i taught chapel this morning. considering the events surrounding yesterday's shooting at virginia tech, and the fact that the event has been well documented on the news, radio, and in newspapers, it seemed foolish to imagine that we would not say something about what happened during chapel. the middle school kids were easy to talk to, mostly. they are much easier to reason with, explain to, tell the truth to. even the lower school kids were mostly ok. one parent told my boss not to talk about it in chapel, because she and her husband had decided not to tell the child anything about what happened yesterday. i think there's probably a line between telling too much and not telling enough, but not telling at all is not an option, at least not in my world. geeze louise.
so i talked to them about the gospel lesson for today--how if you love the least of these, God calls you righteous. and we talked about how everyday, (it's cool as all hell, check it out at one.org)we have the chance to love the least of our brothers and sisters. we talked about how and who we love shapes how we live. and in the back of my head, i hoped that they could feel like they weren't totally powerless in the face of a kind of anger and rage that can take all that away in a heartbeat.
it is a hard thing to tell children that they are safe, loved, make a difference, ect., in the face of such senseless anger and brutality. and i keep remembering to myself that God was in those classrooms, those dorm rooms, those operating rooms, those phone calls, those last moments. God was there. and God was sad. and i have to remind myself that the young man who did all this, and took his own life, as well, was someone's baby, too. and what happened to him? what could make someone do such a thing? life is such a precious, precious gift, and it's not ours to take away. it's ours to love, and conserve, and honor, right? what the hell are we doing to each other? God was there. God is here. God save us, every one.
somedays, i wonder if people don't get loved enough. i think sometimes, they don't. we live in a broken and dying world, and it's so freaking hard to come to terms with that. there are no easy answers. and this morning, staring out at those clean, shiny, precious little faces, who dare to believe that because i am taller than they are, that i have something to say to make sense of the hard things. so we tell them that it's all going to be ok, even on days when we're not sure it's all going to be ok. we try our best to keep them safe, to say and prove to them that love does make a difference in the world, and God helping us, that will turn out to be true and real.
mil besos--rmg
17 April 2007
09 April 2007
favorites
i love favorites. i try not to play them, but let's be honest. we all play favorites. we kind of have to. we have favorite friends to call, favorite beers to drink, favorites songs to put on repeat, favorite snatches of poems to attach to our mirrors, so we see our favorite thoughts during our least favorite part of the day.
the trick is to be honest about the favorites. you can try and cultivate feelings about people or things that don't exist. that's usually a pretty futile and tiring practice. i can honestly say that, because i have tried really hard to make myself like people or things, with the sole intent of rooting out old favorites. it's hard. on the other hand, sticking up for my favorites is kind of fun. it's like arguing a case for my existential all-stars. and it is possible to have more than one favorite. for instance, my favorite song--it's daysleeper, by rem. but it's also smells like teen spirit by nirvana. but it's also amazing grace by my momma. it's also up on cripple creek, by the band. and it's also you belong to me, covered by bob dylan. my favorite city--san antonio. but it's also washington, dc. it's also fredonia, texas. and i don't feel one bit conflicted in saying that. they are all my favorites.
i took communion to a little old lady on good friday. she was getting blood transfusions. she wanted to talk about her children. she wanted to tell me about how she met her husband. she wanted to talk about not wanting to move out of her house and into assisted living. that is my favorite part of my job.
i drove on my church ladies home from chemo last week. it was hard. she's not doing well, and trying to come up with contingency plans for hospice, disposing of her stuff, bills, ect. we were quiet some, and we talked some. and i gave her a hug when i dropped her at home. that is my favorite part of my job.
a young woman with a cute family came by my office last week, to talk about visiting shut ins and needing information about mother's day out. she went to speak to the priest about having her little one baptized. the very small cherub hung out with me for an hour. that is my favorite part of my job.
i had lunch with one of my little old ladies last week. she cooked me lunch. we talked about people at the church, how she used to help stuff and mail the church newsletter, how her son always comes to blow the leaves out of her yard, how she'd like another dog. i was there for 2.5 hours. it was great. that is my favortie part of my job.
one of the kids in youth group is having a rough time right now. tonight, she called me to vent and talk about her life--what's going wrong, what's going right, how she feels, where God is in the middle of all this upheaval. we talked for an hour, even though i wasn't on the clock today, at all, and even though i was enjoying being in the relative anonymity of starbucks, hogging up wi-fi, and reading random crap on wikipedia. that is my favorite part of my job.
a couple walked in from the bus stop last week. they had been flooded out of their trailor. they were trying to get back on their feet. it was the wife's birthday--even said so on her drivers' license. we were able to help them, a little bit. that is my favorite part of my job.
the other day, i looked at my business cards. for the first time in a long time, i knew who the name on the card belonged to, and i was happy to know her. happy to be her. happy to find out more about her, every day. even on the hard days. i realized that i was doing exactly what God made me to do. and i was exhilarated. that's my favorite part of my job.
happy easter.
mil besos--rmg
the trick is to be honest about the favorites. you can try and cultivate feelings about people or things that don't exist. that's usually a pretty futile and tiring practice. i can honestly say that, because i have tried really hard to make myself like people or things, with the sole intent of rooting out old favorites. it's hard. on the other hand, sticking up for my favorites is kind of fun. it's like arguing a case for my existential all-stars. and it is possible to have more than one favorite. for instance, my favorite song--it's daysleeper, by rem. but it's also smells like teen spirit by nirvana. but it's also amazing grace by my momma. it's also up on cripple creek, by the band. and it's also you belong to me, covered by bob dylan. my favorite city--san antonio. but it's also washington, dc. it's also fredonia, texas. and i don't feel one bit conflicted in saying that. they are all my favorites.
i took communion to a little old lady on good friday. she was getting blood transfusions. she wanted to talk about her children. she wanted to tell me about how she met her husband. she wanted to talk about not wanting to move out of her house and into assisted living. that is my favorite part of my job.
i drove on my church ladies home from chemo last week. it was hard. she's not doing well, and trying to come up with contingency plans for hospice, disposing of her stuff, bills, ect. we were quiet some, and we talked some. and i gave her a hug when i dropped her at home. that is my favorite part of my job.
a young woman with a cute family came by my office last week, to talk about visiting shut ins and needing information about mother's day out. she went to speak to the priest about having her little one baptized. the very small cherub hung out with me for an hour. that is my favorite part of my job.
i had lunch with one of my little old ladies last week. she cooked me lunch. we talked about people at the church, how she used to help stuff and mail the church newsletter, how her son always comes to blow the leaves out of her yard, how she'd like another dog. i was there for 2.5 hours. it was great. that is my favortie part of my job.
one of the kids in youth group is having a rough time right now. tonight, she called me to vent and talk about her life--what's going wrong, what's going right, how she feels, where God is in the middle of all this upheaval. we talked for an hour, even though i wasn't on the clock today, at all, and even though i was enjoying being in the relative anonymity of starbucks, hogging up wi-fi, and reading random crap on wikipedia. that is my favorite part of my job.
a couple walked in from the bus stop last week. they had been flooded out of their trailor. they were trying to get back on their feet. it was the wife's birthday--even said so on her drivers' license. we were able to help them, a little bit. that is my favorite part of my job.
the other day, i looked at my business cards. for the first time in a long time, i knew who the name on the card belonged to, and i was happy to know her. happy to be her. happy to find out more about her, every day. even on the hard days. i realized that i was doing exactly what God made me to do. and i was exhilarated. that's my favorite part of my job.
happy easter.
mil besos--rmg
01 April 2007
the fact of the matter...
i heard it said once that there is no such thing as a casual comment. i believe that down to the darkest bottom of my itty bitty cold hard heart. the most innocuous joke, silly little aside, tossed off one-liner can a) have a thousand meanings, whether you intend it to or not, and b) can expose raw nerves that should by all rights, never see the light of day.
as a person who seems to do a lot of talking, both as a matter of fact and as a matter of vocation, i find myself doing a lot of "self-editing", and even when i feel like i'm in safe territory, like with friends or family, i still try to be careful with my words. sometimes i do ok, and sometimes i set off fire alarms for 20 city blocks. sometimes i wonder what it would be like to take a silent retreat, and not talk to anybody for a week. i would probably talk to myself, anyway, and that's cheating. but that's really not the point of this post, not really.
and so, in a fashion that is mostly alien to myself and to this blog, i am choosing to rebutt. dear friend, upon who's fragile psyche my rapier wit and razor tongue seemed to tread too hard, read and consider what i secretly mean when i talk to you, when we drink beer, and when i avoid saying what i mean in order to protect my own psyche from overexposure...
i'll be honest with you. i'm kind of past the idea of heaven and hell and wondering what an afterlife looks like. frankly, i could care less. i don't think that it's fair for me to talk about being a Christian, being someone who cares about other people and cares about my relationship to God if all i'm doing is hedging my bets about whether i'll be thrown into a lake of fire or spend eternity eating heavenly bon-bons and plucking a harp. neither of those ideas sound very realistic. and i don't mean that heaven sounds like a bad deal--it doesn't. i just don't think our ideas about heaven and hell make a whole lot of sense. and to reiterate, i don't want to have a relationship with God in the here and now that's secretly about keeping my butt out of a sling when i die. that's really not much of a relationship, is it? i mean, it's like sucking up to your math teacher so she'll go easy on you during finals. you've got no investment in being nice to her outside of what it does for you. and that my friends, is what i like to call being an asshole.
i don't want to spend one more minute thinking about where i'm going to spend eternity. i do want to spend a lot of time thinking about how i'm serving God's purpose for me in this life, in this moment, to the people i work with and meet every day. that's real. that's concrete. the rest of it, hell, heaven, the immortal soul, ect. those are unknowns, and in the final analysis, i have no idea and no control over what is real and what is whistling in the dark. i can do right by people, i can follow my heart, i can say my prayers. that's really where the rubber meets the road. so yeah, maybe i am flip about hell and heaven. maybe it's because i have a really hard time believing in a God who preaches love and forgiveness and then condemns people to a hell that is utterly removed from love and forgiveness. seems like situational ethics, if you ask me. but what do i know? i still have trouble remembering not to yell at God about why i'm still single when i have to change light bulbs in my house by myself. it's just as bad to expect a pay off in this life for being a good soldier as it is to expect the same when i die. what can i say? it's an ongoing struggle for me with my Creator. i wish i had a better handle on it, but that's what i know today. it could all change tomorrow. i'm willing to be persuaded.
and as for eve, oh eve.
i have advocated your cause the best way i know how--i have tried to stay away from being the stereotype--the overly involved, overly emotional, overly made-up, overly curious, overly female female. eve, my sister and my mother, i remember you daily. i think the men give you more power than you really have. i think they make you into a villain, because it's easier than admitting that adam is as responsible for the apple as you are. don't forget, the old ways say you were adam's second wife, that he made the first one mad.
so, sister mine, with your fig leaves and lonely, much travailed childbirths, i will be your devil's advocate. suppose you had all the facts, suppose adam had informed you as he had been informed. would you still have picked the fruit? would you have shared the fruit? and what in the wide world did you say to adam to persuade him to eat of it? surely your eyes and lips and hair were no more beautiful or winsome that the faces of your daughters gathered at the mall, or starbucks, or central market? surely you were ordinary some days, even though you were the first.
am i to be damned and lumped in with you for all time because you acted on poor information, were beguiled by a creature with a cunning mouth and empty promises? and maybe, just maybe adam saw how easily you were sidetracked, and took a lesson from the serpent. and maybe that's why i and all your daughters have been on an endless quest for information, for integrity, to know what it looks like all the way down, all the way to the bottom of the rabbit hole, because one dreadful time we acted on poor information, and have been punished for all time. fool us once...and punish us forever. where in the hell were YOU? and who are you to criticize, adam and sons, for your transgression was made with FULL knowledge, mouth of God to ear of adam. you kept it for yourself, and dared to offer up blame when we acted outside that knowledge. and rather than call us out, you followed along. and allowed us to take the brunt of the punishment, rather than taking the accountability upon yourself.
but we are the ones who drive you crazy? no, no, our punishment was to be desirous of YOU, that YOU would rule over us, and that the products of that desire would cause us pain and break our hearts, to have enmity between our children and the enemy. you were only given a longer work day, harder work to do, and were still exalted as the crown of creation. and don't think for a minute that was because God didn't know what had really happened. you may have gotten of lightly in the first punishment, but there is something to be said for being your own comeuppance.
so go right ahead, son of adam. be bewildered. be amused. be frustrated. be utterly confused. blame sins of the mother on the hearts of the daughters--confine us to the fishbowl and tempt us with things that glitter and shine. and by all means, neglect to view your father with unveiled eyes. blindness is your prerogative and your choice, and sometimes, a willing muse.
and that's really about all i have to say about that, folks. vitrolic? maybe, but i think accounts are being settled, and something new is about to be born. easter is coming, and with it a deep and abiding sense of hope and renewal. i love spring. this time of year is so fertile and good. and on the wind, before the rain, i can smell green things. and i feel them inside my heart.
thanks for putting up with the random.
mil besos--rmg
as a person who seems to do a lot of talking, both as a matter of fact and as a matter of vocation, i find myself doing a lot of "self-editing", and even when i feel like i'm in safe territory, like with friends or family, i still try to be careful with my words. sometimes i do ok, and sometimes i set off fire alarms for 20 city blocks. sometimes i wonder what it would be like to take a silent retreat, and not talk to anybody for a week. i would probably talk to myself, anyway, and that's cheating. but that's really not the point of this post, not really.
and so, in a fashion that is mostly alien to myself and to this blog, i am choosing to rebutt. dear friend, upon who's fragile psyche my rapier wit and razor tongue seemed to tread too hard, read and consider what i secretly mean when i talk to you, when we drink beer, and when i avoid saying what i mean in order to protect my own psyche from overexposure...
i'll be honest with you. i'm kind of past the idea of heaven and hell and wondering what an afterlife looks like. frankly, i could care less. i don't think that it's fair for me to talk about being a Christian, being someone who cares about other people and cares about my relationship to God if all i'm doing is hedging my bets about whether i'll be thrown into a lake of fire or spend eternity eating heavenly bon-bons and plucking a harp. neither of those ideas sound very realistic. and i don't mean that heaven sounds like a bad deal--it doesn't. i just don't think our ideas about heaven and hell make a whole lot of sense. and to reiterate, i don't want to have a relationship with God in the here and now that's secretly about keeping my butt out of a sling when i die. that's really not much of a relationship, is it? i mean, it's like sucking up to your math teacher so she'll go easy on you during finals. you've got no investment in being nice to her outside of what it does for you. and that my friends, is what i like to call being an asshole.
i don't want to spend one more minute thinking about where i'm going to spend eternity. i do want to spend a lot of time thinking about how i'm serving God's purpose for me in this life, in this moment, to the people i work with and meet every day. that's real. that's concrete. the rest of it, hell, heaven, the immortal soul, ect. those are unknowns, and in the final analysis, i have no idea and no control over what is real and what is whistling in the dark. i can do right by people, i can follow my heart, i can say my prayers. that's really where the rubber meets the road. so yeah, maybe i am flip about hell and heaven. maybe it's because i have a really hard time believing in a God who preaches love and forgiveness and then condemns people to a hell that is utterly removed from love and forgiveness. seems like situational ethics, if you ask me. but what do i know? i still have trouble remembering not to yell at God about why i'm still single when i have to change light bulbs in my house by myself. it's just as bad to expect a pay off in this life for being a good soldier as it is to expect the same when i die. what can i say? it's an ongoing struggle for me with my Creator. i wish i had a better handle on it, but that's what i know today. it could all change tomorrow. i'm willing to be persuaded.
and as for eve, oh eve.
i have advocated your cause the best way i know how--i have tried to stay away from being the stereotype--the overly involved, overly emotional, overly made-up, overly curious, overly female female. eve, my sister and my mother, i remember you daily. i think the men give you more power than you really have. i think they make you into a villain, because it's easier than admitting that adam is as responsible for the apple as you are. don't forget, the old ways say you were adam's second wife, that he made the first one mad.
so, sister mine, with your fig leaves and lonely, much travailed childbirths, i will be your devil's advocate. suppose you had all the facts, suppose adam had informed you as he had been informed. would you still have picked the fruit? would you have shared the fruit? and what in the wide world did you say to adam to persuade him to eat of it? surely your eyes and lips and hair were no more beautiful or winsome that the faces of your daughters gathered at the mall, or starbucks, or central market? surely you were ordinary some days, even though you were the first.
am i to be damned and lumped in with you for all time because you acted on poor information, were beguiled by a creature with a cunning mouth and empty promises? and maybe, just maybe adam saw how easily you were sidetracked, and took a lesson from the serpent. and maybe that's why i and all your daughters have been on an endless quest for information, for integrity, to know what it looks like all the way down, all the way to the bottom of the rabbit hole, because one dreadful time we acted on poor information, and have been punished for all time. fool us once...and punish us forever. where in the hell were YOU? and who are you to criticize, adam and sons, for your transgression was made with FULL knowledge, mouth of God to ear of adam. you kept it for yourself, and dared to offer up blame when we acted outside that knowledge. and rather than call us out, you followed along. and allowed us to take the brunt of the punishment, rather than taking the accountability upon yourself.
but we are the ones who drive you crazy? no, no, our punishment was to be desirous of YOU, that YOU would rule over us, and that the products of that desire would cause us pain and break our hearts, to have enmity between our children and the enemy. you were only given a longer work day, harder work to do, and were still exalted as the crown of creation. and don't think for a minute that was because God didn't know what had really happened. you may have gotten of lightly in the first punishment, but there is something to be said for being your own comeuppance.
so go right ahead, son of adam. be bewildered. be amused. be frustrated. be utterly confused. blame sins of the mother on the hearts of the daughters--confine us to the fishbowl and tempt us with things that glitter and shine. and by all means, neglect to view your father with unveiled eyes. blindness is your prerogative and your choice, and sometimes, a willing muse.
and that's really about all i have to say about that, folks. vitrolic? maybe, but i think accounts are being settled, and something new is about to be born. easter is coming, and with it a deep and abiding sense of hope and renewal. i love spring. this time of year is so fertile and good. and on the wind, before the rain, i can smell green things. and i feel them inside my heart.
thanks for putting up with the random.
mil besos--rmg
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