Chaos and Conformity

In the early years after the death of my husband there was at least one person in my bereavement group that raised an eyebrow when I disclosed that God had given me three close friends who were also therapists... 

... and I will disclose to you (at the risk of your raised and questioning eyebrow) that just hours ago I asked all three for insight and reached out to my accountability partner too. I am distraught.

Today I am the woman behind the mirror. I am feeling trapped.

The chaos that is COVID-19 touched my life (touched all our lives) then took me down for a count and retreated into the shadows and even now is lurking there. 

I gave up hugging and playing with my grandchildren, and instead left gifts on the porch, smiling and waving through the windows.

I complied with the distancing and mask protocols at local businesses and friends' homes.  

I gave up cash and used a debit card.

I experienced the symptoms listed on the CDC website, consulted my healthcare POA designee and self-quarantined, then sought out and received written confirmation of a POSITIVE Antibody Test Result.

I worshiped at a nondenominational church that created space for wearing masks or not, and fostered respect for those who chose like me and those who chose differently.

I endured being verbally accosted in a restaurant by someone whose views I shared (no mask) because I was choosing to wear a mask.

I now habitually keep appropriate social distances in check-out lines and give wide berth to those who are wearing masks.

I am self-employed so did not face the choice to vaccinate or be terminated, yet I grieve with and pray with friends who are weighing that choice.

I felt and feel empathy, caution and sorrow, but no fear.

That is, until today, when a text arrived, "The venue has asked our ticket holders to review the COVID-19 policy." 

My desire is to see my adult daughter perform in Elf the Musical this coming November. The venue's COVID-19 policy stands in the way of my plans. I am angry and quite cognizant that my anger is almost always driven by fear.

I am not a good sheep quietly grazing in a lush pasture. I find that I do not trust the earthly shepherds. 

I am wrestling within myself, holding fiercely to my belief that to be vaccinated is a freedom of choice issue. I find myself bristling like a porcupine at the pressure to conform. 

I experienced the same chaos when just six weeks after the September 11 attacks Congress passed the USA/Patriot Act, an overnight revision of the nation's surveillance laws. I felt fear.

I experienced the same chaos when my husband and I refused to press charges against a young woman, and the "evidence" was twisted implicating me in a misdemeanor. The district attorney brought me in multiple times during the year that followed, threatening to charge me with a felony when I refused to plead guilty to the misdemeanor of his choosing. I refused conformity. I felt fear.

This morning, the venue's demand that I be tested or vaccinated collided with my desire to support and appreciate the arts. The chaos of COVID-19 had found the weapon painful enough to push me toward conformity.

I confirmed by reading the venue's policy that proof of the presence of antibodies will not be sufficient to give me access to the building. I confirmed by phone that all 1200 seats are available for each of the performances, rejecting the CDC recommendation for social distancing.

I researched my options. I spoke with people who are intelligent and informed and trusted.

I ordered three tickets for Elf the Musical.

I made peace with the idea of giving these tickets away.

I am moving forward, not by conforming, but by becoming better informed. 

I may submit to the policy. 

I may stand outside the door with a sign that reads, "They won't let me in."

I contemplate the cost of conformity and weep as I am reminded of the writings of Martin Niemoller: "First they came for the socialist, and I did not speak out-- because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionist, and I did not speak-- because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out-- because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me-- and there was no one left to speak for me."

I contemplate rebellion and remember the words of the New York Times best-selling author Jordan B. Peterson: "A certain amount of creativity and rebellion must be tolerated--or welcomed, depending on your point of view--to maintain the process of regeneration. Every rule was once a creative act, breaking other rules."

I look at the calendar and count out eight months... the window most researchers speculate is the length of time the natural antibodies will be present.

I think about the risk of adverse reaction to injecting a vaccine in month seven while these antibodies are naturally occurring within me.

I look at the recommendations and policies of another venue with which I am familiar and count out the 14 days prior to the performance recommended for those of us who may choose to vaccinate in order to attend.

I research the risks and benefits of the available vaccines and select a local medical provider that could facilitate.

As the sun moves beyond the horizon and the night sky darkens, I read from the Psalms, taking in the ancient wisdom and giving my fear to God.

Praise the LORD. Praise the LORD, my soul. I will praise the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save. When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing. Bless are those whose help is in the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD their God... (more)

Rw

The Night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I see your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and stars that you set in place—What are humans that you are mindful of us, human beings that you care for us?

I step out into the night.

I turn in awe 

to the night sky 

the stars uncountable, across the velvet darkness.

The shapes of pine trees

tower over me, dark silhouettes

growing, stretching, reaching

toward the heavens.

The crickets fidget

the familiar sound, a fitting accompaniment

to the movement of the stars.

In the tall grass

at the edge of the lawn

fireflies dance.

The night world worships God.

Rw

Psalm 8:3-4 more

Midway Telephone Company (again)

 Among the list of posts unpublished in 2011 were six drafts

~ the fifth draft entry contained this 1949 news:

The Medford exchange of the Midway Telephone Company installed its first dial tone Saturday afternoon, which was added to the equipment for the purpose of convenience to the customers. When the receiver of the phone is lifted and the line is clear there is a distinct tone that can be heard. After the first number has been dialed the tone disappears if the line is clear, and if it doesn't it is a clear indication that the line is out of order or in use.
—The Star News, 3 March 1949 The Time Machine

dusty family treasures

The child-me remembers
the power often going out
in high winds, winter storms,
sitting around our table,
me with my sister and mom,
soft candlelight. When winds
rattled windows, dad wasn't
at home with us. As a lineman,
he was out in the storm, atop
telephone poles, making repairs.

me
1:25am arrival

The story of my birth is set in a winter storm, the onset of labor inviting my dad in from a bitter cold winter night ... when I finally arrive and my dad is called into her hospital room, mom bursts into tears, a response to the overwhelming exhaustion and my dad's well-intended observation: the long fingers of this baby girl.

morning glory
4:23am arrival

Decades later, holding my newborn,
family connections, nuances echo,
the hands of my daughter are crested
with the long slender fingers my father
first noticed in me.





Morning Glory was in her first year of college, University of Minnesota, when a new family tradition began. A 4:23am birthday call from me, her mother, woke her from a deep winter's sleep.
 

The next year she set a alarm and answered a very chipper "hello mom" - she'd been waiting for predictable me.


For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.
Psalm 100:5 NIV


Rw
.
17 Jan 1962 Weather temp -22º with wind chills approaching -40º

re-published today from 01/02/2012

Proverbs 1:7

Fellowship - Proverbs 1:7 

I accepted the invitation to bring a response this morning to Proverbs 1:7 “Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” 

Fear. My heart immediately jumps to the night Jesus the Christ was born—to the shepherds in the fields. When the angel appears to them—I imagine the angel as astonishingly bright in the sky. He or she appears and speaks and there has to be fear. And the angel then tells the shepherds—Do Not Be Afraid. 

Then “an army of the troops of heaven, a heavenly knighthood” joins the angel praising: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace”—did that bright light hovering in the sky multiply and grow brighter? 

Did the night mimic the brilliance of day? 

And then, God’s messengers leave and there is darkness.

As the shepherds’ eyes adjust—as my eyes adjust—to the night sky, do the stars now seem very tiny? Smaller, somehow? 

There in the fields at night, were the shepherds—human like me—filled with fear? 

The shepherds were in a place familiar to them and could choose to remain there. Or, they could choose to seek out the Child born in the town of David. The Bible tells us they “went with haste and by searching” found Mary and Joseph, and the Baby. They chose to move.

As the shepherds drew close to the place where the Child lay, did the light shine from the Child? A light more brilliant than the night sky filled with messengers? 

And, as a shepherd coming into the birth place, did I pause? Do I choose to look at the Child from just inside the entrance? As others moved closer toward the Child and his parents? Are they drawing close? Did some stand like me? Did others kneel? 

And, as only God could envision and orchestrate that perfect moment, did each shepherd remember the words of the angel—Do Not Be Afraid? In the presence of the Holiness, does my human heart beat faster? Did another person's heart skip a beat in awe and wonder? Did someone smile? Did someone's eyes fill with tears? Did words of adoration escape the lips of someone next to me, as I stood speechless with praise? 

On an ordinary night God’s witnesses look up at the night sky and are terribly frightened by the beginning of something extraordinary. The shepherds’ first response is fear. And, the angel-messenger announces—Do Not Be Afraid. 

Fear is somehow linked to the darkness—or begins in the darkness. I believe fear resides within the graceless space, the darkness within my own human heart. 

God invites me into the discovery, to confess my fear, and with haste and by searching, seek with awe and wonder the wisdom of God—a wisdom as vast as the universe that holds the stars in the night sky. 

Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.

Rw

Scripture: Luke 2:8-16 AMPC Amplified Bible, Classic Edition more

Suggested image: Birth of The King by C. Michael Dudash