And Justice For All

Alice and the Big Blank White Board

2012-01-01T19:12:00.000-06:00

January one . . . the new year stands before me like a giant, blank white board. I am small before it, my hands filled with markers of every color. I don't know what to write . . . draw . . . create . . . My heart is excited with the possibilities of the new year . . . and pained at the remembrance of failures of times past. The blank board looms . . . like Alice, I shrink ever smaller.

The truth is that the board isn't blank. This year has not yet been written, but an outline created by all the decisions of my life up to this point forms the framework of it. That makes some decisions easier . . . I don't have to find a husband or have some children! But everything I have done so far, everything I have become is not everything I will be. My life is far from over.

So I look toward this blank year ahead of me, thinking about the things I want to accomplish, the ways I want to change. Here's what I've decided to do about my so-called "New Year's Resolutions":

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

This quote, often attributed to Nelson Mandela, is actually by Marianne Williams. I am a great lover of quotes, but this one is my very favorite. With these courageous and powerful words in mind, I make my list of 'resolutions'.

1. No fear - never let fear stop you from doing anything, big or small.

2. Accept yourself as you are - give yourself the same grace and acceptance you would want from others.

3. Believe the truth about yourself - choose to believe what God says about you, and refuse to believe anything else.

4. Let the light of the real you shine - be exactly who you are, even if it's scary.

5. Choose to see the light in everyone around you - everyone wants others to 'see the art' in them; be the one to see it and call it out in the people around you.

So there we have it . . . No Fear, Accept, Believe, Shine, See.

Happy New Year, everyone!

The Magic of Books

2011-12-06T20:22:00.001-06:00

There is a stack of books on my nightstand; I affectionately refer to it as "the nightstand stack". These are the books that satisfy my curiosity, empower me with information, shape my thinking, and effectively create the person I am becoming. I might pick one up at night for a few minutes before I go to sleep or when I wake up in the morning. I'll pick up another one if I have a larger block of time and read a more significant portion. Weekends are prime time to grab some time to read. One or more books may find their way into my bag to be pulled out at a local coffee shop. Three books are always in the stack - Hannah Whitall Smith (HWS), The Message, and my NIV Bible. HWS is really three books: The Christian's Secret of A Happy Life, The God of All Comfort, and The Unselfishness of God. The rest of the books cycle in and out of the stack, moving to the wooden bookcase or the corner, where all the books that won't fit in the bookcase live for now.

My books represent the evolution of me. They come to me when I need to know something. I find them in the nooks and crannies of dusty, old, second-hand bookstores. I spot them often at Half-Price Books, one of my favorite haunts. Rarely, they appear at Barnes & Noble, but if they are not too expensive, they will leave happily in my arms. Most often they beckon from Amazon.com's gleaming website where the blue type entices me with an incredibly low 'used' paperback price. Whether driven by some inner turmoil or an insatiable 'need to know', I search and I find books.

Books contain information; this information is endued with almost magical powers. It can supply information on any subject imaginable - cooking, gardening, building things, pet care, children, finances, education, self-help and so much more. Books are a time machine through which I can explore the mysteries of history. They are a present connection to times past and times future. Books are a mirror; they help me see myself in the context of my world. They help me see myself as I am, as I want to be. They are the rungs on the ladder that takes me to the next level.

I'll probaly always have a "nightstand stack", my ready supply of knowledge, encouragement, and personal growth within arm's reach. I never want to stop growing . . . learning . . . exploring . . . so I'll never stop reading.

Here are some of the authors who have influenced me most on a variety of subjects . . .
Hannah Whitall Smith
Malcolm Gladwell
Donald Miller
John Maxwell
Nathaniel Branden
M. Scott Peck
Dr. John Carl
Suzanne Somers
Dr. Andrew Weil
Loren Cunningham
David Kiersey

Peace, Love, and Hypocrisy

2011-11-21T17:35:00.001-06:00

I read a blog post today; a friend posted it on Facebook. It's long . . . three pages long, but completely worth the time it took to read it. I wish the whole world could read this blog post. It is just what we need to hear . . .

"Today’s post is not about homosexuality. It’s not about Christians. It’s not about religion. It’s not about politics. It’s about something else altogether. Something greater. Something simpler. It’s about love. It’s about kindness. It’s about friendship."

The post is about our propensity to react to that which is different. We are suspicious . . . we distance ourselves . . . we whisper, point fingers. Eventually, we begin to hate. If there is someone 'different' in your circle and you are treating them any differently than you would anyone else because of it, THAT is discrimination. It is prejudice. If you're ignoring the guy from the warehouse because he has a few tattoos, you need to ask yourself why? If you and your work friends go out to lunch regularly, leaving behind the girl who is a different color/social class/generation/religion/whatever, ask yourself why? If you can't bring yourself to look someone who's different from you in the eye and offer a smile, why the hell not? Back to the post . . .

"People may not be holding up picket signs and marching around in front of television cameras but… come on. Why is it that so many incredible people who have certain struggles, problems, or their own beliefs of what is right and wrong feel so hated? Why do they feel so judged? Why do they feel so… loathed? What undeniable truth must we all eventually admit to ourselves when such is the case?"

I don't think Jesus ever made anyone feel hated, judged, or loathed. In fact, Jesus explicitly said that he did NOT come to condemn the world. So why is it that Christians can be so good at making people feel condemned? One might argue that people feel condemned because they know they are guilty of sin. Guilt can certainly cause condemnation, but that's not what we're talking about here. We're talking about people who are hateful, who speak with revulsion about others, people who gossip, who use Scriptures like daggers and hide the disgust in their eyes behind a thin veil of self-righteousness. To the post once again . . .

"I have known a lot of people in my life, and I can tell you this… Some of the ones who understood love better than anyone else were those who the rest of the world had long before measured as lost or gone. Some of the people who were able to look at the dirtiest, the poorest, the gays, the straights, the drug users, those in recovery, the basest of sinners, and those who were just… plain… different…They were able to look at them all and only see strength. Beauty. Potential. Hope. And if we boil it down, isn’t that what love actually is?"

Love is the ability to look at someone and see something else . . . something more. Jesus looked at Peter, a dirty, swearing, common fisherman and saw a rock, a leader, a shepherd of His church. Why do we find this so very hard to do? We look at a homeless man and see a homeless man - a dirty, smelly, scary guy. But Jesus sees a man without a home . . . someone who hurts, who loves, who is down on his luck, who made some bad decisions . . . someone for whom there is hope. When we look at an addict we see a weak-willed loser who screwed up his life, hurt his family. But Jesus sees the anguish, the torment, and He holds out hope for a different life. More from the post . . .

" . . . what makes somebody love, accept, and befriend their fellow man is letting go of a need to be better than others. (emphasis mine)
Nothing else.
I know there are many here who believe that living a homosexual life is a sin.
Okay.
But, what does that have to do with love?
I repeat… what does that have to do with love?
Come on. Don’t we understand? Don’t we get it? To put our arm around someone who is gay, someone who has an addiction, somebody who lives a different lifestyle, someone who is not what we think they should be… doing that has nothing to do with enabling them or accepting what they do as okay by us. It has nothing to do with encouraging them in their practice of what you or I might feel or believe is wrong vs right.
It has everything to do with being a good human being. A good person. A good friend.
That’s all.
To put our arm around somebody who is different. Why is that so hard?
I’m not here to say homosexuality is a sin or isn’t a sin. To be honest, I don’t give a rip. I don’t care. I’m not here to debate whether or not it’s natural or genetic. Again, I… don’t… care. Those debates hold no encumbrance for me.
What I care about is the need so many of us have to shun and loathe others. The need so many of us have to feel better or superior to others. The need some of us have to declare ourselves right and “perfect” all the freaking time and any chance we have.
And for some of us, these are very real needs.
But I will tell you this. All it really is… All any of it really is… is bullying.
Sneaky, hurtful, duplicitous, bullying."

. . . there it is . . . the bottom line - the truth about ourselves allows us to distance ourselves from other human beings, to "shun and loathe others", to "feel better or superior to others", our great need to be right. And not only to be right, but to separate ourselves from what is wrong. The truth is, I don't think we want those people in heaven with us. We certainly don't want them in our churches. We're good, clean, God-fearing people . . . normal people. They don't belong. And if they don't belong, if they are wrong and different and bad, then it's okay to treat them poorly. Isn't that how we justified enslaving thousands of Africans? "They're not like us, they're animals, they don't have souls, they are incapable of learning." Isn't that how we justified taking this country from the native peoples? "They're not like us, they're godless savages." If we can convince ourselves that a group of people (or a person) is other, we can begin to justify our ill-treatment of them.

Jesus was not afraid to look sinners in the eye. He wasn't afraid to enter their homes and eat with them. He walked with them, talked with them. He taught them, suffered long with them, listened to them. He wasn't afraid to touch them; he wasn't afraid of catching their diseases, even leprosy. He had a love that radiated toward them, drew them in, helped them to understand. Jesus' harsh words were reserved for another group - the self-righteous religious folks who disparaged the poor, the sick, the disenfranchised, the morally bankrupt.

How dare we think we can treat people differently than Christ himself did? How dare we act like the Pharisees of Jesus' day and somehow think God is pleased with us? How dare we use Scripture that we barely understand ourselves to justify our fear and judgement? It's WRONG what we do to people, how we think about them, how we treat them. It's wrong not to see them through their Father's eyes. The blog post to which I've been referring is a call to look at ourselves with raw honesty and a willingness to humble ourselves. It's a call to a deeper love than we ever thought was possible, a love that sees beyond what is to what could be and what should be. You will find it in it's entirely here:

http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/im-christian-unless-youre-gay.html

The blogger has posted some of the hundreds of responses to his post. Some of them are truly nauseating. Others are wonderful. Take some time to read them as well.

Of Mice and Monsters

2011-11-11T08:20:00.001-06:00

Some things make me angry. Many are the same things that make you angry - things like heinous crimes committed against innocent victims, genocide, the oppression of the weak by the strong, etc. But what really leaves me shaking with rage is the fact that this is not all happening in a vacuum. Sure, many crimes are carried out in the darkness, away from the watching eyes of potential witnesses. But a great many, I'd say the majority, are talking place right in front of us . . . and we do nothing.

The Penn state scandal has become, for me, a sort of symbol of what is wrong is our world. As much as we'd like to distance ourselves from the wickedness of pedophiles like Jery Sandusky and cowards like Mike McQueary and anyone else who saw or knew and did nothing, I fear we have more in common with them than we care to admit. I know, I know, you would NEVER abuse a child like that moster did . . . and if YOU saw someone raping a child you would NEVER ignore it. You'd call for help! You'd put a stop to it! You'd stomp his ASS! That's what you'd do . . . right? That's certainly what I'd do. You would never think anything like, "It's none of my business . . . I can't get involved . . . I wasn't sure what to do . . . " . . . would you? Of course not - we're GOOD PEOPLE. We're not monsters like them.

Look around - all over this world people are suffering, dying. Children are starving. Entire ethnic groups are being wiped out. Military regimes are crushing people by the millions. The poor are being oppressed. Petty crimes are being committed in full view of public eyes, but no one is putting a stop to any of it. Studies show that most people will NOT get involved when they see a crime being committed UNTIL one person gets involved. Everyone is waiting for Someone Else to do something.

I sure wish Someone Else would hurry up and get here. If Someone Else would just step up, be brave, be strong, I would join him or her. Someone Else would know what to do. Someone Else could fix it. The problem with waiting for Someone Else is that it's kind of like waiting for tomorrow . . . it never comes. It is always today.

What are we when we live our lives with our heads down, miding our own business, working our jobs, paying our bills, making sure our own families are safe, while people are suffering all around us? What are we when we live disconnected from the larger world, as if nothing that happens "out there" has anything to do with us? How is that not monstrous?

I guess my point is this - we simply MUST stop living our lives as if we are the center. We are all part of a living, breathing sea of humanity. And the truth is that you did not get where you are all by yourself. That stuff about "rugged individualism" and the "self-made man or woman" is crap . . . a stinking pile of crap. And so is this macho bullshit that says, "I don't need anyone's help." We are connected - we need each other -we are involved, whether we like it or not. If one of us suffers, we all suffer. If monstrous acts are allowed to go on unchecked in our world, we are all diminished by it. We must not allow ourselves to stay in the comfortable little boxes we call a life. Life is going on out there, and it isn't always pretty. And it's not just the monsters who make it ugly . . . it's the good people who are waiting for Someone Else to make it all better. So be better. Choose to be Someone Else.

I wasn inspired to write this after reading this blog . . . check it out . . .
http://yesliketheprincessinstarwars.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-dont-know-how-to-title-this-post.html

Power to the People

2011-11-10T13:01:00.001-06:00

I've decided to post the essay I've written to turn in along with my application to the honors program at Rose State College. The title was predetermined by committee; the content is straight from my heart . . . enjoy.

“TheDemocratization of Information: Power,Peril, and Promise”

The word‘democratize’, according to Webster’s online learners’ dictionary, means “to make available to all people; to make itpossible for all people to understand”. It’s an important word when it’s connected to information, becauseinformation brings knowledge – and knowledge is power. The reverse is also true; ignorance ispowerlessness. When all people haveaccess to information that can change their lives and they truly understand theimpact of that information, all sectors of society will benefit.

Power is theheady stuff of which despots are made. It is also the basic building block of our very lives. Whether the choice is big or small, ourpower to choose makes us who we are. Itgives our lives meaning; it connects us to our voice in the world. A child peers into his toy box, choosing onetoy over another – he had a choice and he made it. That’s power. A teenager says no to negative peer pressure – that’s power. A single mother chooses to get an educationto build a better life for herself and her family – that’s power. Our lives are built on the choices we makeevery day. The ability to make thosechoices is power. When we connect ourpower with information and understanding, we become a force in the world. We can affect our families, our communities,our nations, and, eventually, our world for good.

We affect thosearound us whether we are ignorant or empowered. We cannot be helped or help others with information we do not possess. We have all experienced the pain ofignorance. We also know the pain of afaulty application of information and of misinformation. Therein lies the peril – we are at the mercyof what we know and what we do not know. If a man has a headache, but does not know there is medicine in thecabinet that will give him relief, he will continue to suffer. If he is told that Tums are great for aheadache and he heartily chews a few, he will still have his headache, despitethe offer of information. Should he findthe right bottle and take too little, he may experience some abatement of pain,but he will not be completely relieved of it. In all three cases information was of prime importance. The lack of it causes pain, as does receivingbad information and the misapplication of good information. As a society, we must go beyond simplyputting good information ‘out there’ and hoping people will somehow find it amidstthe avalanche of information available. Knowledgemay be power, but choice is the agent of change. As Dick Keyes asserts, “Knowledge alone, evenif it is true, does not itself transform us. It must be taken in with thoughtfulness and lived out with integrity.” The pivotal question must be asked andanswered – “What must I do with this information?”

We all cravepower at the most basic level. Thecircumstances of our lives are not always under our immediate control, yet westill need to feel that, in spite of the wind and waves swirling around us, weare the masters of our respective fates. Knowledge beckons with the promise of a happy, fulfilling life. We have the wonderful ability as well as theresponsibility to take in information, choose to make changes within ourselvesand our lives for the better, and then invest that information in others. The democratization of information – thedissemination of information to everyonein a way that brings understanding coupled with the ability to put it to use –is the promise of a better world for us all.

Back to the Future

2011-10-28T11:08:00.002-05:00

photo from donnellygroup.ca

A reunion of sorts took place at an local coffee shop yesterday. I had stopped at Cuppies and Joe with my daughter, Casey - a mother-daughter treat we call "special time". We were settled with our goodies and Casey wanted to check in on Facebook with a picture of our bounty. She posted a pic of me, smiling over my scrumptious pumpkin spice latte, a yummy-looking cupcake, and the dreamy iced beverege she had ordered.

photo from www.cupiesandjoe.com

A few minutes later, an old friend from high school walked right up to me. Jim had seen the Facebook post and was nearby. We had a wonderful time talking about our lives, our families, our interests. We discussed books we were reading, ideas that were important to us. Jim is a professor at a university; he filled my daughter in on how much colleges like home-schooled students. The impromptu reunion only lasted about ten minutes, but I left smiling.

This mini-reunion stands in stark contrast to another reunion I recently attended. There I saw other high school friends, smiled at pictures of children and grandchildren, heard stories of loves found and lost, of tragedy and beauty. I took note, along with others, of who among us had weathered the years less than gracefully (in other words, who looked old or had gotten fat). I also saw drunken flirting, drunken dancing, loud and obnoxious behavior, and heard the "N" word at least once. I didn't leave smiling.

I didn't feel I "fit in" in high school. Thirty years later, I still don't. The difference is that it was painful not to belong all those years ago. Now I'm happy not to fit in. I wish I knew then what I know now. I would have done things very differently. I wouldn't have wasted my time on things I really wasn't interested in (cheerleading) and things that were emotionally destructive (a certain crush who liked to play mind games). I would have read a wider variety of books, befriended a wider variety of people. I would have left high school with deeper friendships, better grades, and a bright vision of the future. As it was, I had to find those things years later . . . I'm still finding them, actually.

I
photo from welikeit.tumblr.com

It's satisfying to rekindle high school associations on adult terms. We were children then . . . we had no idea who we were. Hopefully, by now, we have a more complete picture. Whether in person or on Facebook, I enjoy getting to know the adults some of those children have become, and sharing what I have become and am becoming. We are now connected to the larger world and can share our wisdom, discuss thoughts and ideas, interact without the angst of our former selves. Hopefully, the world will be a better place because of all that we've accomplished.

photo from globalbodytalkclinic.com

The Best Lecture Yet

2011-10-26T17:22:00.000-05:00

photo from toppun.com
Today's sociology lecture provoked more lively discussion than any subject thus far - gender. Our professor asked the class to raise our hands if we considered ourselves feminists. Two hands out of about twenty went up. The rest of the class decisively left their hands in their laps; they were NOT feminists.

"How many of you think women should be allowed to vote?"

"How many of you think women and men should receive equal pay for equal work?"

"How many of you think a woman should have the right to divorce her abusive husband?"
As the profesor asked these questions, every hand went up on the first two, and most of them on the third . . . this is Oklahoma . . . With an air of triumph, he loudly declared, "Guess what? YOU'RE a feminist!"

One female student explained her position this way (I'm paraphrasing): "I didn't raise my hand, because although I agree with those things, I didn't want to be associated with those 'femi-Nazis'." The professor went on to explain the difference between what he called "liberal feminists" and "radical feminists". I prefer the terms I read a few years ago in Christina Hoff Sommers' book, Who Stole Feminism? - "equity feminists" and "gender feminists".

Thanks to folks like Rush Limbaugh, the very small minority voice of radical gender feminism is what everybody thinks of when they hear the word 'feminist'. You know - ugly, man-hating lesbians, to paint a characature. But if you applaud Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and all the unsung heroes of women's suffrage, you are a feminist, whether you know it or not. And if you believe in equal pay for equal work, you are a feminist. If you believe that discrimination based on gender is wrong, you are a believer in feminist philosophy. In a society that has been largely patriarchal for decades, any movement away from the status quo and toward equality of the sexes is feminist.

photo from homepagedaily.com

Since we don't want to jump of the scary cliff of radical feminism, what does feminism look like today? I don't want to launch into a treatise, so I'll just stick with my thoughts on some practical applications from my own life. Feminism is a husband who is proud of his wife's professional accomplishments and thinks it's wrong that, despite their identical degrees and experience levels, her male co-worker makes more money than she does. Feminism is a mother who teaches her daughters that life is full of opportunities, and that being a wife and mother is just one of them. Feminism is a father teaching his sons to respect women rather than objectify them. Feminism is a wife who offers support and comfort to her husband, just as she needs him to do for her. Feminism is a husband and wife partnering together to build a life in which both feel supported, respected, and important. What's so scary about that?

photo from opinion-maker.org

War of the Roses

2011-10-20T10:43:00.000-05:00

Photo from crazy-frankenstein.com

Many years ago, I read a passage of Scripture that I took as my very own. I read and re-read it, trying to understand what it meant to my life. Then I ignored it for a very long time, feeling that I just didn't get it. I took it back up again, knowing that it had been whispered especially to me and I couldn't forget it. That passage was Isaiah 58; it's about what true fasting is, what the Father expects of us as his people, and what our impact in the community is supposed to be about. I'm reading a similar passage this morning - Isaiah 61. This is the passage that Jesus said he had come to fulfill in his first in-the-flesh verbal message to the world.

"The Spirit of the God, the Master, is on me because God anointed me. He sent me to preach good news to the poor, heal the heartbroken, announce freedom to all captives, pardon all prisoners. God sent me to announce the year of his grace - a celebration of God's destruction of our enemies - and to comfort all who mourn, to care for the needs of all who mourn in Zion, give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes, messages of joy instead of news of doom, a praising heart instead of a languid spirit. Rename them "Oaks of Righteousness", planted by God to display his glory. They'll rebuild old ruins, raise a new city out of wreckage. They'll start over on the ruined cities, take the rubble left behind and make it new." Isaiah 61:1-4 The Message

This is the message of Jesus - good news . . . healing . . . freedom . . . pardon . . . grace . . . celebration . . . comfort . . . care . . . joy . . . praise . . . and a people busy rebuilding, not tearing down. Oh, and roses . . .

Every morning there's a knocking at the door. Jesus is there, arms full with a beautiful bouquet of roses just for me. I can run joyfully to the door, fling it open and take the roses with gratitutde. Or I can stay in the house, convinced there is nothing good waiting for me in this day. This is the war . . . iff I don't take the roses . . . the grace, joy, comfort, healing . . . what do I have to give away?

Photo from photobucket.com

I think I'll go out today and buy some roses for my home, as a reminder that Jesus mission was to give me roses instead of ashes, and that my bouquet is what I have to give to others.

The Clothes Off Your Back

2011-10-18T17:43:00.001-05:00

Photo by Christine Giles

Do you ever wonder where the clothes in your closet come from? Oh, I know they came from Wal-Mart or Target or some other store. But how did they get there? Don't those tags say things like "Made in China" (or Bangladesh or Pakistan or Some-Other-Exotic-Sounding-Place-Far-Away)? I found a blogger who actually visited some of the places where his clothes came from around the world. Check out this site, and you'll learn a little about the people who made your favorite t-shirt or that well-worn pair of jeans . . . meet Kelsey Timmerman.
http://www.neatorama.com/2009/01/12/meet-the-people-who-made-your-clothes/

What you'll find is that your clothes make a fascinating journey before they are safely tucked away in your closet. They are touched by many hands, most of them then hands of young women, some of children. They work long hours for a pittance, often in unsafe conditions . . . sometimes under armed guard. Many Western corporations have moved their manufacturing operations to countries in the "third-world" . . . places where safety and environmental regulations are lax, and desperate workers are willing to work under such conditions for very little pay.
Here are a few more links on the fascinating subject of clothing manufacture:

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/hundreds-of-workers-collapse-at-cambodian-hampm-clothing-factory-2345537.html

http://globetribune.info/2011/08/09/workers-at-clothing-factory-in-jordan-face-rape-torture-from-managers-videos/

http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/queens/2009/08/13/2009-08-13_garment_workers_.html

Bloom

2011-10-18T14:18:00.002-05:00

The Shadow of Slavery

2011-10-18T11:37:00.004-05:00

I picked up a book at the library recently; it's called Slaves in the Family, by Edward Ball. He's a descendant of slave-owning rice barons of South Carolina who spent time researching the intersecting paths of his white ancestors and their black slaves. It's a fascinating story, full of vibrant history and gut-wrenching realities. This is the kind of thing you probably think of when you hear the word 'slavery'.

Photo from writerscafe.com

Let me tell you another story . . . Sandra,a young homemaker, decided she needed someone to do housework and help out with her young son. She took 12-year-old Maria into her home, ensuring her family that she would provide an education and opportunities the girl would never have in her home country. What she gave Maria was much different . . . "the young girl cooked, cleaned, scrubbed, and polished. If Maria dozed off from exhaustion, or when Sandra decided she wasn't working fast enough, Sandra would blast pepper spray into Maria's eyes. A broom was broken over the girl's back and a few days later, a bottle over her head. At one point, Sandra tortured the 12-year-old by jamming a garden tool up her vagina. That was Maria's workdays; her "time-off" was worse. When Maria wasn't working, Sandra would chain her to a pole in the backyard without food or water. An eight-foot concrete fence kept her hidden from neighbors. After chaining her, Sandra would sometimes force Maria to eat dog feces. Then Maria would be left alone, her arms chained behind her with a padlock, her legs chained and locked together until the next morning, when the work and torture would begin again. Through the long afternoon and night Maria would fade in and out of consciousness from dehydration, and in her hunger she would sometimes scoop dirt into her mouth . . . Maria was in shock, disoriented, isolated, and dependent . . . The police found Maria chained hand and foot, covered in cuts and bruises, and suffering from dehydration and exposire. She was too weak to walk and had to be carried to freedom on a stretcher. Her skin was badly burned from the sun. Photos taken at the time show one of her eyes bloodied and infected and thick welts and scars on her skin where the chains had cut into her. She had not eaten in four days." This story didn't happen in some far away country. It didn't happen in the distant past. It happened in our time, in a "comfortable suburb of Laredo, Texas - a neighborhood of solid brick homes and manicured lawns . . . a perfectly normal middle-class existence." Maria's saviour was someone who happened to be on the roof of the neighboring house and saw her over the concrete wall surrounding the yard. You can read this story and others in Kevin Bales' book The Slave Next Door.

Slaves aren't in the past . . . they don't exist only in tales of long ago and far away . . . they aren't just in "foreign" countries . . . they are right here in the good ol' U.S.A., right in our own backyard . . . in someone's backyard . . . maybe right next to you . . .

Photo from writerscafe.org

Beautiful Africa

2011-10-17T20:41:00.003-05:00

Photo by Christine Giles 2004
In 2004, I was privileged to travel to Africa with a local para-church ministry. We did good work there, helping out at an orphanage, conducting medical clinics. I saw things I never thought I'd see. There is much beauty alongside so much destruction. I had some truly National Geographic moments.

Photo by Christine Giles 2004
When I returned, people assumed that I'd been changed forever by the trip. But I wouldn't describe my experience that way. I was quiet . . . bothered . . . I was pretty much what I'd always been. I wanted to know why things were the way they were. Why were they so backward, so primitive? Most of the world had moved into a bright future full of promise; Africa had been left behind in the
darkness.

Photo by Christine Giles 2004
There are plenty of places in the world I could go to find such darkness. In the United States, I could take a trip to the Appalachian mountains and find people living in abject poverty. Or I could simply drive across town . . . the reality is that poverty, darkness, and injustice are all around us.

Since I was a child, one question has been on my lips - "Why?" When it comes to social justice, answers like "It's always been that way" make my blood boil. When people's lives are at stake, we cannot settle for how it's always been. History has shown human beings to be creative, innovative, problem-solvers. Unfortunately, history has also revealed humanity's dark side - hatred, murder, greed . . . what will it take for qualities like compassion, cooperation, and hope to triumph?

Some look at this world and despair, because of the overwhelming problems we face. Some choose not to see; they stay in their comfortable homes, live their comfortable lives, believing that the ugliness "out there" doesn't touch them. I choose to believe that we are all connected, that each one of us really can "change the world".

photo from imperfectation.org

This blog will explore social justice issues and ways we can all make a difference, both big and small. Why? Because people matter . . . because we can do better . . . because I believe in Justice For All.