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What Happens on July 5th?

The news has shown stories on ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) raids across the country ever since January 20th of last year when mass deportations, allegedly of “the worst of the worst”, began in earnest. The reality is that only three percent of the over 600,00 people deported had violent felony convictions and approximately seventy-three percent had no criminal record whatsoever, but hey, that’s a story for some other time.

I’ve watched the often cruel, inhumane, and illegal ways average immigrants are targeted and arrested simply for going to work or dropping their kids off at school, paying taxes, and contributing to their respective communities. I watched in horror, as did we all, the murder of American citizens at the hands of mercenary, masked ICE agents in Minnesota. I’ve known that similar raids are carried out in my hometown of Fort Worth, Texas but such things are not newsworthy in the “most Republican city in the state”. Therefore, they’ve occurred quietly, in the dark, away from the public eye.

Last Saturday morning, the news became real for me. I stopped at the local QuickTrip for gas, a bag of ice, and my morning sausage biscuit. It was early Saturday morning and quiet for the normally busy OT station. There was a SUV with Oklahoma tags parked all by itself on the far end of the lot. It didn’t appear to be occupied, but it hit me as strange to be sitting out there all by itself. I went in, took care of my business, went back to my truck, and saw the SUV charge across the parking lot and rear-end what looked to be someone’s work truck with a loud crash. In front was another SUV that blocked the driveway. The collision caused damage to both SUVs and the truck. Four other SUVs surrounded the scene.   Lights came on – they’d been off prior to the collision giving no indication it was law enforcement – from each of the SUVs and eight to twelve ICE agents clad in combat gear with guns drawn swarming the vehicle. A Fort Worth police car had pulled up behind the ICE agents to observe the raid.

One agent busted through the driver’s side window, and they pulled a middle-aged Hispanic man from the driver’s seat and threw him to the ground. He offered no resistance to the agents that immediately handcuffed him and rushed him off to one of the other SUVs. Then the passenger, a younger Hispanic man – also handcuffed – had several ICE agents surrounding him, patting him down, and escorting him to another waiting vehicle. The agents began to mill about looking like big heroes, congratulating each other with big smiles, and patting each other on the back. By then, two other FWPD vehicles had pulled up. The two Fort Worth police officers stood there laughing and watching the whole affair.

It took me a moment to find my phone and start videoing the scene. Unfortunately, videography is one of my challenges and it wasn’t clear. I tried to take several stills as well, showing the faces of the FWPD officers involved and two or three of the unmasked ICE agents. I may not have their names – not that they would give them to me since masked thugs prefer anonymity – but I’m damn sure going to post the few faces I did see. I’m not the best photographer, especially with the trembling hands of an adrenaline rush, but by God I’m going to let them know that someone sees them and cast some light on their dark activity.

I try to treat everyone with common courtesy, dignity, and respect regardless of our differences. That’s become increasingly difficult with MAGA acolytes and the constant threats to the democracy and freedom I’ve been blessed to enjoy. Seeing this Gestapo-like behavior, over a decade’s worth of assaults on “the other”, assaults on our democracy and the rule of law, and the constant lies of a hateful, felonious narcissistic pedophile became a deluge that breached the dam of any self-control I’ve held onto. I was pissed

I didn’t hesitate to let them know I was filming their chickens*** bullying. The “F” word flowed freely as did “Nazi mother****ers “. I let the FWPD officers know they were no better as they stood there laughing. It wasn’t my best moment, but I was so angry to see their pompous, self-righteous BS that I simply had to call it as I see it.

I don’t know anything about the guys they arrested. They could be some of “the worst of the worst”, but it’ s far more likely they were like the overwhelming majority of detainees and were simply off to another day of work to provide for their families, contributing to our community, and paying taxes like everyone else. It’s been my privilege to work with many immigrants over the years, with and without documentation, and I’ve never met any finer coworkers or friends. They possess the very values of God (no matter what name they use), family, and work we profess to want from all our neighbors regardless of status.

The constant chaos we see and hear on the news each day tends to push immigration aside. Please don’t let it. We celebrated 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence yesterday, a document signed by a bunch of immigrants to this country, in response to attacks on “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”. Our treatment of immigrants, of the other, is a premonition of how we will all be treated if we remain silent in the face of injustice…

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I Voted

It’s a grey, yet glorious, Sunday morning. A gentle soaking rain started awhile ago and the dripping from the roof is a constant reminder of the gratitude I have today. I’m grateful for the rain that allows me to sit here and write rather than be at the farm irrigating (it’s been an unusually dry October). I’m grateful for the quiet of the house (I’m the only one awake). I’m grateful for the coffee that seems to be extra tasty this morning. I’m grateful for my four dogs who are all curled up and sleeping around my feet as I write this even if I can’t get up for more coffee without disturbing them. Life is just pretty darn good…

I’m truly thankful that the election is only two days away and the constant barrage of negative political ads will cease. I’m worn out simply watching the weather before I go to bed. Through much of this campaign season I’ve chosen to disconnect (not completely mind you) from the unceasing bombardment of campaign coverage, put on some great music, and get on with the day. I took advantage of early voting here in Texas and plan to offer rides to the polls on Tuesday for those that can’t drive.

I struggled with voting several years ago. As my relationship with God began to deepen, I began to realize that my true sovereign was the God of my understanding; that my citizenship likes in the Kingdom of God rather than my country of birth. If this is the case, my civic responsibility is somewhat different. I had become increasingly cynical of the electoral process anyway so maybe I should refuse to participate in the politics of empire. After all, many early Christians refused to acknowledge Ceasar as God, often with severe consequences.

My questions were answered when it occurred to me that I don’t vote for myself or my personal beliefs. I vote for others. I vote for the voiceless to give them a voice – the immigrants who are often left in the shadows. I vote for the powerless and the marginalized. I vote for all of those that fought for the opportunity to vote and to have a seat at the table. I vote for the common good. It’s not about class, color, religious beliefs, or party. What benefits the “least of these”?

That makes me responsible for going to vote. That makes us responsible for voting. I’m not going to tell anyone who to vote for a specific individual or party, but I am going to ask that we all take a moment to ask ourselves what benefits the common good; not what benefits only “me”. What is consistent with the values we claim to possess? In other words, I’m asking to look beyond our individual selfishness and seek people and policies that build our common community and unify our brutally broken population.

I don’t know what’s going to happen this Tuesday, but I do know this: I’m hopeful that we can begin to overcome the petty nonsense that divides us and return to some degree of sanity in our communal civic life. That may seem naïve to most these days, but my faith dictates that I constantly seek the best in others and act accordingly. I voted Friday and I hope you do too on Tuesday.

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

“Faith in God is not just faith to believe in spiritual ideas. It’s to have confidence in Love itself. It’s to have confidence in reality itself. At its core, reality is okay. God is in it. God is revealed in all things, even through the tragic and sad, as the revolutionary doctrine of the cross reveals!”
—Richard Rohr, Essential Teachings on Love

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It’s already May!

It’s difficult to believe it’s already May. April flew by in a scurry of activity. What’s even harder to believe is that all the Spring planting is complete except for the okra that goes in next week. Opal’s volunteers stepped it up and made early Spring a huge success!

April showers showed up just in time to give all the veggies a huge growth spurt. We closed out the month moving into “abnormally dry” as opposed to “moderate drought” status that started the month. The official rainfall total was four-and-a-half inches, but we over five inches at Opal’s Farm. The last few days of rain made access and work onerous but also allowed us some time to catch-up on some things we’ve put off due to Spring planting (like this blog…).

On April 24th, we had a group from my son Adrian’s church, The House Fort Worth, come down to the farm. They have regular “Love Your City” workdays and provide volunteers for projects all around Fort Worth. They did an amazing job getting furrows mulched and ready for the coming summer heat! Thanks to each one who came and Pastor Mark Ortiz for getting us on the list!

The House Fort Worth volunteers!

Our National Resource Conservation representative for urban farms, Mr. Michael Higgins put us in touch with two exciting new endeavors for Opal’s Farm. The first one is with Bashira Chowdurry, a native Houstonian working at Auburn University. Bashira is helping us develop new produce such as Bottle Gourd and Bitter Melon, which are staples in South Asian food. The seeds she sent are growing in our test beds. We’re trying them out to see how they work in North Texas. If all goes well, we’ll be able to grow produce for our South Asian community here in Tarrant County.

The second new project is with new immigrants from East Africa. We eagerly gave a third of an acre plot to Sylvia, Christian, and Gerard, new urban farmers here at Opal’s. They have been hard at work preparing beds and getting Spring planting in. It’s exciting to see the passion of our new farmers. My heart jumped a bit when Sylvia said it reminded her of home! We hope to be a part of making them successful as they meet the needs of the East African community and all our neighbors in Fort Worth.

This Spring has brought new volunteers to Opal’s Farm. We’re so happy to share this journey with other people who want to help us address food insecurity and food apartheid here in Fort Worth. Food brings people together. No one should have to be food insecure or denied access to healthy, fresh produce. No one should have to go without the sense of community that we have at the farm. Visit our website www.unityunlimited.org and sign up for your time to farm with us.

If you don’t have time to volunteer right now, please help us with your financial support. Every dollar you contribute goes to helping your neighbors get access to nutritious fresh produce!

P.S. Cowtown Farmers Market is getting busier with all the Spring crops coming in. The varieties of fresh, local produce may sell out so come early every Saturday so you don’t miss out!

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Words That Pull the Trigger

Thoughts From the Porch: We sold out early at the farmer’s market Saturday. We sold much of the week’s harvest on Wednesday, so we were a bit light for Saturday’s market. Our normal crowd was a bit smaller due to the rainy morning. Even a few of our farmers took the day off for other pursuits. Hopefully, everyone enjoyed a much-needed break from summer chores. I know I did.

Our friends Melvin and Janice called Friday night to invite us up to Lake Murray for a camping weekend. It was a perfect Saturday morning to leave market early and head to Oklahoma. Cell service is almost non-existent there. Spending a couple of days unplugged from everything is a periodic necessity. A couple of days in a quiet campsite with good friends is just what the doctor ordered!

Life is full of small pleasures. My Sunday morning meeting was covered by someone else, so I slept in for a change. Upon awakening I made the coffee and headed for some serious porch time. I made the mistake of checking out my CNN app and discovered twenty-nine people had been killed in two mass shootings just hours apart: one in El Paso and the other in Dayton, Ohio. It was difficult to separate the horror and sadness I experienced from the rising fury toward the hatefulness of the crimes.

Photo by Ivandrei Pretorius on Pexels.com

 I wanted to write about it but growing older (and hopefully wiser) has allowed me to hit the pause button on such occasions lest I speak or write out of anger. I tend to say things I later regret or that are misunderstood. It makes apologies and amends to others for my emotional outburst extremely difficult. So, I’ve mulled this over for the last couple of days before sharing my thoughts.

Same story, different day…

The storyline has become all-to familiar. Another mass shooting. The news covers all the vigils held to honor the dead. Finding relatives of the fallen or hospital room interviews with survivors are a ratings bonanza. There’s an outcry against gun violence. Politicians and political pundits from both sides of the aisle pontificate on how to prevent this from happening again, just as they did the last time and the time before that. What happened Sunday will happen again today, tomorrow, and so it goes.

According to data collected by the non-profit organization, Gun Violence Archive, (as of August 4th, 2019) a mass shooting is defined as “an event where at least four people, not including the gunman, were shot”. By this definition, there have been 292 mass shootings in last 219 days of this year alone. I’m no math wizard but according to my calculations, that’s 1.3 mass shootings a day.

We simply don’t hear about most of them. It seems only a large body count is newsworthy. Maybe we’ve become numb to “average” shootings. Many occur in communities most folks ignore anyway. Sadly, if this weekend’s events are like previous mass shootings, the media will play with the story for a few days until another ratings booster comes along…

Words can kill just like bullets

The FBI is unsure as to the motive of the Dayton shooter, but are treating the El Paso event as an act of domestic terrorism based on white supremacy. The shooter’s motives were clear so he several hundred miles to carry out a planned attack on immigrants because of the “Hispanic invasion of Texas”.

The “Hispanic invasion”. “Those people”. “Go back where you came from”. All words and phrases coming from the highest office in the land. All words that spark hate, division, and most of all, fear. When asked what we can do about the problem with those people, someone shouted, “shoot them” and everyone present laughed. Except for one 21-year-old from North Texas. He took those words literally…

I don’t know what to do about gun control, red flag laws, or mental health issues and gun violence. I don’t know if the present occupant of the White House will change his words, but maybe we should hold him accountable for those words. Words kill. They accounted for at least 22 of the deaths this weekend. Hateful words, attitudes, and divisiveness pulled the trigger as much as the gunman did. Donald Trump is as complicit in the El Paso shooting as the gunman.

What I do know is to counter hateful words and actions with love and grace, despite my anger and sadness. The grace shown to me by a loving Abba will guide my actions. I’ll not allow hate and division to interfere with loving and uniting others, especially “the others”.

What I know for certain is, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” Edmund Burke (in a letter addressed to Thomas Mercer). I won’t be quiet, nor will I sit still.

Will you?