Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life
October 23, 2017

Going home

Maybe it’s the steady march
of autumn fading into brown
Or birds migrating south
in twos and threes and twelves

Then again it may be nothing
more than daylight diminishing
into shades of deepening night

Unexpectedly I wake up
anticipating the unthinkable
bidding farewell to this world
sinking below and beyond
the horizon into unending day
finally at home and at peace

Writing these words troubles me
Has deep discontent wormed its way
into my soul?

Yet there it sits.
This world of aching beauty and sorrow
will not be my home forever

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 October 2017
Photo found at pinterest; taken by David Allen Photography
Sunset from Clingman’s Dome, Great Smokey Mountains, North Carolina

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October 21, 2017

Great Expectations | Photos

By whose expectations do we live? This post from two years ago, lightly edited, is still relevant, particularly in light of current political and global realities. In September 2015 D and I were on a grand 50th wedding anniversary trip, driving through Scotland. Which more than exceeded our expectations–in every way! But that’s another topic.

D took the photo above in Edinburgh, directly behind the Sir Walter Scott Monument. We’re looking down into the East Princes Street Gardens. Notice the benches. They line the sidewalk from one end to the other. Each bench includes a plaque to honor an everyday person or family member(s) now deceased yet remembered warmly by friends and relatives.

The plaque below caught my attention and made me laugh and smile. How did the Rev Alan B. Cameron MA BD STM, the piping hot Scot ‘prove Romans 8’? I don’t know, but his life of faithful generosity made an impression. Perhaps despite great trials?

Above the Gardens looms the huge Edinburgh Castle and grounds. It’s packed with tributes on stone plaques. The plaque below stood out to me. Though it isn’t small or simple, the words describing Mary of Lorraine are human-size, even though she was “Queen of James V, Mother of Mary Queen of Scots and Regent of Scotland from 1554-1560.” I’m taken by the warm tribute to her character and behavior. Perhaps Mary of Lorraine was related to Rev. Alan B. Cameron, “the piping hot Scot?”


Finally, we have a different kind of tribute in the outer wall of the Edinburgh Castle, overlooking the city.  These aren’t to human soldiers, but to their faithful canine companions. I can make out three of the dogs’ names on the gravestones–Scamp, Tinker, and Feora (?) who was a Band Pet. Even though I’m a cat lover, my heart melted.

Faithful. That’s what I want to be. Not faithful to others’ expectations of me, but faithful to God as one of God’s beloved daughters and sons. I’m drawn to the simplicity of the tributes above. In the end, it’s all about faithfulness–to God, to oneself and to others. Including the faithful bond between human beings and their canine (and feline!) companions.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, published on 23 September 2015 as Small Signs of Faithful Lives | Photos; edited and reposted 21 October 2016
Photo credit: DAFraser, September 2015 in Edinburgh, Scotland
Daily Prompt: Expect

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October 20, 2017

Moments

Death
Sudden release
Followed by startled grief
Most deeply felt
In waves

Calm
Release of pain
Blood pressure dropping
To a measurable
Sum

Joy
Knocks at my door
Sweeps emptiness aside
For a shining moment
Lingering

Peace
Unannounced
Arrives on the doorstep
Of my heart
Singing

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 October 2017
Photo found at heartwrittenwords.com
 Daily Prompt: Release

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October 19, 2017

How I set my table


As few utensils as possible
More than enough room for everyone
More than enough food for everyone
No pre-ordained seats for the chosen
No reserved seats for the religiously correct
No throne at the head of the table
No place-cards for the righteous few
No special utensils for the wealthy
No printed program at each place
Just a welcome sign of hospitality

Back in the early 1970s, when I was beginning my theological training, the term ‘evangelical’ was in the air. Many conservative Christians saw this as a dangerous distortion of the Gospel.

I saw it as Christianity focused on difficult issues such as poverty, social justice, racism and sexism. Not just praying about them, but marching in protests and becoming part of local efforts to raise awareness and push for change.

I knew I’d found a home. Nonetheless, after identifying myself as an evangelical Christian, some judged me as a betrayer of true Christian faith.

Back then, evangelical Christians also reached out to other denominations and faith-based organizations to maximize their impact on issues of common concern. This meant we were ecumenical. An additional betrayal of ‘true’ Christian faith.

Times have changed. The press and some Evangelicals have politicized the term over the years. We who are not part of the religious right wince when we hear ‘Evangelicals’ used in political discourse.

Statisticians now tell us Mr. Trump would not be president if it weren’t for white Evangelicals. According to the latest statistics, 80% of all white Evangelicals voted for Donald Trump. Without them, he would not have won the electoral vote. For many of them, he’s still the answer to their desire for an overtly Christian nation. Not simply in numbers, but in political realities that matter to them.

I won’t and can’t distance myself from my Evangelical friends. Nonetheless, I’ve decided it’s more than enough to say I am a follower of Jesus Christ. I also happen to be white, female, a wife, mother and grandmother, musician, poet, writer, and a Christian theologian who cares deeply about the way I live as a follower of Jesus each day.

The list at the top expresses my continued commitment to focusing on truth about myself, about Christian faith as I see it, and about this world God loves so much. It also expresses my commitment to listening to others around the table. Especially when we don’t always agree.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 October 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
Daily Prompt: Express

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October 18, 2017

Still on my open-mic high

Sunday evening I bravely showed up at our church with D and three poems. Our church’s first-ever open-mic night. The gym was set up with gracious laid-back elegance, and several tables were spread with café-quality cookies and other sweet finger foods. Plus non-alcoholic drinks and a basket for donations to the Deacon’s Fund.

To my surprise, I was up first. Good! It meant I fully enjoyed the rest of the show. Performers included children, young people, middle-age people, and a good number of us gray-hairs. About twelve ‘acts’ in all, ranging from poetry and a book excerpt reading to riddles, funny jokes, professional and amateur musical renditions, and a crazy-funny skit at the end.

It felt good to be behind a microphone again. I’m not a born performer. I do, though, love the way words work, especially when delivered as performance art, with an opportunity to say a bit about what I’ve written.

I chose personal poems, accessible to all ages. Below are links to my three poems, plus the third poem in its entirety. Reading it out loud was even better than writing it!

This was my first open-mic event ever. So now I’m wondering about venues where I might read and talk about more of my poems, now more than 390. But that’s for another day.

music to my ears
Her bespoke face
Homecoming on the Grounds….

Homecoming on the Grounds….

Homecoming this Sunday on the grounds
of the Montgomery Presbyterian Church
Come One, Come All!
Sunday, 12:30 to 5:00 pm
All Ages Welcome!

Beneath aging water oaks
Long wooden tables covered with oilcloth
and butcher paper groan with food
Children race shrieking with joy

Ladies arrange and surreptitiously rearrange
table settings to favor their own delicacies
properly positioned for easy access
and maximum compliments

Piles of coated, crispy southern fried chicken
Bowls of homegrown boiled corn on the cob cut in 2-inch portions
Mounds of southern white potato salad swimming
in mayo, relish, cut-up hard-boiled eggs, salt and pepper

Molded bright green and orange jello ‘salads’
defy description
laced with canned mixed fruit, grated carrots and raisins,
small-curd cottage cheese and pineapple bits or
My Mom’s strawberry jello salad
with real strawberries and rhubarb!

Platters of thick-sliced juicy homegrown tomatoes
Hunks of sugary-sweet southern-style cornbread
Pots of honey-bee honey and real butter

Obligatory cut green beans drowning
in canned cream-of-something soup topped
with crispy brown onion fries
Boiled collards and turnip greens swimming
in chunks of fatty ham and Tobasco-laced broth

Plates of beguiling deviled eggs dusted with red paprika
Baskets of buttery white rolls and salty potato chips
Nary a boiled carrot to be seen

Lemon chiffon pie, sweet potato pie
and banana pudding with soggy vanilla wafer edges
Cheesecake in graham-cracker crusts
topped with canned cherries
smothered in red glop

Pecan pies and German chocolate cakes
Chocolate chip cookies, decorated sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies
Moon Pies and Tootsie Rolls

Hot coffee with caffeine and real cream
Sweetened iced tea with lemon slices
Water and funeral home fans for the faint of heart

Yet more glorious still—
Pit-cooked, falling-apart whole barbecued pork
prepared and reverently tended overnight by real men
on the grounds of hog heaven
***

This is a favorite childhood memory from life in the South. I was 8 years old when we moved to the Deep South. These annual October potluck dinners were even better than Christmas!

Cheers!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 October 2017
Image found at farmingtonnm.org
Daily Prompt: Brave

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October 17, 2017

shallow wastelands

Flat earth theory
bodes ill for spiritual vision
reducing God’s glory
the grandeur of creation
and deep shadows of history
to shallow wastelands
of pseudo-patriotic myth

Give us eyes and hearts to see into
this bare outline of a country
populated and interwoven with texts
and subtexts lying open to us the people –
old-timers and newcomers charged with moving
beyond treacherous monochromatic vision
into the aching depths of our discontent

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 October 2017
Photo found at shutterstock.com
Daily Prompt: Risky

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October 16, 2017

Monday Morning Sunshine

We had a cool front come through during the night, with blessed relief from 100% humidity day and night, cool breezes, and the slightest hint of sun behind those clouds which will, of course, dissipate in their own good time.

Still, I want some Monday morning sunshine. So here it is, beginning at the top with one of my favorite taken-by-me photos of D, my loyal partner, at Longwood Gardens on the day of our 52nd wedding anniversary. Isn’t he gorgeous? So is that sunshine, I might add.

Coming in a close second is the second main male in my life right now–Prince Oliver Smudge the Second. He’s perched on one of his thrones, alert as ever, loyally watching over my first main male to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep in front of the computer. Also taken by me, this time with my mini IPad (instead of D’s fancy camera).

Next we have one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes strips about the infamous Divide and Conquer Strategy. I debated using it for my last post, but decided it was too lighthearted for the subject matter. Still, it makes a great point, and the little stab at the end might help you keep your sanity and upbeat outlook at least alive, if not thriving.


Finally, a rousing rendition from Norman Blake in true Southern country music style, from the soundtrack of “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” Sing along and don’t be bashful. It’s great fun!

Cheers!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 October 2017
Photos taken by ERFraser, 11 Sept 2017 and October 2017
Cartoon found at bloggingblue.com
Daily Prompt: Loyal

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October 14, 2017

No, I will not give up!

The mood in our country is ever more divisive, thanks to the old divide and conquer strategy. It seems Mr. Trump is a mastermind at this. Not just at getting us to quarrel with each other, but at maintaining his position as the Man in Charge, trickling glory down or withholding it, at his time and in his way.

My readings in the Psalms this past week were encouraging, yet troubling. They were all about what happens to the wicked. In particular, those whose god has become great wealth, who take delight in the adulation of adoring publics, and who seem to believe God is made in their image and thus on their side.

Mr. Trump, already a follower and lover of great wealth, displays leadership traits that are confusing at best, willfully destructive at worst.

Most troubling is his habit of changing the subject strategically so that it’s not about him, but about someone else or somewhere else or the flag or patriotism or immigrants. It seems his happy moments are fleeting. Never enough to fill the deep hole in his heart.

I serve but one God. Is it possible to do this without confessing my personal failings? Of course not. Nonetheless, I don’t buy the argument that everyone has their weak spots or failings. As though we should give others a free pass, particularly our leaders.

Hebrew and Christian Scriptures have somber warnings to religious and political leaders about the way they govern. This includes strategies such as pitting the strong against the weak, rich against poor, social class against social class, women against men, immigrants against residents. The possibilities are endless.

The strategy of muddying and distorting reality keeps us riled up and at each other’s throats. So distracted that we cannot effectively call out leaders for failure to lead on behalf of everyone. We’re too busy jumping on the us-versus-them bandwagon.

I don’t know how to engage mammoth power. Or perhaps I don’t appreciate the power I do have. Which would be my one brief life, a pen and my prayers.

This feels like less than two small loaves and a small fish. Barely enough for me; not nearly enough for those who gather each day wanting to hear truth and hope. Especially in times of political, social and geographic upheaval.

Being a faithful Christian citizen has rarely felt so heavy. The bottom line is simple: Whom do I serve? And am I ready to do this at any cost? My spirit is willing; my flesh is weak. Which is why I depend on others like you, regardless of your political or religious persuasion.

As a follower of Jesus, I’m in this for the long haul. Today I’m grateful for the company of others learning to live each day without giving up the fight for justice, or hope for today and tomorrow.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 October 2017
Image found at flicker.com/photos/nicola
Daily Prompt: Succumb

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October 13, 2017

Prayer

I’m sending this out with a prayer that someone out there might be encouraged by it. I wrote it last year, just 5 weeks after I fell and broke my jaw. Today I’ve been a bit down about all the catastrophic events we’re experiencing. Things that ‘shouldn’t have happened.’ Yet they did. George MacDonald helped me then and is helping me this evening. Your friend, Elouise

Elouise's avatarTelling the Truth

Lion-And-Lamb-Picture-HD-Wallpaper-1024x574

Dear Friends,

This week was a roller coaster. Highs and lows one after the other. Still, I wrote in my journal and will post some pieces later. The picture is messy. Not because it’s ugly, but because it isn’t logical or sensible.

In the midst of the ups and downs I’ve followed George MacDonald’s sonnets for May. Some keep drawing me back for another read. Not because they’re profound, but because they’re simple and speak to my heart and situation right now.

Here’s one I’ve read over and over the last few days. It comforts me during this extended, unexpected Sabbath rest.

May 26

My prayers, my God, flow from what I am not;
I think thy answers make me what I am.
Like weary waves thought follows upon thought.
But the still depth beneath is all thine own,
And there thou mov’st in paths to us unknown.
Out of strange strife thy peace is strangely wrought;
If the lion in us…

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October 12, 2017

Evening Prayer

I’m weary this evening, Lord —
All I want is Your smile.

Daylight faded hours ago —
The choir sings to a congregation of one.

I jotted down these words last night while listening to an old hymn, “Abide with me; fast falls the eventide.” The end of a slow day, quiet and unimpressive with the exception of two encounters.

One was with a neighbor when I was out walking. She was standing on her front porch, waiting for a taxi. We talked about her recent illness, her cat, and the woman who died across the street and down the lane just last week.

Later during my walk I saw a couple I’ve known for years. They were out walking, too. About my age, both retired and in good shape with the exception of her fractured ankle and torn ligaments still on the mend months later.

I’ve been focused on prayer lately. Especially since my friend Margie died and left a huge void when it comes to prayer for others. My list grows daily. Not in leaps and bounds, but in small increments. Everyday people with difficult challenges and heartaches.

I haven’t figured out how to pray in a pointed way for the big stuff that hits the news every day. Not that I don’t know what to say. It’s more about not having a personal connection, or being so incensed that I don’t want to pray ‘for’ this or that. I just want to rage against it.

Perhaps things aren’t really worse than they used to be. In some ways, I’ve seen this country in worse shape than we’re in now. Yet in other ways we’re simply reverting to what I’d hoped we left behind. This, too, is a great weariness.

Maybe that’s where I need to begin. With things like the opioid crisis, the result of fraud on multiple levels over many years–perpetrated on people in chronic pain. People just like you and just like me. I wonder where in my neighborhood it’s making its mark today?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 12 October 2017
Photo found at HopeLutheranChurch.wordpress.com
Daily Prompt: Fraud

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