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Category: Humanity

Generations Lost

Yesterday I reflected a bit about how nature and nurture can conspire to bring about dysfunction. See here. There is no doubt that we all carry baggage that was put upon us by those who came before us. Nor is there any doubt that we will pass some kind of burden to those who follow.
What is important is that we recognize that for what it is and accept our own responsibility in the process.
And, I think for most people who, like me, belong to the dominant culture there can be a real possibility that we can have a pretty good and fulfilling life.

But, what if the damage was not within a couple generations?
What if those who were hurt were not damaged by their own human frailty?
What if that hurt was imposed on them by forces well beyond their own abilities to cope?

Imagine with me that you are out on an errand. Perhaps shopping for food to feed your family.
Suddenly, men with guns walk out of the shadows and force you into a van.
They take you to some private dock by the ocean where they chain your hands and feet and force you onto a small ship.
Onboard, you find several hundred others like you. They are chained and packed together like so much cargo.
For, that’s exactly what you all are.
Cargo.
After several weeks at sea, and after much sickness, hunger, thirst, and death, you finally make landfall.
Forced from the ship you are taken to a warehouse.
There, men who look nothing like you and who speak a strange language that you cannot understand are pointing and shouting.
Some of them come up to you and force your mouth open so they can inspect your teeth. They poke and prod you in places that are private.
Humiliated, sick, hungry, and without hope, you soon find yourself in another vehicle that takes you to a large factory where you are put to work.
Long hours and little food become your life.
After some time, you find a person with whom you begin a relationship.
Those with whom you work and live celebrate as you and your new-found partner begin a life together.
Soon, children are born.
There is Joy, albeit guarded. You are still held captive. Those who lord it over you make sure that you never forget that you have no rights…no life…outside of the work.
Then, one day, your partner and children are gone.
They have been sold in order to pay a debt.
Your heart is ripped from your chest as you wail and mourn this loss.

Now, multiply that for generations over more than 200 years.

How great is the damage that has been done to generation upon generation.

And, we dare say, “That’s all in the past! Get over it!”?

Or, say you and your people have lived in a certain place for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. You have culture with deep roots in the soil, in the lakes, in the trees, and in the other creatures who share the land.
One day a group of strange people with weapons enter your village.
They tell you that the land you are living on no longer belongs to you.
You must move or be destroyed.
They force you and all of your people to travel by foot for days upon days upon weeks.
Many of your friends and family fall by the wayside. Unable to keep up they are simply jettisoned by your captors as so much refuse.
Eventually, you are released into a new land that looks nothing like where you came from. Your life, your culture, your heart is gone.
After awhile, others come along and tell you that your God is no God. That you must accept their god or you will be destroyed.
More of your life ripped from you and trampled under foot.
Soon, others come and gather the children.
They take your sons and daughters, your lifeblood; your hope; your future and take them away to boarding schools.
These are places where the dominant culture says that they will, “kill the Indian and save the man.”
Your language and culture are systematically destroyed in front of your eyes.
And, there is not a thing that you can do about it.

We DARE say to these people, “Oopsie! Sorry! But, you’ll get over it. Just get a job and start earning a living. Then you can be happy! Just like us!”

How deep are the hurts for these Generations Lost?

Can we not have empathy?
Cultures and lives were destroyed because of greed and lust for power.
And, now we wonder why there is rampant drug and alcohol use within these communities? We seem utterly surprised when some of these people rise up with guns and harm themselves and others.
How blind must we be to think that after all that these Human Beings have been through that they can simply pull themselves up by their bootstraps and get on with life?

I have no answers. My people have created this mess. So, I actually have no rights to even suggest answers.
The healing can only begin when we stop talking and start listening.
Listen to those who are hurt by generation upon generation upon generation of abuse, mistreatment, death…genocide.
Let them guide us in how we should, or even IF we should, be part of the solution.

One thing that we can do, though, is to stop trying to tell these People how they should feel and act. It is Their pain, not ours. It was their lives and cultures that were ripped from them.
Not Ours.

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From Generation to Generation

It’s odd how certain thoughts and ideas pop into your head.
Churning and turning over and over and over….
See how the myriad facets of that thought present their varying colors and perspectives. Sewing themselves into the fabric of your mind.
Amazing!

What does that have to do with anything?
Well, this morning my mind wandered to how one generation’s life and experience influence those that follow.
I know that this is something that we in the West don’t often consider.
We think that each person is an individual who is capable of building her life on her own. Through hard work and grit people can slough off any and all encumbrances and create a successful life…for themselves.

But, is that an entirely accurate idea?

I’m not so sure.

My Dad’s mother died when he was very young. His father remarried.
Eventually, his father, an alcoholic, left them and moved away. So, he was raised by his step-mother.
It was late in his life when he told me anything about that time in his life.
His step-mother was truly a bitch. She abused him in passive-aggressive ways that left lasting scars.
As a result, he withdrew into himself.
He became known to others by his quietness. His high school yearbook noted that he didn’t say much, but what he said was profound.
He never experienced true intimacy with anyone.
Yeah, he had a special relationship with my mom. His love was as deep as the ocean. His devotion to her unwavering. But, even with her, he held his feelings close to himself. It seemed that only after his mind began to fail him toward the end of his life that he began to open that long-closed box that contained his heart.
Nature and Nurture.
Joined to create a New Thing.
Dysfunction.

As I wrote before, I was adopted.
I was torn from my mother and placed in an institution.
I was given to my adoptive parents while still and infant.
But, damage was done.
All of the experts agree that attachments are necessarily created, bonds of love and trust, at this early age.
Although my adoptive parents cared for me, gave me their name, and provided stability and security for me, they will always be at best High Level Foster Parents.
It seems that only those who do the adopting consider that their new child is truly theirs. No one who keeps these stats and stories ever really asks those who were adopted. No one seems to really consider our insight into our own lives.
I don’t want to take anything away from my mom and dad. They loved me and supported me in their way. I will always have deep gratitude for the life they provided and the sacrifices that they made.
But, the ability for me to make intimate links with anyone was diminished. If not totally destroyed.
I withdrew into myself.
I tried to emulate Mr. Spock. Suppressing my emotions, stuffing my feelings, became my ultimate goal.
We all know that’s an impossible task.
Rather, my emotions raged like a class 5 hurricane. They found no true or constructive outlet. So, as I worked to contain the storm within, damage was done.
Nature and Nurture.
Joined to create a new thing.
Dysfunction.

Those are two generations in which similar circumstances created similar narratives.

My brain goes to these places as I try to come to grips with dysfunction, not only in my own life, but in my family and among my friends.
There is something to the idea of generational influence. For good or ill; better or worse.
These are things that we have absolutely no control over. They have been handed to us by those who came first.

We can, however, make choices on how to engage these things.
I know that I will never be able to experience a truly intimate relationship with anyone. There are too many issues deeply embedded in my soul to allow that.
But, I can push myself to learn new ways to deal with that.
The first and perhaps most important way is to be honest with myself about these things.
Second, I can learn to forgive those who preceded me. Both the one who gave me away and the ones who took me in.
They are no more perfect than I am. I have to be able to extend them the grace to be human.
Third, and perhaps most important, I must learn to forgive myself.
Because I am acutely aware of my own shortcomings, my own “sin,” it’s easy to find myself swimming in an ocean of guilt and shame.
That’s hard.
The guilt and shame were truly earned.
But, I can’t…I mustn’t…live there.
That compounds hurt upon hurt.
That leads to death.
Spiritual; emotional; physical.

We give too little consideration for anything beyond the tiny sphere in which we live.
We think, mistakenly, that we are an individual who is a self-contained entity with no ties to anything outside of ourselves.

That’s a lie.

Don’t believe that for an instant.

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The God I Don’t Believe In

Gary Larson, Farside.

Over the millennia people have tried to figure out what God is like.
They argue about this attribute or that word in order to prove that their personal idea of Divinity is the most correct in the Whole Wide World.
Systems have been contrived and erected for the sole purpose of explaining the inexplicable.
Perhaps the greatest error of all is to think that we can glean reality from ancient texts that have no foundation in our own reality. (I’m looking at you Fundagelicals!)
If God cannot be envisioned and understood within that context of our lived existence, then what good is it to even seek to know anything about this God?
It seems an exercise in self-aggrandizement.
Perhaps, it’s more appropriate to try to understand the Divine through a process of negation.
What is God NOT like?
What are NOT divine attributes?
At the end of that exercise we may have, instead of a God-In-The-Box of our own thinking, a God who has infinite possibilities to Be and Exist in an ever more complex Cosmos.

With that said…

God is NOT sitting in front of God’s computer with a finger hovering over the “Smite” key.
In other words, God does not kill. Period. God does not cause earthquakes, famines, droughts, hurricanes, tornadoes, or any other natural disaster. They’re called NATURAL disasters! They are not called SUPER-Natural disasters. What may have appeared as a divine intervention 2,500 years ago has been proven to be the result of conditions that appear in our natural world. Plate tectonics, weather systems interacting with oceans and heat from our Sun, and other phenomena are the cause. Not some kind of Divine anger.

God is NOT the cause of diseases and plagues that sicken and kill people. Again, something that our ancient forebears credited to God, or the gods, has been proven to be caused by natural agents. It is called “Evolution.” Viruses and bacteria have evolved over hundreds of millions of years to attach themselves to other living organisms in order to survive. The results are usually benign and symbiotic. Sometimes, however, they are not and illnesses result. Perfectly natural. God’s not sitting on some Cosmic throne saying, “Take that, you sinful humans!” No, if anything, God is Present to comfort and heal those afflicted by these diseases.

God is NOT a Cosmic Killjoy. God doesn’t get the Divine rocks off by decreeing that everything that could possibly be pleasurable is a Sin that God is only too happy to punish. People who find pleasure in being human, who enjoy life and love with one another, cause God to be pleased as well. For those who hold the position that God somehow cracked the code to become Incarnate, this should be no surprise. In the life of Jesus God experienced Being Human. Church people don’t discuss this too much. They’re usually too worried about maintaining control over people’s minds and bodies. But, it only makes sense that God learned about the human condition by Becoming Human. You know that fear that you experience? Jesus experienced fear. God gets it. The pleasure of human affection and touch is part of God’s own Felt Reality. Anger? Yep, God understands. Hurt, sickness, hunger and thirst are all things that God experienced through the life of Jesus from Nazareth. And, like the writer of Genesis recorded, “And, God saw that it was Very Good.”

God does NOT play favorites. This is really basic. God doesn’t care whether you are Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, Jain, or none of the above. All are loved and welcomed. This is the part that sectarian folks don’t want you to know, however. All are welcomed, JUST AS THEY ARE! There is no reason to change our basic selves or beliefs in order to be part of Team God. God seems to desire that we become more ‘divine’ in how we relate with one another and the Cosmos around us.

We all like to think that we are on the winning team. So, we erect boundaries to define who we are in opposition to those who are Not Us. It’s only natural, then, that we use this same idea of separation and exclusion to define God.
The problem with that is, God won’t play along with us.
God seems to be more interested in our relationships with each other, the planet, and ALL who we might consider “Other.”
Perhaps we are all part of God’s process of Creation in some way.
Perhaps we’ve got to be active in our pursuit of a World where we accept who and what we are.
We are Natural and we share in all things Natural.
In a way, we are also Divine. I think that God has somehow been wired into our DNA in such a way that we can truly be called Made in the Image of God, or Ikons of God.

Is there a new step in our evolution waiting at the door?
Are we destined to become something more like Homo Empathicus?

I don’t know.

But, I hope som

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Why All That Divisiveness?

Yesterday I had a good time talking with some atheists.
Well, not really “talking.”
We were on twitter. No one can have a real conversation on that platform.
But, it can quickly get main points out there.
“Out there” being the twitterverse where all kinds of magical, (not necessarily good), stuff can happen.

Simple thoughts can become cannon fodder used to destroy anyone who dares to question your very deeply held beliefs about yourself. Or, beliefs about your beliefs.
Even those with whom we seem to be allied may turn on you with rapid ferociousness.
I don’t know, that may even be part of the thrill.
We don’t know for sure how anyone will respond to the stuff we toss out there.

This happened to someone that I follow who is an atheist.
And, this person has some very good reasons for thinking that way.
I will not be a judge.
Not my job.

The idea that we as humans should embrace pluralism was up for discussion. Apparently, some folks don’t think that people who oppose this can be rational atheists. They feel that only the religious can be anti pluralistic. So, of course, they took exception to being lumped in with the religious. In fact, they went so far as to claim that pointing out that anti pluralism can be an overall Human thing was an attack on them personally.
It wasn’t.
It was simply an observation that fundamentalists, religious or non, tend toward exclusivity. They deny that pluralism is even a possibility.
And, the observation was absolutely correct.

Some of the most vicious attacks on those who are deemed “Other” come from avowed atheists. In many cases the “Other” are religious people. Vague generalizations get made that try to make sure that all religious are cut from the same piece of cloth.
That’s the same way that many religious people view non-religious folks. I don’t know, maybe it makes it easier for their tiny minds to grasp the simplicity of certainty and absolutes.
Nuance takes way too much effort.

Anyway, as the thread grew and more people weighed in, I was very happy to see that we are surrounded by people who DO get it. People who understand that we are complex beings. Our thoughts and beliefs are like the many facets of a fine gem that refract and reflect the light creating myriad colors and hues.
This is the true human condition.
The ability to grasp the dignity of each and every person and honor them for simply being.

No, we don’t need to all think the same.
No, common belief does not necessitate sameness.
Yes, we need each other.
Yes, we must accept the failures and foibles of those who are NOT US!!!

Yesterday, I found hope in that twitter thread.
Hope that maybe, some day, our species will finally find unity in our diversity and completeness in the “Other.”

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Monday Odds-n-Ends

Well, as of today I have 9 weeks and a day until I retire.
That amounts to 9 more tanks of gas.
Not that anyone’s counting.

I had the great honor and joy over the weekend to help celebrate with one of my best pals in the whole world. She is, shall we say, a unique person. It’s that uniqueness that is so damned endearing!
So, to you, Keri my pal,
May you and Martin have the joy and happiness of learning to love one another.
May your days be long on this Earth.
May all of your hopes and dreams find fulfillment as you walk together in Love.
May God Bless You Both Real Good!!!

Yesterday I attended my first ever Parish Annual Meeting at St. Barnabas.
I gotta tell ya, I’m not a numbers person. They say a fool and his money are soon parted. So, by that metric, I am a fool. Or, maybe the money just realizes that it is free and can go wandering off wherever it likes. In any case, business meetings are not my forte.
However, there was an air of optimism present that was palpable.
I watched as people laughed and joked. They applauded one another and offered vocal encouragement. Everyone, (and there was a good room full of folks), shared in this moment the joy that only comes after deep hurt and conflict.
This church has gone through a lot over the last 15 or so years.
They experienced a heart-rending split in the 2000s that left the church a ragged mess. Both the building and the congregation suffered through the abuses of former leadership.
The damage was severe and the cuts ran deep.
In 2012 there were roughly 26 people attending services.
Through the foresight of the Bishop and diocesan leadership, St. Barnabas was spared dissolution.
I say foresight, because in 2019 the church had about 140 people attending.
And, this growth shows no signs of letting up.
So, there is reason to be optimistic. There is cause to celebrate.
We cannot stop here, though.
There is still much to do in order to become the people that can join with God to usher in God’s reign.
We have miles to go before the Light of Christ illuminates the World.

I have not mentioned anything about the loss of Kobe Bryant.
My thoughts and feelings are somewhat mixed about this.
Yes, Bryant was a special athlete. The talent and drive that he brought to the basketball court revealed a giftedness that most people will never experience. Those who follow are set a high bar to shoot for. Most will not make it.
So, thank you Kobe for sharing your life and gift with us all.
We are all better for having seen you.
But, I am troubled by all of the attention focused on him.
Is the loss of the other 8 people, including Bryant’s daughter, any less tragic?
All of the news sources report that Kobe Bryant, his 13 year old daughter, and seven others died.
I’m sure that we’ll learn more about those “seven others” as reports come out.
But, the message seems to be, if a person is famous they are somehow more worthy than those who are not.
Try telling that to the anonymous mom whose son just died from an overdose.
Or, maybe say that the homeless person who died alone on the street was not as significant as the multi-millionaire celebrity.
Something is desperately wrong with our sense of value when it comes to human life.

Blessings to you all.

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Ta-Nehisi Coates Writes

I just finished reading Ta-Nehisi Coates’ novel, “The Water Dancer.” I’m not going to review it here. I found the story compelling even though, IMHO, the telling of it was lacking a bit.

There was one part of it that really did affect me. A look inside of Coates’ mind through the mind of his character, Hiram Walker.
Let me summarize…

Walker is a slave on a Virginia plantation as the Golden Age of the Virginian Gentry is waning. He happens to be the illegitimate son of the landowner and a slave woman. Eventually, he became a part of The Underground. This network of people worked to smuggle slaves into the North and freedom.
One of the chief instigators in this network is a white woman who is part of the Virginia Gentry. She spent time in the North and became enlightened to the plight of the slaves. The result was a deep shame in the system of slavery that demeaned her people and was a blight on their legacy.

Through the eyes of Hiram we get a glimpse of something that very few of us ever consider.

Objectification.
To Objectify.
To reduce a person to an object.

How did I get to this from that story?
First, let’s consider why we objectify others.

Fear.

Yes, Fear.
Fear of those who are Not Us.
Fear of losing wealth; identity; power; property; self.
Fear of being shamed.
Fear of becoming Equal To.

I could go on listing things that we fear. But, I think you get the idea.

In the case of Hiram’s white benefactor, she feared the shame that was a necessary part of her complicity in owning other human beings.
Don’t believe me?
Who is the subject of her philanthropy?
The slaves?
Look again. Closer.
She, and her people, are the subject. According to Coates’ portrayal, she works in order to assuage her own guilt and shame. She, and her white society are absolutely guilty of heinous crimes against humanity. So, she does what she can to combat that system.
What we learn from Hiram is what she does not do. Perhaps, she cannot do.
That is to see the slaves as Human Beings.
Real people with real lives and real needs and real feelings.
To her they are simply objects to be used in her personal battle against her personal demons.
To Hiram, they are family.

Now, I want everyone to understand that I think that kinds of efforts that people like Coates’ female benefactor are good and necessary.
Any and all efforts to alleviate suffering and instill a sense of humanity and self-worth to people is positive and should always be encouraged.

There is more, though.

We can still be what may be called ‘Good’ in our actions.
We must also become Good in our Intent.
Empathy is what stands against Objectification.
Empathy may be defined as an ability to share and understand the feelings of others.
I would take that a step further and say that Empathy is our ability to live in the skin of those who are Not Us.

We humans are naturally Tribal.
From the first time we left the arboreal life and set out across the Savannah we have grouped together for self preservation. This is ingrained deep within our DNA.
That is where Homo Sapiens came from.
It’s time now for Homo Empathicus to emerge.
Our survival as a species may depend on that.

For sure our identity as Image Bearers of God demands it.

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What Will It Take?

Sitting in the quiet darkness of early morning.
That time of day when the gentle, white lace of frost
Caresses the grass and paints with delicate strokes upon windows.

My mind wanders paths strewn with the blown litter of oak and maple.
The creaks and cracks of the naked branches above as the gently breezes
Flow among their gnarled fingers.

And, I wonder…

Where does the sand in the glass go when it completes its task?
Time leaks into time with no direction other than Onward.

At what point do we stop and look around at our purposes and desires?
See! The Indigenous Peoples of the Earth have stories to tell.
Destroyers appeared on the horizon.
Pestilence, life Passes, Peoples Perish.

My mind sees a shadow on the plains.
Millions upon millions of stamping hooves.

Silenced.

People, lives, cultures…Gone.

I see the dense canopy of a billion leaves swaying in the wind,
Dripping the Elixir of Life, Water, onto the world of myriad creatures.

Fire; destruction; Death.

Everyday I see the result of greed and lust in vacant eyes and bleached bones.

When will we learn?

As the poet wrote,

any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.

John Donne Meditation XVII

I wrote the above as I considered our headlong leap into environmental disaster. Many people give no credence to the alarms sounded by people in the scientific community and elsewhere. We really don’t have to look beyond the Indigenous Peoples of the world. When the colonists came and destroyed their habitat, the cultures perished. Even as some Indigenous nations attempt to recapture their cultures and languages, they will be forever changed. And, not necessarily for the better.
What makes us so arrogant as to think that we will escape unscathed as we destroy our own environment?

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Friday Morning Musing

A vault impregnable, impervious, impossibly shut and locked
Is the Heart of Humans.
Desires, hopes, dreams, lusts and longings closed within it.
Steel encased in concrete is like Butterfly wings compared with
Its hardened walls of Flesh.

What kind of dark Humors reside therein?
The swirling mist of “Myself.”
Gazing always inward.
Unable to see or imagine a world outside of
Self-imposed confinement, Completely alone.
Companionless.

There is One.
Who has a Key.

Can we allow this One,
With Pure motives
To unlock the Vault?
So that Light may enter unhindered
And, “Myself” might “See”?

There is Hope
That Freedom may penetrate
And the Heart may become…


More.

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Diversity is Not a Dirty Word

The first entry in Merriam-Webster defines Diversity as, “the condition of having or being composed of differing elements : VARIETY especially : the inclusion of different types of people (such as people of different races or cultures) in a group or organization.

In today’s American culture wars diversity is considered by many people to be something evil that should be avoided at all costs. After all, if we achieve true diversity then White-Protestant hegemony would end. We can’t have that.

But, that’s a topic for another post.

This morning in the quiet hour before I had to get ready to go to work I considered diversity as it relates to our various faith communities. The reality of Euro-American dominance in the world raised its head and looked at me with its blood-red eyes.
I have written about this as it relates to world missions before.
The predominantly white North Atlantic Church has arrogantly forced its own cultural brand of Christianity on a world that neither wanted nor needed that. Yet, that Church still considers itself to be the Only Real True Church. Even today we send groups out into other cultures in order to form the people who are indigenous to those cultures into little versions of ourselves. Because we know best.

Well, we actually don’t.

We have lenses that color our vision. We only see what we want to see. People who are lacking. People who are missing out. People that We. Need. To. Save!

I think that there’s a better way.

I had the pleasure of studying under the Director of Black Church Studies at Ashland Theological Seminary, Dr. William H. Myers. Besides New Testament classes that I had with Dr. Myers, I also had the opportunity to study Womanist Hermeneutics with him. That is a way to read and understand the Scriptures taken from the point of view of African-American women.
That class stretched me. I was the only white person in that class. So, it was a total immersion experience for me.

And, it was uncomfortable.

Not because of who I was. But, because of the lives of the women I met in that course. Women who lived as slaves in the U.S. South. Women who survived that hell only to find themselves buried neck deep in Jim Crow America. Women who raised families.

Women who found peace and solace in the White man’s Jesus.

How they did that was an amazing feat of faith and trust in God.
They learned that God was not the provenance of the dominant culture. They learned that God sets captives free and leads those who love God to the Promised Land.
They learned that God was above the status quo.
They learned that God loved them.

Diversity.

I also learned about a man named Randy Woodley. He is descended from the United Keetoowah Band of Cherokee. Dr. Woodley has spent his life discovering the Creator God of all people. He is also a follower of Jesus who is learning how to understand the God of the Colonizers in a way that those who were colonized can love.
He, and other Native Americans, work to, as Dr. Richard Twiss, himself a Native American, “Rescue the Gospel from the Cowboys.”
These faithful followers of Christ have found that Jesus isn’t White and doesn’t wear a clerical collar.

Diversity.

I mention these things for one reason.

The Church needs these voices.
We will die from inbreeding if we don’t listen to them.
They have truth that the hearts and minds of the dominant culture simply don’t have.
If we want to have life, and that abundantly, we must push back against those small minded culture warriors who think that there is only One Way to Live.
Their way.

That’s a lie from the pit of hell.
There are as many ways to live as there are people and cultures.
And, there are just as many ways to follow Jesus.

Diversity.

Not a dirty word.

It is Grace and Life.

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Sunset on Another Year

Today’s the Eve of New Year’s Eve.
For a lot of us it’s a time to tidy up after Christmas. Take the decorations down and store them away for another year.
Others may still be returning gifts or redeeming gift cards. Gotta keep Amazon busy!
For many it’s just another day. Back to work trying to make sure all of the year-end accounting is completed.
Then there are those who take the last few days of the year to reflect on the days now past.
The days of darkness from a year ago when the cold winds whipped across the landscape. Snow and ice piled up in parking lots. Yet, with lengthening daylight came a bit of hope.
Hope that was finally realized when the first crocus forced its head up through the still thawing earth. There was the return of the birds and other animals after their long winter sojourn in other places or hidden away from the forces of Nature.
Hope gave way to realization of new life and green trees. Warmth seeping into the ground to rouse the seed and call the sprout from its protective shell.
Soon the colors change and daylight again begins to wane. Harvest time! Gladness in the fruit of the ground!
Then, the circle closes as we come, yet again, to the end.

Or, is it a beginning?

As the Cosmos cycles through birth, life, and death, so too do we.
There are cries of newborns and sighs of the aged and infirm.
Relationships blossom and bloom. While others get tangled in the weeds, choke, and pass into compost.

Yet, it continues.

We still hope.

We still sow and reap.

Perhaps it is a good thing to reflect.
To remember things as they are and have been.


But, we can’t dwell there, can we?

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