Category: Spirituality

Christian Mysticism, Community, Emotional Health, Faith, Gratitude, Quotes, Recovery, Self-Acceptance, Service to Others, Simplicity, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch, Trust, What Can I Do

Just Thinking…

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Photo by DS stories on Pexels.com

I rarely speak of my recovery from the disease of addiction. Addiction is almost always associated with drugs – as I know all too well – but it encompasses so much more than that. According to Wikipedia, there are over thirty distinct twelve-step programs based on the Alcoholics Anonymous model for a variety of addictive maladies. There’s even more loosely based on the AA program.

One of the main traditions of twelve-step recovery is that of anonymity so I rarely speak publicly about my own process unless it’s applicable to another hurting human being sharing the same struggles. What I’ve learned to share openly is that none of my recovery has been due to my own efforts. Healing has taken place because of the relationship I have today with the “God of my understanding”. It’s only through God’s love and spirit that I’ve not only stayed clean for over twenty years, but that I’m finding new life, and “life abundantly” as the Apostle John said.

I was having coffee and meditating while out on the porch this morning when I rediscovered one of the basic truths of my life today. Romans 8.5-7 says:

“Those who think they can do it on their own end up obsessed with measuring their own moral muscle but never get around to exercising it in real life. Those who trust God’s action in them find that God’s Spirit is in them – living and breathing God! Obsession with self in these matters in a dead end: attention to God leads us out into the open, into a spacious free life.”  (The Message Bible)

I struggled with addiction for many years even after I was introduced to recovery some forty years ago. I got clean and began healing from the disease of addiction when I finally stopped trying to do it on my own. I was fortunate to have a dear friend and mentor who stuck by my side in those early days. He frequently reminded me that I needed to keep it simple. “You can never be too stupid for this program, but you can always be too smart” he would tell me”. For me, the principle of K.I.S.S. – Keep It Simple Stupid – was a necessity in my recovery.

Simplicity has come to be the rule for me. I’m often reminded of a passage in recovery literature that says the core of our disease is our self-obsession and my friend’s wise words, “Do the opposite.” If the thing that makes my life destructive then the antidote lies in the opposite direction – serving others. Unfortunately, that runs against my very human nature and no matter how hard I try to do life differently I fail miserably – wrapped up in all the chaos, confusion, and worry that somehow how won’t get what’s mine. Everything and everyone else fall by the wayside. I’m not sure what “mine” is anyway because it’s all a gift.

So how do I “do the opposite”, that thing so contrary to my nature?  I rediscovered the answer this morning – allowing God, allowing love and grace – to take up residence in me. The ancient wisdom found in Romans 8.9-14, says:

“But if God himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of him. Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won’t know what we’re talking about. But for you who welcome him, in whom he dwells… you yourself experience life on God’s terms… So don’t you see that we don’t owe this old do-it-yourself life one red cent. There’s nothing in it for us, nothing at all. The best thing to do is give a decent burial and get on with your new life. God’s Spirit beckons. There are things to do and places to go!” (The Message Bible)

I’m not trying to preach or proselytize. I can only tell you what has become true in my life and in my home. I see the division, selfishness, and lack of concern for others and the common good of all. I’m bombarded daily with everyone’s opinion, rather from the Right and the Left, how all can be made better. The talking heads go on and on and nothing changes.

My friend once asked me how I expected to solve my problems with the same brain that created them in the first place. Maybe I need to stop trying to fix the situation and rely on the constant help God has so graciously provided. Maybe that’s an answer for all of us. Simplicity. Do the opposite. Maybe instead of right and left we’re all asking the wrong questions. Perhaps the more accurate question is about right and wrong; especially when it comes to helping others and living together as was intended for us all along. The same old, same old hasn’t worked too well.

I still attend recovery meetings all these years later (although not as frequently as I did in the beginning of my recovery). I still need to be grounded and centered from time to time. Sometimes, I just need to be reminded to K.I.S.S., live the life that’s been so freely given to me, and share with you all…

Community, Down On the Farm, Family, Farmers Markets, Friendship, Grace, Gratitude, Opal's Farm, Relationships, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch, Unity Unlimited, Inc., Urban Farming

Maybe the End is in Sight?

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It’s another graceful morning out on the porch – a reminder of God’s creation and the grace by which I get to live and enjoy another day. I must admit though I traded the glorious morning for air conditioning and my desk after about thirty minutes and one cup of coffee. It is August in North Texas, and I’ve been blessed with a day of rest from the long, hot days at the farm. The triple-digit temperatures just go on and on with no relief in sight until at least until the middle of September. This year has the dubious distinction of having hottest average temperature from January through today on record, but hey, climate change is a hoax, right? I’ pretty sure that those who deny the changing climate have jobs in the air conditioning…

I even got to sleep until 7:30 this morning. Margaret and I were up beyond our normal bedtime last night. We shared a meal with our son, his wife, her mother, and some friends of their family. They’re part of the Iranian diaspora here in Fort Worth and the conversation wove in and out of English and Farsi all evening. Even though I didn’t understand the language, I fully understood the laughter and love surrounding the dinner table – and what a dinner it was. Plates were overflowing with various Persian foods I’d never tried before and watching everyone enjoy the feast was something I haven’t got to experience in a long time.

Photo by Malak ka on Pexels.com

There’s something special that takes place when people break bread together. New friends instantly become old friends. Language and cultural differences no longer matter. Warm-hearted fellowship eliminates all misunderstanding, and each one is drawn closer to the other. I think that’s why I love farming so much. Food brings everyone together, walls are lowered, and the language of the heart eliminates misunderstanding. In a time of deep division and extremism maybe we should all just sit down at the dinner table together. It can’t hurt right? I wish it were that simple…

Opal’s Farm is closed to the public through the Labor Day holiday, but Opal’s Farm Stand will still be open every Saturday morning from 9 AM-Noon. Our produce selection is a little limited due to the heat, but we still have fresh, locally grown produce available from both Opal’s and Tabor Farms. Come see us at the corner of Rosedale and Evans (one light east of I-35) and check out all our vendors.

Belief, Community, Down On the Farm, Faith, Family, Grace, Gratitude, Neighbors, Opal's Farm, Quotes, Relationships, Service to Others, Simplicity, Songs, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch, Unity Unlimited, Inc., Urban Farming, Writing

Grateful for Iowa…

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It’s a beautiful Sunday morning here in Fort Worth. The weather folks are predicting hundred degree-plus temperatures for the next ten days, but the porch was blissfully peaceful and cool in the early morning. Every August I’m determined to retire from the farm, but it’s time for Fall planting so I’m once again dreaming of getting the Fall crop to our neighbors and getting back to work.

Margaret and I spent a week with my stepson Paul and his wife Nicki in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Our vacation got off to a bit of a rough start when I had to spend our first night there in the ER. It turned out okay and we were off the see Northeastern Iowa where my wife had lived and Paul grew up. It’s beautiful country although I was thinking to myself “if you’ve seen one field of corn or soybeans you’ve seen them all”. Then we came to the bluffs overlooking McGregor, Iowa and the Mississippi River. The vista before me was unexpectedly beautiful and made the long drive well worth it. I’m a lousy photographer but I took a lot of pictures to remember our time there.

I’d originally intended to write about our travels while Nicki and Margaret were having their “girl’s day out” the next day. Unfortunately, my laptop crashed while I was in the middle of writing and left me unable to get online. I was extremely displeased with the situation at the time, but as the days went by, I discovered what a blessing it is to be unplugged from my devices for a week. No daily bombardment with depressing news stories and no interruptions and distractions – just enjoying time with my family, listening to great music, and relaxing.

It was a fifteen hundred mile round-trip, and I spent the drive time talking to Margaret and reflecting on the many blessings that have showered down from, as St. James says, “from the Father of Light”. Gratitude has become a staple in my life. I’m under no illusions that I’ve “made it on my own” or that what I’ve been so graciously given that I’ve worked for. It’s all a gift, and an undeserved gift at that. That’s how grace is defined and everything is grace. How can I be anything but grateful?

I’m not oblivious to the fact that we’re living through exceedingly trying times. It’s a constant onslaught of division, attacks on anyone defined as the “other”, and difficult economic times brought on by people who could care less about folks like me and you. I’m not spouting some Pollyannish BS about how it’s all going to be okay, but gratitude reminds me that “it’s all going to be okay”. I’ve already been given so much more than I deserve or could have ever imagined. How can it be otherwise?

It doesn’t mean there isn’t work to do either. I’ve come to realize how many good people there are around me. It’s easy to forget that loud and hateful can be countered with quiet service to our loved ones and our community. We all have a part to play in building the community God intended for us. Part of that work is coming in November. One vote may not feel like it makes difference, but thousands of votes speak louder than one can imagine.

I’ve learned that gratitude isn’t simply a noun or a warm and comfy feeling, but a verb, a word that demands action. The more grateful I am, the more I love and serve others – the more I become a part of the community I live in. I’ve also learned the value of unplugging from the digital world and plugging into daily living and working with the other folks I’m so grateful for. Sometimes it takes a vacation from the day-to-day routine to remember that. Sometimes it takes a vacation to remember how important the work we all do is for each other.

In closing I need to say thank you to some special people who made this last week possible. Amir, thank you for taking care of the irrigation while I was gone. It’s been an unbelievably hot and dry August, and the farm never would have survived without your hard work. Amir has been a vital part of the farm for the last couple of years and I’m so grateful for your friendship and love for the farm. Jay and Vicki, thank you for keeping Opal’s Farm Stand open for business while I was away and for all the work you do to serve the Opal’s Farm community. Thank you to all who’ve chosen to be a part of Opal’s Farm family.

“So, my very dear friends, don’t get thrown off course. Every desirable and beneficial gift comes out of heaven. The gifts are rivers of light cascading down from the Father of Light. There is nothing deceitful in God, nothing two-faced, nothing fickle. He brought us to life using the true Word, showing us off as the crown of all His creatures”. (James 1.16-18 The Message Bible)

Activism, Citizenship, Community, Democracy, Equal Rights, Faith, Freedom, Immigration, Marginalized, Neighbors, Public Policy, Respect, Seeing Others, Social Justice, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch

What Happens on July 5th?

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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…

Anniversaries, Children, Connection, Emotional Health, Faith, Generations, Grace, Gratitude, Grief, Letting Go, Love, Patience, Prayer, Relationships, Self-Acceptance, Spirituality, Stories, Thoughts From the Porch

May 29th…

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I haven’t written much this month. May is not one of my favorite months. Although I love springtime at the farm, it tends to be emotionally draining for me and my family (I think I drain them…). You see, my youngest son, Jeremy died on May 29th, 2020. It’s been six years and I still have a hard time with every anniversary. I miss him every day, but the 29th is the most difficult of all.

You would think I’d be better at figuring out why I’m suddenly distracted with day-to-day work, forgetful (more than usual…), and feeling overwhelmed. It’s usually the week before the 29th that the light bulb comes on and I have to go and make amends to those I’ve been short with. Fortunately, I have some wonderful people in my life who understand I’m why I’m not handling everyday interactions very well, showing me much more grace than I feel I deserve.

One thing I’ve learned over the last six years is that grief has no expiration date. Well meaning friends have given me the space to grieve but they don’t always understand why the feelings are so strong after six years. They don’t come right out and say it, but it often feels like they think I should be “over it” by now. Grief has a way of distorting reality. I’m sure no one (well, at least most people) really thinks ill of my grief. I often must remind myself that feelings are not facts.

Last year I started writing a collection of stories about Jeremy and I. I’ve shared the first couple of them with my friends and readers. The others have been slow in coming. Writing time is a prized possession around here. My wife, my home, and the farm fill my cup to overflowing, leaving little room for the reflection honest storytelling requires, especially when it comes to being honest about my own demons and an often turbulent, yet tight, relationship with my son. They’ve been full of ups and downs, joy and despair, but I hope to share more of those stories as the coming year allows.

Just for today, I’ll let the feelings come. I’ve been told that grief becomes easier to bear as time goes by. I’m not sure it gets easier, but I know it gets different. I’m often reminded of all the joy Jeremy brought into the world – my world – but there’s always a deep sense of loss underneath the surface. Maybe that’s a good thing. It’s also a reminder that I get to honor Jeremy and the God who loves me by how I celebrate each day through my family and my work. Moreover, I’m constantly reminded that the loss is only temporary in the grand scheme of things – that one day we’ll all be together again in a world free of the tears that this world so often has.

So folks, if I’m a bit melancholy and irritable today, please allow me my feelings and know it’s a hard day for me. Maybe if we could all remember that everyone has difficulties in life we may not see, we could all be a little more patient and loving towards others. That would sure make living easier for all of us. Please remember too, that sometimes the greatest gift one can give to a grieving person is their simple, silent presence. There are no words of comfort, only the reminder that we are loved.