Free Zone Moments

...this weekend we have a special guest blogger - Brian wrote this for a possible article in our church newsletter. I asked if I could post it here in the meantime.

For those who do not ride Metro buses regularly, there is a zone between Belltown and Pioneer Square where the buses are free. The first stop in the “free zone” on the #2, 3, 4 or 13 routes from Queen Anne Hill to downtown can be enlightening, where a broad cross-section of the bottom rung on Seattle’s economic ladder blends with the residents of one of Seattle’s wealthiest neighborhoods. For years, I have waited for the handicap lift to slowly load passengers in front of DSHS on their way to Harborview or sat uncomfortably near someone wrapped in a carpet pad who clearly used it as housing, clothing and a restroom. At such times I temporarily stop worrying about how I am going to pay for my kids’ college tuition, or save for retirement, or whether my kids will ever be able to buy a home and I wonder, “How does this person make it through the day?” And then I pray.

I have come to cherish some of these spontaneous “free zone moments.” A couple days after the November 4 elections, I was on my way to work in the morning when three apparently homeless Spanish speaking men got on my bus, quite literally “stinking” drunk. They sat down next to me and their loud conversation was right out of a Cheech & Chong skit. At the next stop, a black man sat down on the other side of me and asked if I would please open the window. This caught the attention of the man playing the Cheech role, who loudly said “What? You don’t like the way we smell? [Some expletives deleted.] Now that we have a black president, you think you’re better than us?...” The black man turned to me and said aloud, “Now it starts.” I laughed incredulously, shook my head and said “Ya know, I gotta say. I did not see that one coming.” We both smiled and started a conversation. Soon, our loud inebriated neighbors chimed back in, “You know what? I think Obama is going to be a great president. I just hope he doesn’t get assassinated [and other assorted nonsense]. I am going to be prayin’ for him though. He’s got a tough job to do, but he is goin’ to be a great GREAT president. We all gotta be prayin’ for him…” As I left the bus downtown, we all agreed we would be praying for our president and his family.

I have to confess, there have been “free zone moments” like these when I have somewhat mockingly said to myself, “Wow. We all get one vote. Amazing.” A few months ago, Rev. Dolphus Weary preached at Bethany about racial reconciliation. He asked the question, “How should we as ‘redeemed’ people treat the poor?” He preached that as “kingdom people,” we are all identical in God’s eyes. We each have an equal share in the kingdom. In America, we have an economic concept of “net worth” and poor people have no “net worth” in our society. But in God’s eyes, we all have the same worth -- black, white, Hispanic, rich, poor, employed, unemployed, homeless or Queen Anne Hill resident. There is nothing anyone can do to deprive the poor of this status in God’s eyes.
Now when I experience such a “free zone moment” I say, “Wow. We are all the same in God’s eyes. We all have an equal share in the kingdom. Amazing grace.” And then I pray.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wz79goWQrYU

Yes We Did!

I've been pondering an amazing thing in my heart this week. We just finished a very long and sometimes brutal election year and despite all previous experience to the contrary, hope overcame fear in 2008. I needed some time to digest this extraordinary result before I could really put it into words.
I came to political consciousness during Watergate, the US supported overthrow of Chilean President Salvador Allende, the Iran Hostage Crisis and Contragate. I was too young to really feel Vietnam but woke up in horror to 9/11.
Taylor was born in November of 1989. The headlines in the newspaper the weekend he was arrived was all about the fall of the Berlin Wall - the end of the Cold War. Eighteen years later, on November 4th, 2008, Taylor and I walked 3 blocks to our neighborhood polling place and cast our vote for Barack Obama.

That same night we, and what seemed like all of Seattle were out in the streets celebrating the election of our new President.

I know that there is a lot of hard work and difficult times ahead. We are in the worst financial crisis of this generation and we have spent too many years squandering our potential leadership. Despite all of that, I feel hopeful and proud of our country for the first time that I can remember. We have a few months of transition to get through. I am praying for our President, his family and our country that come January 21, 2009, Barack Obama will be the leader of a people ready and willing to do the hard work necessary to be a beacon to the world.
I still get chills and teary thinking about Tuesday night but the picture that I truly will be keeping in my heart is from Wednesday morning. As Taylor was heading out the door for class at SCCC, we compared notes about our experiences the night before, celebrating Obama's election. I said "You know, it was just an amazing night." Taylor paused, came back into the house, gave me a big, spontaneous hug and said, "You are right - it is an amazing thing!"
More later...

The Big Fig

I think I was destined to love figs early on. My elementary school principal was Miss Newton - how could it be otherwise? So, I'm sad to say - the year of first figs has come to an end.

Early on in this blog I posted a picture of my Mother's Day present - a newly planted Brown Turkey fig tree. There was much scepticism from my dad who did not believe that a fig tree could possibly thrive in the cold, wet Seattle climate. He knows his figs - he has a tree that positively spews figs every year. He even sent me a box of fresh picked figs from his tree one year via UPS overnight. I'm happy to say that after the first season, in a Spring and Summer that were almost arctic, I had a crop of 12 figs. In the interest of full disclosure, only 2 were edible and of those, only the very last holdout, picked this last weekend of October was truly delicious in full figgy unctuousness.

This fig was the Obama of figs - a message of hope that perhaps I have a future of figs worth fighting for. It may take some hard work (I really hate gardening - it's just the result I love.)
I spent some serious time and consideration of how I could best maximize my fig and finally decided to do a bruschetta with goat cheese and lavender honey. I sliced the fig, placed the slices on top of 3 pieces of toasted bread topped with fresh goat cheese and brushed the whole thing with lavender honey. I then broiled them until the honeyied figs were bubbling and juicy. Brian and I ate 1 and a half each in about 1 and a half seconds. I can't wait for next year's crop.