Archives for October 2016

Dinner with Colin

pasta-spaghettimeatballs

Dear Colin,

You don’t know me. I don’t know you. But I want to have you over for dinner. I make a mean pasta sauce with hand rolled meat balls. Lots of garlic. I would spend all day simmering my sauce and cleaning my house. I’d get out my good dishes and cloth napkins. The candles would be lit and I’d ask Alexa to play some nice jazz.

Honestly, none of that would matter though. You see, I merely want to listen to you. While I have a plethora of questions tumbling around in my head, I truly just want to listen.

I read it this week. The war poem penned by Francis Scott Key back in 1814. All four stanzas. I read it and reread it. I begged my mind to open up, my presuppositions to fall away and my emotions to stand down. I read Key’s own words and studied his cases as a prominent D.C. lawyer. I’ve spent days arguing with my inner self over this information.

I’ve also followed your story, your brave actions on behalf of marginalized Americans. You inspire me to listen. To ask, to seek, to cry.  I desperately want to see real change.

What can I do? I’m not famous, I’m not rich and I feel powerless. I’m just a regular White woman. Yet, I realize that sounds like a lame excuse. I want my cage rattled so the angry lioness will roar, not to attack with violence, but to speak with empathy and concern for my neighbors and friends.

I am so sorry. But I’m listening, reading, watching, poised to act. Why 400 years seems to never end. Why it just morphs into something else. When will we stop the rhetoric, set aside this absurd not-so-merry go round and actively listen. How long is it going to take? How many more funerals do there have to be?

So, if you get this message, come on over. I promise to give you a genuine hug, an amazing meal and two willing ears.

Yeah, I think we could be great friends. Maybe you’d invite me to a game and I would be proud to kneel next to you.

May all your days be filled with hope.

 

I Hate Orange

Yep, it’s true. I hate orange. I avoid it unless absolutely necessary. I own very few orange things. A scarf I wear on St. Patrick’s Day, a pad of sticky notes (but I certainly didn’t pay for them), a kitchen unitasker, and an inconsequential embellishment on a sweater that was a gift from a dear friend.

I love several orange things however. Cantaloupe, the Syracuse Orangemen, and especially the glorious Monarch butterfly. As the summer daylight wanes, you can find me scouring the landscape in search of larvae and milkweed. I set up my little butterfly station in my kitchen and I marvel at the life cycle over and over again. I never tire of watching it. Kind of like my own personal version of “Groundhog Day.”

monarch

I want to play hooky for a month and just live a saturated Monarch life.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could just press pause on life whenever something glorious is happening? If we could drink it in, slowly, drop by drop without interruption? My life’s pause button would be worn out in mere days.

But we can’t.

So I attempt to slow down, receive the beauty, and repeatedly utter gratitude to the One who gave me the honor. I will press on toward intentional gratitude, even when I don’t feel like it.

What do you do to intentionally slow down? Reflect and share. While I wait, I think I’ll go throw out that orange kitchen unitasker.

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