nest in clover bank
nest in clover bank
sleepy summer afternoon
salty river smell
* * * * *
I’m 8 or 9 years old—
a budding writer looking for somewhere to write
and something to write about. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
Category: Spiritual Formation
April 3, 2014
March 31, 2014
Down to the River to Pray
“O sinners let’s go down, Down in the river to pray. ” The lyrics of this haunting song echo in my head when I think about my life on the river.* An eerie juxtaposition of natural beauty and heavy-laden humanity. Read the rest of this entry »
March 27, 2014
small brown rabbit
small brown rabbit waits
alert before white headstone
Aslan on the move
* * * * *
Late summer
I’m on a morning walk
Passing by the cemetery
March 24, 2014
Sexual Healing at Age 7?
Until the last two weeks, this question never crossed my mind. Now I can’t leave it alone. If the answer is Yes, how can that be? As noted in Unpacking My Suitcase, I’m not yet sexually aware. But I’m carrying an unwelcome load of something in my female body and spirit. Read the rest of this entry »
March 20, 2014
from the podium
from the podium
Beethoven in floral garb
conducts ode to joy
* * *
Things that gladden and soften me, Read the rest of this entry »
March 17, 2014
Unpacking My Suitcase
Moving from California to the Deep South marked the end of my early childhood. Though I wasn’t yet sexually aware, I was already carrying a heavy load in my 7-year-old female body and spirit. Because we didn’t have room in the car for extra luggage, I left behind more than I wanted to. I also brought things I didn’t want or need. Here’s what I’ve unpacked from my suitcase as of today. I have no doubt there’s more. Read the rest of this entry »
March 13, 2014
moss-laden oaks loom
moss-laden oaks loom
magenta azaleas blaze
deep south path through woods
* * *
Late summer, 1950
It’s past midnight
I’m asleep with Sisters #2 and #3
Are we almost there?
Mother’s tired voice wakes me up
Nothing but darkness outside
and cobwebby stuff hanging from tree limbs
A log-cabin tavern fades into view
Neon beer ads flicker on parked cars, old trucks
Daddy reluctantly stops for directions
He goes into the tavern.
Are we lost?
No. We just aren’t there yet.
Daddy drives slowly
No street lights no signs
The old road is dark, narrow, mysterious
Mossy oaks loom overhead reflecting
weak rays of yellow light from car headlights
Weary shacks line the road
Unexpectedly we pass grand fenced-in wooded lots with driveways to nowhere
Then modest houses and a few larger houses
The road ends abruptly.
Daddy stops, gets out, peers at the giant mailbox
He turns into the driveway
We’re there.
Deep South
moss-laden oaks, no blazing azaleas
Just heavy humid air, wealth next door to poverty, fiercely guarded secrets
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 March 2014
Google image – Springtime in Savannah, Georgia
March 10, 2014
Snatching Hope from the Wicked
It isn’t easy to snatch hope from the wicked. Just ask the women of Dawn’s Place. They know what it takes. So does the woman in Psalm 112.
* * *
I’ve re-worded Psalm 112 for women, with major thanks to Rabbi Aaron Lichtenstein’s plain English translation of all the Psalms, and a nod to the Good News Bible’s plain English translation of the Bible.
Psalm 112
Praise the Lord!
Happy is any woman who fears the Lord and loves the Lord’s precepts,
She will be a heroine, as will her children;
In a time of prosperity, her home will abound with wealth,
while her honesty is well known.There is a light in the darkness for the trustworthy woman,
who remains compassionate, merciful, and forthright;
Who gladly gives a loan while claiming no more than she is due,
so that she will never fail and will be recognized as reliable.She will not worry about a sudden crash, but keeps her faith in God.
Nobody can unnerve her, and her opponents soon turn and withdraw.Through regular generosity to the needy she attains a place of honor,
while the wicked stare in frustration, gritting their teeth in dismay.
Their hopes are gone forever.
* * * * *
Psalm 112 ends with the wicked, but it focuses on the woman whose daily life frustrates the wicked. She doesn’t take them on directly, but lives and breathes truth and hope to her family and her neighbors, including the stranger in her back yard.
The wicked have contempt for truth. They prefer big fat lies, false promises, fear and apathy. They want this woman to look the other way or pass by without noticing the needy human being in front of her. Someone’s child or a neighbor who needs compassion, kindness, forthrightness, generosity.
The wicked call out:
- Follow me! I’ll be your best friend forever!
- You’re special! You deserve to be happy, well-educated, treated with dignity, rich, adored and appreciated.
- Whatever your goals, I can help you meet them. No strings attached!
- You know, I really respect you. I’m not like other men. Trust me.
They lure their prey, then deliver sudden death—like ravenous lions crouching at the door.
I want to snatch hope, piece by piece, from the smirking, lusting deceptively attractive jaws of the wicked. This Psalm shows me what it takes. It invites me to follow the way of this godly woman, to make a difference–now and for the future.
Not everyone agrees, especially when it comes to human trafficking.
- What makes you think you can make a difference? This isn’t going away!
- That’s just the way it is, honey. Get over it!
- Why throw away your life energy, limited time, precious money and your already bruised reputation?
- Get real! If you think you’re making progress right here, it’s just going to pop up over there!
Lies. All lies.
Truth #1
If you or I touch the life of just one trafficked or at-risk person, that’s more than enough!
We’re not called to save the world. We’re called to get off our butts! Get interested. Listen and learn. Pray. Give. Take a risk! Make a ruckus! Show one needy person that you care. Refuse to look the other way!
Truth #2
Sometimes we think this is about them—the women, children and men being trafficked daily. It is about them; it’s also about us.
We’re all damaged goods. Damaged by contempt others have for us, and by our own contempt for ourselves and others. Human trafficking thrives on contempt for God’s creatures.
In the end, we need each other. Their stories remind us of our own need for healing, especially sexual healing. Telling our stories to each other brings the truth into light. The truth about us, not just about them.
Truth #3
Ultimately, this is God’s battle. Yet like God, Moses and the Hebrew slaves, there’s no delivery from human slavery unless we do our part. Perhaps we think we have nothing to offer, or that our friend over there is better suited for this battle! Not so.
In the end, God calls each of us to BE hope, not just to ‘have’ hope or ‘talk about,’ ‘reflect upon’ or even read another book about hope.
In fact, we might also be surprised by hope! Our hidden hopelessness needs the bright light of truth, grace and healing. Healing begins when our stories connect with the stories of others. Especially the stories of women, men and children at risk of being bought, sold, used, abused, damaged, forgotten and discarded.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 March 2014
First presented to a gathering of women in December 2013
Image: Dawn’s Place logo
March 6, 2014
passing through
passing through
silent white headstones
urge me on
* * * * *
Sister #3
who showed me
how to live and how to die
My Colleague
who told his family story
with tears streaming down his face
My Piano Teacher
who knew me inside out
and told me I needed a boyfriend
My Mother
who began to know me
inside out and longed to know more
My Brother-in-Law
who never told anything
but the full blunt-naked truth about life
My Theology Professor
who encouraged me to speak in
my distinct voice without shame or apology
My Quaker Employer
who thanked me in writing for
relational gifts I didn’t know I possessed
Members of a Great Cloud of Witnesses
gone in body from this earth
present in my spirit
Haiku written 18 August 2012
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 March 2014
March 3, 2014
Dear California Grandpa,
Summer 1951
I’ve been wanting to write you a private letter for a long time. Mother and Daddy won’t let me send you letters they haven’t read first. They don’t want me to tell you anything sad or anything about money. But I’m not going to show them this letter. It’s just for you. Read the rest of this entry »
