Happy, Grateful Tears

I did not go to church this morning. Wait, that's not true. I went to church, but I spent the hour sitting in the kitchen, in the basement, on my mobile phone. And on this, Transfiguration Sunday, that was the absolute right thing for me to be doing.

Why?

Because I was talking to someone I have not seen since May 1, 1990.

I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Liberia; I was there December 29, 1988 - May 1, 1990. On May 1, I was evacuated with other PCVs. On December 24, 1989 rebel troops had crossed into Liberia starting a war that would last over a decade. On May 1st, I was on a plane- because the US Ambassador declared the situation unsafe and ordered the evacuation of all PCVs and other "non-essential" US employees.

So, one minute I was en route to the airport in Monrovia. Less than 12 hours later, I was in a holding room at JFK airport. After spending 18 months without running water or electricity, I found myself back in the US, staring at a neon sign advertising personal pan pizzas. Talk about abrupt.

Anyway, in Liberia, I lived in a small community not far from the capital (Monrovia)and while there, I became very close to a young girl who lived across the street from me. She was my constant companion and it broke my heart to leave her when I was evacuated.

I lost track of her as her family fled the fighting and I never knew if what happened to her. Awful, terrible things happened in my community after I left, and I knew some had not survived. Had her family made it to Ghana to a refugee camp? Had she made it to the US where I knew she had family?

I have looked for her off and on since 1990, and several months ago found information that lead me to Sunday. When I heard her voice on my message machine earlier that week, I cried. She now lives in Asia and didn't leave a phone number; her message said she'd call again over the weekend. My phone rang as I was pulling into the parking lot at church. Not only did she survive the war, but she is well, happily married, and pregnant!

We talked for nearly an hour. We have since emailed and I'm sending her all the photos I have of her and her community. They remind me of my Peace Corps experience and make me smile. Now they are the only photos she has of her childhood.

It was wonderful to talk to her, to know that she is well, to hear about her family. I look forward to rebuilding our friendship.

But she said something during our conversation that I found startling. She talked about doing short mission trips with her church, hoping to have an influence on someone young- just as I had had on her. Holy cow!

A boy I did Peace Corps with recently shared this quotation with me. I'd seen it before, but it took on a whole new meaning after reconnecting with my Liberian friend: "To the world you are just one person, but to one person, you are the world!"

Cable Delight

Today a nice man from my local cable company came and added phone to my "all-in-one" package. Even though he was amused when I asked for a photo ID before I let him in.

He even came on the early side, so I've spent the last few hours getting acquainted with Windows Vista on my new laptop. So far, I am NOT a fan. So much so that I'm tempted to have XP put on this new computer, but I probably need to learn Vista, if only to be able to help guide the gf on her own OMGwhatismycomputerdoing journey.

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Much thought of late about Clinton, Obama, evangelical Christians, why folks insist on making Obama Muslim, and the kidnapping of all things Christian by the Republicans. Watching the Texas and Ohio primaries with interest. Learning that even today, even with folks I know and respect, I should continue to refrain from discussing issues of race with white folk. Most of you, anyway.

President's Day

I was listening to NPR this evening as I was cooking, and heard this quiz in tribute to today being President's Day. I got half of them right. Can you beat me?

Who was the first US President...

1. to visit a foreign country?
2. to visit the West Coast?
3. born West of the Mississippi River?
4. born in a hospital?
5. who was a bachelor? (not a widower, a bachelor)
6. who was divorced?
7. to resign?
8. to die while in office?
9. to wear pants regularly (as opposed to wearing knee breeches)?
10. to own a radio?


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And I just saw this on the NPR website. I found it oddly amusing.


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Oh, you want the answers to the quiz? Click here.

Surviving Lent

It is possible to smile so much your face gets sore. I realized last week at work. One of the folks I work with nearly laughed their head off when I told them what my goal for Lent is. The response was, "You'll never make it!"

Not exactly encouraging, huh?

Well, it's been nearly a week, and so far, so good.

Happy Valentine's Day

Ash Wednesday

I think of the 40 days of Lent as a time to be reflective and repentant as way of preparing for Easter, the holiest day in the Christian calendar. For me, it's a time that, in some small way, parallels the 40 days Jesus spent wandering in the wildness being tempted by Satan.

Lots of people "give up" something as a means of sacrifice during Lent. Because I didn't grow up doing that, I've often tried to "take something on," usually something that will require more of me than I usually give.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, and I haven't decided what to take on. Certainly, I could be more "chipper" at work and nicer to folks I don't particularly care for, but I think I want to reach higher this year.

So here's what I've decided:
I want to be able to go to bed each evening knowing that I've lived a good day- that I've strived, honestly and sincerely, to be a better person than I've ever been.

Personally, it's not practical to think about being "the best person I can be" because that'll set me up to feel like a failure for 40 days, especially since I'm not even sure I know what my "best" is. But I do know when I've done "better" than before, which means that I'll have a means of self-reflective and evaluation.

I want to wake up on Easter morning knowing that I've spent this time constantly striving to be a better person, with the intent that it'll put me closer to the person G*d intended me to be.

Church Ladies Unite!

Last night I went to Alice's first "let's get together to knit" gathering. Alice is a friend from church; her daughter is close to my age. Two others joined: one my age; one Alice's. We had a blast! And I even did some knitting!

I'm looking forward to next week.

Catching Up

For the last month, I have been, well, in a funk.

Ok, not a funk. But struggling. Emotionally. The hours at the "new" job are kicking my behind. But mostly, I've felt distant.

It has reminded me of when Mother Theresa died and an NPR commentator mentioned that she continued her good works even as she struggled in her inability to feel G*d. That even in her decades of feeling removed and untouched by G*d, she continued to do G*d's work.

Perhaps it's a sign (to me) that this very issue has come up in the last few weeks as her diaries are being published. This notion that those of us who identify as "religious" struggle in our ability to "feel" G*d. That we struggle in the "absence" of G*d.

Of course, we all know the piece "Footprints" and how G*d says that in those times of our deepest struggle is when G*d carries us, but that doesn't change how we felt in that moment.

I have hesitated to share in this forum- for all kinds of reasons. But the simple truth is that I miss the connection of having my friends (all 5 of you) read my rantings.

So there you have it.

Creating Traditions

My brother came to visit over the weekend. He moved to Boston from Florida a few months ago, and made the trip to Upstate New York to hang out with his big sister. We had a lovely time; it was a nice treat as we had not seen each other in over a year.

While he was here, he asked me an interesting question about my blog. He wanted to know why it's called "G*d's Love" instead of "God's Love". Since I frequently write my creator's name as "G*d" or "G-d" in reverance, I was surprised. Funny how you assume everyone knows what you know (or how you forget that everyone doesn't how what you do).

In any case, it's from Jewish tradition. Not writing God's name is a way to honor
God and God's holiness. Kinda like Christians writing God's name with a capital G, versus when we write about one of the Hindu gods (little g) like Shiva.

Tradition is a powerful thing, and my sister has taught me a bit about creating one's own. Having more reverence with G-d is one I created for myself.