WE WILL NEVER FORGET

Memorial Day 2010...

This past week I spent a few days working with a group of wonderful people from different churches helping them prepare and then hold a huge garage sale. The proceeds are to go toward assisting the youth of one of the churches attend summer church camp. The sponsoring church is full of many young families and youth of all ages. They have several terrific programs designed to attract and keep the young people.

This Church of the Epicenter also does many other charitable deeds. One of these is sponsoring Hope's Closet. This is open every Saturday for three hours. Anyone may come and get free clothing for their entire family free of charge. All of the clothing is donated by the surrounding communities, much of it of superior quality. The volunteers who work at sorting, sizing and organizing the huge amount of the donations represent many different churches. The building in which it is held has been donated for use also free of charge. It's a very large warehouse type building, with offices at one end where the local Christian Women Job Corps eventually wants to house their organization which trains/retrains women to enter the job force.

I have met so many wonderful, generous, loving people while helping out with these projects. Yesterday I was reminded that even though we of different faiths and backgrounds are bound in common causes, it doesn't necessarily mean we have the same beliefs in everything. I normally attempt to stay away from controversial topics when I am with these folks, but yesterday I got sucked into a conversation that I suppose is topical at this particular time... remembering and honoring our military, past and present.

When I arrived at the garage sale, my friend Frankie introduced me to a clean cut young man who is one of their youth ministers. We chatted a bit, then he said he had to leave to go to ___. It was busy in this place and my hearing is not what it used to be, so I thought he said "go to war"! Ridiculous, I know.. so I asked "where?" When he told me he had to go to work, I laughed and told him what I thought he had said.. and that I was glad I misunderstood him. For some reason, that led into a discussion about war, guns, raising young boys into men who are willing and capable of fighting for their country. In his estimation, boys should be taught at a very early age how to use guns.

Well, the results of this conversation were not to his liking I'm certain, as I could not be moved. He brought up Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I told him of my reading of a book about the A-Bomb and Hiroshima when I was only 12 years old, and how it affected me and made me anti-war, without knowing what that was. How I thought the bomb could have been used in a different manner and we still would have won the war. He was very passionate with his arguments, even bringing in how "we cannot expect to be protected by our local police forces". We went back and forth for at least 10 or 15 minutes. I truly did stay calm, and kept a smile on my face the whole time. But inside, I was shaking and thought about what this young man was trying to justify, and how much influence he and people like him still have on our young boys and men. I feel certain that guns and gun ownership are a big part of what he believes he must teach to them. He asked what I would do if my door were kicked in in the middle of the night! Were there some parts of town that I would be afraid to live in?

I tried to convey to this young man that I do not choose to live my life in fear. I am a strong supporter of our law enforcement agencies, and I appreciate what they do. I am also a strong supporter of our young men and women in the armed forces. (Hate the war, love the warriors!) However, I told him that as long as so many on this earth lived and planned for violence and war, and concentrated their thinking on "enemies" and how they can destroy us, war would continue. That we need to support the peacemakers as well. That our efforts at obtaining world peace should never stop. He was smiling with his lips, but there was anger in his eyes that I could say such things.

I do not understand how so many followers of Christianity can be so war-like. After all, Jesus the Christ was all about peace and loving your enemies. I know it is not that simplistic, but it is a teaching that must be adhered to if we are ever to have peace in the world.

Later in the morning we had a sweet young woman, accompanied by her mother, shopping the garage sale for everything from a sofa/daybed to dishes, lamps, decor, etc. to furnish her first apartment. I asked if she were going off to college or getting married. I was taken aback when her mother said "neither, she's reporting for duty in the military at a base in Georgia". I'm sure the look on my face showed my concern for this innocent young woman, because the mother was quick to tell me she was not to be a warrior, but she had been trained as a translator. She was taught Persian! Of course, that made my concern even greater, as I know this is the language of Iran. I said a little prayer that she would not have to be in some covert operation involving the Iranians up close and personal!

I am going to close this with a beautiful, moving poem I found on the Internet this morning, written by a sergeant in the 104th Infantry Division who served in Europe during World War II. His son found it in his father's basement, and was shocked, as his father never wrote anything else. The son said his father was considered a "tough customer", not seeming to be affected by the war. This was written by James Lenihan about killing a young German soldier.

Murder--So Foul
I shot a man yesterday
And much to my surprise,
The strangest thing happened to me
I began to cry.
He was so young, so very young
And Fear was in his eyes,
He had left his home in Germany
And came to Holland to die.
And what about his Family
were they not praying for him?
Thank God they couldn't see their son
And the man that had murdered him.
I knelt beside him
And held his hand--
I begged his forgiveness
Did he understand?
It was the War
And he was the enemy
If I hadn't shot him
He would have shot me.
I saw he was dying
And I called him "Brother"
But he gasped out one word
And that word was "Mother."
I shot a man yesterday
And much to (my) surprise
A part of me died with Him
When Death came to close
His eyes.

As we pause to honor the courageous young men and women currently serving in our armed forces at home and abroad, as well as to commemorate the lives of those lost in previous wars fought to preserve freedom around the world, let us make a promise to ourselves to spend as much or more time upon thinking about and supporting those who work for Peace on Earth.

Our thoughts are as strong as our prayers.

Blessed are the peacemakers...

Peace and love,

Marilyn

Think on these things...

Today is the third and last day of Endangered Species Day. There are many good websites to read about the danger of extinction that so many of our species are facing on Planet Earth today. Google them and choose one as your animal to support. The oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico will most certainly threaten many others. The brown pelican has been taken off the endangered list for only a short time. Now environmentalists are fearful this might put them back on the list ~ or worse yet extinguish them for good. Their habitats are being devastated by the oil.

I bring this up not as a gloom and doom presentation but as a reminder for everyone to be cognizant of the horrendous results of one of the oil companies' lack of concern for the damage their search for oil can bring about.

As most of you now realize, I am a firm believer that every living creature on this planet is connected by a single Life Force (I think of that source as God). The more one recognizes this fact, the more one becomes sensitive to the plight of all who suffer. Just as we can empathize and open our hearts to compassionate giving to the human victims of acts of nature such as tsunamis and earthquakes and hurricanes and tornadoes, it is hard not to feel the pain of living creatures on landand in the sea when we witness their being suffocated by the oil that is covering them as a result of not an act of nature, but from an act of man. These are not "just animals" as some would say to justify despoiling the planet for the sake of "man's needs" (in other words, to line their pockets). These creatures are "us". What would happen to mankind if we finally kill off all the animals and the habitats that nourish and shelter them? No question about it, if we survived at all, the world would definitely consist of nothing but vegetarians!

By thinking on this and raising our awareness we will also be assisting humankind in reaching a critical mass of consciousness that will lead to a more perfect existence on this earth. Our next leap in evolution. We must quickly change together as a species or watch the world as we know it die slowly but surely, starting with the most innocent of living things.



Think on these things..


Love,
Marilyn

I wonder...

And my mind wanders as I do.

This morning I was giving thought to the saying “the opposite of love is fear” and that led me to thinking about the Ego. One teaching is that any thought or action that is not loving is of the Ego. (And that all loving thoughts and actions are of the Holy Spirit.) And that reminded me of my great-grandmother. When I was very, very young the older generation was still trying to force children (and adults as well) to behave by scaring them with “the Devil” and his residence in Hell. My great-grandmother told me that the Devil always sat on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Both were whispering in my ear at all times and I should only listen to the angel (or “you know who” would get me!). Of course, that worked for a while at making me behave as a good little girl should. Fear of this scary thing called the Devil was further reinforced by my grandmother who scared me with stories about how the Devil was going to try to put the “mark of the beast”, the numbers 666, on my forehead so I would be his at last. I spent a lot of time plotting my escape should he show up. (One plan was to hide under my bed.) It is certainly easier for me to accept Ego vs. Holy Spirit!

I remember when one of my sons was young he asked me why there was this little voice in his head that warned him when he was thinking of doing something wrong that would get him into hot water! (Those were numerous times, I’m sure!) He would never have listened to anyone telling him the Holy Spirit or an angel was speaking to him! I informed him that was his conscience speaking to him. It’s strange how different meanings have been ascribed to the same words. And how quickly we can be turned off by one word, but accept the other.

As I was musing, for some reason I began to think about death and killing. I really admire people who decide to live their lives free from eating animals. However, I wonder how many of them not only do not wish to see animals killed for food, but also refuse to see them killed for other purposes. Do they not wear anything made from animals? I can understand not wearing animal furs. It does seem cruel to raise animals for their skins to adorn our bodies. However, what about native societies in cold northern parts of the world? What if they have no access to modern fibers to keep the frigid weather off their bodies? What about shoes? I suppose the vinyl and plastic shoes now being made in places like China can and do replace the ones made of leather. (Can you imagine all the stinky feet?) Are down comforters and pillows okay for use? Doesn’t the poultry have to be killed in order to use their feathers?

I love one of the Native American tales that says that long ago when Indians would kill a deer, they would place sweet grass in the animal’s mouth for food for its journey to the afterlife. They would offer up prayers of thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for sending them food for their families. Not only did their hunt – whether deer or buffalo, provide them with food, but they used every single part of the animal for some purpose. Hide for clothing and shelters, bones for needles, sinew for thread and ropes, etc. Nothing was wasted. Not true when the white men invaded their hunting grounds. Stories of the white buffalo hunters and their slaughters still make me cry.

Hunters today argue that killing animals for sport is actually good for the animals. They say it keeps down the population. Otherwise, the animals would starve. Well, I wonder what would happen if everyone at once quit eating meat of any kind? Farmers and ranchers could no longer sell their livestock, thus they would have no money to feed them. We would have millions of livestock and poultry starving to death. Right?

Are there any vegetarians in the military? Would they be considered conscientious objectors based on their eating habits alone? Are vegetarians against the death penalty? What about animals for medical research? I agree these animals must be treated as humanely as possible when being housed for such research, but what would be the alternative to using them for some of the critical medical research?

Some cultures believe they cannot kill any living thing – even insects. As much as I would love to be that enlightened, there are boundaries to my beliefs! I used to get so amused at the mother of a dear friend of mine. She is probably the most “enlightened” being I’ve ever known. When she would be forced to kill a fly (nasty, germ bearing creatures!) in her home she would announce with her death blow, “Liberated with love!”

I don’t have any answers for all my questions. I do think of all these issues frequently. I wish I were more diligent in practicing my beliefs. I am against killing of any kind. I hate war. I hate to see people hunt just for the trophies. I hate to hear the stories of how animals are treated by slaughter houses – or medical research labs. I hate what the oil companies have done to our oceans and the wildlife dependent upon them. But I haven’t been able to give up eating meat… or killing bugs… or snakes (well, only one snake)… or driving my gas guzzling car. I hate guns, but if I had one (I don’t) and I felt one of my family was in danger, I feel pretty certain I would kill to protect him. That must be my Ego talking.

I often feel very hypocritical.

I recently read that it is believed that the world -- particularly our young people, is becoming more compassionate and empathetic. Even the Dalai Lama said something similar on the Today Show yesterday. Perhaps this is because we aren't scaring them with the Devil any longer!

Peace and love to all creatures,

Marilyn

LOOK SMALL, INTO THE WINGS OF THINGS...

I’ve been trying to determine what I'm doing with my time lately. This morning, as I sipped my coffee while sitting at my kitchen window, it occurred to me that I have been spending a lot of time watching the “wild life” in my back yard. The weather has been perfect. Cool enough that I don’t need to run the air conditioner, but warm enough to open the windows. Even being “aurally challenged”, with the windows opened I can hear the birds sing. The white-winged doves call “who cooks for you” (I often call back to them, and they will keep it up as long as I will play the game!). The squirrels chatter and chase one another, and various birds delight me with their songs.

This morning two of the young squirrels scampered over the yard, stopping to dig up pecans they had previously buried. As I watched their antics I noticed a pretty large lizard on the patio. As usual, the little sparrows were working themselves silly trying to feed their broods. I watched as one fed three young ones almost as big as she was. They were big enough to fly, but I guess they didn’t have the skills yet to feed themselves. I also spotted a male cardinal feeding two juvenile cardinals right about dusk. I've noted that about cardinals -- they seem to like to feed later than the other birds. Maybe it's because there is no competition at that time of day.

I have been observing a nest of mockingbirds in the honeysuckle bush over the fence in my neighbor’s yard. Occasionally I would see four little heads pop up, mouths open wide. I couldn’t get quite close enough to take a good photo. Then one day I looked out the window and saw a young mockingbird hopping across my yard. It would hop three or four times, then stop and flap its wings three or four times. It repeated this over and over, but it never got off the ground! By the time I found my camera and got back to the window, it was nowhere in sight.

The next day I was in the front yard pulling weeds when the two mockingbirds I had been observing feeding the four fledglings started calling to me and flitting from one tree to the other. As I always do, I whistled back. They continued to do this in an almost frantic fashion, chirping in between whistles. A short time later I moved to the back yard to pull more weeds and they followed me, even getting on very low branches to catch my attention.

Beside the back porch I keep large containers to put pulled weeds in. Imagine my surprise when I went to dispose of a handful of weeds and spotted the little one pictured above! It had apparently made it up the porch steps the day before and then fallen into the plastic bucket, where it spent the night. No wonder the adults were calling to me. They wanted my help. I was happy to oblige – but first I had to get my camera and take some pictures! Is this not the cutest thing?

I gently guided it to the corner near the nest. A few days later I noticed two of the young mockingbirds flying short distances in my neighbor’s back yard. I was hoping one of them might be the little babe I rescued.

(HEY! I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER!)

As if the back yard and all the trees around don’t have enough room for nests, I was watering my hanging plants by the front door when suddenly a tiny wren flew out of the philodendron! While she was gone I got a stool and climbed up to see what was there. A perfect little nest with three tiny eggs! When I think they have hatched, I will try to get a picture of them as well.

Besides getting lost in daydreams while watching the little creatures in my yard, I recently took a brief tour around Burnet with my camera. We have a lovely park with Hamilton Creek running through it. Just look what I caught soaking up the sun and perhaps doing a little daydreaming, too:

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As you all know, we recently celebrated Mother's Day. This was the third time since my own mother died, and I seemed to miss her more this year. My youngest, Matthew, invited me to spend Mother's Day with him and Amy and their two children. He and his next door neighbor Chris cooked dinner for the moms who were in attendance. Below are Melissa, Elizabeth, Amy, and Hollie. By the way, Hollie gave birth the Wednesday after this to Montannah. Congratulations, Hollie!

The food was delicious -- shrimp and steak kabobs and twice-baked potatoes courtesy of Chris. We shared wine, and also toasted with champagne.

As the mommies were celebrating, Miss Kelly had to doll up for the occasion as well. She had on her pink "princess" shoes. When Elizabeth pointed out that she also had on pink shoes, Kelly informed her that her shoes had diamonds! Grandmommy took a photo to show how pretty they were.

It was a lovely evening. Kelly let me sleep in her bed, and the next morning I made my trip back home. I had a bouquet of beautiful flowers to bring with me. And warm, loving memories of a special Mother's Day. I hope all of you mothers reading this had a special day as well.

Until next time.

Peace and love,

Marilyn

I SEE YOU

Nearly twenty years ago I was working at FEMA in the newly formed teleregistration division that allowed victims of natural disasters to call in and register for disaster assistance. This was formed at the time of the Loma Prieta earthquake in San Francisco in 1989. I had been called back for a new disaster, and I was still taking applications over the telephone. Each of us had our own little cubicle and places to thumbtack information to help us with completing the applications. By this time, I was a student of Unity and a firm believer in positive affirmations. I tacked upon the wall by my telephone a bumper sticker that read “Good Stuff Happens”. There was another version at the time that seemed popular with a lot of folks, but it was the opposite of what my sticker stated.

Disaster assistance employees were considered “temporary” employees. In the beginning of a disaster we needed lots of people on the telephones. I can remember as many as 500 – 600 working at one time. Many of these were quickly released as the number of calls decreased. Consequently, as we were a university town, we hired a lot of college students in need of supplemental income, even if only temporarily.

When I tacked up my “Good Stuff” sticker, I was very quickly inundated with young people who were drawn to it like a magnet. Most of these were young men. I was very moved by their sincerity in asking me questions. A lot of them were in their freshman year, and I represented a mother figure. Maybe they just needed reassurance as they were far from home.

One young man was so handsome he was almost beautiful. Like someone out of a Michelangelo painting. A cherubic face and curly dark hair that fell over one eye. He came with two or three others to talk with me on break, but waited until we were alone to bring up the fact that he was very sad that people did not get to know the real person behind his good looks. He told me how lonely he was most of the time. Even though young women were attracted to him, it was always just a superficial attraction. And for obvious reasons, the guys his age didn’t want to hang out with him. My heart was moved by his story. I don’t remember what I told him, but I’m certain I told him that the right young woman would show up when she was supposed to... and to not give up trying to be a friend to those he dated. I know I told him he was blessed with his good looks – they were a gift. He was modeling to earn money for his college tuition.

The most inquisitive young man was persistent in tracking me down during breaks or slow times when the phones were quiet. He asked me all kinds of questions about my faith, religious affiliation, books I read, etc., etc. I told him at the time I was reading a book about “Findhorn”. This was (and still exists in a much more sophisticated form) a spiritual commune that was started on a northern coast of Scotland in the early 1960s. The book I was reading was concentrating on the beautiful gardens these people were able to grow in the cold, inhospitable climate. Even in the dead of winter, the roses bloomed incredibly large and beautiful. Agriculturists came from all over the world to study their organic methods of gardening. The practices at Findhorn were very unconventional to say the least. I agreed with many who said it was the frequent group meditations that attributed to their success. I also shared with this young man that these first people at Findhorn believed that plants had spirits or Devas who helped them grow, and that these spirits communicated to the people the methods to use to make them thrive! (Not that I agreed with this.) This led to a discussion about other beliefs. He wanted to know if I believed that God was in everything. I told him I did...that God was omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent. The next day he came to me and teased me, saying that he did some research and that my beliefs amounted to “pantheism”... I said, “No, no”. And we talked more about the presence of God, as I observed it. The life force in all living things. (A rock did not qualify as “living” in my eyes!) And all living things need to be treated with reverence.

I don’t remember when the young man left FEMA, so many came and went. It was months later, perhaps even a year, that I received a telephone call late one night. The connection was poor and it was obviously long distance. It was my young friend. He called to tell me how much our conversations meant to him. I asked him where he was. He told me he had dropped out of UNT. When I expressed my dismay, he informed me that he was now attending Duke University. Surprised, I asked why he switched. He told me he decided to take a different path with his life, and that he now was majoring in theology. I guess he needed to clarify in his own heart what he believed.

I have often wondered about this very special young man. I wish I could recall his name. Maybe someday I will recognize him on a book cover, or hear of him in a pulpit somewhere. Wherever he is, I know he is making a difference in the world!

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Today I read an article on my internet news site that struck me as very powerful in a low-key way. The author of the article was Terry Tillman. He told of being on a safari in northern Africa about 20 years ago. Everywhere he went he noticed the indigenous people greeting each other in the same way. They would look closely into one another’s eyes. One would say something, and then the other would speak. Terry said he asked his guide what they were saying. It was a Samburu greeting that went like this:

“I see you,” said one. “I am here,” said the other. It was an act of “coming together – of connecting at a heartfelt level.” Or, as Terry felt, “Until you see me, I do not exist. When you see me, you bring me into existence.” It is a way of being in the present moment with another person. It says that they really matter.

How powerful that is! And how I wish that sometime or other, if one of my grandchildren is in need of being recognized for who he/she is, someone will take the time to say to them, “I see you.” And he will answer, “I am here.”

Until next time...

I see you

surrounded with peace and love,

Marilyn