Category: Spirituality
Too Late to be a Good Samaritan
Fall is normally my time for self-introspection. North Texas summers usually keep that habit away – one can only think of finding air conditioning! It’s been above one hundred degrees for most of the summer with constant excessive heat warnings. Nights have stayed above eighty degrees since the first week of July so there’s little relief when evening comes. Most of North Texas is in severe drought. I suspect the media is right when they refer to this as the “new normal”. The sad thing is that everyone seems to accept it and do little to mitigate the problem, but that’s another blog post…
Back to reflection…
It was 111 degrees according to my truck thermometer when I left the farm. I cranked the air conditioning and headed to the house for a Zoom meeting. It was a brief hour break on a hot summer day to enjoy the AC, grab a snack, and change out of sweat-soaked clothes. I headed towards the turn to Interstate Thirty and there he was – lying next to the entrance ramp – sun beating down on him a mere three feet from the shade of an overpass. He was on his back and his arms outstretched slightly to the sky above. He was in the direct sunlight with shade only a couple of feet away. It was obvious he wasn’t merely sleeping. He was dead. His arms were stiff, rigor mortis had set in, and his body bloated from the afternoon sun.
One officer from the Fort Worth police came followed by the Tarrant County Medical Examiner’s van. I stayed long enough to give a statement and notice all the cars going by. How long had he been there, and no one noticed, or cared enough, to stop and call 911? I remembered the parable of the Good Samaritan. I guess I wouldn’t qualify here. I didn’t get here soon enough. I wondered what I would’ve done if I did…
The crime scene tape was never put up, no investigation made, and the ME loaded the body to take back to the morgue. The whole affair was over in about thirty minutes. The police seemed put out that the ME was taking so long. Just another homeless guy. No signs of violent trauma so time to get on to more important things like the comfort of air-conditioned squad car.
The scene has been seared on my brain ever since. I can’t help but wonder who the man was – what was his name, where was his family? Few people are totally alone in this world although many feel that way. He was somebody’s son, maybe a father, or maybe a brother. Would they find his family and report his death? Would he be missed? Would anyone grieve over his passing? Would anyone care? The news came on that evening. No one talked about the passing of another homeless person. I wasn’t surprised. Anonymous dead homeless guys simply aren’t newsworthy.
The farm is close to the night shelter and Union Gospel Mission. The city has worked hard to isolate the homeless (or more PC – “unhoused”) population to the “mission district”. Still, there’s far more homeless people than there are beds. Around the bend in the river there are several acres of thickets between the old drive-in and Gateway Park. There you’ll find several homeless camps and their number is growing every year. If you look closely, you find camps all around the city – under bridges, wooded areas, abandoned houses. The Tarrant County Homeless Coalition reported that “more than 5,000 households experienced homelessness throughout 2022 in Tarrant County” (Fort Worth Star- Telegram, February 13th, 2023).
We often have some homeless folks who make their way along Trinity Trail above the farm. They will occasionally ask for a bottle of water or rest in the shade of the farm’s only tree. Sometimes they carry on loud, and sometimes angry conversations with people unseen by us. Mental illness accounts for a significant portion of the homeless population. Panhandlers covered all the main intersections from the freeway to the farm. It’s easy to look past them; to avoid eye contact and hope the stoplight changes before they approach the car. I know. I’m guilty at times.
I’ve been praying about that a lot the last couple of weeks. I’ve been in their shoes and yet I forget all about them when my life got back on track. Suddenly, I’m too busy “doing good things with the farm” to notice them, to really see them, or to have a kind word. I become the priest or the Levite in Jesus’ tale of the Good Samaritan. It’s not that I don’t care. I’m just in too big of a hurry and don’t want to have any distractions from the day ahead. I have important things to do – at least in my own mind – and I fail to see Jesus right in front of me (see Matthew Chapter 25…?). Nothing is too important to not to see and acknowledge the divine in each of God’s kids.
Joan Osborne recorded a song in 1995 that resonates with me today especially. It reminds me that I can see God everywhere. He might even be panhandling on the street corner.
Egrets, Yep, Egrets
I’m sitting at home alone tonight. That’s not a bad thing. It just is. Margaret has been in the hospital and moved to a rehab hospital for a couple of weeks. I’ve daily trips to the hospital, Opal’s Farm, the hospital, and back home to work. Add to that all the Juneteenth festivities and I can safely say its’ been a crazy busy June!
I’m harvesting between 400 and 600 pounds of tomatoes per week since everything started to come in during May. Sales have been great at the market, but with so many tomatoes I’ve had to start selling them to another non-profit that serves the WIC clinics in Dallas and to the Tarrant Area Food Bank. Delivering to Dallas has not been one of my favorite tasks although I love the folks at Owenwood Farm. I still maintain that the best thing to come out of Dallas is Interstate Thirty West…
Needless to say, this is the first opportunity I’ve had to sit down and write for the last two months. It’s also the first chance I’ve had to catch up with many of the blogs I follow as well and sit down to go through my personal email account. If you haven’t seen a like or comment, please don’t take it personal. I simply haven’t had time to read.
I’ve said all that so I can now talk about what’s been on my mind the last month – Egrets. Yep, birds. After a couple of months of silence, one would think I have more to say but… Egrets -those beautiful, long-legged white birds related to Herons. We used to call them cowbirds when I was little because of the way they hung around, and on, the cattle to eat insect pests. I see them frequently at the farm. Mostly nesting and wading about searching for food on the far bank of the Trinity River.
We even have some state wildlife and research students with a tracker following the birds they’ve tagged. I’m happy to report that they shall have an abundance of birds to tag this year. There was an unusually heavy baby boom this Spring. The farm is often covered in groups of young Egrets walking about and I’ve become acquainted with some of them. At least I think I have…
This probably doesn’t mean anything to anyone else, but since my cataract surgery in May I’ve been able to see better than I have in many years. My vision is so clear now that I’ve been able to see things I’ve never noticed before like Egrets and their personalities. I’m fully aware of the human tendency to anthropomorphize other creatures but I’m convinced they are much like us – at least the young ones anyway.
Juvenile Egrets are smaller in stature as young ones tend to be. Unlike their parents (who by the way both take care of the nesting and young) they aren’t all white. They have a tan section on their head, breast, back feathers. Occasionally they will raise their head feathers to reveal a small, tan mohawk. It fades to white as they grow older. They always hang around in groups of ten to fifteen. They have one young guy who they’ve appointed leader – they seem to follow pretty much everywhere. If he moves north, they all move north, if he takes off, they all take off in file behind him – that is, all except for one.
I love this little guy – I imagine him to be a bird version of me. He’s always the last one to fly or walk away when I come down the road or walk up to the pumphouse. I can relate. I was usually the one picked last or left behind. The others sense danger approaching and tend to take off as soon as I get close, but this little guy hangs around. He’s allowed me to get closer each day. Each day he grows more curious about this big, flightless biped that talks to him as if we share the same language. His head tilts one way and then the other. He’s even ventured a couple of steps toward me if I stand still long enough. I’m sure passers-by would find me a tad insane standing in a field talking to a bird. I’m okay with that. The young fellow makes for good company on a hot day.
Over the last week the groups of young birds have gotten smaller and less frequent. It appears that most have moved on to do what it is that Egrets do. I’d move on too with the triple-digit heat we’ve had of late – at least somewhere with some shade. There’s been some hangers-on. I’m sure they live with mom and dad. Most of the remaining young birds are professional students of some kind – they never seem to graduate and move out on their own. That’s been my experience anyway…
I wish them all well as they move on to adult things. I’ll miss my companions but like everything else in life, there are seasons for everything and everyone. The farm is a great teacher about the cycle of life all flora and fauna, and people, go through. It’s also been a sage, teaching me how interconnected the world is – how interdependent we are. I learn daily the need for responsible stewardship and just how awesome God’s creation is.
With that I’m off to the farm to irrigate. We’re fortunate that our water is virtually free. It takes a lot to survive the Texas summer, especially in the days of climate change and warming temperatures. The UV rays of the sun have been exceptionally strong this year – a constant reminder of the new normal and our responsibility to keep it from getting worse. After all, I want to have the Egrets around to talk to for a long time…
Celebrating Juneteenth and Freedom
Happy Juneteenth to you all! Ms. Opal’s Walk for Freedom starts at 9:30 this morning. I hope you can be there. I will be at Opal’s Farm irrigating since veggies don’t like the hundred-degree heat. It is June in Texas!
I hope you all take a moment to reflect on the celebration of emancipation and what that means for all of us. I keep hearing Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” in my head this morning – “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery none but ourselves can free our mind”. Freedom from racism, from hate, from all the isms and ways of thinking that hold us all in bondage. As Ms. Opal Lee always reminds us, “If someone can be taught to hate then they can be taught to love” and “No one is free until we are all free.”
I hope you all celebrate release from bondage today in the spirit of Juneteenth and freedom for all. Ms. Opal says we should celebrate from Juneteenth to July 4th. I can do that and hope you all will too!
Side note – Taste of Juneteenth will be on July 1st at Panther Island Pavilion. There will be BBQ pitmasters competing in the BBQ cookoff and delicious sides. Come for a day of celebration and great food!
Enough is Enough
I sat on the porch this morning drinking coffee and soaking in the morning. It’s been sprinkling off and on all morning but not enough to keep the mockingbirds and the doves from their vibrant singing and cooing. It’s been unseasonably cool and overcast this morning, but the birds reminded me Spring is really here.
It’s times like these I see how blessed I am. I most certainly don’t deserve it. I spent most of my life making poor choices and living the way addiction dictated how I live. It wasn’t until almost twenty years ago that I finally surrendered, choosing life, and living in the Spirit as best I can. I haven’t been wealthy – this is not another “Prosperity Gospel” tale – but I’ve always had enough. Enough truly is enough…
I was speaking with a friend the other day. They have lived a life of escaping poverty. They grew up in the rural Midwest where the average income was less than ten thousand dollars a year (substantially less) and they didn’t even have electricity for many years of their young life. It’s still difficult for me to remember that there were (and are) people who lived like that in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. As a result, they spend time worrying about never having enough and the fear of losing what they have.
I have also lived in poverty in the past, but mine was of my own making. It was something I never imagined growing up in an upper middle-class home in the suburbs. The fear and constant looking over my shoulder and harming the very ones I loved was something I never intended, but it became more real as my addiction progressed. I often fail to understand the trauma that comes with poverty forced on someone by birthplace and circumstance. I can’t pretend to know the fear that comes with falling back into such a state. I can, however, be present to the reality of my friend.
I believe that has led to so much introspection over the last few weeks. Most of the fear has been removed through my years of recovery. I’m no longer confused. As Brennan Manning says, “Everything is grace.” I have what I have, not because of my own efforts, but because God has graciously provided enough – enough of life’s necessities so I can share and be of service to those around me. I work hard because I have something to offer the world around me. As such, it’s become much easier to live in the world and to be present.
Saint Francis said, “Above all the grace and gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self.” It constantly amazes me when I find joy in driving in rush hour traffic because the bluebonnets and other wildflowers are in full bloom along the side of the freeway. When I let go of who I think I am, both when I have an over-inflated ego or tell myself I’m the scum of the Earth – I’m free to acknowledge what a loving God thinks of me. I see the God lives in everything that surrounds me.
“We have very little, so we have nothing to be preoccupied with. The more you have, the more you are occupied, the less you give. But the less you have, the more free you are.”
– Mother Teresa
As I sit at my desk writing this morning, I have four dogs sleeping all around my feet. Ricky and Lucy – the “twins” have exhausted themselves playing together. Jameson is laid across my feet, most likely keeping me working (I’m afraid to move but my foot’s going to sleep!). Sadie is gently snoring by my side. I’m not sure life will get any better. They remind me constantly that I’m important to them and somehow, it’s a constant reminder that God loves me unconditionally. They remind me that “everything is grace” …
If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count more than birds.
Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller. All this time and money wasted on fashion – do you think it makes much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby beside them.
If God gives such attention to the wildflowers… don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do what’s best for you. What I’m trying to do is get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving… Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your human concerns will be met.”
Matthew 6.27-33 (The Message – Jesus quoted by Eugene Peterson)
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