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Barbara's Trip from Woodstock to Woodstock

8/16/2019

She was one of those folks Joni Mitchell sang about - a child of God walking along a road that led to Woodstock. Seeds of goodwill from attending that music festival took root in Barbara Moore’s soul but lay dormant for years, squelched by life in the fast lane. Then Barbara asked what she really wanted. “To get back to the garden.”
     She was shocked when she learned about the effects of hunger on children in America. They often perform poorly in school because they can’t concentrate. One boy told his principal he was hungry and “just couldn’t think.” Some receive free or reduced-cost school lunches, but on weekends, they may go hungry.
     Barbara went into action, and Jeffco Eats was born. Volunteers bag food that they transport to schools for students to carry home for the weekend. One boy reported that the can of beef stew he received made his headache vanish.
     It doesn’t always take an organization to meet needs. One woman I know watches out for kids on her block. A grandfather runs errands for his daughter so she doesn’t have to haul her preschoolers around.
     At times I’m overwhelmed by the world’s problems. But I heard someone say, “Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is to stop praying only and to start doing.”
     Good advice. So I help transport food bags to fill hungry tummies. We’re transforming the idealism of Woodstock into the reality of foodstock.
Because no kid should suffer from a headache because he hasn’t eaten.
     ***
     This post from 2018 is updated here for the fiftieth anniversary of Woodstock.

Donna's Surprising Takeaway from a 2,200-Mile Trek

8/8/2019

Donna Nedde trekked five million steps and 2,200 miles and came away with a message that surprised me.
     She and her husband Tom Kinsella took five months conquering the Appalachian Trail from Maine to Georgia, a journey through fourteen states. This is like scaling Mt. Everest sixteen times.
   Donna, whom I met at the rec center, burned through three pairs of hiking boots and lost fifteen pounds, typical for hikers who consume five thousand calories daily just to maintain their weight on this expedition. When they arrived in a town every week or so, “I could personally eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia,” Donna says.
     And what is her amazing take away?
     “How little we need to live.”
     They carried backpacks, a tent, stove, freeze-dried food, breakfast bars, granola, a water purifier, shorts and a shirt, long pants, phones they rarely turned on, a camera, a shovel and toilet paper, Tom’s Native American flute, “and my Kindle for reading at night,” Donna says.
     That’s it.
     What a contrast from what I observe around me - houses built smaller while storage lockers spring up. Catherine Alles from the Foundation for Economic Education reports that the average American home has 300,000 items. One out of four houses with two-car garages can’t fit a car in them because of all the stuff, she says.
     So Donna’s surprising message is not how to survive, but how to truly live: simply.
     Maybe that’s what we need to survive, too.
     And maybe it’s time to clean out my closets.

Getting a Fresh Coat of Paint

8/2/2019

My husband Duane says I get more paint on me than on the walls, but I’m trying to rejuvenate our home with a fresh coat of paint. And how the memories flow as I listen for hours to rock classics: “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” - when Frank didn’t show up at my party. “You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’ - when Larry and I broke up.
     These were tragedies back then, but we all kept going because we were told “don’t let the sun catch you cryin.” And there was always someone to “help me if you can, I’m feelin’ down.”
     Life was simpler, with “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.” It wasn’t until years later that any of us faced the tough things like debt, divorce, disease, death.
     My playlist rolls out “Mrs. Brown you’ve got a lovely daughter” while my body aches from rolling wide swatches of paint. Today, Herman’s Hermits would sing that song: “Mrs. Brown you’ve got a lovely walker.”
     My steps aren’t as lively anymore either. I used to stay up into the wee hours to “do the jerk.” If I tried that now, I’d stumble through a knock off of the Bee Gees: “How can you mend a broken hip?”
     My body is tattered, and so is my home. But the old house is getting rejuvenated, and I think that will put a spring back in my step, too.
  Especially if I grab some “Afternoon Delight” today - a nap.

When Your Yellow Brick Road Trips You

7/26/2019

That’s me as Dorothy and my husband Duane as the Tin Man as we’re off to see the wonderful Wizard of Oz. Along with the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion, we’re seeking brains, a heart, courage, and a way home.
     Which is what we all need along life’s highway, isn’t it? Because every day we run into flying monkeys that vex our minds. Wicked witches that crush our emotions. Dark paths that leave us fearful to take another step. Our Yellow Brick Road trips us up.
     But can a Wizard of Oz save us?
     No.
     The “Wizards” - the shortcuts in life - are as powerless as the man behind the curtain who pushes levers that release worthless smoke.
  So how do we gain the knowledge, compassion, and bravery we need to make it through our days?
     The same way the characters in “The Wizard of Oz” did - by facing our adversities, not running from them. Then wisdom, empathy, and grit develop inside us. Then we find our place in this world.
     And that’s enough to keep us skippin’ down life’s road.

My Hero Is a Loser

7/19/2019

My hero is a loser.
     Every way he tried to find happiness and purpose failed. A broken marriage. A broken career. Broken political dreams. A broken reputation. And broken health, leaving this once handsome man bent and blind.
     He thought he could create paradise on Earth, but everything let him down one way or another.
Isn't that how life is? We put our hope in a social movement; it falls short. Or in politicians; they break promises. Or a business venture; it takes more than it gives. Or in love and friendship; people hurt us. Or we knock ourselves out at work, and no one fully appreciates our sacrifice.
     Futility dogs us. Even my carefully tended landscaping sprouts weeds.
     The best in life eventually leaves us aching for more.
     Author C.S. Lewis explains this discontent: “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” Only in that other realm, God’s paradise, will everything be whole. Perfect. Complete.
     That’s why John Milton is my hero. When this Seventeenth Century writer grasped that nothing would completely satisfy, he wrote “Paradise Lost.” It landed in the trashcan of obscurity.
     Not until after his death did critics recognize it as the greatest English epic poem ever crafted. But such praise wouldn’t have mattered to Milton anymore. He’d already graduated to the land of absolute fulfillment.
  Which leaves me wondering whether I’m searching for utopia here, or there.

Croutons...
Chew on these seasoned bits of life for a little hope and humor along your highway.

JOIN ME ~ I’ll send brief, occasional posts to lighten your backpack. We're on this journey together.

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