trish hermanson - Home

September 07th, 2021

9/7/2021

s I knew Patti growing up - same little town, same little church - until time and geography separated us. Then I read that she’d become Dr. Patti Giebink, Planned Parenthood abortion provider, wearing a bullet-proof vest and carrying an S&W 357 Magnum for security. By providing abortions, she wanted to protect women from back-alley procedures.
     But Patti’s done an about-face. Today she regrets providing abortions. Why? Partly because she says the cultural and medical landscapes have changed, and partly because “we’re left with one final thing to reconcile: Life, no matter how small, deserves protection.”
     But what if Roe v. Wade is overturned? Could we end up with back-alley abortions again? Patti doesn’t think so. In her compelling new book “Unexpected Choice,” she says, “…we are not in those times anymore - socially or technologically.” She believes the stigma of being an unwed mother is gone. “If anything, it shows admirable strength and fortitude to take on single motherhood.” She points out that the majority of pregnant women in America today are unmarried and in monogamous relationships, not considering nuptials necessary.
     “Abortion is not the panacea we originally thought it was,” she says. “There are no longer any noble reasons for resorting to it. And we now recognize the risks and residual effects that abortion creates.”
     So instead of arguing over “rights,” perhaps it’s time to extend compassion to those who are considering abortion or who have had abortions.
     We’re in “a new dawn,” Patti says. Times have changed.
      ***
  Patti Giebink’s remarkable journey, “Unexpected Choice,” is available here.

Why Didn't I Listen to the Lorax?

9/3/2021

Five decades ago a prophet name Lorax
foretold the future from the heart of his thorax.
He warned about greed in harvesting trees
and smog and pollution and coughs and a sneeze.
Now fifty years later we’re fighting the fires
and storms and mud slides that make our lives dire.
We’re mopping our brows from heat that consumes us
and wondering if all of this climate will doom us.
So why didn’t I listen to the Lorax back then?
What did he say to which I could attend?
I go to the words of the Lorax and Seuss
and hope that my brain will not be obtuse:
“UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”
So what can I do from my home and my scene
to make this world better, more green and more clean?
It’s really not all that terribly confusing.
Turn off lights when not using, drive less - no excusing.
Recycle, repurpose, be water-use wise,
then my carbon footprint might decrease by one size.
I’m only one person, that’s true of you, too.
But get us together, we’re a human zoo
of people who dare to care for this space
and take it back now from how it’s disgraced.
We’ve got a great calling, it’s big and it’s great
to care for God’s Earth - let’s not wait!

My Wabi-Sabi Pot

8/26/2021

I’m holding a pot crafted by my friend Chris, who was thrown off the wheel of life and lay on the ground like a lump of wet clay, her dreams, her marriage, her family, and her heart all broken.
     But that’s not the end of her story.
     Chris picked up each bit of damp clay and climbed back onto the potter’s wheel. It took years of work, sometimes letting go of pieces of her life, sometimes seeing pieces come together. Now she’s taken on a new shape, one she calls “wabi-sabi.” That’s a Japanese term describing that true beauty reveals itself among imperfections. Cracks, chips, and irregularities all provide authenticity. I see this in Chris. Not in spite of her hardships, perhaps because of them, she lives with contentment and freedom she never experienced before.
As a ceramic artist, Chris says, “My pots aren’t perfect, but hopefully artful with personality.” I treasure this one she gave me with feet she added when "it didn’t set just right.” This encourages me that even when I don’t set just right, I can still be artful with personality. And I can recognize beauty in others even with their flaws.
  Someday all of life's clay will be refashioned perfectly. The Master Potter, Jesus, will create a new Earth with all the fallen pieces re-formed. Until then, I keep climbing onto his potter’s wheel to be reshaped, as this song describes.

When Dreams Collide with Reality

8/7/2021

Have you noticed that dreams don’t always come true?
     For example, I’ve yearned to see Stonehenge, that ancient circle of rock pillars in England, but the opportunity never arose. So Duane and I recently trekked to an American version - Carhenge.
     It’s a humorous imitation outside Alliance, Nebraska in the size, shape, and proportions of Stonehenge. Through “blood, sweat, and beers,” creator Jim Reinders says he and his family arranged thirty-nine vintage automobiles in a circle, some buried trunk-end down to create columns, others welded above to form arches. While Stonehenge represents a civilization four thousand years ago, Carhenge represents our American civilization with our love of mobility.
     But Carhenge symbolizes much more to me. It reminds me that we don’t always get what we want. I longed to see ancient stone pillars, I got crazy car columns. Among my other desires, I’ve dreamed of a pristine home pictured in “House Beautiful.” Mine is lovely, yet gathers dust bunnies I could trip over. I’ve yearned for perfect friends, but I get people as quirky as me. I’ve fantasized romantic love, but I get someone who needs forgiveness as much as I do. The contrast between my idealized notions and stark reality is like the contrast between Stonehenge and Carhenge. One is an unrealized dream. The other is reality. And if I don’t embrace what comes my way, I miss out, because the real deal may be as good as, sometimes even better, than the fantasy.
  It may be even as wacky as Carhenge.

My Chest Is Unremarkable?

7/19/2021

It’s embarrassing, but a medical report recently declared that my chest is “unremarkable.”
     What an insult, except in this case, it was good news.
     That’s because “unremarkable” indicates no more cancer was detected through screening. Whew!
     This incident caused me to think about how insensitive medical terminology can be. For example, when I showed another doctor how easily my hands bruise, he said, “You won’t like this. It’s ‘senile purpura.’” No reason for alarm, he said. Just another sign of (gulp) being older. But why call it “senile?”
     The most insulting medical phrase I’ve heard is when a woman becomes pregnant after the age of thirty-five. Physicians call her situation a “geriatric pregnancy.” That means you can be in your thirties and be declared geriatric.
Do you think the medical field needs sensitivity training?