Happiness is not a matter of intensity
but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony.
-- Thomas Merton

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Protesting in Claremont


I am a brand new member of the board of Progressive Christians Uniting. We had a meeting today in Pasadena. I got home around 1 p.m. and drove past the Neo-Nazi protest on the corner of Indian Hill and Foothill Blvds. About 30 people of the Neo-Nazi group called the National Socialist Movement stood on the northwest corner calling out messages of white supremacy. They were completed surrounded by police.

Police were keeping watch from the top of the bank across the street.

The other corners of that intersection were full of counter protesters.

I read on KPCC's website that 200 to 300 people rallied at Memorial Park four blocks away for: social justice, love and intercultural understanding. By the time I drove away there were six people at the park. I was so glad to hear there had been more earlier in the day.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

The Things That Change Us


I went to Brea today to hear Helen Prejean, the author of Dead Man Walking. I heard Helen before, about 12 years ago. She spoke at the Manchester Church of the Brethren. She was engaging then and she was engaging today. Prejean is a nun with the Sisters of Joseph.

I want to tell you what I learned today. In California, 1 in every 3 black men between the age of 20-29 is in prison. Seventy percent of those in prison for drugs are people of color. Statistics show that more caucasians are drug users than people of color. Currently, California has 700 people on death row. In a thirty year period, California built one university and 27 prisons.

Prejean didn't just bombard us with statistics. She shared with us the story of how she got involved with death row inmates. It all began with a request from a friend that she become a pen pal to someone on death row. This work has defined her life ever since. She told us we didn't need a blueprint for our lives. We just need to be a neighbor. The things that change us are the times we see suffering and we can't ignore it.

Tonight I went to the Claremont City Council meeting to see Joe Lyons sworn in as a new City Council member. He campaigned on a message of sustainability. Congratulations, Joe. I am glad he is a council member.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Sermuncle


Bryan and I are back from Kansas. We went to tell my father "Happy Birthday" in person and to see my sister and her family. My sister and her husband live on a farm where they raise elk. In the Spring, the antlers are harvested for their velvet. It is always such a treat to visit the farm.
You can ride horses.
Enjoy their Great Danes.
Or relish the joy of an extended family.
And if that wasn't enough we went to a dinner theatre at McPherson College. Before seeing the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee musical they served us jello, ants on a log, alphabet soup and pigs in a blanket. I signed a piece of paper that I was willing to be in the musical as an "extra." I did it on a lark and I was called up to join the other "spellers." I was asked to spell the word "sermuncle," which is a short sermon. Who knew? I was picked to be in the musical so they could make the joke about there being no such thing as a short sermon. Since I am a raving extrovert, I thoroughly loved being able to participate.
I love family and I love having the family I have!

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Visiting McPherson Church of the Brethren


Today I attended church at the McPherson Church of the Brethren with my sister, father and husband. Because my parents moved to McPherson, Kansas in 2000, I have attended church here numerous times. One of the best things about this church, for me personally, is the way they love my father. In 2008 my father had a severe stroke that left him unable to walk and greatly reduced his ability to communicate. The Sunday after his stroke, my sister and I attended church there together so that we could thank the congregation for their prayers. The children's storyteller on that Sunday talked about my father and his love for plants to illustrate her point. I knew that my father was deeply loved in this place. Now my sister takes my father to church almost every Sunday. Everyone stops to greet him. He is so glad to be there.
Regional Youth Conference was held in McPherson this past weekend. The keynote speaker for RYC was Cliff Kindy, a Brethren man from N. Manchester, Indiana who has been heavily involved in Christian Peacemaker Teams. His sermon title was "The End of the War." He encouraged us to have a mindset of the war being over and to work for that end. "War is a lie," he reminded us. The participants of RYC were the worship leaders. You could tell that the children are very loved and encouraged in the congregation because when they came forward for the Children's Story they were irrepressible. They wanted to talk and felt free to share. The songs and responsive readings were projected onto the wall. The letters were all in white. This was also true when I attended Hollywood UMC. Somehow it looks so much classier.

We can dream about all kinds of ways to make our worship more vibrant and appealing....but the thing that most people are looking for is a home. They want to be known. When they come to church with their family who is visiting, they want us to welcome them. They want to know that if, God forbid, they should have a debilitating stroke we will remember who they were when they could communicate for themselves. McPherson Church of the Brethren is all those things and I am so very grateful.


Saturday, March 12, 2011

Houses Aren't the Home

I was born in Nigeria but I spent 12 of my growing up years in Kansas. I am in Kansas as I write this blog. I try to visit twice a year so that I can see my father who lives in the skilled nursing center of his retirement community. Bryan came with me and, of course, I had to give him a tour of the three homes in which I lived in Kansas.

When I was less than two my family returned to the United States from Nigeria. My father was extremely ill and not expected to live. Fortunately, he pulled through and we moved to McPherson, Kansas. My grandfather was the president of McPherson College at the time and we were poor waifs with a sick father. We moved into the basement of the "President's House." I called it the "Chocolate House" and that has been our family's name for this home ever since. My mother taught school and my father stayed home to recover and take care of me (his only child not yet in school). He said it was the hardest work he ever did. My sister, brother and I shared the one bedroom in the basement and my parents slept in the basement living room.

I drove by this house yesterday. As a child I thought it was a mansion. It had a room just for watching TV, after all. But when I showed this impressive home to Bryan, it didn't look that large at all.

When my father was well enough to hold a job he taught religion classes at the college. My parents bought their first home. I shared a bedroom in the basement with my sister. Some things never change. I started started school in McPherson.
I gave Bryan the tour past the McPherson Church of the Brethren, which sits right next to McPherson College. The college has a dorm named after my grandfather and so, of course, I had to show that to Bryan. Then past the first home my parents owned. I remember when cement was poured in the backyard for a porch and we all put our handprints in it. It has been 45 years since I lived in that house and I thought my handprints might still be in the cement. Silly me.
When I was ready for first grade my father decided he wanted to become a pastor. We moved 30 miles to Hutchinson, Kansas. "Hutch" to the locals. We moved into the church parsonage in a new housing development, not too far from the church. Sycamore trees in the front yard were still relatively young. I counted once that there were 32 children living on our street. We played hide-and-go-seek, tag, and kick the can most nights...until it got dark. I shared a bedroom with my sister. Some things never change.
Hutch was a thriving place to live when I was a child. Now it looks like a city on its way to becoming a ghost town. We drove past my elementary school and then discovered that my junior high no longer exists. We stopped at the Hutchinson Church of the Brethren and then past the parsonage. The sycamore trees in front of the home in Hutch were a bit taller.
How removed I feel from these growing up years. These houses seem so small and look so different from the homes I remember. I remember enough space, lots of love and family time. I guess a house can't continue to convey the living that goes on inside.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Moments of Respite




It was a busy, busy week and there were moments of beautiful respite throughout the week. I had lunch with someone at Mt. San Antonio Gardens. I arrived a little early and spent time wandering past their koi ponds. All I can say is, "Wow!" If you find yourself stressed and stretched I recommend hanging out in the sunshine with the koi.



I have been taking djembe lessons with Steve Biondo for about 15 months now. I wanted to take djembe lessons because it is music that really speaks to me. I have learned that either it is harder to play the djembe than it is appears or I am a slow learner. Both are probably true. We are now at the point in which we know enough pieces well enough to play short gigs. It feels good. Steve calls out the name of the song and we begin. When I leave my lesson my shoulders are less tense and I feel renewed.


Bryan and I were gifted with tickets for Saturday's Interfaith Sacred Music Festival at Hillcrest. The place was packed. We heard good music in several different styles. Our choir did us proud. It was a good evening.