just because you are

right now the boys have the voice of my childhood summers- the noises of outside playing, barefoot, warm, finding themselves in sticks and leaves and rocks- coming home with dirty feet and hands - with the smell of air and grass and the goodness of life.  i'm mildly envious.  the other day i climbed a tree to free a batman mask they'd tossed in the air and had gotten stuck.  the spontaneity of jumping up and grabbing the branch and swinging up- inching along- hands hot- stomach showing with the stretch of my body- bark in my eye- but connected with the tree- it felt so good (and won me instant heroism).  i could live outside- fo' reals'.

last night mike and i went to a panel discussion on human rights in a pluralistic society. it was frustratingly stagnant- full of politically correct language and people speaking to sound intelligent- but empty of true questioning- mostly empty of passion. but there was one man who spoke with a grass-roots knowledge and the perspective of years with his white hair and tanned skin- someone who lives in the trenches- who lives with risk and danger- for the sake of others who don't have a voice.  i loved him.  i felt (or assumed) his frustration at this ivory tower dialogue- that sounded pretty and kept peoples feet clean.  at the end- when i was extremely ansty for someone to shout something about how we hadn't really learned anything- how we hadn't been changed- or even challenged- he began to ask "what are you doing about human rights in this world?"  and students began to share about the meetings they were having, the human rights interest groups that had formed.  but he was relentless,  " what are you doing about injustice?" i so got it.  no i'm not claiming to be an older south east asian human rights advocate - but i understand that feeling of being overwhelmingly frustrated by the endless talk and talk and intellectualization of other peoples deep suffering- and our lack of willingness to humbly find our role in it. i sensed his sadness in the complacency of  not moving beyond words and into some sort of action.

afterward, it drove us to discussing our connectedness in this issue- and our differences, which was weird and kept us up too late. but it left me all day thinking about what are rights? how are they related to responsibility? how do we function as a world community around this issue? should we? do we?

and it raises issues of justice and equality, and the hierarchy of needs- and the possible universality of poverty- poverty of what? poverty of the material? of the spirit? of the soul? of community? and it raises questions of inherent human value- and what do we deserve just because we are a person?

after zoe's orthodontist appointment we met mike for lunch and saw his beautiful, new, cool architecture office.  at lunch mike and i were back on the topic of how we should define human rights- and zoe was interested in this- she thought it was only fair that everyone should have food.  so i asked how we should make that happen? "well we could take the cold food and put it in a cooler, and the rest and put it in boxes, and send it to the places where poor people live."  yes, zoe- give.  if you have two, give one to the person with none.  but who are the poor exactly? and where are they? and how do we feed the poverty of spirit?  how do we feed the de-valued person?

as we walked back from lunch we passed a guy setting up to play the saxophone on the sidewalk. he had his case open for dollars and change.  zoe couldn't resist.  she stopped and listened and told him his music was wonderful- what was his name? how did he learn to play so well?  who had taught him?  what was his favorite song to play?
she's so good at touching the lives of others- of giving value- of reaching into places of possible need.

last week when i gave my lecture on homelessness- someone asked the question- "what do they want? what is it that the homeless want?" i was kind surprised and tempted to say- what don't they want? their need is great- for housing and food and access to health care.  but i paused and said that i think they wanted to be treated with the same dignity, the same voice and expression, the same hope and faith, that you would have in the president of a large company- or a colleague- or your dad- because they are human- they have inherent worth - they were created in the image of God and are loved by that God, just as you and i are.

so that just might be it- our human right is to be valued as a child of God.  and zoe's gift is her pure vision - her ability to value with genuine equality.

as it turns out, ode to my beautiful mom

we spend lifetimes finding ourselves- only to lose ourselves and begin again.
a beautiful sunday.  being in church always resets me- refocuses me- enables me to let go of the week just finished and start again.  it makes me feel small, but loved; forgiven yet worthy; helplessly empowered and full of dependent promise.  i can sing and feel the music and pray and feel my heart- and be reminded of the simplicity of it- let go of complication.

last sunday we were in north carolina, snowed in at the mountain house.  after the kids had gone to bed- we had an evening prayer service led by mikes dad- who is a retired philosophy professor and now ordained in the anglican church of uganda.  after the readings and liturgy and prayers, my sister suggested that since the family was all together - they should pray over mike and me- and our preparation and mission to uganda.  immediately i got a lump in my throat.  i knew this is exactly what we needed. this was a moment so special and so rare. two families together- his and mine- united by a faith in God that ran through generations and has landed us together, as who we are separately, about to uproot and embark.  and so it began, and i wept through the whole prayer.

it began with my mom- a voice i've listened to for 40 years- a voice who has called out to God on my behalf so many times- more times than i'm sure i even know.  a voice of steady conviction- a voice whose faith is deeply planted and does not  waiver- does not question- is not afraid or insecure. it is the voice that raised me.  the voice who spoke the first words my earthly ears ever heard, " Jesus loves you, even more than i do!' they spoke on that cold night in cambridge massachusetts 40 years and two weeks ago. her voice brings to me instant comfort- and i knew as the tears poured down my cheeks that it's that voice that i will miss so much when i live across the world from it. it's that voice that i worried would leave me mommy-less when i was 10 and she had breast cancer. that voice that warned me of life's temptations and spoke of its joys and of my purpose and plan in the universe.  it's the voice that led me to seek God despite the crap life throws you, to find meaning in the suffering, to not be short sighted, to give and give and give again- because we are replenished. it's the voice that my children hear at least weekly now.  the voice that shapes them as it shaped me.  a voice that i will be eternally thankful for and will hear in the deep parts of my heart always. even on the other side of the world.

and the prayer continued with my father. then my brother, then mikes mom, my sister, my brother in law, and mikes dad.  and i could and i should write a paragraph about each of them- their unique part in our lives- in my life- in my formation and process.

and we were sitting on the floor of the living room- surrounded by love and people who share in the even deeper love of God.  people who trust in that love enough to freely let us go- to send us even, because they gave up control when we were little babes.  so i cried and cried some more.  my heart moved and loved, and saddened and impassioned and inspired and rejoicing at the blessing of our family.  and the knowing that while far apart- we remain connected.
and that really, it is just the blink of an eye.

beet jucie

my fingertips and tongue are  deep red.  covered in the juice of beets.  i love beets. they're so earthy, natural. they need nothing.  they hold their own.  that dirty-earthy taste after being baked.  it's enough. it stands alone.  not much we eat is like that- so i love beets for their ability to just be - good as they are.

i went to Mr. A's house today. my patient who is dying of liver cancer.  it was about 45 minutes away. i went to see him and maybe to say goodbye.  he lives in the basement that he built- it has a wall of a kitchen, a giant TV and a small bathroom.  it has his hospital bed and his bookcases with books and dvds and a gold watch and his medications in shoe boxes.  i had to ask what "sex= aspirin" meant- it was scribbled on a box.  (it means that box has viagra and aspirin, or after sex he needs an aspirin- they said laughing). 

i arrived to a room full of visitors smoking pall malls.  he was smoking pall malls too.  everyone was overweight with thick southern accents and they all shared a deep love for this man.  they were all committed to him, thankful for him, and valued him. he was their 'pawpaw'. i loved it.  i felt privileged to be there- in their presence- sharing in this with them.

his hair dresser came for a visit while i was there.  she told me her story.  her husband had left her after 30 years. he went to work one day and never came back.  like country song lyrics. Mr. A was going to ride the 'trail of tears' on his harley with his friends and didn't have anyone to ride on back.  you have to love this - this culture of motorcylcing-leather dressing, harley men with their women on the back of their bikes.  she was offered a spot on his bike and said yes.  she tells that he showed up to get her, long white hair and beard, head to toe in leather, and she thought, "what have i done?" but, she said, he was a perfect gentlemen.  they were together all week- night and and day, and he was a perfect gentlemen.  they've been friends ever since.  what a great story about his man.  and as she told it, he had a giant smile on his sleepy face. 

we talked for a while- about his symptoms and about life and marriage and family.  i examined him and found him full of fluid and short of breath- but mentally clear and not jaundice (yellow) which was good.  we reviewed his medications and what he should and should not be taking and what he could take if he needed it.  then i realized i'd been there for almost 2 hours.  i needed to go.  there were so many people in the room, we hadn't talked about death.  we hadn't talked about his nearing the end of this life.  we hadn't talked about his cruise next week. 

i went to my car and found 3 of his family and good friends- they asked me how much time he had.  they asked me if he could really go on a cruise next week. they asked me if he was going to get better.

no.  i told them.  no- he most likely can't go on the cruise next week.  no he is not going to get better and i think he has weeks left.  they knew this.  but they were worried that he didn't know this.  so i took off my coat and when back inside.

we talked for another 20 minutes about his plans for the end of his life.  about listening not just to his mind and his heart but also to his body.  that even though he wants so badly to be on that cruise- that maybe we should admit that it's not just the loss of the cruise he's grieving , but also the end of his life. that not going- is admitting that he's dying. and that is terribly painful.  but we need to be honest.  i promised him long ago that i would tell him the truth and the truth is that he's at the end of a life well lived- at least a life that has resulted in  him- surrounded by friends and family that can't say enough about him- his love, his care, his provision.

i gave him a huge hug good bye.  i so hope it's not the last.  he has a book for me-it's a book he's told me about for a while now.  a book about practicing medicine in the woods of appalachia- a book about knowing what herbs and roots and barks are good for things.  what a treasure that will be.  it will join my treasury of 'grateful patient gifts'- they compromise: an asian bangle from a young cracked out patient when i was a medical student and that was all she had; a harley davidson bandanna from an older vet who took it off his head and told me to," wear it as a bikini top"; a rind stone tiara from a wild older woman who was going blind; a hand made fertility necklace from a patient who knew i was trying to conceive at the time; a box of almonds from a patient who i'd given almonds to when he'd missed lunch; and several hand scratched notes of thanks.  these are the people i love to work with.  people who share themselves.  who's gifts are representations of our connection. there is meaning there.  value.  depth.

so i drove home with a tear in my eye for my friend and patient Mr. A. thankful for him, for his family, for the fact that our differences don't really matter.  our worlds which would never normally meet- have met- and we've each grown from that. and thankful for all the patients that are like this. beet like- salt of the earth. original and true. just as they are.

gift

i am in ethiopia because i was given a gift.

the gift was to come to ethiopia with one of my oldest and bestest friends and be with her as she meets her son for the first time.

her little, adorable, coy, smiley-eyed almost 3 year old son- Yoyo- (short for Yohannes). not only do i get to share in the joy of seeing lisa love on this little one, but i see him slowly start to realize that now, he has a mama. it's truly indescribable.

she is one of 11 amazing families- who are all meeting their kids for the first time. and they are all first time parents. and they have all been waiting, for a long time. what a gift to see this amount of love. to see the giving of people to each other- from worlds apart. the unity. the joy. the wholeness. the completion. the life bonds of family forming. i feel somewhere between a quiet observer and a doula. i do not share their stories- although i get the loss some have had, and i get the joy of seeing your child for the first time. i get the fear we all share for our children's future. the insecurities that come with having someone ultimately depend on you. the awe in that change, of one minute being just you- and then being someones mommy. what a gift- all around.

the one sightseeing thing we've done while here is to fly north to lalibela- a musical word- and a place of religious pilgrimage- home of the beautiful churches of the 12th century- carved down into the red volcanic rock of the ground- carved from the top down. the countryside is amazing- tall mountains and canyons- like the american southwest but green and covered in vegetation, grasses and acacia trees and flowering aloe plants. and there are shepherds draped in white cloth scarves with staffs surrounded by goats and skinny cows. there are no cars in lalibela- everyone walks on hilly cobblestone streets- lined with tin-roofed huts and purple bougainvillea and yellow flowering trees- the poverty of mans earth and the natural beauty of how it was before. the contrast i find humbling.

at night it is so dark- the poverty is covered under the blanket of the most amazing starry sky- with only the few scattered lights on the hillside joining it. things seem fairer at night. lalibela feels ancient and biblical- but for me- not in the churches themselves. they are impressive in their history- their architectural structure and religious symbolism- but my feeling of spiritual connection came not in those thick walls with their worn grottos and old priests- it came from the dirty houses and the flowers and the night sky- it came in the universality of a smile- when you can't speak the language. it came with the gift from adom of a goatskin cross for our gift of 2 dollars so he could eat breakfast. "something to remember me by." he said. and in this same way addis ababa has been a spiritual experience. the sharing of souls- the joining of peoples. the connection found in common experience and the connection formed despite uncommon experience. it elevates- there is hope-there is joy- there is grace.

so we left lalibela with her flowers and stars and histories. and soon we will leave addis ababa too. and lisa will kiss yoyo 1000 times to hold him over until her return when she will bring him home for good. the gift will be complete and two worlds will begin again, now together.