Circle of Prayer for Iraq

Today I stand in prayer with the people of Iraq. Nearly 500,000 Iraqi's are committed to stand together today, celebrating joint prayers with one another. Sunnis with Shiia, together to pray to God, in efforts to unify. And to refuse to engage in a the gathering religious civil war clouds rising from the ashes of terrorist attacks against Muslim holy shrines and people this week. This religious targeting is meant to divide that nation of their fledgling freedom by those whose agendas lie in chaos.

I stand with you, Iraq. My heart is with yours as you stand in prayers together today. I pray that your resolve to live in peace and unity with one another supplants the violent attempts to divide you. Regardless of political and philosophical differences, that you are standing against the attempts to use GOD to divide you and are showing the world the incredibly strong content of your character propels me into prayer and celebration.

May peace prevail.

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

There are some rather phenomenal things happening in my body.

And in my soul.

Interesting that I should be undergoing such individually huge and daunting-in-their-own-right sandblasting at the same time. I feel a bit like I am in the middle of a rather rigorous car wash. Without the car.

It has always seemed to me that being a work in progress, changing course, having a teachable heart, being open to the movement of the Spirit and the undeniable leadership of the Lord, recognizing and seeking to heal unhealth in one's existence - are all laudable, though sadly rare, elements in the kind of Christian humanity I seek after and admire in others. And neccessary characteristics, really, if we are indeed bound to the relentless pursuit of Christ and of wellness in body and soul, aren't they? We must not be afraid to suffer, encounter pain, confusion, or lonliness during a process of soulful remodel for purposes we do not immediately understand, but find their genesis and resolution in God.

The specifics concerning the spiritual/Biblical and physical/medical portions of this particular leg of my life journey will have to await a more complete description until tomorrow, or perhaps Friday. At the very latest, Saturday, as my stamina is actually waning before my very eyes tonight. How's that for a teaser? But for now, suffice it to say that I am, apparently, under intense spiritual remodel and polishing. Somewhat initially involuntarily as is my predictably stubborn, Type A wont. And this new medical journey I am thrust into, seeking answers to the hurts and questions my body is posing promises to be as taxing as any I have taken in my life. It's going to be an interesting ride over here at the Circle K for the next little while.

But I don't fear the destination, as much as I may long for a road with less muddy bumps and snarls and moan about the battlescars I collect along the way. I am not afraid. I've known and loved my driver since I was born. I have abiding faith that he will safely bring me where I need to go.

On Airplanes and Sea Ports

HOME AT LAST.

Fifteen hours of travel with two children under 5 just about does one in. In truth, the airplane flights were uneventful and lovely, the children were rested and wonderfully behaved (by the grace of God alone, since Mommy accidentally checked the luggage bag containing all the electronic toys and books, meant to be a carry-on!), the rental cars spacious and clean, and the overall travel experience smooth and safe. What a blessing!

But fifteen hours of smooth travel is still fifteen hours of travel. And since my normally longsuffering behind tends to feel like it is in a bad jello mold after sitting in a middle passenger seat of a 757 for any length of time, I tend to both feel AND look worse for the wear when emerging from any airplane. Even the nicest, easiest flight tends to contort me into something very nearly resembling a wadded up washcloth. It is an unpleasant transformation that can only be remedied with ample sleep and all-important Dr. Pepper. Both of which I intend to partake in liberally over the next few days.

But at last we are home! Actively engaged in trying to recapture some of our jetlagged energy, which seems to have seeped from us like the air from my grandmother's couch cushions upon impact: swift, sudden, and solidly. We are bushed.

Forgive me as I drift to sleep. My pillow is actually singing me a lullaby. Maybe it is the voices in my head. Again. Or maybe it is the low hum of the airplane engine which seemed to be emanating from my seat for 4 hours and 28 minutes and is now endlessly reverberating throughout my being. It is kind of soothing, actually. As engine hum echoes go, it's not bad.

But before I go, may I just ask this question of all Americans whose income or livelihood is NOT dependent upon a political ambition:

Does the idea of outsourcing the security and operational management of American sea ports to an Arab nation whose stance on terrorism is somewhere between "don't ask, don't tell" and "those terrorist guys are just misunderstood" sound remotely palatable to you? Does this brilliant bit of selling us down the river sound like it is strengthening our national security? Making our families safer? Protecting generational inheritance of this free nation? Insuring domestic Tranquility, providing for the common defense, promoting the general Welfare, and securing the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity?

Any of that sound familiar?

Yeah, it's not flying with me either.

The emails to my Congresswoman and Senator have already been sent. Yours?

Jesus Loves the Little Children

Jesus Loves the Little children,
All the childen of the world.

Red and Yellow, Black and White,
They are precious in His sight.

Jesus loves the little children of the world.

~In loving tribute to Amanda, precious daughter of my beloved friend, Sarah, called home to be with the Lord on Valentines Day. May God give His abundant strength in the face of weakness, bring solace to saddened hearts, and transform pain to peace. Jesus loves the little children.

Shark Tales

Scuba divers are a great big bunch of nerds.

Truly, we are.

We sit around and gleefully compare the nuances of variant colors in the tiny little cleaner wrasse fish we saw in Molokini crater to the ones we saw when we dived Maldives. We marvel over the miniscule pattern differences in eels. We chatter on excitedly about the variations of sharks and rays we have dived with. It is completely boring to anyone not invested in such thrilling conversational topics as the benefit of integrated weight belts vs standard free weights, or whether a 6 mm wetsuit offers a better warmth benefit as a 3mm long with a 3 mm shorty on top.

Yeah, as I said: riveting.

But for us whose love of the water courses through our veins rhapsodically, this stuff is ELEMENTAL. We live for the moment when we actually do get to see the elusive whale shark or the schools of hammerheads off the point. For the day when the Manta Rays circle us in tandem, the schools of milletseed butterfly fish swarm in a feeding frenzy, or that one-in-a-million free water swim with a humpback whale. We who dive are an interesting motley crue, suffering from a delightful addiction to salt water.

But we also share within our ranks some absolutely great stories. Some of them are legend. Some of them are even true.

Settle in and I'll share with you two of the more colorful, recent Shark Tales we've heard since landing on the island this time around:

KAYAK VS. SHARK

In mid January, two vacationing tourists who did not know a kayak from a submarine sandwich decided to kayak out to a tiny, uninhabited island 4 miles off the coast of Maui. This is a FOUR MILE paddle through a rugged open water channel. Obviously, this was a brilliant idea from the start for two novice kayakers who did not include life jackets or swim fins on this little outing, but instead opted for two cans of Pepsi, an iPod, and a bag of Doritos.

By the grace of God, they did manage to navigate themselves to the tiny little island of Molokini. Once there, they came upon a dive boat that was anchored with divers in the water, and asked for a ride back to the main island of Maui. Unfortunately, the boat was at full capacity and did not have room to stow 2 extra passengers and their kayak on board. But the hungry kayakers were given food and drink, and provided with life preservers. The captain told them that after the divers surfaced, she would drive the boat back to check on the kayakers to make sure they were able to make it safely back across the channel.

The dive boat captain kept her word. As she drove his boat back toward the kayakers three hours later, they were in easy distance of shore. However, they were frantically waving their kayak paddle in the air, desperate to flag her down. As she slowed, she was able to see clearly the source of their panic: a 12-foot great white shark turned on it's belly underwater and bumped their kayak once more. The kayakers were quickly rescued and taken to shore. There, they relayed that the shark had been following them for about a mile and had been nudging them increasingly harder half a dozen times. The captain of the rescue dive boat was able to take a fantastic photo of the shark, which was 2/3 as long as the dive boat itself. Even for seasoned divers, a chance encounter with a Great White Shark of this size would be enough to shake you. Whoa, that was a BIG shark.

But for those kayakers from Des Moines, the shark altered their reality so remarkably that they repeatedly swore NEVER to go in the ocean again. Can't say I blame them, really. Poor souls.

FINGER FARCE

About a week after the shark-kayak bumping became open knowledge on the island, a tourist, snorkeling along the south coast, arrived back on shore in hysterics. His left pointer finger was clearly, traumatically severed at the knuckle. He was in shock, bleeding, and screaming that he had been attacked by a shark.

Never mind that the story itself sounded suspect, as any shark of a decent size does not typically bite off only fingers. But any report of shark attack, particularly on a tourist in a high profile resort area, is taken extremely seriously. The Coast Guard patrol boats went out, the search helicopter was dispatched to circle the area, the ambulances came with lights blaring. The whole shabang.

After several hours of searching, no shark was found. The Coast Guardsmen finally questioned the snorkeler in detail, who reluctantly admitted that he had not been attacked by a shark after all. Rather, he had been badgering a local Hawaiian Green Sea Turtle (an endangered species here that must not be touched or bothered under severe penalty of law), in efforts to grab ahold of it. The turtle was trying to get to the surface to take a breath of air, and the snorkeler impeded his path. The turtle took matters into his own... well... beak, and turned on the snorkeler, snapping off his left index finger cleanly.

The tourist sheepishly explained that to say he was attacked by a shark sounded far more exciting and sensationalistic than to admit that hed been bitten by a turtle, so he fabricated the shark element entirely.

The County of Maui is now considering taking the young man to court to pay for the $100,000+ emergency response bill his little turtle caper resulted in. At the very least, I a new type of warning sign may soon emerge on the local beaches: Beware of Turtles. Or perhaps: Beware of Snorkelers. You be the judge.

Cold Weather Wimp

If Darwin were right and Survival of the Fittest was the name of the game, I would have been extinct L-O-O-O-N-G before now. Because I am a cold weather WIMP and should have been picked off by the more "fit" long ago. So I think I am the unofficial antedote to Darwinism. I am still standing, and it is by the grace of God alone. As I write this, I am sitting here, in MAUI where it is 68 degrees outside at midnight, wearing a long sleeved T-shirt, dive jacket, sweatpants, and socks. I realize this is ridiculous. But...

I am freezing!! Anything under 70 seems to turn my lips blue and set my teeth chattering.

Thus, to the whole "survival of the fittest" theory, I scoff in your general direction! I seem to manage quite well with the help of such inventions as chenille, down feathers, forced air gas heat, socks, flannel and the like, so in my life, your theory has been completely disproven. Prior to that, though, I may as well have been wearing pajamas in the pattern of a giant target, because there is no way I would have survived. I would be the poster child for "extinct" the moment early autumn settled in and the temperature dropped into the artic range of the mid 60's. Brrrrrrrr.

I am the reason Darwin is wrong. If he were right, I should have been gone a long time ago.

Now if you'll please excuse me, I am off to snuggle into my down comforter for the night...

Freaky Frog

Will someone please tell me what is UP with the demon talking Volkswagen frog?

VW Advertising Department, please take note: it may be a good idea to rethink your marketing on this one. Menacing, possesed, talking reptiles do not sell cars. The frog is scaring young children (and 32-year old mothers) across the globe. Freaks me out, dude.

Is Ann Coulter reading my blog?

Well, probably not, since I doubt the brilliance of my children and my Dr. Pepper fan club merit her time...

But her latest column (02.08.06) voices her resounding agreement with my February 6 blog entry. And adds to my hope that our heads will emerge from their current buried-in-the-sand status to openly acknowledge and stand against the reality of the religious tyranny modern-day Islam seems intent to inflict upon the international community. I wanted to stand up and applaud with a resigned sense of satisfactied reassurance that voices of prominent clarity are also ringing this bell. And it is getting louder. Hopefully, it will soon ring with enough volume that we cannot be so easily bullied into ignoring the truth anymore.

The link to her article: http://www.anncoulter.com/cgi-local/welcome.cgi

Thoughts? Comments? Thought-provoking insights to share? Bring them on...

Opening Ceremony

The Winter Olympics Games begins again tonight. Opening Ceremonies from Torino, Italy. As I nestle into a Hawaiian hibiscus-printed sofa in our rented condo on the sunny shores of South Maui to watch, the snowy backdrop of these global games does truly seem a world away.

Please join me in praying for safety and peace for all the athletes, and in gratitude for the unprecedented opportunity the Olympic Games present for human beings to come together, united in one shared purpose with a spirit of earnest endeavoring for the very best we can achieve as athletes and people. That the Olympics continue to be a worldwide event of such significnance and gives me hope, bouys my joy, and reminds me of the possibilities despite the differences.

Particularly exciting to me this year is that we'll have a family member -albeit distant- participating in these Winter Olympics! Andy Finch, my sister's husband's cousin (able to follow that?) is a member of the Team USA snowboarding team. He is in for a powerfully magnificent experience as he leads his team to do the very best they can do. Perhaps a medal will greet him at the end of his efforts, but just being there is the ultimate reward. Can you ponder the degree of honor you'd feel at the chance to represent your nation in front of the world, doing your very best at what you LOVE to do? Goodness, just imagine that...

As for me, I will be watching, praying, hoping, sharing in the joys and defeats, and feeling both patriotism and international sense of comaraderie that inevitably accompany in the Olympic Games. May they occur against a backdrop of peace, may the joyful outcomes be well-earned, and may harmony reign.

it matters where the anchor is dropped

Driving on a country road in Makawao, Maui, I noticed that an old building that had long stirred me each time I past it - it was rich with ancient Hawaiian history - was gone.

It was not a particularly beautiful building, but rather plain, tiny green shackleboard house with ordinary white paned windows and a small, leaning front porch. I loved it. This house happily represented, for me, the essence of traditional Hawaiian upcountry plantation living. I always looked for it behind the rows of bamboo when rounding the corner that leads down towards Haiku. But now it is gone. I miss it, and my heart aches for the loss, small as it is in the grander scheme of the wide, wide world.

Reflecting on the expiration of this sweet Hawaiian country home illustrates for me just how transitory life is. Just how disposable the trappings of the world can be. Nothing can be taken for granted. Nothing is permanent. Nothing that is today, is guaranteed to be tomorrow.

Except the Lord.

I am met tonight with a renewed sense of gratitude that my anchor is moored in the truth that will never disappear, be altered, change, or leave me. Praise God that His Hawaiian country cottage in my soul is rooted in the fertile soil of the spirit, not the lush slopes of Mount Haleakala, and that it will never fade away as this earth ebbs and flows. The truth of the Lord stands forever.

Mauiimmodesty

It is commonly assumed that the majority of us have some degree of body awareness. At least by me.

Body AWAREness would seem to imply that we are inately AWARE when we are wearing items that are way, way, wa-HAY too small, ill fitting, disturbingly distracting, or patently inappropriate for the venue.

Be it far from my expertise or even my earned ability to proclaim myself the fashion icon or guru in ANY sense of the word. After all, this is the woman who values comfort over beauty to a fault, and would joyfully wear sweatpants and Crocs to church if it wasn't so obviously disresepectful to God.

So far on this vacation, the pristine beaches of Maui beaches have evidenced rather eye-opening, full-color proof that my belief in the concept of our universal body awareness is vastly flawed.

The new equation seems to be best summed up in five words: speedo+thong+chili fries+alcohol-modesty = NOT PRETTY.

Peaceful mask of violence

So, it seems a Danish newspaper re-published a satirical cartoon depicting Muhammed carrying a bomb around in his turban. This, obviously, refers to the legacy of death and violence that tends to sadly accompany modern day radical Islam, in practice and teaching, throughout the world in which the religion saturates culture to the point of inextricable blending.

Across the world, Muslims are, clearly, not happy with this cartoon. Dominating the news is coverage of violent protests: burning buildings, boycotting products, throwing stones and rocks, shooting guns, destroying houses and cars, threatening various targets. Citing religious beliefs that all depictions of the "Prophet" are forbidden, they threaten DEATH to anyone (or any nation) breaking their religious code. "Islam is the religion of peace!" is professed, which is an increasingly insult to our collective intelligence, considering that being simultaneously uttered are such sentiments as:

~ "This is not a protest, this is a warning," said Khalid Kelly, 39, an Irish national who converted to Islam five years ago."Stop murdering our women and children. We gave the same message before 9/11. We are now saying to insult our Prophet means death. We are being attacked and an attack against our Prophet will mean death."

~ "It is very clear: Anyone who insults the Prophet must be beheaded. Remember van Gogh?" he said, referring to the Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh who was murdered in 2004 for his controversial film about Islam. "Whoever did it, bless him. Islam is peace but you see there will only be peace when Islam is implemented across the world. In the Prophet's time anyone who insulted the Prophet was beheaded. The same should happen now." That gem courtesy of Abu Jihad, 43, English citizen of Pakistani descent.

~ 500 protesters gathered outside the Danish Embassy in West London after a two-hour march. Amid chants of "Denmark go to hell" and "Bomb, bomb Denmark", protesters called for a jihad, or holy war. Protesters yelled: "Denmark watch your back" and "You'll pay with your blood". Banners read: "Europe you will pay, your 9/11 is on its way".

~ "The only solution is for those responsible to be killed. In Islam, the one who insults the messenger should be killed." ~ Abu Ibrahwm, 26, of Luton, England.

And, get this:

~ Mahmoud Zahar, a top leader of newly elected Palestinian militant group Hamas, said yesterday: "“We should have killed all those who offend the Prophet."

That this guy was just ELECTED to a leadership position at ALL should bother us more than a little bit.

The ongoing hoopla in both word and action over this cartoon starkly illustrates the kind of peace Islam subscribes to.

Such peacefully loving advocation of mass murder, terrorism, beheading, and holy war just gets me all warm and fuzzy. How absolutely horrifying and indefensible! Why are we not moved to condemn this unformly? This is lunacy. It is a cartoon, people. Written by non-Muslims who do not subscribe to Islam, and are thus, not bound to abide by Islamic religious laws of the non-depiction of Muhammed.

And you know what? The message intended by the illustration, however disrespectfulul its presentation, has merit. For it was as Muslims ACTING IN THE NAME OF ALLAH that destroyed our planes, buildings, and lives on September 11, that bombed the subway stations and bus in England on 7/7, that stage suicide-bombing massacres of staggering proportions everyday in Jerusalem or on the streets of Muslim nations at the hands of Hamas or Al Qaeda, that killed seventeen US soldiers aboard the USS Cole. Muslim violence is occurring on a global scale as a concentrated jihadist effort against the "infidels", which literally includes everyone "who are not Muslims."

Definitely seems a peaceful religion to me. Definitely peaceful. Definitely.

If the only two ways to achieve peace are to either religiously convert or kill everyone you meet, your definition of peace is rancid. And intolerable. And rotten. And wrong.

I am awakened. I will no longer will tolerate being fed the lie of a "peaceful" Islam. I flat out do not believe that. I just refuse to disregard my own eyes, ears, mind, heart, and soul to my own risk of peril when it comes to Islamic "promotion of peace".

I hope with all my heart that I am missing something, that somehow all these guys who run around blowing things up and targeting anyone who differs from them are the rogue members of an outcast Muslim sect. That they do not represent the whole. But when members of the elected leadership of a nation unabashedly advocate the same inflammatory violence speech and actions, my hope dwindles to a level just below paltry.

In seeking to understand the Qu'uran/Koran, I have read it. Twice from cover to cover and often in pieces as part of more intensive study over the years. This elusive "peace" that Islam claims to contains has never been evident to me. Instead, I find as the heart of Islam, a religion founded in war and initially spread by armed conquest ancapturingng of wives, wealth, land, and spoils. Violent aggression is embedded throughout the Qu'uran/Koran and in basic concepts of the religion in practice and philosophy. Simply stated, territories dominated by Muslims are called "Dar al-Islam", meaning: the sphere of Islam. The rest of the world is called "Dar al-Harb", or: the sphere of War.

This means that, sooner or later, everyone will be categorized. And, from the Qu'uran/Koran's own pages, either one becomes a Muslim, or one becomes a target.

Even as I realize I am a target to these radicals, I love because God first loved us and commands us to love one another. And His peace - REAL peace - never comes delivered as a suicide bomb, or by means of a fatwa or jihad, which are all solely the efforts of corrupted, sinful human beings adhering to a religious tradition built on a foundation of violence.

Hamas is Bad News, Pass It On...

One man's political party is another man's stark raving lunatic brigade.

May God intervene in Biblical proportion to the clear and present danger to this planet that Hamas represents.

One Word:

M A U I

We arrived this afternoon to the sunny, windswept, crystalline shores of Maui. Grateful beyond explanation to be here, we are ~ as ever when travelling with two children under 5 ~ exhausted after waking at 5:00 am this morning and travelling for more than 8 hours. But delightfully, we have arrived, set down our bags, stretched out our arms to the sun, watched the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean, and are settling in for the night.

We are here.

We are "home".

And we are peacefully poised for a tomorrow that holds no schedules, no watching the clock or wristwatch, and instead doing exactly what nourishes us moment to moment. Making memories for a lifetime, delighting in our children, and embracing the island we love so deeply.

Ahhhh.............

Sheehan Shenanigans

Well, I'm saying it again. Because it continues to be true. The more people open their mouths, the more we are able to discern the true content of their character. I know this to be true in my own life. I make many more mistakes with my mouth open than with it shut. This is a documented fact among those who personally know me, are genetically related to me, or visited the hospital recovery room immediately after either of my children's births. This "mouth equals mistake" relationship is a bit of an interesting double-edged sword in this situation, considering that this blog represents my mouth being open fairly wide in front of an audience of people, but it's a calculated risk.

... but back to our regularly scheduled program...

It seems Cindy Sheehan is losing her ability to hide behind a cause with exponential speed. This is a good and inevitable phenomenon, really. The longer she remains in the public arena - even on the fringes where she exists - the more we get to see who she REALLY is. What she REALLY believes. What she is REALLY after. What her cause REALLY is. Lately, she has begun openly emerging from the Camp Casey cocoon to emerge as an acidic moth with a destructive, evil ax to grind and a pungent methodology.

It is no secret that I abhor her message, detest her methods, and doubt her authenticity and her motives. It would be fair to say that she and I are not destined to become scrapbooking buddies. In fact, I was briefly convinced she was the one who made the two consecutive hang-up phone calls to my house at 3:20 am last Tuesday. Doggone that Verizon voicemail wake-up call service. It messes with your head.

Lately, she has decided that her quest is best served by these types of winning strategies:

**inappropriately demonstrative behavior as an invited guest at the House of Representatives immediately preceeding the State of the Union Speech, leading to her arrest and escort from the building**

**Equating our President, George W. Bush to "ten times the terrorist as Osama Bin Laden" in a speech at the World Social Forumn in Venezuela, in which she also stood at the side of President Hugo Chavez in agreement as he announced, "Enough already with the imperialist aggression. Down with the U.S. empire."**

**presenting California Senator Diane Feinstein with an ultimateum: filibuster Alito or I will run against you as a Democratic candidate in the next election. She has made her announcement on various web news sites, to the Senator herself, and proudly proclaimed her political hopes in that same, lovely Venezuelan speech. Yeah, that seemed quite the banner night for her.**

All such lovely tributes to her late son, Casey - an American hero who gave his life for the country she hates so much.

Nice.

The more she speaks, the more obvious the rancid quality of her words becomes. The less powerful her cause becomes. And the more transparency is achieved. The veil is coming off, and it reveals the selfish, arrogant, agendized, radical, looney tune under it. So, I say - keep it up, Ms. Sheehan. Keep on talking. The more we understand about who you are and what you stand for, the more of us - Democrats and Republicans alike - will flee en masse from that brand of unchecked emotional Anti-American lunacy. And toward people, policies, programs, and politicians who actually believe in the promise and purpose of the United States of America and do not spend our energy to attack and undermine it, but invest ourselves in creating a more perfect union here at home and offering freedom to all our beloved neighbors throughout the world.

Ms. Sheehan, I charge you to abandon the hateful speech, malice, and feeble agenda you peddle. I invite you to actually become part of the constructive solution to the problems which face us all and demand our equal involvement in hopeful cooperation and love as a people united. Not denigration, and hateful, unbalanced messages spouted from an increasingly ineffective mascot for the radical anti-American ideology brigade. Join those of us who choose HOPE over HATE.