Creation Symphony

I was telling a neighbor today about a possible new home purchase in a less urban area. As I spoke to him, I mentioned the increased square footage of living space, the increased acreage of land and the nice nearby schools. I was taken off guard when he interjected, ‘Are there any blacks? I bet there’s no blacks.’ Now he’s a couple generations older than I and I can appreciate that he grew up in different times and all, but come on! His head nod and grin as he spoke seemed top indicate that this was the real benefit or the real reason for us looking to move. A good number of conversations I have with this neighbor seems to include some type of racial or ethnic derogatory statement usually aimed at African Americans or Hispanics. (Other conversations usually seem health related or about politics or 'the kids these days’.) Every time this happens I am dumbfounded. I really should be used to it but each time I react (at least inwardly) like it’s the first time. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t hide my reactions very well! On past occasion I have said something, not to be abrasive, but to show that I didn’t agree with what was being said. This time, I thought about what he said and agreed that there probably weren’t very many. Of course I then steered the conversation away from that topic.

This whole exchange made me wonder what the demographics of our possible new home town is compared to that of the city in which my wife and I have lived our entire lives. According to the 2000 census, racially, our city is about 60% White and 17% African American (which leaves the 23% of Asians, Native Americans and others). It says 26% of the population is of Hispanic or Latino ethnicity. 16% of the population is below the poverty level and the population density is about 11,000 per square mile. The new place is 95% White and less than 2% African American (which leaves the just over 2% of Asians, Native Americans and others). 6% of the population is Hispanic or Latino. Less than 5% of the population is below the poverty level and the population density is about 250 per square mile.

This city and its diversity is what my wife and I grew up with. Our parents grew up here. This move is a great opportunity for us and our son, but I’m going to miss this city. We’ve looked at several housing options here and none have panned out for us. On the other hand we are very excited about our possible move and everything it will bring.

Why did I take the time to type my rant into this blog? Well, I didn’t start out to rant. The day’s exchange with my neighbor got me thinking about my fellow brothers and sisters… in Christ; all races and ethnicities. I had mentioned in an earlier post a connectedness that I felt with others. Through a connection with God, a connection is made in turn with all of creation. This ‘connected’ feeling developed and became stronger for me over time. A few years ago, after a weekend retreat I had a particular feeling of a ‘heart string’ or spiritual nerve that connected the center of my being up to the heavens. I say to the heavens for the lack of a better term because I cannot envision the other end of the string; but I mean ultimately to the Being of God. This string is taut but doesn’t pull. It is a nerve sensitive to vibration. Typing this, I just thought of the 2 cans and a string telephone game that I played as a kid. Following that thought, prayer is the ‘string telephone’ conversation that I have with above.

If we all have this connection to the heavens, whether we pick up the ‘phone’ once in a while or not, then we are all in turn connected to each other. The doubly cool thing about this is that since God is creator, and WAS before creation, he is outside of the construct of time (time is really a human construct anyway). The consequence of our communion with Him is then our fellowship with his creation without any time boundaries. This allows our connection with our brothers and sisters past, present and future. Have you ever prayed that someone has strength to face an event that already happened? Wouldn’t that be just as valid? –think about it. I’ve felt a prayer like this come on and felt confident saying it. I alluded to this fellowship connection when in a previous post I wrote, “A two way connection between creator and creation that also in turn networks us all together across time and space in a holy communion”

As this connected feeling developed I also began to view the string as an umbilical cord of sorts. The cord being an avenue between the Provider and the developing creation through which nutrients flow and life blood is transferred. We are blood brothers! How can I talk bad about my brother? I’m being terribly facetious but if the Lord wouldn’t judge Sodom if there were ten good people out of the whole population, how wrong is it to judge the whole based on ten bad? This is assuming that a negative comment aimed at a whole race or ethnicity is based on a negative interaction between oneself and a number of 'representative' members. I don’t think I’m exaggerating in any more magnitude than a derogatory racial/ethnic comment casts a net on the number of a whole people! –ugh!

Lord Help me to teach my son to feel a fellowship to the rest of creation. If we end up living in an area less racially and ethnically diverse, I recognize this might be a harder task. Help me to teach him that his prayer and actions affect resonance in all of our ‘strings’; that as individuals we are each instruments of Your will; that together we form an orchestra that plays a symphony throughout time. I pray whoever reads this picks up his or her instrument with me and that our simple notes, when offered to you, are raised up and joined within the greater creation symphony. Amen.

And to make a long story short...

Ah, such a well-oiled phrase, isn't it? "And to make a long story short" -- it's like a drum roll really. Almost, as if to say: The end is near, this long story is almost done, I promise!

The problem is, this lovely phrase usually rolls off the tongue when the story has already been too long, doesn't it? The phrase really should be something along the lines off "And to end this really long story, all I have to say is.... (fill in conclusion here).

Just a random thought while discussing the long, and em, very interesting plot line of a tv-show that I don't watch with someone who loves said show quite passionately. You can see how that story was a long one!

Just the guys

Well mommy's been away on a business trip for a few days now. Day three just ended and all is well. Day one had some excitement at its beginning. You see, if john wakes up between 5:45 and 7:00am I generally bring him into bed with us. Well after mommy left for her flight John woke up at sometime before 6. Pacifier check and daddy snuggle wasn't enough for him to go back down, so a warm 6oz bottle of milk was applied. I was up long enough to see most of it go down and lil'daddy transform back to a sleepy baby. Next thing I know, John is sitting straight up and his eyes are open wide. In the microseconds it takes for me to think this a bit odd and wonder if I'm really awake, at least 6oz of spitup is flying mid-air and about to land on our bedsheets. Ga'mornin Daddy! At least we had an early start and we were not late for our morning Gymboree class.

Day two's excitement came in the form of an exploding diaper which had brown green slimy trails down both legs. I was able to salvage lil'daddy's sandals; that's about it. Is it just me or doesn't a freshly-bathed-in-the-middle-of-the-day baby smell great!

Mommy is back tomorrow, but I know she misses her little boy so here are some slideshows and videos taken in the last few days...

• Click here to watch '20050921slides'



• Click here to watch 'kiss1'



• Click here to watch 'kiss2'



• Click here to watch 'kissnswat'

Herrre LizardLizardLizardLizard

I’ve always had a thing for lizards. Not that I’m particularly into Herpetology or anything; I just always likened myself to a lizard. I had a pet Iguana when I was younger because, at the time, I thought that was the type of lizard I was into. It seemed to me, if you had an interest in an animal the thing to do was get one for a pet and see how long you can keep it alive. Right? While I’m ashamed to admit it, and my iguana did last a good number of years, it was neglect that was the ultimate demise of my poor Iggy. Way before my adoption of Iggy, the picture of the lizard that my mind’s eye likened me to was not an iguana. It was more the type of lizard that I later got a tattoo of. Since the tattoo, over four years ago, I identify the lizard more of a Salamander than an Iguana.

After I had gotten the tattoo, a friend had asked me why I had chosen this lizard. I stumbled for an answer. I started with something along the lines of ‘I feel like I am the lizard.’ I then added something about being low and meek and content having fun in the mud. Basically, I totally FUBARed my explanation. How could I have gotten such a permanent mark put on my body without being able to explain it!

In my previous posts I have written about feelings. In a way this blog is about me sharing my feelings. For a long time I have felt a sort of camaraderie with this lizard that I can’t really explain. I had thought about getting a tattoo of it for a while. The opportunity presented itself and in the midst of the stock artwork was my lizard. It felt right. I just did it. That night was a great night spent with my closest and greatest friends. It was the rehearsal dinner for my wedding. That night the groom-to-be, the bride-to-be and the Maid of Honor each waited their turn to have their mark of choice permanently applied to their bodies. Now, the others present might say it was the liberal application of Italy’s very finely crafted wines or the expertly masterminded tongue of the Best Man that got everyone but him under the artist’s needle. While that might have some small part in it, for me it was less of a whim.

The question, though, still remains mostly unanswered. Why this lizard?

The quick answer is, 'I felt like it'. I still can’t really explain it though. There is something about being that attached to the earth; to the land and water. My wife and I used to go on weekend backpacking trips. I loved the sole purposefulness of just walking, carrying what we needed on our backs. I'd put distance between life’s busyness and myself. The deeper I got into the woods, the closer I felt to creation - in fact, also the more I felt a part of it. Tracy and I used to enjoy hiking small portions of the Appalachian Trail (the AT). As we walked, she read the trail guides and I made use of our compass and topo maps. I made fun of her for liking the trail guides that used flowery language and had sidebar stories. I wanted to be open to the ‘story’ as it unfolded before my eyes and scoffed at the idea of coming out all this way and having my nose in a guide book telling me what I should be experiencing. As we were walking one day she began reading about a certain salamander that lived at a certain section of the trail. Lo and behold the little guys’ were there as she was reading those words. I don’t remember the portion of the AT nor the exact type of salamander, but this was a resonating moment for me. I was struck by the beauty of noticing these salamanders go on about their lives when I just as easily could have walked right past, or even worse, stepped right on them. They were doing their thing just as the lilies of the field do what they were created to do (nothing more, nothing less). I remember thinking how small they were in the comparison to our hiking route and how we had come upon them just as Tracy was reading about them. I thought about how it could have been easy to miss them and about how there was a world of people outside of the AT that would not even get a chance to bear witness to my little friends’ existence. Later I had thought about my existence and its being small in relation to all of creation. How like the salamander's feet in the mud (earth and water) gravity keeps my feet on the ground; in the same mud. In terms of infinity and eternity the difference between the salamander's small and my small is insignificant; nill. I have my place and purpose in creation. The lizard in my tattoo, his feet are on the ground. He is climbing, not straight up, but up none the less. If he knew exactly where he was going his body might not be bent as it is. His contortion and wide eyes show a search and his arms are reaching. I am the Lizard feeling my way along the path to You. Sometimes I’ve clawed, scratched and clung in the dark. Help me to see and trust in Your divine guidance.

Where two or three are gathered.....

Ah, first my preface: I'm now joining my dear husband in the blogging-world, hopefully with an occasional post here or there. I'm so blessed to have him and my son in my life, thus my blogger ID (well, that and Big Mommy, a "counterpart" to his ID, just didn't sit right!)

"Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am in the midst" Mattew 18:20

I hate to admit it, but it is becoming more difficult to go to Mass with John. He's so anxious to explore the world around him and see all there is to see, he just doesn't like to sit still for too long. And who could expect him to, right?

We went to Mass a few weeks ago at a Charismatic Catholic Church - a wonderful experience usually blessing us with awesome singing, powerful preaching and a real sense of the Spirit being in our midst in community. Vito, John and I take our seat in the back pew and almost make it through the opening prayer before John is off and running. I usually accompany him on these "tours", and we have great fun waving hi to the statues of the Saints, saying hello to a Mary portrait and so on. This Church also had a side door leading to a little garden. Once John caught sight of that, I knew where we were going to be spending the rest of Mass!! Off we go, together, out in the beautiful sunshine while I tried to listen to the first reading being preached from the lecturn.

All of my efforts to direct my little boy back inside were in vain, he was too happy to be walking around in freedom. So, we sat down, at the base of a statue of Mary and started gathering rocks. Now, John loves rocks. He'll gather them, line them up, count them off one by one and them hand them to me, like little treasures -- Indeed, they are treasures to him. Rocks and acorns, he loves them! So, we're both sitting on the ground, rock-gathering, and I watch my little boy hold each rock close to his heart and then hold them up to Mary. He'd then hand them to me. I was witnessing my son cover his treasures with love and then offer them to Mother Mary. What a beautiful, spiritual moment it was -- we didn't need to be inside at that moment, we were in God's midst celebrating our own Worship right where we were, led by John's Grace. For "Where two or more are gathered in my name, I am in the midst" I picked my son up into lap and we sang a "Hail Mary" together to "Mommy Mary" as John says.

Lord, may my sacrifices be as full and loving as my son's offering his treasures...

Surrender and Resonate

Part 2: Resonate

It’s one thing to see, hear, smell or be touched by the Presence and it’s completely another to understand and interpret it. I’ve been getting a feeling that there is something inside of us, or rather a part of us, that picks up certain experiences and highlights or earmarks them for later thought. Like finding a puzzle piece, recognizing it for one and storing it for later. Sometimes I don't know I've collected a puzzle piece until an adjacent piece is collected. It seems this process is embedded from the ‘factory’ in our programming and is running regardless of our awareness. While I hate to call it programming, in this day and age that seems fitting. The point is that our programming stores these experiences and when we have a new one, it resonates and in turn resonates the stored ones. The fresh experience resonates with something inside. The new and the old resonate together and in that connection the Presence can be felt. I am definitely not saying that I've solved any puzzle of life or that I've even got a portion of it down! Lord knows that's not the case. I'm only saying that at times it seems like I'm given a glimpse of something that gives me some direction.

Resonating is far more accurate than the idea of interlocking puzzle peices. When rational rushes in and the two pieces are observed, they don't appear to be a fit and yet they are connected. The two experiences seem unrelated yet they resonate together and call attention to themselves. This makes perfect sense to me as I write this and yet by trying to record the experience with words and analogy, I know that I’ve tainted the record and confined the experience by the words I’ve used. Coming back to read this, or if someone else reads this, I don’t know if it would make sense. (What in the world is this guy talking about?) This is why I've said that I can “feel” it (God’s will) but don’t really see or hear it clearly. I can feel this resonance. Understanding in most senses of the word would require interpretation and analyzing (as I am so apt to dive into), but doing so reduces the experience and changes it. So I digress... I try to record my thoughts as they come into my mind, “floating by”, without tainting it with rationalization (I’ll end up doing that later whether I like it or not). Within these thoughts “floating by” I find some that seem as though they wouldn’t come from my own cognitive process. They are very subtle and they seem to be the ones that have this special resonance. I was in the shower pondering this!

I was reminded of something I read or saw in a TV program that spoke of picking up things through the static (of the mind) and listening for things at or just above the noise floor. This is what I got: “Gentle Breeze resonate through the static” and I added, “may Your note resonate in a string deep inside of me, and others, so that a chord is struck and a song is lifted back to You. Amen.”

Surrender and Resonate

Part 1: Surrender

I have always been better at feeling God’s message than seeing or hearing it. I'm not talking about needing glasses or a hearing aid; I mean with eyes and ears of the heart. I am writing about feeling a strong and undeniable Presence in my life. This presence is unmistakably not originating from inside my own conscious thought.

At times, this ‘feeling’ is more of an affirmation of God’s presence than if I had physically touched, seen or heard it. At other times of my life, I have felt lost without this feeling and longed for its return. At these times, it seemed that the stronger I wanted to be filled with this Presence, the more numb and unable of feeling I had become. This has happened to me time and time again. When I am finally reunited, I realize the Presence had never really left. I was just focused in the wrong place - every time – over and over. In a way, it was as if I was straining to look beyond the horizon and it was right under my nose. In reality I had made myself numb.

I have never been able to look at one of those paintings that if you stare at long enough, you see the picture – you know, the ones that look like a bunch of colorful dots. I am told that if you stare and shift your focus, then you can see the hidden image. It’s this type of shift that brings the Presence back for me. Now, if I had to wait staring at one of those paintings, then I’d be hopeless! :) For me, it's somewhere between seeing the hidden image in these paintings (impossible for me) and the switching of focus/perspective to see the different faces in the sketch of the old bag lady and the young woman (I wish it were that easy).

Another aspect of this focus shift for me is an active surrender of my own will; just letting the shift happen on its own, as opposed to trying to force it with all my stubborn might. This involves being still, open and quiet in mind. Not easy with a 15 month old tugging on my shorts! :) There is also a surrender of my desire for the experience itself and a surrender of my want to analyze every bit of my streaming thoughts.

I used to have wide swings of spiritual highs and lows, depending on whether I was feeling the Presence or not. Sometimes the energy that I received would peter out if I felt alone for too long. For the past six or seven months I have been on neither a high nor low - just on a kind of general 'up'. In this time, I have been delighted that this Presence has just 'popped in' without me looking for it. I could be putting away laundry, taking a shower, sitting on the 'throne' or spending time with John or my wife. It seems to have sunk in that I'm not alone and in retrospect, it seems childish that I had wanted so hard to maintain that high of being in continuous presence. I now liken it to how a child not only wants the support of his/her parent, but how there's a need for them to be physically present. I don't assume I no longer need support. I do. I don't think I no longer have need for Your presence. I do. I wonder what a teenager would say if I asked if they were mature or if they were an adult. I can guess that answer. Dare I wonder if some parts of me are just reaching a spiritual adolescence?! Modestly I think, "I thought I was further than that!" :)

Bittersweet

Well, as I set to create this post, I realize that it is September 11th again. While recalling the events in NYC, Katrina is still in the news. Rescue teams are still finding people. Our local governments are sending rescue workers, as well as food and supplies. Those whom have been rescued are trying to resume some shreds of normalcy.

My neighbor has relatives up from NOLA. It seems that they got in a few days ago. The especially surreal part about that is my neighbor’s daughter is getting married today. I could imagine choosing September 11th to get married was a choice that took some time to consider. With the current ongoing tragedy in LA at the forefront and literally brought to the living room in more ways than one, I am sure it will certainly not be a day the bride and groom will forget. I guess, for us, life must go on. Out of the ashes we rise, so to say, transformed by the experience. At least for me, I might enjoy that ‘lil daddy’ hug just a bit more; that drink, sip of Disaronno for me, touch of Baileys for her, shared after the little one is asleep. Doesn’t that amaretto seem a little sweeter when you realize the bottle isn’t endless (and you don’t how much is left in the bottle)?

I heard a comparison in the news yesterday between the 9/11 NYC emergency preparedness and the preparedness of the gulf coast with Katrina and I felt a little sick. Not to say one was worse than the other but they were/are very different. While there are things that could be done to improve communications and coordination, how can we really expect to be prepared for things of this scale? The discussion of practical logistics is not my point. That I am not prepared for a side-by-side comparison of 9/11 and Katrina is where I’m going with this. GOD HELP US with the voids left by the twin towers. GOD HELP US help those still stranded in Louisiana, as well as those who have gotten out. God help us to realize that we are not out of danger no matter how prepared we think we are. Help us to remember the sweet in life.

And just one more little thing,… …while you’re at it, can you watch over my Lil’boy so that he doesn’t hurt himself while trying to climb over his safety gate!

Katrina

I just found out about the seriousness of the situation in Louisiana. As I write this CNN is on the TV. I fought the urge all day to record something here in these pages. The situation there continues to get worse and anything I write here has no impact on that (whether anyone reads this or not). This disaster is too current, too ongoing, for meaningful analysis. Not that I'd have an answer or have something constructive or wise to say. A record of my feelings on a tragedy in a city over a thousand miles away in which I have no relatives or close friends would seem trite compared to the pain felt by the relatives of the corpses displayed by this evenings news coverage. Earlier today I had a great time with my son, John. We had a good time at the mall. We had a good gymboree class. We enjoyed the beach. John now likes to play in the sand. We were NOT shot at by snipers. We did NOT have to forage through garbage for food. I changed six diapers today. I had the diapers. John had 32 oz. of milk today. I had milk to give him. We chose to get wet at the beach today. We were able to get clean and dry. John is now sleeping, out of my sight, warm, dry and comfortable, not hungry. I am not worried someone will drag him into a dark corner of the Superdome. I sent many prayers today for those who did not have a day as John and I; prayers of petition. As much as I feel guilty to admit it, I've had some prayers of thanks for being spared having to face circumstance and make decisions as those who are still facing this catastrophe.

All I have to add tonight is a picture...

Presence presents

About a year before the birth of our son and up until this very day I've had a particularly growing sense of God's love for me and us (as his creation) in a way different than I had before. I have always heard of God's presence being in other people but for me this really wasn't how I felt. My relationship was with a being that was someone 'out there' listening to our concerns, caring for us intimately but from a distance. Sure, God was in other people and worked through them but much in the same way he was in the air; possibly in the ether in between atoms and what not - an omnipresent force without a face. A physically amorphous being capable of shape shifting into various forms in order to interact with his creation.

Well, as I was alluding, this has changed. Still an omnipresent force but now much more personal. Not without a face but rather with many. Not just taking on a face but being present there. The first face I distinctly saw this was in my wife. How very beautiful in a 'Song of Songs' way! This feeling was very overpowering and seriously life changing. I then felt this presence in a co-worker, not in a 'Song of Songs' way but still, in a very real way. From there I began to feel the presence in many of my friends and family not in a general way but a very specific and individual way. This also began a feeling of a connectedness with all creation. A two way connection between creator and creation that also in turn networks us all together across time and space in a holy communion (but that's another post :).

With the gift of our son growing within my wife's womb this presence was ever so strong there. In my wife and in our baby separately. And as a whole indeed even greater than the sum of its parts. The strength of this power has not diminished since John's birth but rather has intensified. While John is no longer in Tracy's womb, the umbilical cord cut, the 'whole' seems greater still.

without further adieu... ...heeeeeeere's Johnny!