Today, another's child will wake without covers, his mother dirty and sad, his father unrested for fear. They may be cold or wet, too weary to know whether they head north or west. Hunger will grumble in their bellies, to no avail. There is no music.

Is that right?

I'm compelled by some unknown to think about them as I enjoy my day, wondering if He for whom I celebrate would be pleased by me or deeply sad at my sweets and abundance. I wonder, too, if all my other doubts and starts make Him wonder whether I deserve my joy. He'd be right to do so, I'd say.

Tendered into my smile is this worry that I am indeed not worth this good life of songs and ivies. It can't be right. So I imagine new in the day a tuxedoed man with a microphone will pour his regret as my crown and flowers are taken; the crowd's roar will not save me as I bow away from the stage.

If it were true that my sister in the dirt might get my crown I could accept that truth and be away. But what is really true is that she may never be clean, and I may always have this sweetness, neither of us deserving our lot. I am brought to my knees in wonder, worry, and a thanks blurred with tears of ill design.

Among us there are those whose faiths and devotions will divide us, judging, and breaking us apart. If not His message, than another's, is lost, I think. Perhaps my thinking is my poison, the bitter in this otherwise honeyed life. I should take it and make good of it, as best I can, I suppose. When I pray that is it, every time.

"Let the right thing happen, Lord," I pray. I pray it for me and for you, with wishes for love and peace and for all of us, the time to know it. That is right.

I Worry

I don’t worry about you my Sun, because there you are, even on the darkest days, and when you rise there is no challenge to your greatness.

I don’t worry about you my Earth, because despite your rumble and weep you hold us dearly to your breast, safe and sure.

I don’t worry about you my Sister, my Brother, because whatever ails find your door you have proven your strength. You can count on mine, too.

I don’t worry about you my Child, because you are ready for the next day, healing, smiling; tomorrow is yours to make for the better.

My Mother, I worry least about you, knowing that  the lines about your hands and face are not comprised only of sorrows and fears but of a thousand stories, good and love, the feast of life. God blesses you.

I worry only for myself, that I am not worthy of this Sun, this good Earth, my family so true and kind. I worry I shall never be. 

So I strive, as all I can, and hope.

Inspired By a Comment on Eve's Post

Excerpts from the conversations we might have if some folks had their way:

Via walkie talkie, Jim: (crackle) Phil, we’re gonna need some cones down here, pronto.

Via walkie talkie, Phil: (crackle) Cones?

Jim: Yah. We’re gonna need a bunch. We’re shuttin’ some stuff down. Gonna need some cones. 

Phil: How many?

Jim: A bunch. All of ‘em. Just send down what you got.

Phil: Well, I got Norm up here but he’s workin’ on somethin’ and that dang Harold ain’t showed up to work. Again! So I’m gonna need some time to get stuff to you.

Jim (frustrated, shouting): Dang it, Phil. I need some cones. I need ‘em now. We’re shuttin’ down the Muslims and I need some dang cones.

Phil (frustrated, shouting too): Well right now Norm's tryin’ to finish level 169 but he can only get one of the apples down to the bottom before he gets killed so he’s trying to buy more lives on Facebook. He's on break. You know I can't take him off break so you gotta wait.

Jim (disgusted, to himself): Are you freaking kidding me?

Via walkie talkie, Jim: (crackle) DAN! You need to hold back that line, brother. We’re waiting on a level to be completed before we get the cones. It could be a while.

Dan (frantic): A level?

~

Allen, to his sister: They’re shutting down the Muslims. Finally! A President with some tacones.

Marjorie, his sister (smirking): The Muslims? I thought you were pissed at the Iraqis?

Allen: Naw. There’s Christians over there. Muslims, Marjorie. Iranians. Afghanistan. Those people are terrorists.

Marjorie (bemused): Afghanistan? 

Allen: Don’t you watch the news? This last President nearly got us all killed by shutting that down. Now the Chinese are over there! Betcha this one’s going back over there to finish the job. The Afghanis started this whole thing. He’ll just bomb the shit out of them, shut it right down. Totally and completely.

Marjorie: Oh I don’t think he’ll do that.

Allen: Oh really now? And why’s that Miss Smarty?

Marjorie: Because Afghanistan is a strategic hub in Central Asia at the crossroads of pipeline routes through Russia, China, and Iran, and has major oil and gas reserves. It also has huge mineral wealth as well as untapped natural gas reserves, all of which have been estimated at over a trillion dollars in value. In fact, five years ago the New York Times reported that the amount of iron, copper, cobalt, gold and critical industrial metals like lithium are so big there and include so many minerals that are essential to modern industry, that Afghanistan could eventually be transformed into one of the most important mining centers in the world. He’s not going to bomb the shit out of Afghanistan.

Allen (shouting): Have you been watching that DAMN public television again? Goddammit, Marjorie, I told you that was a communist station! You know they’re all communist over there, right? You’re a communist, Marjorie! Mom and Dad are rolling over!

~

Ned, over the fence to his neighbor Ron: That's that for that Shariah law bullcrap. They're shutting it down.

Ron: Shariah? Is that the gal with the hips?

~

Pauline, to her husband J.C. (from the kitchen): Arlo’s got that fever coming back again but I’m not sure what to do.

J.C. (from the den): Well call the doctor, first. Let’s see what he says.

Pauline: I did. He’s not there.

J.C. (walking to the kitchen): What? Why?

Pauline (unloading the dishwasher): He was sent back.

J.C.: What? What are you talking about?

Pauline (loading): He’s Muslim, Jackson. They shut down the Muslims so he had to go back.

J.C.: Where’s he from?

Pauline (rinsing): I believe he’s from Boone County. Didn’t he go to school with Debbie? His folks were from Ohio though…

J.C.: So they sent him to Ohio? What sense does that make?

Pauline (mildly annoyed): I’m not sure. I think they sent him to Pakistan.

J.C. (incredulous): PAKISTAN?? My God! You can’t do that. You can’t do that!

Pauline (back to loading): You can now.

J.C. (shaking his head): I can’t believe that. I can’t believe it. That’s awful. God. We have to do something. I’ll run down to the pharmacy and get something for Arlo and then we can talk about what we can do.

Pauline: Don’t bother.

J.C.: Why?

Pauline (looking up): The pharmacist was Muslim.

~

Via walkie talkie, Jim: (crackle) Phil, how are we doing on those cones?

Jim: Phil. The cones?

Jim: Phil. For God’s sake man, I got Muslims up the yang down here and Dan is starting to sweat curry. For the love of apples will you get me some dang cones?

Via walkie talkie, Norm: (crackle) Uh Jim? 

Jim: Norm, that you? Geezus H Christ. What is going on up there?

Norm: Phil’s on break. I’ll have him call you when he’s back. I’m still trying to get this apple down.

Via walkie talkie, Jim: DAN! You gotta hold that line, brother. 

~

Braydon, to his mom: Maaaaam. Maaaam. Maaaam.

Mom: Yes, Braydon. One time, honey. One time is enough.

Braydon: Mom, can Ali come over?

Mom: I don’t think so, sweeheart.

Braydon: What? Whyyyyy? Why? Maaam. Maaam. Why? Just for a little while??

Mom (kneeling): Honey. Ali’s family is moving, so he won’t be able to come over.

Braydon: What? WHY?

Mom: Well, it’s complicated. Ali’s family is a little different than ours and some of the things they believe are different and the President decided that maybe they should move. To keep us safe.

Bryadon: WHAT? Oh my God! Are they doing that with EVERYbody?

Mom: No, honey, no no. It’s o.k. We are safe. We are not moving. Only people who think very differently than we do. 

Braydon: Oh my God. This is the worst news. Is he already gone? Is Davis? I have to check on Davis.

Mom: Davis? No honey, Davis is not moving.

Braydon: He is! He is moving! 

Mom: No. What? Why? 

Braydon (running out the door): He is a MARLINS fan! I have to stop him!

~

Via walkie talkie, Jim: (crackle) Phil? Phil, you can forget about the cones.

Via walkie talkie, Phil: (crackle) Alright, princess, settle down. I’m sending Norm down now with the cones and Harold just walked in so you should have ‘em in a few minutes.

Jim: Never mind now, just send ‘em back up.

Phil: What? Why?

Jim: The Muslims are leaving of their own free will.

Phil: Really? 

Jim: Yah - something about wanting to live in a free country, freedom from discrimination, an open society… I don’t know.

Phil: Hah! Jokes on them. This is the only free country in the world. Where do they think they are going?

Jim: Mexico.

Rejoice for a Reason

I read somewhere that the Pope feels that the holidays this year will be a bit of a charade because the world is at war. He lamented the hypocrisy of celebrating the Prince of Peace at a time when all the world seems so far away from His message.

I was uncomfortable, out of sorts with that message. Should I be ashamed of my celebrations?

Then, the other day, my mother mused aloud that the decorations she was seeing, mostly in hospital lobbies and doctors' waiting rooms (as has been our lot of late) seemed garish, unseemly. She, too, was feeling that a world at war might pause before a bauble made sense. I had to think about that.

If the holidays are decorations, like lipstick on pigs, to distract from the pain of real suffering, they are indeed a charade, and for shame. If we take in our grand meals with no regard for the plights shared in places where there are no tables, no feasts, we are lost for sure.

If, however, these days of rejoice are about messages of hope and provocations for reform - in our thoughts, our words, our deeds - then there is no charade, no loss for vanity.

Just as you do this day with family and friend, every day when you have the opportunity to spend good, do so with abandon. Smile, be kind, return the chatter of the clerk. Catch yourself before you act on the impulse of anger. Remember the reaping comes from the seeds you sow. You cannot solve all the problems, so address those you can well and express yourself with sympathy for those that others tend. Choose wisely, don't dawdle in the muck and vile. See it and know it if you must, then cast that trash aside for what it is. Linger in the goodness you can find, be that goodness for someone else. Hum, hug, be fine.

And on your days of pain know that for all the hurt there is love, and love to spare. Wide and wild there is love, full and breathing love, in gardens and books, high in the sky and in all the miles between us, love. Reach for it, lend it yourself, rejoice for a reason, and know love. Have hope. There is no shame in that. It is, for all, worth celebrating.