H - E - Double Toothpicks

Do you believe in hell? If you worked on Wall Street this week I guess you might.

A few people have a clear idea of what hell is like - and they know who they'd like to send there. But most of us have only small clues, many of them from the Bible but more, I think, from folklore.

I just finished a very strange James Patterson novel called "You've Been Warned." It's about a young woman living in New York. Hard to make sense of what's happening to her - but in the end (sorry to spoil it for you) the reader learns that the woman is dead. This is Patterson's idea of hell.

Oddly, she has some pleasant experiences along with the rats, cockroaches, vomiting, etc.

I'm currently in a study group with several smart, open, people. In a week or so we'll discuss the concept of hell. I'm looking forward to the discussion. Especially the discussion of how the decision making process goes regarding who's in and who's out.

I'm sure I'll learn something.


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Mexican Standoff

Today I happened upon my Oldies in one of their favorite restaurants very close to their home. I was meeting a friend for a late lunch.

Mr. Oldie was late for a doctor's appointment. Despite the fact that he'd been there several times before, he was stressed. He didn't know how to get there. He was pouring over a map and a page of directions. I know he wanted me to help him.

I tried to assist him with the map. My friend arrived and tried as well but he wasn't getting it. So what did I do? I hugged my Oldies and urged my friend to head to our own table - leaving him (and Mrs. Oldie) obviously upset.

But here's the thing. He doesn't have to drive. He has a nurse on call. He has friends and family who are waiting in the wings to help. He has the resources to be lovingly cared for - and to be driven wherever they want to go. All he has to do is ask.

But he's not ready to say "uncle."

And, even though I love my Oldies, I'm not ready to play the game where I pretend he's in charge but I take care of them. I've already done that. I'm not their caretaker. I'm their friend.

And besides, the doctor's office was three blocks away (and I think she knows how to get there.)

I hope they made it.


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Let's Do Lunch

Yesterday six friends and I made our way downtown for our semi-annual time of serving lunch to the homeless.

Six of them lined up to serve. This may sound like an easy task but when you're trying to serve 300 to 400 people in an hour - it's a fun but pressure filled hour. As I've told you before, when the hour is over - it's over. And it's really sad to see guests still in line who aren't going to get fed.

So we worked fast!

Some people think the hardest job is pouring the soup. Pouring hot soup really fast can be scary. Others think the hardest job is serving drinks - because you're not behind the counter - you're out with the people.

I was chosen to serve drinks yesterday. I loved it. Lots more chances to have little interchanges with the guests. We're not supposed to grant special favors but when somebody wants you to fill their battered old plastic bottle with ice water it's hard to say no.

But then you get behind with the other 300 plus drinks.

All in all it was a joyful, extremely meaningful, humbling experience. The vast majority of the homeless people are kind and polite to us rookies. It's fun to be kind and polite back.

Afterwards the seven of us went to a restaurant and had salads. You might think that we ate better than the homeless. Not true! They had all kinds of breads and rolls, soup, veggies, rice and what looked like chicken and gravy.

But a worker there told us it was EMU and gravy. I guess it taste like chicken because nobody complained.


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The Butterfly Stole

Most Methodist ministers wear liturgical stoles over their robes. They're usually symbolic of the liturgical season.

Many years ago a friend made my husband several liturgical stoles. They're silk, hand sewn works of art. Our family's favorite is the butterfly stole. Butterflies are a symbol of new life.

Last week my tenth and newest and LAST grandchild was baptized in another city. I couldn't be there. But I mailed my daughter the butterfly stole.

She was hoping their new minister would wear it. I had my doubts. It's old and hand made, not a professional stole. Besides that, it took ten days to get there and it arrived only the night before the baptism date.

They belong to a huge, wealthy sophisticated, downtown church. After the ritual the minister carries the babies all the way down the long center aisle as a way for people to celebrate this "new life."

Despite the fact that my daughter can talk anybody into anything, I didn't believe he would wear the stole.

And he didn't.

At the end of the baptism ceremony he lifted our baby up before the congregation and carried her down the aisle, with her deceased grandfather's silk butterfly stole draped around HER!

The stole is a symbol of new life. She is a symbol of new life. Hers and ours.


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Don't Get Mad, Just Get Even

My friend, Bob, told the following story this morning. Maybe you heard it.

A husband and wife are having lots of arguments. He's upset all the time. She's cool. He asks her how she stays so calm. She answers:

"When I feel upset with you I clean the toilet."

"How does that help?"

"I clean it with your toothbrush."

We've heard other stories like that, like waiters spitting in our soup, or - have you seen the episode of "Two and a Half Men" where, before Charlie puts his brother Alan's burger on the grill, he smashes it under his armpit?

I guess that kind of thing can be momentarily placating but just think about how totally miserable we have to be to get to that place.

"Two and a Half Men" is a fairly raw sit-com but the writers do a good job of showing us how Charlie and Alan are two broken, sad, wounded human beings.

Just like the rest of us are at times.

But maybe doing childish, destructive things that diminish us isn't the answer.

I used to know somebody who literally had (like Richard Nixon) an enemies list. I decided then that I never wanted an enemies list. I didn't want even one name on a list.

That doesn't mean I haven't ever wanted to use a certain person's toothbrush to scrub the toilet.

But there are better ways to deal with people who hurt me. I'm happy that my friend, Bob, reminded me today of what some of them are.


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What's This About?

Have you seen the videos featuring Bill Gates and Jerry Seinfield? I absolutely love them. My guess is that they're Microsoft ads - or something else that Bill Gates is up to - but they are good - and so funny!

When I see them, especially the one where they're staying with the big family in the little house, I keep wishing that our presidential candidates would do this. It would help both them and us if they spent a couple of weeks actually living with us.

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Street Eats

In our church we have available big plastic bags filled with non perishable healthy (instant) snacks. We're encouraged to put a bag or two in our cars for when we see people (especially street people) who look like they need something to eat. They're called "Street Eats."

My Power Rangers (small group of close, wise, woman friends who are "empowered" in ways you can't imagine) and I have shared stories about how we've occasionally given away Street Eat bags and how clumsy and uncomfortable we've been about it. The scarest part is knowing you might be rejected.

There's a guy who routinely stands off the interstate holding up a sign that says "Will Work for Food." I stopped and gave him a bag but it wasn't the warm fuzzy interchange I had envisioned.

But I guess the point of the Street Eats is not especially for us to feel good.

A couple of days ago one of my P.R.'s told us her latest "Street Eat" story. She saw a woman on the street who was obviously not a street person. But she was out in the hot sun working with 3 little unhappy, crying children.

My friend saw her, drove by, thought about it, turned around, parked her car, got out the "Street Eats," walked over and offered them to the woman saying, "Could you use some snacks for the kids?"

The woman declined saying she HAD snacks for her kids.

I was almost in tears when my friend told this story. Especially when she finished by saying "I guess that's not even what the Street Eats are for."

I disagree, I think that's exactly what they're for.


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