Blog Posts - trish hermanson

My Lieutenant Moment

2/3/2022

I had my Lieutenant Dan moment recently.
     Remember Lieutenant Dan, Forrest Gump’s friend who felt hopeless after he lost his legs in the Vietnam War? When he and Forrest Gump started a shrimp fishing business, a hurricane threatened to sink their boat and drown them. In response, Lieutenant Dan railed against God from the boat’s crow’s nest. The storm died down, the two survived, and Lieutenant Dan was a new man. He still didn’t have his legs, but he was at peace. Something about honestly yelling at God cleansed him.
     And now my Lieutenant Dan moment. Life has been rough since cancer surgery last year. The person I once was is gone. Now? Low energy, muddled focus, difficulty writing. Finally I told God, “I’m not dying, but I’m not living. So either take my life or give me life!” The next day I repeated that. The third day I added, “And I mean it!”
     What happened? The storm inside me died down. My health hasn’t changed, but my hope has. I’m at peace. Something about crying out to God, even yelling at Him, cleansed me. And recently when I felt down again, I asked God, “Are you sure that was your final answer?” I heard nothing, so it must be.
     It amazes me that God tolerates such honesty from us. Perhaps he welcomes it because he yearns for an honest relationship.
     Have you had a Lieutenant Dan moment?
      ***
     Screenshot from “Forrest Gump” movie. Clips of the Lieutenant Dan hurricane and his resolution are here.

Garbanzos and Other Gifts

1/18/2022

How my tastes have changed.
     I was a college student the first time I tried garbanzos. Yuck! A stranger named Marge, who was the age of my mother, served them on a salad to a group of us students she had invited to her home. Didn’t she realize we’d prefer pizza?
     Another person I didn’t appreciate during my college days was Olive, a woman the age of my grandmother. She lived in my home town and wrote notes to those of us studying away from home. Sweet, but I wasn’t interested in what she had to say.
     Then there was Stan, a guy I met as a college student. He was quiet, never married, worked for the same company for decades, retired, then died. But he proved to be a steadfast friend to those around him.
     Over the decades my appreciation of the ways of Marge, Olive, and Stan has grown. Their soft footprints across life’s stage went mostly unnoticed, yet they left behind gifts - hospitality, encouragement, and friendship. These days I want to follow in their steps and leave simple gifts behind, too.
     And sometimes I serve garbanzos on salads.

One Problem with Believing the Earth is Flat

1/4/2022

The problem with believing the Earth is flat is that you can’t in good conscience enjoy a snow globe, as my granddaughter Eve and I do. Why? Because the globe is round.
     I met a Flat Earther who seemed normal otherwise, but could I reason with him? Or for that matter, could I reason with someone who says that coronavirus is a hoax? Or that climate change doesn’t exist? Or who insists all vaccines are bad?
     “Of course, it is next to impossible to get someone to change their beliefs against their will,” says Lee McIntyre, author of “How to Talk to a Science Denier: Conversations with Flat Earthers, Climate Deniers, and Others Who Defy Reason.”
     “Remember that when you challenge someone’s beliefs, you are challenging their identity,” he says, because they hold their convictions “to resolve their fear, or to feel less alienated, or to embrace a coveted social identity.”
     McIntyre says deniers won’t change their positions based on “new facts or even a new way of thinking.” They are “not just ignorant of the facts but also of the scientific way of thinking. To remedy this, we must do more than present deniers with the evidence; we must get them to rethink how they are reasoning about the evidence.” This means not confronting, but building trust by asking questions, he says.
  McIntyre’s thoughts make me wonder whether I’m willing in this New Year to engage with people who believe differently than I do. Also, whether I’m deluding myself in some way in what I believe.

Where in the World is Orientar?

12/20/2021

   Early morning, I’m in my jammies with Oak, my grandson, and we’re discussing where in the world is Orientar, the country the wise men came from to visit Jesus. He didn’t know, just as I didn’t when I was a child. Only when I could read did I understand the song said, “We three kings from Orient are bearing gifts….”
     Christmas songs can be confusing as a child. I wondered whether round young virgin meant she was fat. No, it’s “round yon virgin” - around the virgin over there. The definition of a virgin? No one explained that to me for years.
     Other kids have wondered why shepherds washed their socks at night, rather than “shepherds watched their flocks at night.”    And during this season, why do some sing about walking in our winter underwear? It’s actually “walking in a winter wonderland.”
     This year another grandchild of mine sang “O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, don’t look at me, I’m changing.” It’s actually “O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree, thy leaves are so unchanging.
     I understand the words of these great songs now, but I don’t think I’ll ever completely understand the mystery of God coming to Earth as a baby to bridge the gap between him and us. It’s a breath-taking story, captured well through questions in this a cappella version of “Mary, Did You Know? Enjoy it to reflect on the wonder of the season.

How Simple Words Changed a Life

12/11/2021

I recognized the stooped old man shuffling toward the building entry as someone whose words once impacted the world when he documented our times as a reporter for a prestigious international publication. Years earlier I’d heard Paul enthrall a crowd with tales of interviews with personalities like the shah, the pre-revolutionary political leader of Iran, when no other westerner had access. He knew how to open doors back then.
     Now no longer a player on life’s stage, Paul was faced with struggling to open the door in front of him. I rushed ahead and pulled it open, and he gave a polite thank you. I replied, “It’s a privilege to hold a door for a great writer.” His head spun toward me, and his voice quivered as much as his hands. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he shuffled inside, and I never saw him again.
     I opened more than a building entry for Paul. I opened a door to his soul with simple words that gave him a gift - recognition of his contribution in life, which others had forgotten. That’s something we all need. His startled response made me wish I could affirm someone in this way every day.
  Maybe I can.