I Fell In Love: Sarah

     Thirty-four years ago I met the most wonderful person I've ever known. She lay on my belly, her beautiful round face staring up at me. Eyes bluer than any robin's egg held mine. I fell in love with the child who would become my closest friend.
     She's a faithful friend. Once the bond had been made, Sarah will not abandon those she loves. I've seen her hurt and listened to her tears over a friend who would no longer return her love. Sarah has a plethora of good friends, but she grieves over the one lost one just as Jesus mourned the one lost sheep. She continued seeking the connection that broke and her love an persistence restored it.
     No mother could be so devoted. All who meet her children acclaim their goodness. One couple decided to have children because of the example set by Caroline and David. Why are these children good? Because my daughter pours love and discipline into them.
     Sarah will sacrifice time on holidays--and her own family time to travel to be with family. As most live on Long Island, the few vacation days she has are spent catering to the needs of those she loves. She drove 300 miles one way, on a weekend, just to attend my surprise party (and surprise retirement fete). She couldn't dream of missing it.
     Her talent amazes me: look at her photography, photoshop skills, scrapbook pages. She plays the flute and oboe and designs amazing rooms in her house.
     She adores Jesus, loves her family and Neil and me. My best friend and kindred spirit.

Bullfighting

Image via Wikipedia
Do you know where in Spain bullfighting was born?
Why was this event created?
Why do they call the  rings: "Plaza des Toros?"
Why is the cape red? Who is the most revered bullfighter in its birthplace?
Before going into the ring, where does every matador stop?
Where in the paper will you read about bullfights?
Image via Wikipedia*****************************************************
Shortly, Neil and I will be heading off to Spain--and forcing our travelogue on anyone sweet enough to read my blog. One of the first places we'll travel is to the birthplace of bullfighting: Ronda, Spain in the Andalucia region. It began here to train knights in combat.

Ronda actually uses a ring and always has. However,  bullfights used to be held in the village square, thus the term Plaza des Toros.

The most revered bullfighter in Ronda is Francisco Romero, who, according to Rick Steves, melded chaotic and noble bullfighting to create the current format. He is also credited with the using the red cape. The bull is color blind and the color of the cape was probably used to camouflage the blood. His son Juan made it more an art form and his grandson, Pedro, who killed 6,000 bulls in his career.

Image via Wikipedia
As bullfighting is an "art," the results are found in the culture section of the newspapers.

Last of all, the last stop a matador makes before entering the ring is at the chapel--he prays to Mary in hopes of seeing her again.

Unfortunately, (Or probably fortunately for me) we won't see a fight. They're held in September. We will however tour the ring.

A Case for Intolerance

I will climb out on the proverbial limb and utter an obscene word: intolerance. Sometimes it's good.


Take for example smoking. When I first began teaching, smoke swirled around my classroom. I asked for an air purifier and got this teeny little machine that had minimal effect on my air quality. My room abutted the teachers' room. It had no outside windows and the the smoke wafted through the cut-outs in the ceiling that allowed the fluorescent lights to run.


We all experienced smokey restaurants, businesses, homes, cars, mass transportation. Today, no one can light up on school property--not even in their car with the window rolled up. Smokers used to congregate at doors of businesses and stores to smoke. Today, many places require that they stand a distance away from the entrances. We no longer tolerate the health destroying effects of tobacco.

The same goes with dog droppings. Years ago, no one cleaned up the "litter" and only the property owner was expected to scoop the poop--or the walker, in whose case had to scrape the poop. Today our local rec park stocks plastic bags to make it possible to clean up after dogs. Homeowners will stop recalcitrant dog owners and insist on this basic decency.

Image via WikipediaWe've become intolerant of sex abuse--those guilty can never erase the stigma of their crimes; intolerant of physical abuse; intolerant of driving under the influence

Isn't it time to become more intolerant? Cursing? Indecent clothing? Sexually explicit comedy on sitcoms? Stereotyping Christians as intolerant or hypocritical? Sexually active behavior? Pornography?


Without foregoing mercy, love, kindness--without forgetting Christ's forgiveness, we need to take a stand against what is offensive and wrong, refuse to accept it. If we do, perhaps these behaviors will follow in the fate of second hand smoke and dog doo-doo.

Fourth Amendment Rights

The fourth amendment to our constitution states: "The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized." 
Image via Wikipedia 
Increasingly, our government is violating this right in the name of safety.
Anyone who has read my blogs or facebook posts, understands my position on airline searches, especially the new scanners which create a virtual strip search. We've heard about Arizona's law that questions suspected illegals when stopped for a traffic violation.
How many have heard of the search and seizures here in northern New York?

The border patrol has the right to stop any public transportation within 100 air miles of any international border, including coastlines. According to Udi Ofer, a lawyer for the ACLU, 2/3 of all citizens live withing this area.
In effect, the agents can board any bus or train or boat and if they suspect someone of not being a citizen, they can demand to see their papers. However, in this country, it, so far, has not been mandated that we must carry proof of citizenship at all times.

In the feature case, a Chinese student who attended Potsdam State was arrested under suspicion of something. He ended up in varying jails for four months. Meanwhile, all his papers were with the sponsoring teacher. Unfortunately, he returned to China and his parents will not let him return to the United States. It is sad when China feels we are too controlling.

In a similar vein, my friend and her husband stopped about a half-mile from the U.S. border. He needed to fish out his enhanced ID which was in his wallet and on which he sat. When he arrived at the port of entry, the agent asked him why he stopped a half mile away. He then sternly warned him to not stop until he got to the station. How did they know he stopped? What difference does it make?

A good female friend with red-headed and fair-skinned was stopped, frisked, manhandled and handcuffed at the border. She had the misfortune of bearing the same name as a black man on the wanted list. The same thing happens repeatedly to Sylvie Nelson of Saranac Lake. She's stopped repeatedly, handcuffed, frisked in front of her kids because her name is similar to a black man's from Georgia. She's cleared each time, then stopped the next.

Sadly, Big Brother is watching and we may need to head to China to find some liberty. 

Lucky Baby by Meredith Efken

If you love the cliche and love to predict the outcome of conflict, if easy answers is your comfort in a good book, then skip Meredith Efken's Lucky Baby.

Her book presents a poignant look at four dynamic characters as their lives change when Meg Lindsay decides to adopt a child from China. As the principal violist for the Noveau Chicago Symphony and a Christian married to an atheist physicist, Meg and husband Lewis, decide to adopt a little girl with a cleft palate. With a child in their home, Meg knows she'd create the idyllic life.


However, the arrival of the child, Eva Zhen An, forces Meg, Lewis and Eva's devoted friend in China, Wen Ming, to confront the mother issues that have wounded their lives.



No answers come easily. No choices are made because of the obvious. Warm. Funny. Poignant. Laced with the highly poetic magic realism, Efken's book is guaranteed to touch your life and stay with you for a long time.



I recommend this book without reservations.

Lessons from Scrapbooking

            I’ll state the obvious. I love to scrap. The pictures I use create loving memories—even of the hard times, like when I ran a race in a hurricaine or the water innudated my basement. I take a picture and then laugh as I recall the events that prompted me.

            It’s a messy hobby. My daughter and I will attend scrapbooking weekends. We need two hotel dollies to haul our supplies in. We’re given space at six foot tables and we wall ourselves in. We shuffle through paper, embellishments, die cutting machines. It’s ugly.

            But the end result is divine.

            Almost more than scrapbooking, I like card making. I take scraps of my scraps and create beautiful cards. Then when I’ve finished, I take scraps of those scraps and make more cards. And then…

            You get the picture.

            This is so like God working in our lives. We make a mess, tear apart the fabric of our lives and He gathers up the pieces and rearranges them. The results are beautiful. There’s nothing He can’t restore and perfect.

            And if you think He cannot redeem you or make something beautiful of your life, think of: Matthew, Mary Magdalene, Legion, David and his murder of Uriah, Rahab, Jacob and many other.  If He mended them, He will make you as glorious.

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end (Eccl 3:11).

Losing My Jewels

            My case is hopeless. I have no reward waiting for me in heaven. None.

            I’ve spent it all here on earth. I tried not to. I’ve tried to save them for heaven, but no matter how hard I try, I always get back more than I give. Only a few samples of my attempted generosity will prove my impoverished state. (Please note, I am not bragging about my generosity. I do want something in heaven).

            I’ll start with “Gloria,” a friend prone to blood clots. Once again she was hospitalized, so I decided to brighten her day with a visit. Besides, one of my husband’s congregants was also in the hospital, so I could double my rewards with very little effort.

I’m a woman with a mission, thus, as usual, I rushed my husband up the walkway to the hosptal entrance. As we approached the front doors, I nearly fell over a poor woman in a wheel chair.

            “Excuse me,” I said. I do have manners even if I’m spiritually bankrupt.

            “Carol?”

            I actually looked at the woman. “Gloria! I was on my way to see you.”

            “It was a beautiful day, so I came outside.”

            I looked around, noted the truth of her statement. My husband didn’t know Gloria, as we recently married, so I sent him off and stayed to enjoy the sunshine with my friend.

            “I’m sorry about another clot. You have to be discouraged,” I said.

            “It’s not bad. I have chance to relax, catch up on my Bible study and have extra time with the Lord.”

            “But isn’t this a painful way to do it?” (My ‘Eyore’ side always predominates.)

            “No. God is in control. That’s enough for me.”

            I bent over, hugged her and we chatted about Jesus and families and church until her husband took her back to her room.

            Gloria revived my faith. Her words and actions reassured me of her love for me as well as God’s love. I left to find my husband and knew I got more from my visitation than Gloria.

            Another case is “Flora” whom I met on a missionary trip to Romania. She’s a gypsy, a group who faces a great deal of discrimination. She can’t find a job because she’s “dark.” Lack of finances keeps her on the verge of eviction from sub-standard housing. On those occasions I get a plea for help.

            Which of course I send. (Still hoping for that jewel).

            I’ll send about $100 which translates into lots more in Romania. She stays in her home, gets medical help and a little extra. Then all I hear from her is good news: her growth in God or gratitude for my love. The occasional money doesn’t make a big dent in my budget because God more than adequately pays my bills. I know my small service to Flora is just that: small.

            In truth, I never do what I do to be applauded. I take Matthew 6:1 seriously. “Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.” But somehow, others see. Others give back much more than I give. And the gratitude I receive, toots my good deeds like a trumpet from the rooftops.

            My only hope is to keep trying. Someday someone won’t notice. Someday I won’t get more than I give. But I doubt it.