Blog Archives - trish hermanson

What Ripped You Apart This Year?

12/28/2020

What ripped you apart this year?
     The loss of a loved one to COVID? The loss of a job? The loss of a political candidate?
     We’ve all been ripped apart one way or another. But during these days in which we continue to be pulled apart by political mud slinging, let’s remember our commonality.
     Whether you’re a Democrat, a Republican, a Libertarian, or refuse to associate with any of the above, and whether you’re red, brown, yellow, black, or white, we share this beautiful spinning ball called Earth.
     Together, what lessons can we take from this horrific year?
     That the world can be brought to its knees in a flash.
     That my life and livelihood can be torn away.
     That we desperately need each other.
     And I’ll add, that problems aren’t solved by either the left or the right, but by reaching up to God.
     I want to keep these lessons in mind so I’ll retain 2020 vision in 2021. Otherwise, I’ll suffer from the nearsightedness of forgetfulness.
     As we enter this New Year, let’s virtually hold hands at a safe social distance and discover how we can mend what has been ripped apart. This song by Peter Mayer, recorded in pre-pandemic days when life was cheerier, still speaks to me about our shared future.
     What are your lessons from the year?
     ***    Lego artwork by Nathan Sawaya.

God is Wild!

12/21/2020

God is wild. He made sex, after all. And he’s smart; he could have made lips into bones, but he knew better.
     Do I have your attention yet?
     God is lavish, too, with a crazy sense of humor. He delights in animals as bright as macaws and as dull as slugs. As tall as giraffes and as small as bugs. He made people tall and small, too. But then came the fall - a cosmic fracturing of relationships, ecology, everything.
     However, God wouldn’t let his world stay permanently ruptured. Like the hero in any great story, he entered the mess to fix it. Not as a super hero, though. He sneaked in as a baby, disguised by wearing skin like us. He grew up and pointed to lilies in the field and birds in the air and said we are more valuable than these. Worth dying for even, which is what he did to mend the brokenness from the fall. Then wham, he conquered death!
     Mysteries are wrapped in mysteries here that go beyond my comprehension. But this I know: God is so wild he entered into his creation to shout out his passionate love.
Now that’s worth a “Hallelujah Chorus” or two.

I Have No Hope Anywhere Else

12/15/2020

I have no hope anywhere else.
     Not in conspiracy theories.
     Not in claims of election fraud with no hard evidence.
     Not in those who would subvert the Constitution rather than support democracy.
     Not in politicians on either side of the aisle who choose party over principles.
     Not in the masses from any political persuasion who believe that violence, burning, and looting are a solution.
     Not in those American Christians who bow down to bullying and braggadocio rather than obey Jesus, who declared that name calling is murder.
     Where is my hope? I think about a woman whose dress caught on fire. Her husband, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, threw himself on her burning body to snuff out the flames, but she perished. Longfellow was left with burns on his face and six children to raise. Two years later, his oldest son enlisted in the Civil War and was severely wounded.
     As Longfellow sought to nurse his son back to health, he heard Christmas bells ringing. Yet war cannons boomed throughout the land. He bowed in despair. “Hate is strong,” he wrote, “and mocks the song of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
     But the bells pealed louder, stronger. Hope stirred in Longfellow. “God is not dead, nor doth He sleep,” he scribbled. “The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail, with peace on earth, good-will to men.”
     I share his hope. I yearn for the day when God makes everything right!
   Where is your hope?
     Here is a riveting song of Longfellow’s poem performed by a band of siblings.

My Daughter's Post Busted Me

12/11/2020

My daughter Ashley, who has suffered much this year with cancer, shared the following on Facebook, and it busted me. Please catch the song at the end, and scroll down in the video to SHOW MORE to see the lyrics:
"A few nights ago Steve and I were reflecting on the Christmas story and he pointed out that it really is a story of hardship. A pregnancy that likely caused scandal for both Mary and Joseph, A journey at an inconvenient time, difficult accommodations, then fleeing for their lives to a foreign land.
Why is it then that much of our culture's focus at Christmas time is creating rosy, happy feelings? This year, more than ever, it's hard for many of us to create those rosy feelings while separated from loved ones.
Right now globally there are millions of refugees displaced from their homes. All is not calm and all is not bright, but the story of hardship that we remember this holiday is ultimately a story of God putting on skin, being born of a woman, and living among us with all the mess and pain that we experience. That is comforting to me."
Hear the song "Immigrant King" here.

What Kind of Culture Are You Making?

12/4/2020

Meet my cousin Jan, a quilter who told me she “auditions” pieces of fabric to see which patterns work best together. Her sister Judy is a pianist who can resonate a room with a pipe organ. Another cousin excels in hosting. Another is a whiz with words. Another is an artist. Another has developed the skill of encouraging others. Another raises exotic birds. And my sister is a master gift-giver. We are all “culture makers.”
     I’m talking about the potential we each have to do something that changes our immediate world. Author Adam Savage explains, “Whenever we’re driven to reach out and create something from nothing, whether it’s something physical like a chair, or more temporal and ethereal, like a poem, we’re contributing something of ourselves to the world.”
     When we do that, he says “we’re not putting what we make into the local culture, what we make IS the culture.”
     What a privilege. Because I carry the image of God-the-Creator, I can influence the culture around me for good. I may do this by lifting up someone with a word, sending an encouraging text, sharing a meal, or shoveling a sidewalk. When I do this, I’m putting myself into the world to make it a better place.
     Yet what a responsibility. I can choose to make the world a worse place by my words and actions, too.
     So what kind of culture am I creating?