Friday, May 21, 2010
Presentation on UUtopia on Second Life posted
The presentation about the First Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Second Life and UUtopia on Second Life has been posted. Take a look at the amazing experiment on community that is happening through the mediation of computer technology. Presentation
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Mothers
MOTHERS
author unknown, adapted from an adaptation by Don Buttorf
This blessing is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
This blessing is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they may never see. And those who mothered those babies-- forever to be their own children.
This blessing is for all the mothers in Haiti, or Nashville, who can't find their children or can’t feed their children. And the moms who put on their uniforms and said goodbye to their children as they left for a tour of duty.
Is mothering what is in the heart?
Is it the ache she feels when she watches her child disappear down the street?
The need to flee from wherever she is and hug her child when she hears news of a school shooting, a bomb scare, a car accident, a baby dying?
Yes it is so.
So this blessing is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.
This blessing is for all the mothers who have sat in the grocery store parking lot, next to their crying, screaming child, and cried or screamed too.
This blessing is for all the mothers who teach their sons to be good mothers and their daughters to follow an unconventional dream.
This blessing is for mothers who put pinwheels, teddy bears, or flowers on their children's graves.
This blessing is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who haven’t the words to reach them, and yet have never put them from their heart.
This blessing is for mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers.
And this blessing is for all of us who will move beyond sentiment into actions which support mothers and mothering persons in all of their life-giving and life-nurturing roles. Amen
author unknown, adapted from an adaptation by Don Buttorf
This blessing is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers saying, "It's OK honey, Mommy's here."
This blessing is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they may never see. And those who mothered those babies-- forever to be their own children.
This blessing is for all the mothers in Haiti, or Nashville, who can't find their children or can’t feed their children. And the moms who put on their uniforms and said goodbye to their children as they left for a tour of duty.
Is mothering what is in the heart?
Is it the ache she feels when she watches her child disappear down the street?
The need to flee from wherever she is and hug her child when she hears news of a school shooting, a bomb scare, a car accident, a baby dying?
Yes it is so.
So this blessing is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn't.
This blessing is for all the mothers who have sat in the grocery store parking lot, next to their crying, screaming child, and cried or screamed too.
This blessing is for all the mothers who teach their sons to be good mothers and their daughters to follow an unconventional dream.
This blessing is for mothers who put pinwheels, teddy bears, or flowers on their children's graves.
This blessing is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who haven’t the words to reach them, and yet have never put them from their heart.
This blessing is for mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation. And mothers learning to let go. For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers.
And this blessing is for all of us who will move beyond sentiment into actions which support mothers and mothering persons in all of their life-giving and life-nurturing roles. Amen
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
For Grandma
It has been two months since Grandma's 100th birthday (and the wonderful party) and it has been one month since her memorial service.
Lillie Giba Smith
In memory of Lillie Giba Smith, loving daughter, sister, wife, mother, and grandmother. She was born February 1910 to Slovak immigrant parents and grew up on a farm in Virginia and then in upstate New York. There she met and fell in love with Frederick Smith. They were devoted to one another, showing their family what a loving marriage can be. They raised their family on a strawberry farm near Trumansburg NY. For all of her 100 years she cared for everyone.
Her love was tangible: strawberry jam, ginger cookies, big hugs, beautiful flowers in the beds around the house, and unwavering dedication to those she loved. She is in each of us whenever we serve a lovingly cooked meal, or welcome someone at the door with a big smile.
To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Lillie Giba Smith
In memory of Lillie Giba Smith, loving daughter, sister, wife, mother, and grandmother. She was born February 1910 to Slovak immigrant parents and grew up on a farm in Virginia and then in upstate New York. There she met and fell in love with Frederick Smith. They were devoted to one another, showing their family what a loving marriage can be. They raised their family on a strawberry farm near Trumansburg NY. For all of her 100 years she cared for everyone.
Her love was tangible: strawberry jam, ginger cookies, big hugs, beautiful flowers in the beds around the house, and unwavering dedication to those she loved. She is in each of us whenever we serve a lovingly cooked meal, or welcome someone at the door with a big smile.
To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Friday, March 26, 2010
What I have in common with Governor Patterson
A rough couple of days. Tuesday night I stayed up almost all night. Probably the chocolate I ate on Tuesday, the anxiety I was feeling about my relationship, the sorrow I was feeling about my grandmother, and the very real need to complete some tasks in preparation for my Thursday and Sunday in the pulpit! In the end, I crawled into bed at 5AM, rubbing my overtired eyes, and zonked out.
Mom called fairly early, felt fine, though tired, and went right back to sleep. The second time I woke, about at 11AM I noticed that my eyes felt like I had allergies, especially my right one, and that I had that "baby migraine" feeling that I often work through. Nagging low level pain behind my right eye. Some eye drops and a walk outside seemed to improve things and I went about my day. That evening I attended my Compassionate Communication group. We sat out on the patio as the sun went down and the birds sang, and talked about what was "up" in our lives.
By the end of the evening I was in what I thought was nearly a full blown migrain attack. Rainbows around lights, pain, sensitive eyes. Only this time it was both eyes. I was shocked to see my eyes in the mirror. Red, swollen. Something more than a migraine was happening and as my eyes and nose turned into faucets I decided it must be a new allergy. But the pain. The pain didn't let me enter my usual migraine cure. I'm used to simply going to sleep and waking up fine. As the pain got worse I talked to my sister, my doctor, my wife, my housemate, and no-one had a good answer, except: maybe you need to go to the ER. Frustrated to be far from home, in a strange place, I was even more reluctant to go to a strange hospital.
At 3AM I finally decided that the pain of being in bright lights at the ER was outweighed by the possibility that they could stop this agony. My sweet and longsuffering housemate Robbie guided me to the car (by then I was completely unable to open my eyes, and could only see blurry shapes when I did. It was an interesting trust exercise.) Guided me to the ER, filled out forms, and stood by me when, eventually, we got past the front desk and to a doctor.
Seems like it didn't take the doctor very long to figure things out, though he was very calm and kind (while he was torturing me by prying my eyes open and shining lights in them. Lot's of practice with managing reflex and managing pain through breathing and visualization. I feel like I ran a marathon in the biofeedback race.) He quickly decided to numb my eyes, and I haven't had such relief since the time I got IV valium before a scary surgery. The agony went from a 9 to a 4. Clearly the problem was with my eyes, not my head. Two percoset and a whole lot of eye drops and poking later we had a tentative diagnosis and an emergency referral to an ophthalmologist. Acute Glaucoma Attack.
Turns out glaucoma is a structural defect in your eye that allows your dilated pupil to block the "drain" for the fluid in your eye. This creates a feedback loop that keeps the block in place and pressure builds up until you go blind. (in acute cases) Governer Patterson's eyesight is a result of an acute glaucoma attack. My stress, the tired eyes, and the time talking in the dark probably contributed to my attack.
By 6 AM I was learning about "iridotomy" surgery to poke a hole in the iris so that it has an overflow drain, and wondering if the medication had done enough or if we had to do the surgery on an emergency basis, right then and there. The good news: the medication was working. More good news, I probably don't get migraines. The surgery will probably end my horrible headaches (which were glaucoma attacks all along). The good news, I got there in time, my eyesight was probably not affected and certainly not affected much.
I'm seeing the ophthalmologist daily until I can get to Ithaca and get the surgery done with someone "at home" who I know and who can do follow up over time. Why daily? In case the emergency returns.
I'm so grateful I am not blind. I'm so grateful I decided to go to the ER. Taking care of yourself is sometimes a big balancing act, with a big fall on either side, but I stayed on the wire this time.
Mom called fairly early, felt fine, though tired, and went right back to sleep. The second time I woke, about at 11AM I noticed that my eyes felt like I had allergies, especially my right one, and that I had that "baby migraine" feeling that I often work through. Nagging low level pain behind my right eye. Some eye drops and a walk outside seemed to improve things and I went about my day. That evening I attended my Compassionate Communication group. We sat out on the patio as the sun went down and the birds sang, and talked about what was "up" in our lives.
By the end of the evening I was in what I thought was nearly a full blown migrain attack. Rainbows around lights, pain, sensitive eyes. Only this time it was both eyes. I was shocked to see my eyes in the mirror. Red, swollen. Something more than a migraine was happening and as my eyes and nose turned into faucets I decided it must be a new allergy. But the pain. The pain didn't let me enter my usual migraine cure. I'm used to simply going to sleep and waking up fine. As the pain got worse I talked to my sister, my doctor, my wife, my housemate, and no-one had a good answer, except: maybe you need to go to the ER. Frustrated to be far from home, in a strange place, I was even more reluctant to go to a strange hospital.
At 3AM I finally decided that the pain of being in bright lights at the ER was outweighed by the possibility that they could stop this agony. My sweet and longsuffering housemate Robbie guided me to the car (by then I was completely unable to open my eyes, and could only see blurry shapes when I did. It was an interesting trust exercise.) Guided me to the ER, filled out forms, and stood by me when, eventually, we got past the front desk and to a doctor.
Seems like it didn't take the doctor very long to figure things out, though he was very calm and kind (while he was torturing me by prying my eyes open and shining lights in them. Lot's of practice with managing reflex and managing pain through breathing and visualization. I feel like I ran a marathon in the biofeedback race.) He quickly decided to numb my eyes, and I haven't had such relief since the time I got IV valium before a scary surgery. The agony went from a 9 to a 4. Clearly the problem was with my eyes, not my head. Two percoset and a whole lot of eye drops and poking later we had a tentative diagnosis and an emergency referral to an ophthalmologist. Acute Glaucoma Attack.
Turns out glaucoma is a structural defect in your eye that allows your dilated pupil to block the "drain" for the fluid in your eye. This creates a feedback loop that keeps the block in place and pressure builds up until you go blind. (in acute cases) Governer Patterson's eyesight is a result of an acute glaucoma attack. My stress, the tired eyes, and the time talking in the dark probably contributed to my attack.
By 6 AM I was learning about "iridotomy" surgery to poke a hole in the iris so that it has an overflow drain, and wondering if the medication had done enough or if we had to do the surgery on an emergency basis, right then and there. The good news: the medication was working. More good news, I probably don't get migraines. The surgery will probably end my horrible headaches (which were glaucoma attacks all along). The good news, I got there in time, my eyesight was probably not affected and certainly not affected much.
I'm seeing the ophthalmologist daily until I can get to Ithaca and get the surgery done with someone "at home" who I know and who can do follow up over time. Why daily? In case the emergency returns.
I'm so grateful I am not blind. I'm so grateful I decided to go to the ER. Taking care of yourself is sometimes a big balancing act, with a big fall on either side, but I stayed on the wire this time.
Monday, March 22, 2010
A Meditation on the Word "Church"
We are Unitarian Universalists.
Who are we? We are a religious community, a beloved community, a congregation.
Where do we meet? In our sanctuary, our fellowship hall, our church.
What is the larger thing we are a part of? A movement, a religion.
What do we do? Some say that, together, we “do church.”
Only we “do church” the Unitarian Universalist way!
Our theology, our principles, our values demand that we accept the whole person, not just the parts we are most comfortable with. Unitarian Universalism demands that we don’t ask anyone to check their minds at the door, or to check their story at the door, or to check their language or beliefs at the door.
Just as we would never ask a person to hide a piece of his or her heritage, to “pass” as a white person, to “pass” as a person of color, to “pass” as a straight person… We will not ask our beloved community to cut off a part of itself and “pass” as something that is not whole.
Our family tree includes the heretics, the earliest Jesus followers who did not believe in a trinity, the puritans who rejected a “top-down” religion in favor of creating a community of equals where they explored their truths together. Our family tree includes the first signers of the Humanist Manifesto and the Universalist Ministers who were inspired to redefine universalism from “universal love” to “universal religion”: transcending Christianity. Our family tree includes those who fell short of their own ideals, and ours, but all of these forefathers and foremothers are a part of who we are today.
Unitarian Universalism demands much of us. It demands that we each choose, using a free and responsible process, our story, our words, our truth and our meaning. It demands that we respect the same for others. It demands that we stay in community, even though we are all different and all bring different stories and different words and different truths to our beloved community. Unitarian Universalism asks us to “do church” our way, and to translate, tolerate, and celebrate our unity in our diversity.
Who are we? We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
Who are we? We are a religious community, a beloved community, a congregation.
Where do we meet? In our sanctuary, our fellowship hall, our church.
What is the larger thing we are a part of? A movement, a religion.
What do we do? Some say that, together, we “do church.”
Only we “do church” the Unitarian Universalist way!
Our theology, our principles, our values demand that we accept the whole person, not just the parts we are most comfortable with. Unitarian Universalism demands that we don’t ask anyone to check their minds at the door, or to check their story at the door, or to check their language or beliefs at the door.
Just as we would never ask a person to hide a piece of his or her heritage, to “pass” as a white person, to “pass” as a person of color, to “pass” as a straight person… We will not ask our beloved community to cut off a part of itself and “pass” as something that is not whole.
Our family tree includes the heretics, the earliest Jesus followers who did not believe in a trinity, the puritans who rejected a “top-down” religion in favor of creating a community of equals where they explored their truths together. Our family tree includes the first signers of the Humanist Manifesto and the Universalist Ministers who were inspired to redefine universalism from “universal love” to “universal religion”: transcending Christianity. Our family tree includes those who fell short of their own ideals, and ours, but all of these forefathers and foremothers are a part of who we are today.
Unitarian Universalism demands much of us. It demands that we each choose, using a free and responsible process, our story, our words, our truth and our meaning. It demands that we respect the same for others. It demands that we stay in community, even though we are all different and all bring different stories and different words and different truths to our beloved community. Unitarian Universalism asks us to “do church” our way, and to translate, tolerate, and celebrate our unity in our diversity.
Who are we? We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
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