THE JESUS EXCLUSION

Something really odd happened to me today. I was having a conversation with a co-worker. One of our patients had suddenly died from a choking accident. His wife happened to be with him. I said how hard it must be for her to have him gone so suddenly. She and I are both widowed but we had many weeks notice on the death -- a time to prepare, if that is possible. So I said to her how hard it must be for Mrs. X because she had no preparation time as we did. And she replied that it is okay if she knew that he was a person of faith. She knew personally that her husband was ready, knowing that he was going to be with Jesus. And that how tormented people are when they don't know where their people are -- after death. I must have had a blank look on my face because in a few minutes she said to me, well, my husband knew he was going to Jesus and so I know he is with Jesus and is at peace there. To which I replied that I had never even thought about where my husband was. Never occurred to me to question that. I have just always assumed that when one died one went to God. Oh, but that isn't what he taught us. The "he" being Jesus. and the reference was probably one from this morning's reading from John 14: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me."

Hmmmm..... All well and good. But what about all the Arabs and Jews and Chinese and Koreans and American Indians and East Indians and Eskimos and ALL of the peoples who are not necessarily Christian? They get excluded from heaven? OR are there separate heavens, each to their own kind. I don't think that was what Jesus was teaching. I always thought Jesus was sent to all of us. I thought God made humankind in God's own image. I wonder if this co-worker has a blond, blue eyed Jesus where all of her kind can be in the afterlife exclusively. I know her heaven probably doesn't include GLBT people either. Her loss.

BUT, I did not question any of this aloud. She is a new, raw, widow. If this is comfort for her, so be it. But, I was crushed that her thinking was so narrow as to not include so many of the people that I hold so dear. To not include ME. It set up for me a situation where I am on one side of a theological divide and she is on another. It is hurtful to have a friend like this. And given all this, IS she a friend. I don't know. I have very mixed feelings about all of this right now.

Of one thing, I am sure -- God is an all inclusive God. If the Trinity is, then Jesus is a part of this. But God is still God, and God is all inclusive. If Christians are going to set up a situation where Jesus is the head of a separate entity, I think I will rethink Christianity.

ADDITIONAL DISTRESS

Tagging on to yesterday's personal woes there was the big wind we had here in the east as the 'new' front moved in. Gusty enough to blow three sections of our stockade fence onto the car in the driveway next door. Right onto the hood and fender. No answer as I rang their bell. No answer from the phone. So we took pictures and removed the fence.

Later in the day I called the homowner insurance agent for guidance. We did not really want to make a claim for the fence as our deductable is more than it is going to be to replace these sections. BUT, I was wondering about the claim from the neighbor. There was some question from the agent about whether it was even our responsibility OR the responsibility of the neighbor's own insurance, be it homeowner's or car.

It would seem that since our driveways abut, actually overlap at the street end, we would be 'neighborly.' Somehow over the years we have fallen into disagreement about how we care for our property and they have chosen to ignore us. Even after attempts to bridge the gap, I have been rebuffed. So it is. Bill and I decided that we would make no further attempts to contact them, but would be open to conversation if they approached us. And so that is how it has been left.

Today Bill goes about the business of breaking up the old fence sections and taking them to the dump and beginning the digging of new post holes while the weather is warm. Life goes on but it is just one more little niggling thing. And I am upset by these niggles. My cope ability seems to be at a low ebb.

THEME

Most all of the blogs that I read have a theme. Or a continuous thread of sorts. I became very bogged down in the contemplation of just where I wanted to go with this blog. In fact, I have been so bogged that I became completely unproductive. Absent. No posts. UGH!

And still I have made no determination about theme or thread. I have a ton of interests. Mostly passing interests. Some hang around longer than others but I seem to be a phase/fad person. AND, this is okay, I suppose, if I can accept this about myself. I am consistent in inconsistency.

The constants in my life are my relationship, my dog, my church, my job. And not necessarily in that order. At all. Sometimes one is more demanding or high priority than another. My frustration arises when any one is in conflict. Maybe that is what is happening now. Too much upheaval in all of these is making me crazy.

Relationship just lost job, dog just had eye implant surgery, church is floundering, job is testy. Any one of these happening is enough to put me off but all of them together is taking a toll. I have become short tempered, forgetful, irrational, sensitive, to name a very few of my current tendencies.

Maybe a review of what is going on will help to establish possible ways forward. I'll talk about the dog first: Gabriel is a six and a half year old, eight and a half pound Shih Tzu. He lost the sight in one eye due to a "trauma" or horrendous glaucoma pressure. Now either one of these things might have been an obvious occurrence as I look back over time. But I would have thought that I might have been aware of that change. OR taken more seriously symptoms when I did check in with the vet. There is niggling guilt. Hindsight is guilt ridden. BUT, the good news is that he is home from the Eye Clinic today and doing just fine. He is on such a mixed schedule of meds that I had to draw up a chart in order to administer them at the proper times. Gabriel is among the good things in my life.

The loss of a job is trauma. Emotional trauma. Spouse has been happily driving a school bus for five years -- enjoys the kids, enjoys the driving, enjoys the hours, enjoys the money. Make that enjoyED. The three accident rule holds whether the accident(s) your fault or not. So, no job. This is a personal loss for him. A judgement on his character. And he has even told me that grieving is necessary. But he wondered if he knew how to do that. I hope he does. For his own sake. And he has many talents and many opportunities so it will work out. In the meantime, however, our, make that MY, routine is completely destroyed. And I do not deal with change very well. Hence the change in my behavior.

The Episcopal Church (TEC) is undergoing major problems right now. And my particular little parish is not fairing very well either -- not for the same reasons -- but both are troublesome. I can put the TEC stuff in perspective and hope that reason will prevail. The parish, however, is in serious trouble. It was financial, still is for that matter. But more, it is a "people" problem. Lack of participation, lack of interest, lack of caring, lack of being involved, lack of serving -- L A C K!! I struggle with trying not to do too much. I struggle with people being so consuming of what is offered and not doing any offering. I struggle with the people who refuse to accept change. I struggle with people who think the church is ALWAYS going to be there for them. I want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them and tell them that they had better wake up or there isn't going to be a church there for them at all in another year or so if they continue in this same mode. So, I do what I can. And worry. And pray.

At work we are being bombarded with personality conflicts. When systems are in place, and working for the good of all, someone comes along and decides that "their" way is better. In fact it could very well BE better, but if it throws the system off kilter, is isn't better in the long run. And, of course, there is the one who can't accept change; and the one who cannot accept direction. Life is too short for all of these prima donna histrionics. I want to just go in (I work part time) do my job and go home. I don't need the undercurrent of who has been slighted, who has been hurt, 'who has been ignored, who thinks they know better, who bla bla bla. Life is just too short for all this idiocy. I like the job. It is close to home. It is enjoyable work. I like the hours. I like the pay. And I like most of the people -- individually. So I go in, do my job, try to ignore the garbage and leave it on the threshold when go home.

So this explains my long absence from this blog. It does not, however, establish a theme. Unless, of course, it is the day to day of these pieces of my life. And maybe that is okay.

On a brighter note, we stopped in at an art store this week. I was looking for the right weight paper upon which to print my church business cards. While there I passed a color pencil sale. Soft color pencils. I have many color pencils but not this 'soft' variety. I bought six. Lavender hues. I am playing with how they go onto paper in density as I get involved is curving shapes. Maybe pictures down the road.

THE COLD

We moved to Chicago from New Castle, Indiana when I was eleven and a half years old. I add in the "half" because at that age it makes a difference. My sister was just past seven. You might think that we would have suffered culture shock, but we accepted the newness as part of life.

Our interim home was a hotel on the corner of North and State streets, right across from the beginning of Lincoln Park. It was March when we came into the city so we got to see spring and summer unfold in Lincoln Park that year. It was 1949 and I remember most of it scene by scene. The Lincoln statue, the Lincoln Park Lagoon, and my favorite -- Bushman -- at the Lincoln Park Zoo. We went to school, we walked the beaches. In the fall, just before Thanksgiving, we moved north to the Western and Foster area, went to school, found a church, made mistakes, got confirmed, all the normal stuff.

Accepting. That is the word that comes to me when I think of how we managed in this big city atmosphere that was probably VERY different from small town New Castle. I went to college, got married, moved east. EAST is different. It took twenty five years to adjust and even now I think of myself as a New Castle/Chicago girl.

And how often during these years did I have a cold. "Have" a cold. "Get" a cold. Pretty much the same in Indiana as in Connecticut. But in Chicago, you get THE cold. I don't know how that differs from the common cold except that you are the one who has it. "I have 'the' cold." It was as if there was ONE cold going around and it was being shared by everyone. Whoever had "a" cold, had "the" cold. But the information stopped there. Nothing about how to treat "the" cold. It was just "the" cold.

Well, folks, now I have "the" cold. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. Itchy eyes. Runny nose. Post nasal RUN. Tickle cough. Reflex gag. Heavy chest. Can't sleep. THE cold....

CORNBREAD

The bone and leavings from the Thanksgiving spiral cut ham were going to be thrown out as we did the cleanup. NO! says I. I'll take it. And so I brought it home and put it in the vegetable drawer of the frig and almost forgot about it. Soup for Wednesday night church supper reminded me.

Bean soup and cornbread are part of my childhood. When I go to Indiana, my sister always makes it for me. When it comes to making the cornbread we peruse all of her cook books and recipes on the Internet looking for the one that comes most closely to that childhood taste memory. Mom's best friend, Mildy, made it by look and feel. Handfuls of flour, bigger handfuls of corneal, salt, baking powder, an egg milk. It was the best cornbread ever, made in a cast iron skillet, not sweet, not too raised, but not flat either. It is my standard for corn bread.

At the grocery yesterday there were little corn muffin loaves. Looked good. Bought them and took them to church with the bean soup. YUK! Too much sugar. Tasted like a cupcake. Had the texture of a cupcake. I was appalled. Ruined my already not great soup.

There was soup left over which I brought home. Got out my smallest cast iron skillet, took from the frig the bag of Aunt Jemima self-rising white cornmeal mix, which I had purchased shortly after Thanksgiving, and read the recipe. The cast iron skillet just fit into the toaster/convection oven and so I put the oil in it and set it at 425. Mixed milk and egg into the mix -- NO SUGAR. When the skillet and the oil were really hot, I swirled the oil all around to coat the bottom and the sides and then poured it into the batter. Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle. Then back into the oven for 17 minutes.

When I took the skillet out, it was corn bread. Slightly rounded and golden on top and pulled away from the sides. Turned it out on a cooling rack to cool without getting bottom soggy. Perfect! It is the cornbread of my childhood. Perfectly even, dense-ish, texture, NOT sweet, golden on top, perfectly golden on the bottom. I have found the recipe! Now if I could just learn to make the bean soup of my childhood the way my sister does ......

THE GIFT OF FAMILY

It's a big one this year, you know. Seventy. And it's Thanksgiving so we can make the time.

And so they did. My Connecticut son, my Pennsylvania son and his wife, their three sons and one daughter. My sons in their forties. Children ranging from nine to nineteen. And me, turning seventy. And my spouse not yet seventy.

We all spent a joyful Thanksgiving dinner with all the step children acquainting and Reacquainting themselves to one another, and all the cousins and step cousins running amok and generally enjoying the day. It was the treat of a lifetime -- all of us together -- laughing, remembering past events, telling of new happenings, learning who did what and when. What a gift!

Back at "Mom's" house we tended to congregate around the dining room table; the generations gathered to read, compute, play board games, crosswords, Sudoku, or just chat. There was no one taking off for work, or the mall, or to pal around with friends, or whatever young people do these days. They could have, actually, gone out for a walk or found solitude in another room of the house. But they chose to gather together. What a gift!

The sibling banter was brutally honest, accepted as such and responded to in kind. It was wonderful to hear this give and take among them. There was acceptance for who/what each one was and love for one another all the way round inter and intra generational. What a gift!

Midday on Saturday we all came to table together for the celebratory and farewell meal. Cards and gifts were received. And then the question: "Grandmom, have you accomplished all that you wanted to accomplish?" Great long pause while I mulled that one over, but the reply was obviously -- NO! We can never be done. There is always more to learn and accomplish. I'm not done yet. Maybe they will ask the question again at my eightieth gathering and hopefully the answer will still be the same.

The joy of family -- What a GIFT!

THANKSGIVING PREP

Three more days of preparation for Thanksgiving guests, food, generous and gracious hospitality, and I am in a state of UNreadiness. There is no way I am going to make this happen. And I am NOT doing any of it this evening. I am going to just sit here, do my blog, get a note off to my sister, then go to bed and read.

I love holidays. I love family. I hate the cleaning up and getting ready part. So I guess they will have to love me as I am. In all of my clutter. Dust under the couch. Maybe a cob web or two. They will have a clean bathroom, fresh sheets, warm blankets, hot coffee, and a lot of love.

Planning ahead has never been a priority for me. I am big into being and doing in the now. This is a really good place to be most of the time. If you think about it, NOW is the only time you can be in touch with God. That is probably the best part about now that I know of. If I have it in me to manage to just be in the moment, it is wonderful. I am successful a lot of the time. But there are times when I might have enjoyed the moment a lot more if I had planned ahead a little better.

The now times of planning and preparation can be Godly times too.....