Today, the 5th of July, I joked with our FedEx delivery driver about having all of his fingers on the day after The Fourth Of July celebration. He removed his glove and showed me that he is actually missing his thumb.
Then he told me more of the story. In the country where he comes from he worked in a factory that made wheels. In an industrial accident his thumb was badly injured. At the hospital they had two choices of treatment. Those who had money had their fingers repaired. For those who could not pay for the repair the treatment was amputation. And that is why he has nine fingers today.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
I stand with the sisters --buttons
We have a basket full of special campaign buttons that state “I stand with the sisters.” They are on display near our cash register for visitors to take and wear as it suits them. I am in full support of the women religious (nuns) and their plight with the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. In my humble opinion the women have been doing the work of Jesus in their daily lives and work as they see it, for centuries. The bishops are wrong in attempting to curtail their work, for whatever reason.
The buttons express the wearer’s support of women religious. I wore one the first day. I have not worn one in the past few days. Nancy, immediately upon seeing them this morning, pinned one to her blouse.
My reluctance to wear a button has me trying to discern my feelings. Obviously I support the women in the devastating decision by the male leaders of their denomination. I can, and have placed political yard signs in my yard, at times. But I have resisted putting political stickers on my car and have not been known to wear buttons.
As I think about it, I think (but the person any one of us can fool the easiest is ourselves) that my reluctance to wearing a button is that I do not want to draw attention to myself (yet I am writing this message, these thoughts, that can be read by people I may not know).
You go, you women religious. Stand up for your values and your ministries. Speak truth to power. I support you. I just think that I’m going to leave the buttons in the basket on the counter.
The buttons express the wearer’s support of women religious. I wore one the first day. I have not worn one in the past few days. Nancy, immediately upon seeing them this morning, pinned one to her blouse.
My reluctance to wear a button has me trying to discern my feelings. Obviously I support the women in the devastating decision by the male leaders of their denomination. I can, and have placed political yard signs in my yard, at times. But I have resisted putting political stickers on my car and have not been known to wear buttons.
As I think about it, I think (but the person any one of us can fool the easiest is ourselves) that my reluctance to wearing a button is that I do not want to draw attention to myself (yet I am writing this message, these thoughts, that can be read by people I may not know).
You go, you women religious. Stand up for your values and your ministries. Speak truth to power. I support you. I just think that I’m going to leave the buttons in the basket on the counter.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Grandma Marshall, Tavis Smiley, & vacationing in Duluth
Yesterday I heard part of the Tavis Smiley show on National Public Radio. In the segment that I heard Tavis was interviewing a man who encouraged families to take their children into the wilderness in order to help teach the children the importance of wilderness in all of our lives. Part of his reasoning was that when children grow up knowing the value of wilderness we will be less inclined to agree to the removal of the natural resources, especially energy reserves, stored in the few remaining wilderness areas so that the those wilderness areas can be preserved in their natural state for the generations to come.
Tavis asked the man he was interviewing how poor families from the inner city could achieve that goal of having their children experience wilderness life.
I have an answer for Tavis. To my mind it fits with Tavis’ ongoing encouragement of each of us to live up to our potential. We can each do it if we put our minds to it and commit to it.
This is a family story that I been told by Dad about his life as a child, living in Duluth MN.
My paternal grandmother, Mary Richardson Marshall, was a petite woman no taller than 5’ 2”. She and her husband, always referred to as The Duke, lived in Duluth MN in the early 1900s where The Duke worked for the Northern Pacific Railway Company. For railroad workers at that time vacations were not included as part of their employment.
The Duluth Marshalls did not own a car and generally had no need of one. Here is the tale of how each summer Grandma Marshall took the family children, and sometimes their friends, on vacation.
After preparing for the vacation Grandma Marshall would hire a taxi to pick them up at their home. The canoe would be loaded on top of the cab and all of the stuff they needed for a week’s vacation was stuffed inside along with the kids and Grandma. The taxi would deliver them to the train station. Grandma loaded the kids and their stuff on the passenger train, canoe included. An hour or so outside of Duluth the train stopped and the entourage’ was unloaded from the train.
The canoe was filled with all their gear. Then everyone pitched in to carry the canoe about one mile down a path to the lake. Grandma Marshall and the tribe of kids camped at the lake for a week. They caught fish for dinner. They swam, played, and camped out.
At the end of the week they reversed the process. They carried the loaded canoe back to the train stop where they flagged down the passenger train. Everything was loaded on the train, and then transferred to a taxicab for the ride home.
My father said that Grandma Marshall organized this vacation every summer for several years.
Tavis asked the man he was interviewing how poor families from the inner city could achieve that goal of having their children experience wilderness life.
I have an answer for Tavis. To my mind it fits with Tavis’ ongoing encouragement of each of us to live up to our potential. We can each do it if we put our minds to it and commit to it.
This is a family story that I been told by Dad about his life as a child, living in Duluth MN.
My paternal grandmother, Mary Richardson Marshall, was a petite woman no taller than 5’ 2”. She and her husband, always referred to as The Duke, lived in Duluth MN in the early 1900s where The Duke worked for the Northern Pacific Railway Company. For railroad workers at that time vacations were not included as part of their employment.
The Duluth Marshalls did not own a car and generally had no need of one. Here is the tale of how each summer Grandma Marshall took the family children, and sometimes their friends, on vacation.
After preparing for the vacation Grandma Marshall would hire a taxi to pick them up at their home. The canoe would be loaded on top of the cab and all of the stuff they needed for a week’s vacation was stuffed inside along with the kids and Grandma. The taxi would deliver them to the train station. Grandma loaded the kids and their stuff on the passenger train, canoe included. An hour or so outside of Duluth the train stopped and the entourage’ was unloaded from the train.
The canoe was filled with all their gear. Then everyone pitched in to carry the canoe about one mile down a path to the lake. Grandma Marshall and the tribe of kids camped at the lake for a week. They caught fish for dinner. They swam, played, and camped out.
At the end of the week they reversed the process. They carried the loaded canoe back to the train stop where they flagged down the passenger train. Everything was loaded on the train, and then transferred to a taxicab for the ride home.
My father said that Grandma Marshall organized this vacation every summer for several years.
Monday, May 7, 2012
A customer's reply to ordering a calendar in the month of May
I will share with you that I spilled a bowl of chili (yes, chili!) on my 2012 calendar yesterday and was glad that you had one in stock.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Starfish, Earth Day, and us
A good sermon is one that I remember beyond Sunday, or even beyond the parking lot at church.
Last Sunday The Rev. Fletcher Davis gave a memorable Earth Day sermon, tied to the Gospel lesson. Here is the image from the sermon that has stuck with me.
On a saltwater beach after a large storm a caring individual saw many starfish that had been tossed by the storm high up the beach. They had attached themselves to the seawall way above their normal habitat. They would not survive way up there. A thoughtful beach walker began peeling one starfish after another off of the seawall and with a strong thrust throwing them back into the water where they would have a much better chance of surviving.
A person walking down the beach saw the tossing of the starfish, stopped and asked, “What are you doing? You know that you cannot save them all. There are too many of them.”
The individual replied, “That may be true, but I …. Can …. save…THIS…One” as the starfish was, with effort, hurled back into the sea.
The moral that sticks with me is that I may not be able to effect much change in our world, but I can do something.
Last Sunday The Rev. Fletcher Davis gave a memorable Earth Day sermon, tied to the Gospel lesson. Here is the image from the sermon that has stuck with me.
On a saltwater beach after a large storm a caring individual saw many starfish that had been tossed by the storm high up the beach. They had attached themselves to the seawall way above their normal habitat. They would not survive way up there. A thoughtful beach walker began peeling one starfish after another off of the seawall and with a strong thrust throwing them back into the water where they would have a much better chance of surviving.
A person walking down the beach saw the tossing of the starfish, stopped and asked, “What are you doing? You know that you cannot save them all. There are too many of them.”
The individual replied, “That may be true, but I …. Can …. save…THIS…One” as the starfish was, with effort, hurled back into the sea.
The moral that sticks with me is that I may not be able to effect much change in our world, but I can do something.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Balancing a dichotomy in military life
We received an order for Prayer Book for the Armed Services for a chapel at a military base in the U.S. today. We are glad to help supply our service men and women with books for their spiritual needs.
Perhaps it is “of course” a chapel at an army base would include as part of the signature, “Faith and Firepower.” It sticks with me the dichotomy of trying to hold both parts of a serviceperson’s life together that is reflected in that closing statement. The Army is rightfully about firepower. The individual humans in the Army also have a spiritual side that can be described as faith.
How do they hold those two parts of their in balance?
Perhaps it is “of course” a chapel at an army base would include as part of the signature, “Faith and Firepower.” It sticks with me the dichotomy of trying to hold both parts of a serviceperson’s life together that is reflected in that closing statement. The Army is rightfully about firepower. The individual humans in the Army also have a spiritual side that can be described as faith.
How do they hold those two parts of their in balance?
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