Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Category: Spiritual Formation

July 10, 2018

framed by a doorway

framed by a doorway
reflecting evening light
the old woman smiles

caught between two worlds
long days shorten by seconds
stealing into night

distant mourning doves
serenade the close of day
twinkling stars applaud

What a strange time of life this is turning out to be. I’m torn in different directions. Not by choice, but simply because I’m here and not there, this age not that age. Though I know this is the last chapter, my get up and go instincts still want to go as though I were 40 years younger.

The most difficult word in the 3 stanzas above was ‘smile.’ My first take said the old woman ‘stands.’ Then I tried ‘smiles.’ And then I tried ‘sighs.’ Partly because I do a lot of that these days. Not sighs of sadness so much as resignation. Not quite like giving up, but an acknowledgment of limitations I would like to dismiss, erase, be done with.

This morning, however, I went back to ‘smiles.’ Why? Because I love the photo above and I love smiles. Most of all, because the best part of being an ‘old woman’ is the freedom to please no one but myself.

The myself of the poem loves standing there watching the sunset, thinking about gifts I’ve received in this life, smiling and enjoying the last bits of each day, doing things that bring me joy, and getting through the other stuff without a long list of additional duties waiting for me at work.

Hoping you’re giving and getting plenty of smiles today!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 July 2018
Photo found at cityofsacramento.org, Sacramento, California

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July 9, 2018

riding the north wind

riding the north wind
a train whistle blows my way
chasing after clouds

I heard the train whistle Friday evening when D and I were out for a late evening walk. A welcome sound, since it meant we were in for priceless cool Canadian air (no tariffs involved) over the weekend. We’re just on the tail-end now, headed back toward hot and humid.

This morning I’m sorting things on my desk, littered with yesterday’s brilliant ideas and lists of things I mustn’t forget to do. I’m also anticipating this coming Friday’s open mic night at our church. I signed on to read several more of my poems. A happy prospect.

Most of all though, I’m watching myself and our world with an eye toward heaven and an eye on the ground. This morning I read Psalm 10, a cry from the heart for justice to prevail, with the wicked caught in the very traps they made and set.

I couldn’t help thinking about George MacDonald’s At the Back of the North Wind. God sends the North Wind here and there to stir things up. Not with calm, cool or pleasant outcomes for everyone, yet always for the good of this world God still loves more than we’ll ever understand.

Below are the last two verses of Psalm 10, from Today’s English Version

You will listen, O Lord, to the
prayers of the lowly;
You will give them courage.
You will hear the cries of the
oppressed and the orphans;
You will judge in their favor,
so that mortal human beings
may cause terror
no more.

This isn’t about a magic wand. It’s about us doing with our heart, hands, ears, eyes and feet the kinds of things for which we were created. And in whatever ways we’re able. A faithful, refreshing north wind of interest and engagement is just as feasible as a self-centered north wind of greed and hatred.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 July 2018
Image of the North Wind carrying Diamond found at tor.com

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July 6, 2018

Small things fall to the ground

Small things
Fall to the ground
Combs and toy cars
Toothpaste and tuna
Rosaries and animal crackers
The sound of life denied
Drops into ground
Reverberating
With dashed hopes of migrants
Halted at the border
Of the promised land
Caught in webs of fear
And red tape
Studiously practiced
Perfected and delivered
By bureaucratic officials
Carrying in their pockets
Items deemed unnecessary
For human life from
The south side
Of the border

It might be easier if this were an isolated event or period of in our history. However….

In one way or another, the USA has practiced the fine art of dehumanizing perceived threats from the day the fathers and mothers of this nation set foot on its soil. The trail of destruction runs wide and deep like a river of blood through the Grand Canyon of our collective history.

Like an evil tide, forces of greed, pride and fear have overtaken and eroded the beaches of our shared life, fashioning mansions of sand and wreaking environmental havoc along our eastern and western coasts, and in our interior.

So now we’ve turned our attention to the southern border. As though sealing this up will remedy what we helped break into isolated bits and pieces now destined to remain fixed in concrete for the foreseeable future.

Thankfully, unnumbered children, women and men of good will, including courageous politicians, have stepped up to help ease the wounds. Not just those we perpetrate on migrants, but on each other. These human angels have been here from the beginning. They deserve our thanks and our support, especially now.

Here’s a link to Charity Navigator with  lists of trust-worthy groups that help immigrants and refugees. Take a look. They’ve done their homework.

Praying you have a life-renewing weekend and Sabbath rest.
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 6 July 2018
Photo found at censored.today

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July 5, 2018

The art of the deal goes South

I’m not against deal-making. It can be wonderful. I also know that fruitful deal-making takes time, patience, compromise, and loads of good will and transparency between all parties involved.

It could also be good that we now have in the White House a President who claims expertise in the art of the deal. I would also guess every President I’ve had since I was born knew how to make deals. It comes with the territory.

And yet there’s more than one way to make a deal. Though I’m not an expert on this, it seems Mr. Trump believes in one kind only. That would be the kind in which the winner takes all or most of the ‘loot.’ So that, in the end, he or she can say “I won!” And the other party will know that she or he lost, or came out with less than they had going in.

Sidebar: Mr. Trump’s imposing of tariffs on countries that don’t please him for various reasons seems to be backfiring. Witness their refusal to cave in and give him the victory he seeks.

Now I’m going to make a leap here and suggest that the pattern of Mr. Trump’s most recent tariff pronouncements look like the I win/You lose logic that’s driving our treatment of migrants along the Southern border. It may also help us understand our current treatment of immigrants who are not citizens of the USA.

Think of a tug-of-war. Clear winner; clear loser. I’m great! You’re not.

Yet there’s more than one way of making a deal. The best deals often end up with winners on all sides. We may not get everything we thought we wanted or needed. Nonetheless, we may get some beneficial things we’d never anticipated.

The Chinese Exclusion Act is a sad and sorry example of the I win/You lose style of making a deal. So are housing and employment laws and processes put in place or twisted around to keep certain groups of people in their places. Not overrunning ‘our’ protected places. We win/You lose.

I’m no historian and I’m not a financial expert. I just know that what I see isn’t adding up to success on the Southern border OR success for our country. Not here and not abroad.

The images I posted yesterday suggest an ill-conceived I win/You lose setup for migrants and for all of us. The first moves have already been made at the border. Appropriate quality of life and family supports have all but vanished. Plans for what comes next are vague or nonexistent. And there’s an air of secrecy about what’s happening now with migrants, and what will happen next.

Tom Kiefer’s remarkable photographs have given my eyes something else to look at and ponder, without looking away. Which is another way of saying I’ll be doing at least one more post on this topic.

What about you? Have you found ways to engage?

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 July 2018
Photo of toy cars found at the New York Times and on Tom Kiefer’s website
Toy cars are sometimes carried as mementos or gifts for loved ones; considered non-essential and discarded at the border

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July 4, 2018

Images I can’t get out of my mind

It’s July 4th. Our nation’s great big birthday party day. Yet as much as there is to love about our nation, right now there’s way too much of the other stuff happening. Whatever happened to the American dream?

On 2 July 2018, The New York Times featured an article by Laura M. Holson about Tom Kiefer and his collection of photographs, “El Sueño Americano” (The American Dream). Now retired, Mr. Kiefer worked as a janitor at a border crossing between Mexico and the USA. Holson writes,

There, he collected tens of thousands of items that were confiscated and thrown in the trash by Border Patrol agents from undocumented migrants crossing the border from Mexico into the United States. He began photographing the items in 2007.

“I couldn’t leave them,” he said.

Below is a small selection from his collection of over 600 photographs. Each photo includes Kiefer’s explanation about why these items were routinely confiscated. On one level, they document the stripping away of life-sustaining items from women, children and men crossing the border. They also say something (what is it?) about our nation’s ongoing obsession about ‘them’ and ‘us.’

You can find scores more at Tom Kiefer’s website. I find his contribution to our current conversation about immigrants seeking asylum invaluable. Worth more than written commentaries or debates about the fine points of the law. If you live in Michigan, over 100 of Mr. Kiefer’s photos will go on exhibit in October at the Saugatuck Center for the Arts.

Each photo includes Kiefer’s brief explanation about why these items were confiscated. The small toothpaste tubes and toothbrushes at the top were considered potentially lethal non-essential personal property, and disposed of during intake. Mr. Kiefer notes that “while in custody, most migrants will not have access to toothpaste and toothbrushes.”

Here are four other examples. The first two were considered personal items and non-essential. In addition, the combs and brushes were considered potentially lethal.

Next we have cans of tuna. Along with other food items confiscated such as beef jerky, granola bars, dehydrated soup and powdered milk, they were considered contraband and disposed of during intake. Mr. Kiefer notes that tuna is an efficient, compact source of protein, and that this particular brand had a pull-top lid.

Next we have heavy-duty gloves used for many purposes. However, given the desert and mountain terrain of the border, plus sometimes below-freezing winter temperatures, they were invaluable. Yet they, too, were considered non-essential personal property and discarded at intake.

Finally, a photo of an item migrants carried in their bandanas. Non-essential personal property. Discarded.

What’s going on here? I don’t know. But I’ll make my comments in another post, and would love to hear from you as well.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 July 2018
Photos found at the New York Times and on Tom Kiefer’s website (see links above)

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July 2, 2018

Little Things

After a long weekend without WiFi, everything is up and running today. Which means I have no excuse for not posting my heart out!

Over the weekend we had electricity, thanks to our generator, but no internet or telephone service. And since we’re total abstainers from smart phones, we had only our antiquated but perfectly fine cell phones to rely upon—though we must go outside most of the time to use them because our house is in a dead zone.

If you’re enjoying autumn or even winter-like weather, I want you to know we’re roasting along with countless others in a horrendous heat wave. Right now the temperature where we live is 97 degrees Fahrenheit, but it feels like 117 degrees Fahrenheit.

So now what? I’ve been thinking about the power of small things. The little things that, when seen from a certain angle, speak more loudly than all the words in the world. For example–

  • Fireflies in our back yard Friday evening as we sat on the back porch steps while D spent time on hold, waiting for various service representatives to help with our WiFi situation (help arrived Sunday afternoon). Nonetheless, it was a beautifully calm, not hot and humid evening. “We should do this more often!”
  • A little creature flitting about in the dusk—maybe a bat? We used to see hordes of them. They’re making a small comeback, though. Emphasis on small, and on hope.
  • A planet, I don’t know which one, setting on the southwestern horizon, dropping along the dark silhouette of an oak tree down the street. “Day is dying in the west; heaven is touching earth with rest….”

Here’s another example from our church bulletin on Sunday. Our Vacation Bible Camp children (about 200) collected offerings of their own money to help support a family in Nicaragua.

Here’s what their ‘loose change’ looked like at the end of the week:

  • 2956 pennies (1 cent each)
  • 439 nickels (5 cents each)
  • 701 dimes (10 cents each)
  • 818 quarters (25 cents each)
  • 5 dollar coins ($1.00 each)

Total: $331.11 – a reminder that even our worthless pennies and loose change are important in the economy of following Jesus. He gave what he had, even though it seemed very little, even useless, in the face of religious and political abuse of power.

Sometimes I wonder what I might do to become part of the solution. Especially to injustices that seem to have a vice grip on our nation and others. I feel small and lost when it comes to resolving deeply entrenched social and political problems.

In addition, it seems things are getting worse. Am I ready? If so, for what?

No answers. Nonetheless, my pennies count. What I see and say and point to matters. If not for anyone else, then for me. A small roadmap of where I’ve been, where I am today, and glimmers of where I’d like to be tomorrow.

For whatever it’s worth, your pennies count as well, along with what you see, say and point to. Especially when it comes from your heart.

Thanks for listening!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 July 2018
Top photo thanks to FireflyExperience.org
Last photo thanks to boingboing.net

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June 29, 2018

My basket full of gems

Friday. The end of a week of reading through a large basket full of notes, cards, programs and other bits and pieces of my life as an academic. So many gems, and I have more to go.

There’s a relentlessness about being a professor or an administrator. Especially the latter. Rarely enough time to appreciate what’s happening in the moment.

The bad stuff can fly away with the setting sun, as far as I’m concerned. But it’s those little stars that shine through the glaring darkness during the day that I didn’t have time to appreciate fully back then.

I know this for sure: In academic life it’s never just about me or just about you. It’s about all of us. It’s about the shaping of a generation that will hopefully do, say and change the way we do business with each other. For the better, of course.

Sadly, there’s also a sense of time running out. Not just because of relentlessly evil and despicable deadlines, but because we all have just so much energy to burn before it’s downhill all the way.

And so there I sat on the small sofa in my office, already on the downhill, picking bits of my past out of the basket. Surprise by surprise. Memory by memory. Tear by tear. Sometimes happy, sometimes sad.

It was a very good week. I haven’t quite known how to write about what happened during my seminary years. Going through my basket, I’m finally beginning to see a way of doing this piece by piece, keeping the focus on myself.

This morning I read an editorial about women who’ve earned a PhD. It described the writer’s sad experience of being dissed because she had earned a PhD, and because using her title (Dr.) on social media was somehow being a braggart, even though men do this without the same repercussions.

In a strange way, this helps me frame my basket of memories. I’m the proud owner of a Ph.D. which I earned all by myself (with the help, of course, of professors and colleagues). I don’t hide this reality. Yet having this degree meant everything and nothing when it came to negotiating the deep waters of seminary life.

It was important to lead with clarity in the classroom and in the dean’s office. It was even more important, however, to lead with my heart. The PhD was my calling card; my heart, however, walked in the door every day. Sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

This morning I was out early for a walk before the heat and humidity became unbearable. It’s a joy to be retired and able to walk outdoors, though I sorely miss the camaraderie of being with fellow pilgrims on a journey into the unknown.

Hoping your weekend includes Sabbath rest and time to enjoy being outside or at a window taking in our Creator’s great outdoor sanctuary!
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 June 2018
Photo found at chaumierelesiris.com

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June 28, 2018

In the presence of my enemies

It’s January 2006. I got to my office early, and was preparing to drive to the airport and catch a flight to Houston, Texas, to be with my sister Diane who was dying of ALS. She had opted for comfort care at home. No food and no medication. Just fluids and whatever would comfort her. This might be my last visit with her.

As I was about to leave my office, the phone rang. It was D. His premonitions were correct. The president of the university had just requested D’s resignation. So here it was, after several years of difficult personnel and budget issues.

No, D didn’t want me to cancel my flight. Instead, I flew to Houston in a stupor of spousal pain and rage, and gave D a call that evening. I continued as dean at the seminary. D was now free to follow his heart and eventually accepted a position with an international organization he’d helped birth.

Now it’s August 2008. I’m on a platform in the university gym along with other dignitaries. We’re in full regalia, ready for the fall convocation, installation of new faculty, and installation of the new chancellor of the university. The man chosen as the next provost, one of D’s friends and faculty colleagues, would be installed as the new chancellor. My job was to offer the installation prayer.

Inside, I was a mess. When the time came, I stood at the lectern facing the university faculty along with our seminary faculty. A number of university faculty had been unhappy with D’s administration. Some bitterly so.

On the outside I was a professional. On the inside I was in melt-down, shaking in my spirit and fully aware I was facing some university faculty who felt like enemies, along with many others who still grieved D’s resignation.

The newly minted chancellor stood next to me, and I invited everyone to stand with me for the prayer. It was simple and direct. And yes, it was a prayer for me and for D, not just for the new chancellor.

The prayer made use of Psalm 23. I couldn’t find the original script. It went something like this:

Because the Lord is your shepherd and knows everything about you, you will never lack for anything you need.
When you’re weary, may you find rest in green pastures, and follow your shepherd to pools of quiet waters.
When your soul is troubled, may you find restoration, and be guided in paths of right relationships that bring honor to your shepherd.

When you go through times of deepest darkness and despair, may you fear no evil;
Your shepherd will be with you, to find and comfort you no matter what happens.
When your shepherd prepares a banquet for you, and your enemies are looking on or sitting at the table, know that you are an honored guest in the Lord’s house, worthy of the best wine in the world.

Finally, remember that this goodness and mercy will be with you all the days of your life, and you will dwell in the house of the Lord, your good shepherd, forever.

Amen

I don’t understand all the dynamics of this event. Nonetheless, when I sat down I was calm inside, ready for whatever came next.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 June 2018

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June 27, 2018

A Prayer for Yesterday and Today

This morning I came across a prayer I wrote and delivered in May 2008, one year before I retired as dean. It was for our seminary’s special chapel for graduating seniors. It brought a few tears to my eyes, and I decided to share it with you. It isn’t easy to be human, is it?

Merciful, Gracious, and Most High God,

We come to You today just as we are
And because You invite us into your presence.

On this special occasion we lift up our graduating seniors
Our Brothers and Sisters, just as they are—
Filled with anticipation and perhaps a little anxiety;
Filled with excitement and perhaps a little uncertainty;
Filled with relief and perhaps a little dread about what comes next;
Filled with gratitude and perhaps a little disappointment or remorse.

We pray that Your will, not ours, would be accomplished in and through them.

We pray they will grow beyond this place in wisdom, skill and grace as followers of Jesus Christ, regardless of the cost to their reputations or professional standing.

Grant them grace and courage to grow
In and with their families;
In and with their churches and communities;
In and with their spiritual accountability partners;
In and with this world You love so much

Send Your Holy Spirit to keep their hearts soft and open as they move into new roles with more responsibility, and heightened pressure to look competent and successful.

Send Your ministering angels from time to time to remind them of their humanity, and to remind them that they are always beginners, always God’s beloved children still learning what it means to follow Jesus.

We pray that You would keep them and all of us as we learn to negotiate and inhabit this world You love.
A world plagued by natural disasters;
Political, ethnic and religious disasters;
Economic disasters and inequities;
Relational disasters and deep, unrelenting sorrow.

We pray for Your will, not ours, to be done in this world, beginning right here with us.
Your will for justice;
Your will for reconciliation and forgiveness;
Your will for courage to talk about and embody what makes for peace–
Beginning right here on the corner of Lancaster and City Avenues.

Just as we are, we come today to the foot of Your cross—
The cross that illuminates and is illuminated by the life You lived with us in Your son Jesus of Nazareth, and through the power of Your eternal Holy Spirit

We celebrate the degree of wholeness You have worked in us and in our brothers and sisters around the world.

We anticipate Your bringing all things to a conclusion in us and in this world
To Your honor, Your perfection, and Your glory.

To that end, we join our voices, our hands and our hearts as we pray together the prayer Your son Jesus taught us to pray, saying
Our father who art in heaven,
Hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come;
Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.
And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil;
For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever and ever.
Amen.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 June 2018

4 Comments
June 26, 2018

gibbous moon rises

gibbous moon rises
veiled in pink sunset clouds
set against blue sky

It matters yet doesn’t ultimately matter what was in the news, what I wore when I went for an evening walk, the country and circumstances of my birth, the reason I voted the way I did, or whether anyone cares about any of this.

As the sun sets, the moon rises. It invites me to join it in a large place defined not by what I bring but by who I am. Part of God’s creation, one of God’s beloved daughters and sons. Capable of reflecting and receiving light in what sometimes seems impenetrable darkness.

Standing at my window I pray and trust that the large Presence I cannot see with my eyes will become an even larger Presence in my heart and in my voice. And that I will recognize the same Presence in my brothers and my sisters. No matter the country or circumstances of our birth, the reasons we voted the way we did, or who cares or doesn’t care about any of this.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 June 2018
Photo of lunar eclipse taken by Alan Dyer, found at Amazing Sky Photography
Inspiration for haiku found outside my window, looking at the evening sky 

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