The wind blows. Floods and rising waters continue their devastating invasion. Smoke from nearby fires is frighteningly strong. Lungs ache. Eyes burn. Breathing is compromised. Evacuations continue. Families fear losing their homes, livestock, pets, livelihoods, lives. Those who survived the fires now face homelessness, poverty, an uncertain future. Painful tears.
The wind howls. People frantically trying to get into an airport and on a plane to safety. People huddle together, stranded on the tarmac in the hopes that they will be able to get on a plane that will rescue them from death, rape, torture. Painful tears.
The wind resurfaces. New strains of the pandemic virus erupt, overloading hospitals, exhausting front line workers, terrifying parents of children under the age of twelve unable to be vaccinated, causing polarization in families where some decide to be vaccinated and others decide the pandemic is a hoax. Painful tears.
The wind changes direction. Young men and women brought to their new country as babies or children face deportation. Infants, toddlers, children, youth, separated from their parents continue to be incarcerated, uncared for, unprotected, terrified. Painful tears.
The wind that has blown for decades continues to blow in new ways as unmarked graves of children in residential schools are found – as memories of childhood experiences of abuse in residential schools bubble to the surface with the discovery of the graves – as the reality of murdered and missing indigenous women continues to sink in. Painful tears.
The wind still blows. People are standing up, speaking out, making their opposition known, not only in peaceful ways, but in not-so-peaceful ways. Nuclear threats beg the ‘is war on the horizon?’ question. Ordinary citizens ask why the law seems to serve and protect the most powerful, but not the vulnerable, not the land, not the environment. Painful tears.
The wind of ill-health continues to disrupt lives. Addiction, chronic illness, mental illness, overdoses, accidents, loneliness, aging, grief, and increase rents that are impossible to meet forcing businesses to close, people out of their homes and on to the streets. Lives, finances, health and relationships are compromised. Painful tears.
Painful tears continue to fall from eyes, covering faces and continue to fall from hearts, covering souls as the sacrifice of those who died, so there might be life and freedom to vote and express opinions, often seems lost in rhetoric and anger. Painful tears.
Tears. Far too many painful tears at this time of fires and floods, rape and torture, hurricanes and starvation, earthquakes and tornadoes, political lies and abuse of power.
May painful tears be diminished by naming the fears (not letting them fester, or stifle conversation) about global warming/climate change, the pandemic, bullying, abuse, political decisions … and by taking action.
Let painful tears flow and motivate to let in Light.
This is going on my front door in the morning because if I were a parent or grandparent with young children … or had a loved one living with me who had a compromised immune system this is what I would want to put at my front door
And besides … I am my own ‘loved one with a compromised immune system.’
I welcome visitors on the deck, at the front door, out for a walk, but not in my home at this time unless they are fully vaccinated and even then, I’m putting a hold on that for the time being.
I don’t live in fear I live in reality. And the reality is that even being fully vaccinated, not everyone is fully protected and could be a carrier of the virus.
This virus is not only spreading, but mutating.
Trying to keep my mind off the terrible news about Afghanistan, Haiti, people dying from the heat, floods, tornadoes, fires (too close to home this night), and the overloaded hospitals due to unvaccinated people become ill with the virus, I decided to “create something.
This. And it will go on my front door in the morning after I laminate it.
And if you believe in the power of prayer, please pray for our world and in particular the people in harm’s way. If you don’t believe in the power of prayer, please send gentle, kind, loving, positive thoughts their way.
An aside: creator of the “Welc-Wait Are you vaccinated?” phrase is unknown. Please let me know if you know who came up with this clever phrase. Thank you.
fleetingly the years fly by marked by flames atop woven pillars so many so fast so soon while I ponder the aches and stiffness and forgetfulness and at the same time rejoice for I am here to see the candles flames atop woven pillars
Respect. Songs have been written about it. Parents teach their children about it. People expect it.
But what is it – what does it involve – exactly?
How about “regard for the feelings, wishes, rights, or traditions of others”?
Bishop Greg Rickel (8th bishop of the Diocese of Olympia, WA), listed his “Ten Rules for Respect.”
From what I understand, he really does follow these rules. Wouldn’t our world be a much kinder and safer place if everyone followed them
If all leaders (be they Bishops, CEO’s, politicians, office managers, store owners, parents, etc.), showed respect using Bishop Rickel’s rules, people would feel supported, encouraged, trusted.
The cycle of respect in the businesses, constituencies, congregations they serve, and families, would keep flowing.
Here are Bishop Rickel’s Ten Rules for Respect which are a model of behavior for us all in our interactions with others. All that’s needed is to put our own name in place of “Greg”.
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me (privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to you, send them to me (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me, say “Let’s go to Greg together. I am sure he will see us about this.” (I will do the same for you).
5. Be careful how you interpret me. I’d rather do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts. It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. If you or anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell unless a) the person is going to harm himself/herself b) the person is going to physically harm someone else, c) a child has been physically or sexually abused. I expect the same from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be manipulated; do not let others manipulate you. Do not let others manipulate me through you. I will not preach “at you.” I will leave conviction to the Holy Spirit (she does it better anyway).
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb questions are those that don’t get asked. Our relationships with one another, at the end of the day, are the most important things, so if you have a concern, pray, and then (if led), speak up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting something, someone or breaking a confidence, I will.
It was near the beginning of the pandemic … most people were social distancing and mask-wearing.
Standing in line outside the health food store, the woman ahead of me were social distancing and wearing masks when a fellow appeared … no social distancing … no mask and kept getting closer and closer to me. I asked him to please step back to the place marked on the ground so we could be social distancing. And that’s when it began. “Oh, you want me to step back because of COVID19? That’s all ridiculous stuff.” He was adamant that there was nothing to be concerned about. “Even if COVID19 is real – there’s Hydroxychloroquine.” He was belligerent. He began shouting that the tv station he watched and the medical doctor in the US who had been interviewed on one of their recent shows, had since been silenced because they were telling the truth
He shouted “Who to believe?” That was the Million Dollar Question then – and now.
“I’m not afraid” he said. “I don’t believe this COVID19 is real.”
When it was my turn to enter the store, I noticed that he entered shortly after and overheard him say “What do you have that will increase my immune system? I don’t want to get sick.”
So much for thinking COVID19 is “ridiculous stuff” and disbelieving COVID19 is real. He doesn’t want to get sick. He doesn’t want to die.
But, he’s not going to wear a mask. He doesn’t observe social distancing. But he was in a health store looking for “something” that will keep him healthy and increase his immune system. Harumpf! How about wearing a mask and observing social distancing, sir? That will keep you healthy.
It was a simple, informal, unexpected conversation with the check-out gal at the local grocery store.
She was wearing an “Every Child Matters” bright orange shirt. I commented on it and said that I was sorry I wasn’t able to get to the rally on the weekend. She said she couldn’t get there either. And then she said “I’ll never forget the children and am grateful for my mom.”
I asked what, in particular, brought her that feeling of gratitude and she said … “She made us go outdoors every day and shout as loud as we could.”
Neighbours would ask the children why they were shouting and their reply was always the same “Mom told us to.”
The grocery story clerk never understood ‘why’. She just did it. And then she continued … “Mom also made us run as fast as we could to the corner store and back and said she was timing us. Each time, we had to at least do it as fast as we did it the day before and try to beat our own record.”
Again, she never understood ‘why’. She just did it.
When the store clerks’s mother died, she never had the opportunity to ask her mother ‘why’ and didn’t think about either of those incidents again … until the first group of unmarked graves of Residential School children was discovered.
And then she realized … her mother was teaching her and her siblings what to do if the government came to take them to the Residential School. Shout. Run. Shout. Run.
Stories that are emerging from the students of the Residential Schools speak of children who disappeared and were never heard of again. Many of those children were quiet and didn’t run away.
Most residential children who shouted and tried to run away were punished. But they didn’t disappear.
The grocery store clerk wishes she could speak with her mother and thank her for the lessons of shouting and running. But she can’t. Her mother died.
So instead, she often wears something with the colour orange on it.
Today, it was the orange “Every Child Matters” t shirt featuring four sets of hands encircling the words ‘Every Child Matters’ against an orange back drop, created by Andy Everson of the K’ómoks First Nation in British Columbia, Canada and that tshirt sparked a conversation about “Lessons Mothers Teach Their Children” that I will never forget.
Photo & Text © June Maffin
