The Hanging Tree

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

My Super Power

,

Everyone wants a cool nickname when they are growing up. The closest I came to having a nick name at all was "The Walking Dictionary." It was too cumbersome for everyday use, so it was reserved for the days when even my teacher wasn't sure what I'd said. Secretly I hoped they thought of me as "Dic" which demonstrates that my familiarity with slang could have been expanded.

Recently my thoughts returned to this melancholy subject, and my mind skipped forward a couple decades to sitting at a picnic table with a therapy group. "That girl is Spiderwoman. She knows what's going on with everyone in the room." The gentleman who spoke those words was truly street wise, and we all respected what he said. I blushed violently as every person in the circle shook their head in agreement. It's the best nickname I have ever been given.

Other people's feelings are important to me. Some people walk into a room and they can't rest until all the pictures are hanging straight. It can be like that for me with other people's negative feelings. I am uncomfortable because they are uncomfortable, so I take action. There's no need for an Iyanla intervention. You'd be amazed at how much pointing out the free coffee at the back of the room can accomplish. 

Empathy has become fashionable. It's an official super-power on the Super Power Wiki. There are a lot of products being developed to teach children empathy. For a student to lack empathy is now as large a crisis as if they struggled to read. I was just born with it. It's a major reason I write, that and I have to do something with this ridiculous vocabulary.

And Just Like That...

A Taste of Redwall is over. I still have notes to write, a summary to create, and ideas for the next time to capture, but this event is over. I learned so much.

1. Walk straight through your fears. I put this project off because I was afraid it would be rejected. Morning after morning, I woke up sure it was failing. Phone call after phone call, I had to remember a no added up to nothing, but a yes changes everything. There were moments all along the way where quitting was a reasonable option. I'm so glad I persisted. It was worth every negative feeling.

2. Actively listen to others. I've always appreciated input, but in the past I was so afraid of being run over that I could be very hard-nosed about my vision. This time I had the best supervisors in Ann English and Mary Casselman. Their ideas were always helpful, and they truly appreciated what I was doing. It was easy to share with them. Karen Morgan was also instrumental in ramping up the fun factor. She was patiently persistent about activities I was unfamiliar with. She taught me a lot of new tricks.

3. Keep everybody in the loop. Sometimes I got so busy with drama in one aspect that I forgot that leaders in the other aspects needed to know what was going on in order to feel useful and appreciated. I don't think I'll make that mistake again.

4. Have fun! I did not meet my goals. In the past this meant an emotional storm that overshadowed everything. This time I decided to roll with it. The desserts were delicious and we had a good time. 

5. Remember, it's not your party. This was the first time I could let go of my successes and recognize that they came from God. They were not mine so I had no reason to boast. It's a nice change for me.

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

It's getting closer every minute. I have so much to do, and it is a joy to do it. Come if you can. We're going to have amazing Redwall-inspired desserts as well as great family activities. Thanks, Karen Morgan, for the great flyer.

30, 40, 50

This year I am the answer to life, the universe, and everything. That means that clever marketers think I am worried about aging and boy do they have the products for me. Scattered across the spectrum of lazy reading I am offered beautiful pictorials of famous people who have spent their lives cultivating their appearance for a living, some 30, some 40, some 50.  I want to see those glamorous images spliced with ordinary women who don't have two hours a day to workout or hundreds of dollars to spend on creams, because that's a great 30, 40, 50, too.  Then I want to go one step further and I want to see 30, 40, 50 year old refugees or others who have suffered the affects of grinding poverty and war.  After that, everyone should take a deep breath and change the direction of their attention. 

After all those pictures, what do we really need to do to improve the world? I don't know everything, but somethings are obvious.

My Yoko Ono

I love the Beatles. The concert "The Night That Changed America was delicious. I want the album. I want it now. It's one of the ways I tell off Plato, and remember that I am an artist. 

Members of my family tend to be opinionated.  The Beatles are one of the best ways to stir up discord.  From Mother requiring that Dad get rid of all his Beatles albums to whether or not Julian Lennon's blog is interesting.  We have opinions. Since my sister takes the hard line on Yoko Ono, I have to take the moderate view. At first it was because as crazy as it all seemed from the outside, John Lennon was more fully human after it. He wasn't right about a lot of things, but I think his heart was. This stance was largely to give me some room to breathe when Karen starts telling it like it is, until I found my Yoko Ono--the picture that for me, sums it all up. I'm researching The Plaza for my novel, so I purchased At the Plaza, a pictorial history.  On page 151, there is a picture of the two of them a short while before John was shot having a quick snack.  I wish I could post it for you, but I can't find it anywhere on the net. She is smiling, clearly enjoying their time together, but he is gob-smacked that she is there. His joy  is so fresh, as if they had just met. I may not like how they got there, but I'm glad they did.

Where I Come From

I have to admit as a homeschool mom I'm always hoping for a snow day so my older kids can stay home.  I miss them even though I know I've done the right thing sending them to school.  Tricky thing about snow days in Michigan, is living in Michigan.  We see a lot of snow.  It's always cold (try swimming in the lake in July).  We are tough and used to this, so school never seems to close.  Except for the last two days.  Wow, that's weather to make Alaskans shrug their shoulders enigmatically.  I don't care.  It meant two more days of having my big girls home.

Unlike wimpy Indiana where driving in such weather is illegal, Kurt went to work, and it really felt like the old days.  We slept in, but the big girls jumped in upping my homeschooling manpower so that we could finish the essential work in a couple hours.  It was fun, and I mean that non-homeschoolers.  It was really fun.  No such delight expected tomorrow.  We're back to the usual, well, as usual at it gets in a world where throwing boiling water out your back door is a science experiment.  If I didn't have such wonderful friends I'd be moving to Florida--then again, they didn't get a single day off.  

Over and Above My Wishlist

Earlier in the season, I posted a list of books I'd like and wished for the time to read them.  The books came and I'm making the time.  I started with Myths from Mesopotamia by Stephanie Dalley.  She includes so many details and end notes that my interest was stirred beyond the story of Adapa, and I found myself thinking of ancient stories in new ways.  Practical matters like missing bits and lost cultural assumptions.  I wanted the kids at our homeschool cooperative to have the same experience, but I knew it'd be difficult to acquire sufficient copies of the text.  "Ye have not because ye ask not" is a piece of ancient literature I was taught well.  On a whim I looked up Ms. Dalley and sent her an email asking if I might copy the pages for the kids.  To my great delight she replied the seven pages I needed were an allowed amount to copy.  It felt so good to send out those pages to my students.  It's going to be such a great class.  

Ms. Dalley also suggested we watch her documentary on finding the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.  You can see it HERE on YouTube.  It is exactly the kind of thing we want the kids to be watching.  The careful detective work, the critical contributions and leadership of a woman, and the terrible losses we are suffering because we'd rather fight instead of fight for peace, these are all values every kids should be exposed to.  Sometimes it's not just a book, sometime's it a new world or a new hero.  Sometimes it's all of the above.

A New Patience

Lord, you have renewed the face of the earth. Your Church throughout the world sings you a new song, announcing your wonders to all. Through a virgin, you have brought forth a new birth in our world; through your miracles, a new power; through your suffering, a new patience; in your resurrection, a new hope, and in your ascension, new majesty.

I found this prayer in the morning while reading of The Divine Office.  It is beautiful as a whole, but I was struck by the phrase "through your suffering, a new patience."  Paired with Grunewald's The Mocking of Christ, new vistas open on Syria, on my personal struggles, on the work of the church and how it is accomplished.  If you've never heard of The Divine Office, you should give it a look.  Here!

Packing Up

I'm always looking for a way to make things easier.  This vacation I've decided to embrace the joy of having them lug their own stuff.  Each kid has a backpack for their clothes and toiletries, and a small drawstring backpack for sightseeing.  In Washington, DC practically everything is free, any other town would have us broke the first day what with ticket prices and such.  The only place where DC really gets you is food and drink.  The sightseeing bag will allow us to mitigate this last struggle and give the kids a chance to record their experiences.  Each kid will have two Propel Zeros, one or two snack boxes, sketch book, and either crayons or colored pencils.  I figure we can refill the Propel bottles and get through a day without buying five dollar Cokes.  It's going to be an adventure.  We might as well be prepared.

A very good day

It began with my birthday cake picked up yesterday by my handsome husband.  It continued with a great free swim day at swim class.  I had lunch at McDonalds with the younger half of my kids.  My kids had all worked together to give me a clean house for my birthday.  Three fascinating teenagers arrived to spend the weekend with us while they attend J-fax at GVSU.  My husband brought me my favorite pink roses and baby's breath.  We made homemade paninis and tomato soup for dinner, and then we murdered that cake. And now I am having a quiet evening in my room because all the kids are worn out, overstimulated, or soaking up precious face time.  Birth day's don't get better than this, especially when you get to be the answer to life, the universe, and everything for a year.  I love my life.

Andrew

Way back when, my cousin love-bombed my parents with books from his perspective.  One of them was Ender's Game.  I blasted through it in two days and I periodically return to it even now.  It sent me on an Orson Scott Card binge, but none of the others had this book's power.  Ender's internal voice is similar to mine.  His relationship to others, being a part of things yet always separate, is simply human.  Discovering that you are your community's favorite weapon is an experience understood and whose pain of shared responsibility for horrors, while overblown, is not overborne.  

I am eager to see the movie version, but I am certain it cannot live up to the book.  How will they get us in Ender's head?  That is the sight to see, the rest of it is simply something for him to think about.  

Coming Home

Last weekend I went on my first Catholic retreat at St. Lazare's.  I was at a low place with many things, and I needed help.  Father Vincent and Father Frank gave me that help through silence, through teaching, through the Eucharist.  The part I loved best was Confession. There's no rush on retreat, and there's help in working out your salvation, almost like an IEP (individualized education plan).  The long-forgotten pleasure of having a room to myself, especially with the lovely lake view, was remembered, as I relied on the consolation of privacy should I become overwhelmed.  My fellow retreants were so faithful to the silence, but we were still present to each other.  The food was good, but not rich like a fancy hotel.  Simple comforting meals, including two versions of roast beef, made a nice break, but didn't steal the show.  The grounds were lovely and well maintained.  

I felt as if I had come home.  I felt burdens eased and skills learned.  I felt God.  

They are shutting St. Lazare's at the end of July.  

I feel like a stolen child coming home just in time for her family to move.  I feel like people who visit Disney World on the last day it is open will feel.  I feel like a precious pearl is being ground to dust.

It takes time to make something as wonderful as St. Lazare's, and we are letting it slip away.  The waste makes me so sad. 

Pray for St. Lazare's, Father Vincent and Father Frank

Happy Sandals Day!

The day we set our feet free for the summer! All that shopping, it's quite a feat.

Cross Raising

GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD," John writes, "that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." That is to say that God so loved the world that he gave his only son even to this obscene horror; so loved the world that in some ultimately indescribable way and at some ultimately immeasurable cost he gave the world himself. Out of this terrible death, John says, came eternal life not just in the sense of resurrection to life after death but in the sense of life so precious even this side of death that to live it is to stand with one foot already in eternity. To participate in the sacrificial life and death of Jesus Christ is to live already in his kingdom. This is the essence of the Christian message, the heart of the Good News, and it is why the cross has become the chief Christian symbol. A cross of all things—a guillotine, a gallows—but the cross at the same time as the crossroads of eternity and time, as the place where such a mighty heart was broken that the healing power of God himself could flow through it into a sick and broken world. It was for this reason that of all the possible words they could have used to describe the day of his death, the word they settled on was "good." Good Friday.

Frederick Buechner

You know you're old when...

This is one of my favorite movies. I love the characters. What a great moment for an update.

Dibs on Reepicheep!

I love giraffes.  They are beautiful and awkward and far sighted, so this road sign had my immediate attention and has held my thoughts for several weeks.  I don't have the patience to study through the "No Labels" website to see where I agree and where I disagree, but the folly of our current stand off is so obvious it reminds me of Reepicheep's cry of "Stop fighting!  Push!" 
Even when everything is in such chaos, some of the best people I know won't even shake hands with some of the other best people I know, at least not without Purell nearby.  I have a friend who is uncompromising on the issue of safety--he will keep you safe, whether you like it or not.  His dedication and passion encourage me and make me feel safer.  On the other hand, I have a friend who picks up those people who have already been trampled by life and helps them find a way back to breathing.  His compassion inspires me.
Getting those two in the same room is unlikely, but if I could get them talking about Chinese food or something, I think they would like each other and see that their hearts and goals are similar.  What they might never acknowledge is that they need each other.  That the world at large needs them both.
"Stop fighting!  Push!"

Mostly Muslim Movies

My parents were teachers in a small Christian school when I was growing up.  They signed a contract foregoing movies and they stuck to it. The same church that sponsored the school was struggling to work all this out.  I remember being properly shocked when my Sunday School teacher used ET for an illustration.  VHS put an end to all pretense.  Movies were back in swing just in time for my adolescence and I've found it a delicious naughty pleasure ever since.
But now I've gone a step further--ahh, the slippery slope.
I've gone Muslim--mostly.
I'm finding the films of our counterpoint interesting.  They make new all those old problems of life by dressing it up in what is for me a costume.  It is a pleasure to learn and grow.

Sabah is about a woman trying to work out a life between her family's traditionalism and her own need to explore.  There's a sweet love story.  It's sort of  Jane Austen in a hijab.

Arranged follows the lives of two young women, one Orthodox Jew and one traditional Muslim as they go through their respective processes of finding a husband.  I love the way they support each other, and the best moment in the movie when the Muslim is mistaken for a Sephardic Jew.

Salmon Fishing in Yemen  delighted me with a Muslim Jesus.  It was unexpected in this oddball love story.  The movie is truly beautiful both in how it was filmed and the literary frame it works in.

Children of Heaven has been mentioned before, but if you have children this film is an excellent introduction to Muslim Culture.  A boy loses his sister's shoes.  His family is too poor to pay for new, so the two share his shoes.  Charming heartbreak all around.

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel is mostly set in India rather than being Indian--Muslim or Hindu, but it's interesting.  All that thinking about death, which is also thinking about life.  The choices and opportunities near the end of life.  Death seems to walk in a veil until we are wearing it.  Sometimes it's good to give it a think.

Those Cute Afghani Hats

When the war in Afghanistan began I had read maybe three articles about that country in Reader's Digest and U.S. News and World Report.  I may also have realized that that gorgeous girl, whose photo National Geographic kept trotting out, was from there.  Know thy enemy may be one reason that attempts at enriching our national understanding of the culture of Afghanistan have slowed down now that we are in the slog of war.  It is hard to think of such simple people giving us such trouble--but isn't that what I learned about Afghanistan from those three articles and a picture?  We were so proud of the way they fought the Russians and now we are the Russians.
I'd rather think about the pictures that we saw at the beginning--the poppy fields, the smiling girls, the tribal leaders.  I wish I knew more about the whys and wherefores of all the things that puzzle me.    I want to know if I'd offend Afghan men by wearing their Pakol hat.  Is it wrong to just grab a hat and go?
Life is a full time job.

Embryonic Rights

It's time for new language and a new strategy in the fight for life.  We've danced with our Pro-Choice partner so long the fight has fallen into a soporific waltz and both partners risk falling off a cliff into nothingness. It is time to pay attention to the most dramatic player on the scene--the embryo itself.  It's only defense is its mother, and even that is limited if that mother is in China.  Embryonic stem cell research is hailed from so many quarters without any secondary echo of concern for the costs such possible cures may require.
I'm Pro-Life for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is human nature.  I don't trust us with the right to treat any human being as expendable.   Throughout history any attempt to draw a line and say that this is not a human being ends in in abuse, and the line itself keeps moving.  If we're blessed it moves to a more generous position, if not, more and more human beings will find themselves oppressed/at risk of death.  By saying the second that slippery little sperm slides in, that baby is a human and worthy of human rights, we draw the line as wide as it can possibly be drawn, at the short end at least.  We draw the largest circle of safety around ourselves.
For these reasons I call for a new language that emphasizes human rights and seeks to reestablish the base line of humanity.