Why Didn't Someone DO Something?

Earlier this week upon entering the neighborhood branch of my bank, I was annoyed by the sight of a flat panel television, mounted on the wall, appropriately tuned to CNN.  The annoyance originated with a recurring thought  that it seems we are being conditioned to expect entertainment at every turn.  Think of where monitors are found today:  grocery store aisles and checkout counters, gas pumps, offices, and more.  Have you been to a basketball game lately?  There is no moment of inactivity.  Timeouts are filled with women wearing skimpy uniforms, smiling broadly to show off their five-figure laser-bright dental work, and shaking their boobs and back sides while bouncing their bobbled heads.  Or beer-breathed bubbas race down to try to shoot a basket from half court to win whatever prize awaits.  And when all else fails, blaring music prompts many who have a sense of rhythm, and more who don't, to cut a jig at their seats or in the aisles.  It is bad enough that hard-working folks pay huge sums of money for tickets and concessions to watch grown men play a game and make more than a lifetime of the average person's income, in one season.  Yep, we get more, much more than our fair share of entertainment, so much so, that the lack of attention to detail and/or anything matter of substance, is ever increasing.

All of these thoughts were hammering away in my head, when my attention was drawn to the annoying monitor.  I was captivated by a video, and watched as people passed by a man lying on a New York sidewalk, bleeding.  At least seven people walked past this man.  Did anyone stop?  Well, a couple of folks most surely did.  One stopped, lifted the man's body, exposing the blood.  Then, he walked away.  Another man stopped, brandished his mobile phone and took a picture of the wounded man.  Did he make a phone call?  No.  He walked away.  So overcome was this writer, that she had to exit the bank and take refuge in her Jeep so as not to make a spectacle of herself in the bank.

As I sat in my vehicle, I could not help but try to imagine what the man's thoughts were as he lay on the sidewalk, dying.  His wounds were sustained in an effort to help another, who did not hang around, nor call for assistance.  I thought of some of the times I had been in distress.  Once at a Greenway Plaza office building in Houston, there was an evacuation.  I was on the 28th floor.  Having a chronic medical condition, I did not look forward to walking down so many stairs to the first floor, but there was no choice.  On my way down, I was passed by more able-bodied folks who did not always take care to avoid contact with me.  I was jostled by a crowd coming from a floor occupied by an investment firm, the median age of its employees being 21.  It was all I could do to cling to the rail while the human herd stampeded past in their descent.  When I finally reached the ground floor and walked outside, my knees buckled when I had nothing to hold onto, and I toppled over, to the amusement of some of the folks standing around.   On the other hand, I also remembered an episode at the post office in downtown Houston, when, as I turned to reach for a pen, a stabbing pain and a locked joint dared me to straighten up.   Not only postal workers, but customers offered me assistance.  

Episodes like the one in New York make us wonder what has happened to humankind in general.  Yes, there has always been evil in the world.  And this is far worse than plain old evil.  Evil is relatively easy.  You see it, recognize it for what it is, and deal with it accordingly.  However, indifference is in a zone all to itself.  Indifference can inject itself into our veins, infecting us with a that's not my problem attitude.  I am reminded of a question proffered by my pastor, Steve Wells, during a Wednesday evening Bible study:  What is the opposite of love?   Naturally, some replied hate.  No, not hate, but indifference. 

Think about it:  did the folks -- at least seven of them -- bypass the wounded man because they hate him?  Is it logical to assume that they hate him?  I think not.  There is no indication of hate.  There is, however, an indication of indifference.  How else could it be, other than no one showed any care or concern for the wounded man, except they lacked love -- that basic benevolent concern for another human being.    I cannot help but wonder if a known personality were to lay on a sidewalk, not even injured, how long it would take for scores of people -- and even more media -- to show up. 

So, what is the deal?  Simply this:  we have become desensitized to any external stimulation that does not serve our need for constant entertainment.  We are charter members of the "IT'S ALL ABOUT ME" club.  And since we care for no one but ourselves, each person has his own chapter of the IT'S ALL ABOUT ME club, with a total membership of one.  And as was told to me years ago, the one who lives by oneself, for oneself, and in oneself, is always contaminated by the company one keeps.

What about the seven or more who passed by Hugo Alfred Tale-Yax (yep, he has a name, too).  Have they given him a thought since the moment of their encounter with him?  What if the next such incident involves someone they know?  Someone they think they care about?  Will there be cries of indignation?  Will there by weeping, waling, gnashing of teeth?  An offering of a reward for such a heinous act?  Impromptu shrines?  Candlelight vigils?  Press conferences?  When it matters to them, what will be the aftermath?  Will they wonder why didn't someone DO something?  

In case you haven't noticed, we have been lulled into a false sense of "okay-ness" where fluff matters and substance is inconsequential.  We have been indoctrinated to think that everyone else's problems are just their's.  What we have failed to remember is that what happens to one happens to us all.  When all of us matter, we will all do something.

BEST POEM IN THE WORLD

Do you ever see or hear something and think I wish I could have thought of that!?  Well, for what I will share with you here, I had the same thought.  Many thanks to my distinguished colleague in San Antonio, Texas, R. Neff, for sending this to me:

I was shocked, confused, bewildered 

As I entered Heaven's door, 

Not by the beauty of it all, 

Nor the lights or its decor. 

But it was the folks in Heaven 

Who made me sputter and gasp-- 

The thieves, the liars, the sinners,

The alcoholics and the trash. 

There stood the kid from seventh grade 

Who swiped my lunch money twice. 

Next to him was my old neighbor 

Who never said anything nice. 

Bob, who I always thought 

Was rotting away in hell, 

Was sitting on cloud nine, 

Looking incredibly well. 

I nudged Jesus, 'What's the deal? 

I would love to hear Your take. 

How'd all these sinners get up here? 

God must've made a mistake. 

'And why is everyone so quiet, 

So somber - give me a clue.' 

'Hush, child,' He said,

'they're all in shock. 

No one thought they'd be seeing you.' 

Just live; just worship

It was a rehearsal like any other, and yet, it was unique in its own way.  As usual, our gathering began with a little stretching of most bodies tired from the day, and vocal exercises for already strained voices.  Still we go through these exercises and find that afterwards we are, as usual, a little more relaxed and a lot more focused on the plan of attack devised by our minister of music.

As the rehearsal progressed from one musical work to the next, it was more like worship.  Getting caught up in the message and movement of a song is nothing new to this writer.  And it matters not when or where.  Somewhere in the middle of "At the Name of Jesus, every knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord" the 60 or 70 or so folks seemed to number in the thousands.  At that moment I was reminded of soap-box speeches from years ago, reminding my choirs that worship is not just what you do on Sunday morning; it's about how you live.  Tonight I was reminded that even in the process of preparing for worship, there is worship indeed.

I cannot help but wonder if remaining mindful that living is itself a form of worship, will folks see -- hear -- and experience from this vessel -- more of Christ and less of Andrea?   We shall see.

Progressive Think????

Today I received an e-mail, via Twitter, from someone inviting me to be a "guest blogger" at "progressivethink"  Since this is not the run-of-the-mill junk/spam, I went to the blogsite to explore.

Like most folks who use labels to define themselves and other folks, it appears from a cursory inspection that Progressive Think is yet another six-sided confinement, a/k/a a box, in which one must fit in order to comport with that blogsite's standards.  Taken aback, I trotted over to m-w.com to reassure myself of the meaning of the word "progressive."   "Of, relating to, or characterized by progress" is one thing.  And "thinking like our founding fathers" is not necessarily a bad thing.  But considering that holding slaves was not beneath many of our founding fathers, this particular descendant of slaves cannot help but wonder, which part of "thinking like our founding fathers" do the good folks at progressivethink have in mind?  And while I do not agree with President Obama's positions on all matters (as I have never agreed with any President, regardless of political label, on all matters), it appears that if I am an Obama supporter, my writing would not be appropriate for progressivethink.  In other words, I am free to express myself on that site as long as my thoughts align with theirs.   And they dare to invoke belief in the Constitution.  Perhaps an exception is made as to the First Amendment.  And what about those other good old Amendments?  If the first is excepted, are the 13th et seq. excepted as well?  In other words, is this writer of the Darker Nation considered slave or free?  Fractionally or wholly human?

I am reminded of a recent sermon or Bible study (I forget which, and I guess it really doesn't matter), Pastor Steve Wells reminded us that centuries ago the word "awful" had a meaning distinctly different from how that word is used today.  With that thought in mind, I am trying to conjure up what the good folks at progressivethink intend for the words "progressive," "conservative," and "libertarian" to mean as used in the context of that blogsite.  Perhaps they are akin to what some folks call the "good old days."  Now those days are different, depending on whom you query.

Like it or not, this is one nation under God, for God is over everything.  Unfortunately, the "indivisible, with liberty and justice for all" part is under serious attack.  Think about the struggles and strife which dominate today's media.  Rather than pulling together, there are tugs of war.  Rather than pulling together, one group is saying "no" to everything that is productive and doable, and another is saying "yes" to everything that is ridiculous and damaging.   No one seems to be thinking about the good of the whole.  We are plagued by the party of everything goes and the party of no.  This writer longs for the party of reason and common sense.

And before my super-liberal acquaintances start their victory lap over this little blog, please take a look in the nearest mirror.  The bottom line is this: regardless of the label to which the reader subscribes, there is something radically wrong with whomever thinks that everyone who does not think and believe exactly one's way all wrong, and one is all right.

Get a grip, folks, we're all messed up in so many ways.  Why not stop the finger-pointing and start looking in the mirror?  I dare you to take a look.  See that?  That little zit on the tip of your nose?  You might be able to do something about that before you mention mine.  Now that would be progress indeed.

Kevin Bales: How to combat modern slavery | Video on TED.com

Kevin Bales: How to combat modern slavery | Video on TED.com

Litany of American Citizenship

Some might think the title of this post a little far-fetched.  I dare you to think about it.  As American citizens we have certain rights.  What many do not seem to understand is that with every right, there comes a responsibility.  Most folks want to tout their rights.  What about their responsibilities?

What responsibilities?  Well, I'm glad you asked.  And I answer your question with these:  How many elections have you missed?  Alright, forget about the ones during which you were genuinely ill and could not get out of bed to go to the polls and vote.  What about when it was raining or cold and you did not want to get out in the "bad" weather?  Or you just blew the election off for no good reason?  Like bowling or a basketball game or a concert or the next installment of All My Children which you videotaped but must see as soon as you arrive home from work?  Or beyond being incapacitated, non compos mentis, or seeing to the needs of someone else when absolutely no one else is available for the 12-hour span during which polls are open on election day, and you missed all of those opportunities to vote early?  What about the opportunities you missed for absolutely no good reason?

My contention is that for every time you, American Citizen, failed to vote, you shirked your responsibility, letting down your nation, state, county, city, school district, MUD, and even yourself and your family.

What was that?  What do you mean how dare I say something like that??  In response, I ask you, how dare you not vote!?


And why today, this muggy, rainy day (at least in Houston, Texas), do I bring this up?  Again, so glad you asked.  It just happens that someone for whom I have great respect, who has shown himself to be an upright man of integrity, forwarded me an email which I will share with you shortly.  I do not know its originator.  Upon reading it, my first thought was that if folks would go to the polls en masse and exercise their right as American Citizens, to cast votes for issues and candidates to whom the duty of representation is given by a majority vote, our country might be in better shape.  (This brings about another thought for a blog, concerning America's fix it all right now attitude when many of our "its" have been broken for decades, but  that will have to wait for another day.)  Instead, we allow the diseases of complacency and apathy to blind and paralyze us, cut out our tongues and devour our brain cells.  We become walking zombies, devoid of the ability to think, buying into every thinly veiled lie some long-term, blooding-sucking (oops, I meant to say tenured politician) tells us.

So, here we are in 2010, with the very folks who are supposed to represent us, fattening themselves at the country's trough, voting themselves raises and retirement perks for which some would kill.

Stepping off my soapbox now, and conveying many thanks to Robert N, here is the Litany.  I dare you to read this and blow it off:

CONGRESSIONAL REFORM ACT OF 2010

1. Term Limits: 12 years only, with one of the possible options below:
   A. Two Six-year Senate terms
   B. Six Two-year House terms
   C. One Six-year Senate term and three Two-Year House terms
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

2.  No Tenure / No Pension:   A congressional representative collects a salary while in office and receives no pay when they are out of office.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

3.  Congress (past, present & future) participates in Social Security:  All funds in the Congressional retirement fund move to the Social Security system immediately.  All future funds flow into the Social Security system.  Congress participates with the American people.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, server your term(s), then go home and back to work.

4. Congress can purchase their own retirement plan just as all Americans.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

5. Congress will no longer vote themselves a pay raise.  Congressional pay will rise by the lower of CPI or 3%.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

6. Congress loses their current health care system and participates in the same health care system as other American people.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

7. Congress must abide by all laws they impose on the American people.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

8. All contracts with past and present congressmen are void effective 1/1/11.  The American people did not make contracts with congressional representations;  congressmen made all these contracts with and for themselves.
Serving in Congress is an honor, not a career.  The Founding Fathers envisioned citizen legislators, serve your term(s), then go home and back to work.

Today is the Day to FIRE Sheila Jackson Lee

This writing is starting her day off behind schedule.

By now I should have been on the other side of Houston, heading out I45 toward Galveston.  This is too important not to take another few minutes to hastily post this plea to all who live in the 18th Congressional District of Texas.

To the supposed constituents* of Sheila Jackson Lee:  Today is the day you have an opportunity to get rid of the ineffective representation of Sheila Jackson Lee.  To make this happen YOU MUST GO TO THE POLLS and vote!!!

Mrs. Lee's supporters will tell you that her opponent, Jarvis Johnson, doesn't have experience.  Well, guess what office Mrs. Lee held before seeking the one she has now held far too long?   She was a member of Houston City Council.  And, guess what office Jarvis Johnson holds?   He is a member of Houston City Council!    In other words, the "no experience" plea is a lame attempt that has no foundation.

It is more than Mr. Johnson being a native Houstonian rather than a transplant.  It is more than Mr. Johnson having roots in the community he has served for many years, even before being elected to the Houston City Council.  The compelling reason to fire Sheila Jackson Lee and vote for Jarvis Johnson is that she has simply outlived her usefulness in the 18th.

Complacency and apathy are not characteristics of just the electorate; they are common symptoms of a diseased governing body as well.  And Mrs. Lee failed to get immunized against the disease that manifests itself in part with complacency and apathy.

There is another manifestation of this disease:  it is called selfishness.  Our representatives should be selfless in their service, not selfish.  If you are a resident of the 18th Congressional District, one of those folks the media and elected officials (and therefore, hired servants) call ORDINARY Americans, and had occasion to call an office of the 18th with a problem, chances are you were told either:  1)  you are not on the voter registration rolls; 2) we have over 500,000 people in this district and we can't . . . . blah, blah blah.  On the other hand, if your name is known for whatever reason:   pop star, athlete, unfortunate victim of a heinous murder a la dragging (not to make light of the horrible murder of Mr. Byrd), or hurricane, then you may see Mrs. Lee, but only via television or the internet.

The bottom line is this:  the 18th Congressional District needs effective representative of its citizens, someone who understands the root of their problems, not just sees the outcome, but what lies beneath.  The 18th needs someone in tune with them, not just folks in Vidor and Never Never Land.

The 18th Congressional District needs someone like Jarvis Johnson.   Whatever you do today, PLEASE GO TO THE POLLS AND VOTE!

_________________________________________________
*By the way, why do you think the phrase "supposed constituents" was used?  Well, I'm glad you asked.  Think really hard for a moment, and try to conjure up ONE instance in which you believe Mrs. Lee was representing you.  Well?

Remembering Charles

This is the third blog by this writer, the title of which begins with "Remembering."  It is also the most difficult, even though the end of this life's journey was more evident to me than most.  In other words, it was obvious that the end of this little stop along the continuum of eternity was near.  Still, as much as one thinks one has made peace with what is to come, when the news comes, one is never quite ready.  Hence, the jolt.

This writing, however, is not about the loss of the man who had such a profound impact on this writer, but about some of the many treasures that are his legacy.  A few of the lessons he taught by way of action more so than spewing verbiage, are what will be shared in this blog.

PEACEFUL DECORUM:  He did not raise his voice in anger, and would not engage in any discussion, even in conflict, in angry or agitated tones.  

APPEARANCES MATTER:  Even when it was no longer the norm to wear a suit and tie to work, he did so every day to set an example to the boys in his charge, of how to dress properly.

DISCIPLINE IS AN ACT OF LOVE:   After counseling/disciplining a child, he would pat him on the back and say "I love you, man."   When queried about this, he replied, "they need to know that somebody loves them."

LEADERSHIP:  As a supervisor he employed collaborative and situational leadership styles rather than dictated to his subordinates.    He believed that bringing out the best in people is easier when they are treated as who they are:  God’s creations, worthy of basic human respect and dignity.   And he believed that it is as important to know when and how much to flex and pull as it is to push and challenge.

COMMITMENT:  For more than half of his life, he served one body of believers in music ministry and eschewed all overtures to leave that family of God for any reason, including greater pecuniary gain.  In fact, he confided that he would not leave for any reason.   In his music ministry, he was not so much concerned about doing the top 10 as he was preparing music for worship that would help folks see Jesus.

FATHERHOOD:   Charles was a real father.  He did as much to nurture and care for my daughter as I did; and in many instances, even more.  He read to her, read with her, talked with her (not at her), investigated and chose schools, spent meaningful time with her at home and on vacations, shared his faith, and encouraged her and cheered her on in every way possible.  And because he was a real father, I have a genuinely wonderful Sweet Pea, who is a reflection of her father in so many ways.

IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL:    Despite decades of physical pain, Charles had joy.  Because he had Jesus.  Rather than wish that more could be like him, I am sure he would encourage all to find the joy that he had.  That joy is available to all.  That joy is why I dare hope to see him again.

Is This Life?

Is this life?

Lying still in bed

Never aware -- no way to know

That others care

No means to

Let go a giggle

Stifle a yawn

Shed a tear

Rise early by the dawn

See the sun shine

Spread warmth and cheer?

Is this life?

Day in and out

Always alone

With every thought

Up and down

Work all day

Home to hear

No one say

How did it go?

I hope it was great

But must have been busy

Since you're so late

Just couldn't wait

To have you home

Time for us

To be alone.

Is this life?

Through manmade power

Making hearts beat

If just another hour --

Or day week, month or year

With eyes, arms or ears

Too blind to see

Nor touch, nor hear

Nor can feel

A bird in a tree

A buzzing bee

Screaming sirens in the night

Noisy crickets out of sight

Trains on tracks

Keyboard-thumping computer hacks

A hug

What is life -- without a hug?

Forget the Status Quo. This is the Year of the Checkup!

That's the way we've always done it.
That's our tradition.
We've been doing okay.




The status quo -- the current state -- can be a dangerous condition.   Maintaining the status quo can cause businesses to fail, untreated illness and disease to denigrate the body, families to fall apart, and houses to collapse.


You are offered one illustration, one attempt to persuade you of the peril of maintaining the status quo, with economical use of verbiage.  This is apropo, since the status quo the members of the Texas 18th Congressional District this writing attempts to encourage to change, involves one whose verbosity is legendary.  Here is the one illustration:


For more than a decade the Texas 18th Congressional District ("the 18th") has been malnourished, existing on an unbalanced diet of doubtful nutritional benefit.   In all this time the 18th has not taken advantage of free biannual checkups, and instead has plodded along, content to continue its current existence.  After so many years of abuse (maintaining the status quo), the 18th is now plagued with all kinds of ailments:  rotting teeth, abscessed cavities, halitosis, acid reflux, hypertension, and more.




How much longer must the 18th go on like this?  Fortunately, not long, for this is the year of the checkup, a process which begins with registering to vote no later than February 1, and then voting for a new remedy in the primary election on February 16.  The new remedy is Jarvis Johnson.


Consider the benefits of the checkup:  an opportunity to develop new eating habits, repair damage to and rejuvenate the body, learn some new fitness techniques, get some nutrition tips, and basically get a makeover -- or if that term doesn't suit you -- an overhaul.   Whatever floats your boat -- just be sure to take advantage of the free checkup.

That Four-Word Sentence: Part I -- DTCs

Don't you find acronyms annoying?  I do, especially since there are few that are truly unique.  Take DTC for example.  I Googled DTC just to see what the results would be. Am I referring to Domain Technologies Control?  Dallas Theater Center?  How about Diversified Technology Consultants?  No; at least not this time.


In this Part I of That Four-Word Sentence, the focus is on DTC advertising -- direct to consumer advertising.  Isn't all -- or most advertising direct to consumer?  Sure.  But there are some goods and services that are consumed by each of us, to which the average consumer does not have direct access.  Take pharmaceuticals, for example.  Have you ever wondered why pharmaceutical companies advertise so heavily now?


The Prescription Drug Marketing Act established safeguards for advertising pharmaceuticals to the general public.  Advertising guidelines for pharmaceutical companies were changed around 1997, and in a seven-year span DTC advertising quintupled.  With this tiny snippet of background, fast-foward to January 2010.  This is what's happening:

• Pharmaceutical companies court the FDA, seeking approval of the latest and greatest, or new and improved prescription drug.  
• The FDA approves the drug.
• Pharmaceutical companies inundate the public with commercials about drugs designed to treat common ailments like depression, overactive bladders, erecticle dysfunction, and even some that many folks never knew existed until the commercial was aired.  (How about restless leg syndrome?  I never heard of that before.)
• The ads instruct consumers to ask their doctors about (Rx).
• The ads include warnings about possible side effects.  (Notice the chipmunk-like speed at which these warnings are given.  I am reminded of the tiny, extra-fine print that is used for car commercials.)
• In the meantime, pharmaceutical sales representatives descend on doctors' offices, promoting the new wonder drug du jour, leaving samples in abundance, and gifts for doctors in God-only-knows what proportions.
• Sales skyrocket!
• Next come the ads from law firms, encouraging anyone who has suffered the side effects of whatever drug to call a toll-free number to determine if the consumer has a claim.
• Lawsuits are filed, sometimes multi-party cases involving large numbers of Plaintiffs claiming damage from taking the (Rx) prescription.
• Courts are clogged with cases.  Cases are routinely referred to mediation (woe unto the folks who actually thought they would stand in front of that judge or have their day in court).  Generally, Texas being a "Good Old Boy" state, the appointed mediators are chosen judges showering unmerited favor on their good-old-boy buddies.

The four-word sentence of the day:  It's all about money.  So, where does it go?

1. Ad companies
2. Media
3. Pharmaceutical companies
4. Doctors
5. Pharmacies 
6. Lawyers 
7. Mediators

Indeed, it's all about money.

The Plague of Complacency: Why I Support Jarvis Johnson for Congress

Normally when I sit to write a blog, the sitting to do so is preceded by much thought, sometimes over a period of days or weeks.  Today's blog is not the case.  (I am well aware that I started a series about 4-word sentences and have published nothing other than the introduction, but this is indeed an emergency.)


So, what's the emergency?  As usual, I'm glad you asked.   One of my Facebook friends actually invited me to become a fan of person I have many years considered unfit for duty!


And, what's the big deal about that?  Again, I'm glad you asked.  Complacency is the big deal.  Complacency is what has  had a stranglehold on the 18th Congressional District ("the 18th") since 1995.  Complacency, and its first cousin, apathy have allowed the 18th Congressional District to be inhabited by a person, who like one of her, probably, most well-known predecessors, Barbara Jordan, is an American woman of African descent.  I dare say that is where the comparison stops.  Anything beyond that would have to be considered contrast. 


Unlike Barbara Jordan, who left the office too soon, according to most folks who remember her, the current 18th Congressional Representative has far outlived her usefulness in that capacity.  It appears that she needs to be reminded that the boundaries of her district do not extend to Jasper, Texas or the sunny state of California.  While the murder of Mr. Byrd via dragging was a most horrific event, and the demise of pop star Michael Jackson touched the hearts of many, these are just two of untold escapades of Mrs. Lee that have nothing to do with her work for the folks of the 18th.  If these extracurricular activities were not so commonplace, the common folks of the 18th might hear something other than lame excuses when they call their Representative for assistance.   This is not what I heard; this is what I know.   Of course, it is understandable that a Representative who does 99% of the talking and only 1% of the listening, would not have a clue.


While our current Representative may be a fine person, a good wife, mother, or whatever, she has far outlived her usefulness in the 18th.    It is time for the 18th to give Mrs. Lee a performance evaluation.   Other than making quickie appearances at church, community and sorority banquets, picking up plaques to commemorate God only knows what kind of award, honing in on press conferences that have absolutely nothing to do with the business of the 18th, and maintaining a staff who first checks to see if a caller is on the voter registration rolls before announcing that they have so many hundreds of thousands of constituents (which means they don't have time for the caller), one can only wonder what tasks regarding, relating or pertaining to the concerns of 18th ever get accomplished.


For years I have dutifully showed up at the polls to cast my vote against Mrs. Lee, all the while wondering why my fellow 18th'ers cannot see the big picture.  Unfortunately, there had been no candidate that even she considered viable competition -- until now.   I have known of Jarvis Johnson for years.  He has worked in the 18th before being elected to City Council.  He is a well respected man whose values are reflected in the way he lives.  People don't just know of him; they know him because he is visible and involved in the community where he has helped to bring viable improvements to its infrastructure and quality of life.  Leading by example is his mantra, and leading by example is what he does.


Now is the time for the 18th Congressional District to fire its representative.  They can only do that by going to the polls and VOTING!   There is NO TIME for COMPLACENCY, nor for its cousin, APATHY.  Believe and know that your vote is important enough to matter.  Make sure your vote is counted!  


For these reasons and more, I SUPPORT JARVIS JOHNSON FOR CONGRESS.

Haiti: A Message from Steve Wells, South Main Baptist Church

Just as my pastor does, I believe that the local church is the hope of the world. No time is that more true than in times of disaster. Like Hurricane Katrina, and now, the disaster in Haiti. Long after other relief agencies are gone, the churches will still be caring for communities. I know, because church like mine (South Main Baptist in Houston, Texas) have missionaries who live in other parts of the world. We are blessed to have these folks present to worship with us maybe once a year. My church also sponsors mission trips several times a year, during which members of our congregation go to places, among others, like Mexico to do construction and Peru to provide much-needed medical and dental services. Those of us who stay behind help with tasks to contribute to the completion of these missions. For these reasons, I take this time and space to share with you a message from Steve Wells, Senior Pastor of South Main Baptist Church.



As you are no doubt aware, the island nation of Haiti has experienced massive devastation in the wake of a serious earthquake and a series of aftershocks. We need to pray for the people of Haiti, and we need to add our efforts to our prayers. The finance and missions committees have authorized a special offering to provide relief to the people of Haiti. We will receive the offering for the next two weeks. Monies given to this offering will be forwarded to Baptist World Aid, the relief agency of the Baptist World Alliance and to the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. Both BWA and CBF have people in country now and will have an ongoing ministry presence in the years to come. CBF has field personnel in country and BWA directly relates to the two national Baptist conventions on the island. So the monies we provide will be distributed through established and ongoing networks. You can learn more about the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship on their website (thefellowship.info) and the Baptist World Alliance on their website (bwanet.org). Please pray for the people of Haiti and if you feel led to help financially, please give to this special offering by marking your check or envelope "Haiti." Grace and peace, Steve

That Four-Word Sentence: Introduction

Have you ever wondered why things are they way they are?  How stuff gets so fouled up?   How we (yes, all of us) have really made a mess of things?

What things?   You dare ask?   Just stand still a moment.  You might even want to sit.  Now, just look around and take stock.   . . .

What's that?  You don't see anything wrong?  Well, maybe wrong is the wrong word to use.  Without labeling conditions -- the situation -- just open your eyes and take stock of what you see.

..................................................................


This is the start of a new series the writer has been mulling over for months, fretting about whose feet might get stepped on (including her own), whose feelings might be hurt, who might take offense, blah, blah blah.  Then she had a thought:  Is this still the United States of America?  Well, I guess so.  Do you still have the constitutional right of freedom of speech?  Well, I'm supposed to.  Are you a hate monger?  Are you going to write anything to incite the masses to turn into angry mobs and perhaps kill the POTUS or even Palin the Pathetic?  Nope.  That's just not my style.  And besides, my stuff is not read by "the masses."  Then, what are you waiting for?  Duh . . .


......................................................................................................................


So, having decided to come out of the closet again, this writer has decided to proceed with this series.  As for  an explanation of the title, hold on for Part I.

A GodWink: The Personal, Handwritten Note

Alright texters, hear this:   You can exchange quick little snippets day and night on your mobile devices, laughing out loud, rolling on the floor or whatever, but you've not really lived until you've received a card via U.S. mail (you might call it "snail mail"), handwritten, addressed directly to you, and inside a note, handwritten, to you, and to you only.  


Today I retrieved such a treasure from my post office box, sent by a wonderful woman, a member of my church  whom I rarely see, and usually then only from a distance, but whose countenance and spirit exude such peace and love that it is just a good thing to behold her, wave to her and exchange smiles from across a room or down a hallway.  Her smile spreads warmth that can be felt, like a nice Pashmina draped over shivering shoulders, or the hooded "house coat" that belonged to my Sweet Pea's paternal grandmother, and in which Sweet Pea likes to wrap herself and hunker down for comfort.


On a day like today, [of which I wrote in my previous blog (Remembering Mr. G)], haunted by a premonition that something wasn't quite right, I received this precious and priceless gift of spiritual affirmation and encouragement, opening it just at the moment when I was about to lecture God on the relevance of human contact.  (Yes, I do have some nerve!)   Before I could plow into my soapbox speech (Now, God, I know You see me down here . . . . .), as I opened the card and began reading, God winked at me, and stilled my tongue and my thoughts.


So what's the big deal?   Think about what goes into the production of The Personal, Handwritten Note.

• someone has to think of you
• the thought of you has to be so compelling that the thinker is prompted to act
• in case you haven't tried it lately, and especially if your handwriting is like mine, some effort is invested to write complete, coherent thoughts that another person will be able to read, filter and understand the intended message
• there is some sacrifice involved, as in placing one's thoughts on paper, the writer is sending a part of him/herself
• the writer invests resources of paper, ink, envelope and stamp (for some this may not be a big deal, but whether great or small, the person who thought of you evidently thinks you're worth the effort)

As one who lives closely with Technology (yes, just as The Personal, Handwritten Note is capitalized, so has Technology taken personage, just like The Weight [lots of which I need to lose, but that's for another blog on another day]), and as much as I appreciate Technology which affords me abilities beyond my own humanity, the satisfaction of acquiring the many computers and peripheral devices I have acquired over the last 20 years, or working my magic as one of my lawyers still says today (even after 22 years of magic), cannot in any way measure up to the warmth and gratification of receiving The Personal, Handwritten Note.

Remembering Mr. G

Just now I learned that I lost a friend.  One might think us an unlikely pair to befriend each other.  He was old enough to be my father and from a socio-economic background and a side of Houston that in my childhood I would not have known existed. but for television.  Still, we had some crucial commonalities:  belief in God, a sense of fairness, trying to do the right thing, wanting to make things right when they're not, what marriage is supposed to be about (even though we are both divorced), an observation of folks' penchant for power and the corruptibility of such.   He was no saint, and would freely admit it.  Although I knew his name well and had known of him for 30 years or so, had he not needed my legal support services, we would never have met.

We had not known each other long, and our visits were generally no more frequent than bi-weekly.  But during those visits when our work was done, we took time to converse.  The subject matter of our discussions was not frivolous, nor their content pretty or politically correct.  We both spoke in a plain, straight-forward manner, and while respectful of each other, we never shied away from the issues of race, gender, wealth, professions, or any other factor pertinent to our discourse.  While we did not butt heads, he did observe and respect my willingness to question his positions and my unwillingness to rubber-stamp his declarations.  

I expected to see him yesterday, but never received a call to establish a time for our visit.  Since I last spoke with him either Christmas Eve or the day before (right now I'm now quite sure which), he has weighed heavily on my mind, more so than usual.  As I thought of him early this morning, I realized that I was more concerned about not having heard from him for the sake of hearing from him, than not having heard from him for the sake of whatever task he would ask me to tackle next.  And in my driving around Houston yesterday and today, I realized that I was thinking of him more than I was listening to my own music.  Now I understand why.  

My friend was as genuine and down-to-earth as any man or woman I have ever known.  His voice was as rich and resonant as his face was smiling and friendly.  His parents named him well, as in many ways he was his name personified, even while, during the time of our acquaintance, the last year of his life, he admits that he did not always do that name justice.

I soon recovered from the initial shock of the news.  So, why speak of my friend now, especially in a way that says he is not due to be canonized?  It is simply for the reason that I am reminded that none of us have come here to stay -- even if we want to, or try to.  Life is a gift of indeterminate ticks of the clock.  True, many of those ticks have been wasted by all of us in some quantity or another.  In hindsight my friend saw that waste and was trying to do better.  And today each of our "hindsights" can be used to plot a clearer, surer, more sustainable path to the future.  Notice I did not say an easier path.  As some of us can attest, it is one's quest for the easier path that can cause one to waste many ticks of the clock.

Well?  What about you?

The Real Joy of Christmas -- Part II

Here it is:  the evening of Christmas Day.


This writer's premature commencement of celebrating the Day began in early December with active participation in Christmas concerts with the Houston Choral Society and Antioch Baptist Church, followed by the mid-month Christmas Candlelight Concert at South Main Baptist Church, and then two Christmas Eve worship services (5:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m.) at South Main, and two really nice gatherings -- one with family and one with friends.  


And what about today?  The Day?  
Events?  Nicht
Concerts?  Nada
Parties?  Nein
Lots and lots of presents?  Beaucoup -- but not the tangible ones of which most folks will think.


Today was a day of uncommon peace.  No frenzied phone calls.  No traffic.  No let me think about it response after I laid out a myriad of reasons why The "X" Plan is right for my audience.  No.  No.  No.  Today I overslept, not being fully awake until 9:00 -- that's normally mid-morning.  So what was the day all about?  Nothing.  And everything.


Today I joined my daughter and her husband for an afternoon meal at one of the finest rehabilitation facilities, located in the Texas Medical Center.   We joined a close family friend who has been encsconced there for a few weeks now.  We ate a meal prepared and served by folks who were not on "holiday," which made me try to imagine what was going through one man's mind as he handed me a plate of Cornish hen, yams, green bean casserole and a wheat roll, with a smile and a Merry Christmas!.  The free-flowing fountain of carbonated beverages was bypassed in favor of a bottle of Tropicana Pure Premium orange juice with some pulp.  (Why drink trashily when there's good stuff to be had?)  I stood at the checkout, wondering what happened to the cashier, and when I stopped a passing employee, she said It's on us today.  Merry Christmas!


Visiting a place like TIRR can put one face-to-face with the results of one's mistakes or the bad decisions of others, resulting in severely broken bodies, or, as in the case of our friend, an illness visited upon him without invitation or provocation; it just sneaked in one day and made itself at home.  Our quiet visit was often interrupted by my son-in-law (truly he is an angel on special assignment to see after my Sweet Pea), as he would leave our table to assist other TIRR residents in their high-tech wheelchairs, and their guests as they maneuvered among the tables to be seated.


In the countenance of a young teen we saw the rawest anger, so strong that it pierced my heart.   We saw a woman, perhaps my age or a little older, with the sweetest spirit, so sweet that Daughter could not help but comment.   In a moment of bare-naked candor, Daughter asked our TIRR resident:  When did you stop being angry?  He replied, I was never angry, just afraid.  I would wake up and survey my body, starting with my toes and working my way up to determine if anything was different; and sometimes there were differences; that would make me afraid.  But after the second surgery, I wasn't afraid anymore.  


After our meal we returned our TIRR resident to his room, and as he got situated, Daughter said you know, any of us could be in here.  I know I've had some close calls.  But this has made me mindful to be careful.  Our TIRR resident agreed, adding that he knows that, comparatively speaking, he's still in pretty good shape.  


I stood at the window, looking out over the forest of concrete and steel in the Texas Medical Center, thinking about all that our TIRR friend has endured:  an illness that spans three decades, the unjust, unfair and unwarranted treatment visited upon him, the  people who could and should have stood by him and did not, and how when he answers his phone and is asked How're you doing? -- will always answer -- Pretty good.




So what about This Day?   That's what I've been talking about here.  Can't you see?  This day of uncommon peace had nothing to do with brightly wrapped packages containing tangible gifts.  The gift of this day is the uncommon peace -- the kind of peace in knowing that even though things are not as they once were, I'm still okay; that undeserved gifts and consequences deserved but withheld (we Believers refer them as Grace and Mercy) are blessings that go far beyond the inventories of the finest stores.  The gift of this day is the uncommon peace in seeing one who has every reason to be bitter and angry, resentful and hateful, and instead enjoys moments of scathing humor on the one hand, and deep-seated gratitude on the other.  After all, he's still in pretty good shape.


This day we celebrate what was, what is, and what is to come:  God in the flesh, coming to earth as a baby, growing into a man, gathering disciples, teaching them how to live, love, suffer, endure, and make more disciples, teaching them the same.  And one day, He will return.  That is the real joy of Christmas.

The Real Joy of Christmas: Part I

The Christmas season has become the most commercial time of the year, and each year it seems to start earlier than the year before.  Now, instead of the day after Thanksgiving, there is evidence of Christmas in retail stores before Halloween.

Every year we rack our brains

Trying to find the ultimate things.

When if we just sat still awhile,

We would save quite a mile

Of running hither and thither and yonder.

Running frantically, full of wonder.

What could it be that I could get

To give ultimate pleasure without much debt?

And all the while we wonder

If we will receive what we most want

What would it be like if we kept the Christmas sprit throughout the year?  – gifting our family and friends and the folks we don’t know that some of us only think about in December – we call them the poor  . . . the homeless.

What if we just gave from our hearts all through the year?  Would we be more reasonable and prudent with our resources?  Is there any other time of the year that folks typically go way overboard and beyond the bounds of their budgets?

Wouldn’t it be great to remember those who have less – or little – throughout the year?  I’ll bet you won’t believe this – but I tell you it’s the truth: you have never seen real gratitude until you have given a hungry person some food.

And you know what I’ve found?  When I really feel down, one thing that can pick me up is doing something for someone else.  It’s a whole lot better than searching for that perfect present – that car – that fur coat – that humongous chunk of compressed carbon (you may want to call it a diamond) – that Wii that's now $50 off and still too pricey -- that "free" $500 phone that enslaves you by means of a two-year contract -- and giving it to someone who may value the thing more than he or she values you.  (Take it from someone who was not valued by one who vowed to do so 'til death they parted!)  Don’t you think you’re worth more than a car?  A phone?  A fur?   A Wii?  Or a chunk of compressed carbon?

A Wealthy Woman Indeed

Thanksgiving Day 2008 marked the beginning of the end of my life as it had been for several years.  What followed were events that, even in retrospect and without experiencing the agonizing pain that accompanied them, I believe were the most egregious of my little life.  And right here, right now, on this Thanksgiving Eve 2009, I cannot help but have a profound sense of gratitude for the many ways God carried, consoled, encouraged, rescued and loved me.  He used the hands, arms, eyes, ears, feet and hearts of my family by birth and law, my family of faith at South Main Baptist Church, my business clients who are so much more than that, and two wonderfully gifted women who welcomed me into their labor of love for spreading the Good News through music.  And He used for good the acts that others meant to do me harm, all the while teaching me some painful and now much appreciated lessons.   My life is different now; a new chapter is in the making.  And most of all, I am at peace.  That makes me one of the richest people on earth -- a wealthy woman indeed.  What more is there?

My prayer for you, is that even in the darkest hour of your day, on the worst day of your life, and all others as well, that you know the peace of God which transcends all understanding, and that His peace will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

And as my pastor Steve Wells would say:  Go with God's blessings; go with God's peace.

.

Obstacles: Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing (Part III)

Just a reminder:

1. This writing is not about bashing your religion.
2. This writing is not about bashing your denomination.
3. This writing is not about bashing you.
4. If you take offense, well, I'll finish this item 4 later . . .

In Part I of this writing, we discussed how one's appearance can be used to include or exclude one from the "table."

In Part II we talked about the woman factor -- how male dominance of today's religious organizations is based, at least in part, on a misinterpretation and mistranslation of the Scriptures.  We also talked about traditions, and how maintaining the status quo can hinder the work of the Kingdom.

Let us turn to circumstances.  What do you mean circumstances?  You know -- STUFF.   The stuff that you think YOU have to change BEFORE you accept the Main Thing.   The stuff that YOU think gets in the way of your getting to the Main Thing.

Last week, I believe, the three CSI series -- the "original" set in Las Vegas, along with the Miami and New York spinoffs, devoted their episodes for the week to a three-part story about the present-day exploitation of  young women in very ugly ways (and, frankly, some way beyond this writer's ability to conjure).  Having dutifully recorded each of the three shows, I watched them back-to-back.  A focal character, common to all three, was a young woman whose mother reported her missing.

Sidebar:  Throughout my viewing of these three episodes, I could not help but think how real the kinds of incidents incorporated into these works of fiction, really are, and that somewhere, right now in the United States, just as in other parts of the world, these things are happening for real.  I  thought of my Sunday School classmate and Facebook friend, Dr. Joan D___, whose daughter works tirelessly to fight 21st century slavery right here in the good old U.S.A.  

One can surmise that throughout the CSI three-parter, bodies and body parts were in good supply.  But at the very end, the young woman was found.  I'll spare you the gory details of all that happened to her; feel free to use your imagination.  When the young woman approaches Dr. Whomever (I don't know the CSI character's name, and it really isn't relevant), she asks:

How can I go back after all that has happened?

His reply is something to this effect:  All you have to do is walk through the door.


The young woman, via the "CSI," had received a text message from her mother which said, in essence:  I love you, I miss you, please come home, I want you back.

That really does say it all:  I love you, I miss you, please come home, I want you back.  So, I ask you this:

Have you ever done something so terrible that when you think about it you just cringe?  You might even shiver a little bit and wonder however could I have done that?  Something that you're absolutely not proud of and you a very ashamed of?  It just makes you groan inwardly when you hear about it or even think about it.  It just tears your heart out.

We've all done things of which we are not proud, of which we are ashamed.  But there is some good news here:  I am reminded of a sermon about second chances.  In this sermon were mentioned several folks --  well-known Biblical characters who are just like us.  They have problems and obstacles and challenges and successes and relationships.  And some of them abused their relationships, taking people for granted, and really messed over them, really bad.  But at the same time, those folks, when they realized the wrong that they had done, and were grievously sorry for it – do you know what they did?  They went to God and confessed their wrongdoing and asked Him for forgiveness.  And you know what?  In seeing them in their sorrow and knowing their hearts, He forgave them and gave them a second chance.


Most times, it takes more than a second chance; often there are third, fourth and even more chances - because we fall down.  The key is to get up.  God is so merciful that if your heart is sincere, He'll give you the chance you need to get up and try again.  Isn't that wonderful to know, that there is One to whom we can go, Who will wipe our slate clean and give us another chance?
 

So, how can you go back after all that has happened?  All you have to do is take the first step through that Door.  As one of my favorite songs goes:  Everytime I run back to Him, He is waiting with open arms . . .  Just as the mother waits for her wayward child to come back, even more so does the Father.  The obstacles that keep us from the Main Thing are not of his doing, but are those of others, and perhaps even yours.  The sad part is that the very ones who would serve to block others from the Main Thing, are as messed up as the rest of us.  In their ignorance, they let their rules, regulations, rituals, sorry Scriptural interpretations and traditions keep others -- and themselves -- from experiencing the joy of the Main Thing.


Well?  What obstacles prohibit you from keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing?  What is more important than being made righteous by faith in Jesus Christ?  Does your new suit do it for you?  How about those new pumps and matching purse?  Perhaps more to your liking is the ill-prepared, aliterate self-proclaimed prophet, who speaks poetically, peppering his/her verbiage with alliterative points which tickle your ears without speaking to your heart.


On the other hand, what obstacles do you cast before others that keep the Main Thing from being the Main Thing for them?   Your dress code?   The little doily things that add no significance to anything, and definitely do not serve as a conduit of justification?  Perhaps you have a residential zip code requirement?  Or, maybe everyone must look, act and speak like you?  How boring is that?

And finally,

1. This writing is not about bashing your religion.
2. This writing is not about bashing your denomination.
3. This writing is not about bashing you.
4. If you take offense, well, look in the mirror and ask yourself why.  If you deem any rule, regulation or standard you adhere to more important than anyone's relationship with the Almighty, perhaps you should rethink your position.