Pilgrimage: Sending Mom Home

Introduction

 

I had to delay this for a year. Because of COVID restrictions I could not travel for the funeral, and so, the delay of grieving and saying goodbye had to wait a year. During this time, my mom’s ashes were cared for by Bellville Presbyterian Church. I had spent time thinking about how to spread her ashes, but at best I had decided on a few places, but nothing complete. I arrived in Cape Town after a lengthy flight from Boston, to London, to Johannesburg and finally Cape Town. While the trip involved more than just spreading ashes (there was family, friend and personal time of course), the focus of the trip, and the focus of this blog, is on the spreading of her ashes, which became a pilgrimage to send my mom home.

 

Once I had collected her ashes, I sorted them into potential places. I prayed and listened to what might be possible, selecting and then unselecting places. As this work of preparation, in silence and thought, continued a theme emerged: the theme of HOME. Each site of spreading ashes represented a symbol of home. At each site I decided to follow the same process with some adaptation as needed. I looked for a place to spread them, spent some time in silence, prayer or reflection, spread the ashes and then spent time in prayer and silence, processing my emotions and thoughts.

 

Lion’s Head

Cape Town was my mom’s home away from home. She loved Cape Town. She loved to visit her brother, and over the years had developed many deep friendships with people in Cape Town. It was her other home. At once I thought of the best location to spread her ashes where she could see all of Cape Town. Table Mountain seemed obvious, but Lion’s Head had another reason: my mom’s courage and persistence. 

 

On the school trips I’ve run to Cape Town we often hike up Lion’s Head. On one of these occasions my mom joined us. She was in her sixties and not fit. The sign at Lion’s Head says the hike takes 90 minutes. On that day, it took us 4 hours to get to the top. She walked, and stopped, walked and stopped. As the group moved further ahead, the guide and I stayed with her, working our way to the top. At times, the walk becomes a hand over hand rock climb. The guide and I would alternate between being ahead and behind helping her up the route. The minutes stretched into hours.

She never quit! We just kept going until, much later than others had arrived, we finally walked up the path onto the top of Lion’s Head. We spent time relishing the view, exploring the scenes and then, in the dark, began our descent. Overall it took 5-6 hours from top to bottom. It was a testament to her strength, courage and persistence. 

 

I chose Lion’s Head for these reasons: it speaks of her character and it shows a 360⁰ view of her home away from home. I had planned to spread her ashes at the pillar showing the highest point. However, as I sat at the top in prayer and thought, I noticed a few feet away was a blooming plant: the only blooming plant at the top. Out of a wide leaved plant, a stalk of buds grew. On the stalk, below several yet to bloom buds, were four pink/purple flowers. It was clear: this was her Lion’s Head spot. I spread her ashes at the base of the plant, surrounded by the views of her home. That moment also decided something else. At each spot I would look for something pink or purple to be a place to spread her ashes.

 

I spent some time after spreading her ashes, feeling the wind and the clouds sweep over, and looking at the places of interest: Seapoint where she wanted to live, Camps Bay where she would hang out, Clifton beaches where she went when she was younger, Table Mountain and in the far distance the northern suburbs of her brother’s home. It was a joyful time of beginning this pilgrimage and felt fitting and good.

Camps Bay

The second site was a place of peace, joy and fun for her. For those who knew Angela, they know that she loved the ocean and the coast. She hated sand but loved the sea. She loved Camps Bay. The luxury of the town, the wonderful restaurants, the beach, waves and views. Backed by Table Mountain and the Twelve Apostles, with the ocean spreading out before you, it is a vista of beauty uncommon around the world. She loved it.

I didn’t think the owners of the restaurants would like me spreading ashes in their entrances so I chose to walk out on the rocks to where the waves crashed on the coast line. Working my way out, I searched the rocks and areas for something pink or purple. Sadly, there was nothing close except for maybe a pinkish strain through the rocks if one really wanted there to be one. I sat in silence, soaking in the waves and wind, feeling the swell of each tide and the spray from each crash. As I sprinkled the ashes the wind blew them towards the beach and they quickly clung to the rocks or mixed with the water. I once again prayed and sat in silence allowing whatever emotions I was feeling to crash on me just like those waves.

 

This time, the emotions were sad. The feeling of loneliness washed over me – the loneliness of my mom who, surrounded by friends, had ended her life single. It was by her choice, after losing a great love to the ravages of depression and suicide. I felt that loneliness and my own sadness swell up. As I left the rocks and walked back to the beachfront, I turned and looked at the rocks, feeling that isolation and sadness with stark clarity. This was a sad and hard parting.

   

Rod and Mandy’s Home

The third site I selected was a proxy. For years, my mom had traveled to spend time at Rod and Mandy’s home. Usually this was at Christmas time. She was always warmly welcomed, even though she was not always an easy guest. Their home became her home. We celebrated her 50^th birthday at their home. We celebrated many Christmases and other occasions together. I introduced my now wife to the family in their home. Those are just my memories with her. She had dozens of others. However, Rod and Mandy had moved. Again, I didn’t think the owners of the old Kudu Street home would take kindly to some stranger sprinkling ashes in their garden.

 

I asked Rod and Mandy if I could spread ashes in their garden. There was a row of beautiful plants of pink and purple variety. I sprinkled them there. Rod read a few passages of Scripture reminding us of the resurrection, he prayed, and I shared how they had blessed my mom with a safe home to be herself and getaway. I thanked them for their generosity and sacrifice, because it wasn’t always easy. It never is when someone stays over often. If they are being real, there are struggles. Yet, through the struggles, they provided a home often. They loved her and she loved them. It was another home for her.

 

 

This time the emotions were of warmth and consolation. A peace and quiet settled on us as we took photos together and laughed and shared for a few moments. That sharing and laughter continued for the days I was there, in meals, in drives and in simple sharing. This was a place of peace and tranquility, even if it was a proxy to the Kudu Street home.

 

Barry and Cathy’s Home

The fourth site involved a trip to Durban. My mom had lived in Durban for a few years at this point. While she owned her own flat, she rented it out for extra income and, in turn, rented a room from a wonderful couple. As always, she had developed a group of friends that she enjoyed life with. One of those friends was Esme and Paul Rimmel. I had breakfast with them and they entertained me with stories of her escapades. She enjoyed them!

 

She also enjoyed reconnecting with her cousin, Barry and his wife Cathy. She stayed at their home at times too, enjoying their hospitality and love. She traveled with them a few times and together they cooked and ate as only Greeks can. It was another one of her homes.

 

They had arranged a lunch with their whole family: nine in all and me. We gathered on their upper deck and looked at their garden below. Wild garlic plants grew in one corner, in a bright splash of pink and purple. It was the perfect spot, looking out over the Umhlanga Bay view and all the way to the ocean. Another home. We gathered and I shared how they had loved her and blessed her, how she spoke of them with love and gratitude. I sprinkled the ashes as their three sons (my second cousins), Brett, Ryan and Sean gathered with me. It was a blessed time.

 

My emotions revolved through love, reconnection, and welcome. Again, there was warmth, but different from Rod and Mandy, warmth of new expansion for me, and wonderful learning of how mom had been cared for and loved by these distant but not so distant relatives. We had known each other from years ago. We had spent decades apart, but they had welcomed me like they did my mom: as though the separation had never happened. In each of these moments there was obviously grief. But grief doesn’t have to be negative. It doesn’t have to be devastating. It can be a sweet sorrow of real sadness but with reminders of God’s grace experienced through His people. This is what I was experiencing.

 

Battery Beach

 

The fifth site was Battery Beach. My family has a long history with Battery Beach. Rod and I had spent hours reminiscing about our Durban times. Mom had lived new Battery Beach as a young child and then later during teen years. The family had moved from different flats along the nearby roads for various reasons over the years. Later in life, my mom and I would live there again during my younger years. Battery Beach was our beach. I would often swim there. The iconic Blue Waters hotel is on the corner facing the beach, flanked by the Pirates Lifesaving Club. At one point, my grandfather had opened the Blue Waters Kiosk, a snack shack on the beach selling food, ice cream, drinks and other assorted goods.

 

The beach has changed dramatically since I was there, but the Blue Waters Hotel, the Lifesaving club and the homes we stayed in are still there. So is the kiosk, but it is now abandoned and run down. I searched the beach front for something pink or purple, but I could not find anything. So I made my way to the pier and huddled close to it. As the tide flowed in and out, I placed her ashes in a single pile and allowed the warm oceans of Durban to wrap around them and slowly draw them out to sea.

 

This was my final location of South African homes. I had kept one more pile of ashes to return to Boston with me, but this was the last in South Africa. I felt somber. Surrounded by memories of Durban, a time when we had been happiest together. I had only good memories of Durban, and had life played out differently, I would have grown up in Durban and lived in the ocean and at the beach. Sadly, still sadly to me to this day, we had to move to Johannesburg. I hated that move. So, laying my mom’s ashes at Battery Beach was a sober homage to a life I wished we had lived, a life I longed to have once again. It was a time of saying goodbye, to her, to my past, to my warmest childhood memories. It was so fitting that at this time, even though I had a family back home, a wider family in Durban and Cape Town, I was alone. That is what life with my mom was like for me. It was us against the world.

 

I don’t regret my life and I don’t wish the life and family I now have would be different. If anything, I am more passionately committed to them than ever. At this moment, though, I was able to consider, pray and remember by past and be thankful for it, even if it had changed trajectory from what I thought it might be as a youngster. After spreading her ashes I drove up and down the waterfront, remembering moments together. I visited the home we stayed in and remembered these deepest and fondest memories of home. This was the best home my mom and I had celebrated together – away from others. It was good for me…It may not have been good for her. Imagine a single mother, working long hours, caring for a young child. It must have been hard, heartbreaking and spine crushing hard. Yet, somehow, I felt none of that hardship. I felt only love and wonder then.

 

I cried at that pier as I said goodbye in prayer, word and finally silence.

 

Ashland

 

The final site for spreading my mom’s ashes was our home in Ashland, MA. My mom would love to visit. She would sit at the dining room table writing sermon notes, journal notes or just enjoying the time in her American home. Just outside here favorite sitting spot were two flower collections: one a deep purple, the other a wonderful splash of pink. It was the obvious spot. She would spend hours there and then, like many Greek mothers, she would end up in the kitchen, cooking meals filled with one common ingredient: love.

 

 

We gathered as a family, choosing to make time in an always overloaded schedule to pay respects and say goodbye. Our goodbye was not final. This is the promise of the resurrection and why there are no memorials or remains of my mom left. Her ashes are gone, but she is not gone. She is with Jesus, and all those of faith, will see her one day. They will see the amazing woman God created her to be, and she will be without the hardships or losses she endured in life. One day, I will gather with her, as will our family, and we will be together forever. This is the promise of the resurrection and the reason for spreading her ashes in all these places of home. Her ashes are spread in these earthly homes, but her spirit is in her heavenly home. And the great hope is that in the end, all will be reunited with Christ together.

 

I hope you will join in that faith, by accepting Jesus as Lord and Savior. It would honor my mother and would be something she would have prayed for you. Romans 10:9 simply says, if you declare with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Jesus from the dead you will be saved. It’s belief in an event that has a promise. I hope you will join me in that belief, so that one day you can meet this extraordinary woman known as my mom. 

Photo by visuals on Unsplash

Recently, a man was arrested and confessed to attacking multiple spas where multiple people were injured, and 8 were killed including 6 Asian women. Upon arrest, the suspect also confessed that he suffers from sex addiction and these locations were a temptation to him and that he wanted to eliminate them. He denied that the attacks were motivated by race.

My thoughts on this.

In the chaotic swirl of life in a divided world, divided by race and gender, instead of trying to discern motivations and assign blame this helps me reaffirm some commitments and beliefs, including how to live those out.

Firstly, sin is real and it needs Jesus Christ to solve. This includes working with other people to help you find solutions. I believe we are responsible for our own choices, and the consequences of our sins are for us to bear. While society at large, and individuals specifically, may contribute to our committing of sinful acts, we do not solve our sin by killing other people. We bear personal responsibility to identify our own issues, hand those over to Jesus in confession and seeking healing by making healthy choices. These healthy choices include getting help and allowing God to work in us. It is not a solution to pass blame on to others for what you are tempted by and certainly wrong to destroy, harm, or kill others as a means to deal with our own temptation. If you are suffering with any addiction, please get help. Go to a recovery program, call a friend, contact a pastor, make an appointment with a therapist or other support program.

Secondly, the victimization and dehumanizing of women is a real issue in our world and we need to do better at addressing it and stopping it. I believe men and women are EQUALLY created in the image of God. However, far too many women are victimized and dehumanized on a daily basis. They are the victims of assaults (verbal, physical, emotional and psychological) and this needs to stop. Women have for centuries been relegated to positions of lower status and it is done at the expense of the image in which they have been created. Women are not responsible for the thoughts and action of men. Men are responsible for their own thoughts and actions and need to own them. Women are not the objects of sex, fetishes, desires, unwanted advances and many other actions. They are not OBJECTS period. They are created as equal partners in the work God gave humanity and we all need to work to allow men and women to find a way to work together in the world that is created, sustained and owned by God.

Thirdly, the reality that the majority of women who died were all of specific type of ethnicity speaks to a simple truth in our country. Racism continues to be an issue at the heart of our country, if not world. I believe that each person, from every nation, tribe, people and language are equal before God in dignity, worth, and love. God created each one in His own image. Furthermore, while equal, we are different and those differences are important. Our differences speak to a unique perspective and experience in God’s story of redeeming us all, which is why need to see and value our differences too. 

The rise of Anti-Asian racism in our country is real, especially in the last year due to the COVID pandemic (in part as a result of the continued assigning of COVID to Asian people like calling the virus the "China Virus"). It is not just a reality on our screens and in my news feeds. Families I personally know speak to this increase in discrimination, bigotry and racism. We cannot deny the racism in our midst. As I am learning in my own efforts about racial unity, first we acknowledge the problem, then we listen to others as we, together, seek solutions. I am committed to finding racial unity in my own life and fighting against racism as best I can. This means raising the dignity of all people, all cultures and all ethnicities to equal status. The necessary effect of this effort is to raise awareness of, and ascribe value to those cultures, ethnicities and peoples that have been discriminated against, no matter the reason. While the shooter may deny racism was a motivation, the reality is that these locations were targeted while others of different ethnicities were not. That is a racial, gender and sin issue.

How do I respond to this? I commit to solving my sin condition in healthy ways and helping others to do so too. I commit to elevating women to be of equal status to men. I commit to pursuing racial unity for all peoples, which means working harder for those who have been relegated to lower status. It means I work harder to include and show value to women and people of color. So I stand with black, indigenous people of color, with Asian American and Pacific Islanders, and with women as we fight together for equality and unity.

The above post formed the basis for a similar statement by Faith Community Church. The Faith Community Church statement was edited by Mike Laurence, the lead pastor there, and my personal friend. He encouraged me to post the longer version as a blog post.

A Mother's Choice: My Eulogy for My Mother

Photo and Collage Created by Esme Rimmel and Doreen

For those unable to attend the service today, and for my own ability to keep this in posterity. Below is the eulogy I delivered at her service.

Angela Botsis Eulogy

November 27 2020

Angela Botsis was born on January 25, 1951 to Alec James Botsis (my papa) and Amy Thora Botsis (my nana – a term for grandmothers in our family). She passed away on November 22, 2020 at 05h05am, brought home to heaven by Jesus. Being Greek, she is survived by many. There are many cousins whose names I cannot all recall, but I believe Barry and Trevor are here. Barry, she loved her days with you in these recent years! Thank you. She was a sister to three siblings, Glen, Rod and Terry. She was a mother-in-law to Ingrid, a grandmother (their nana) to Kevin and Connor and my mother. 

There are so many people to thank. I will not remember them all. I will fail to mention some of you. Please know, this is not because I am not thankful, but simply because I’m her only son, with limited knowledge of what everyone has done. I am deeply grateful to all of you, mentioned or not. Thank you to Esme and Doreen who put the collage together at the entrance. I believe someone whose name I have not been told arranged for the flowers in her favorite colors. Thank you! Esme, thank you for all the work you have done this week to find numbers, connect with companies and make it possible to keep moving. Nick, thank you for guiding this service, being my mom’s minister and support these last few years. It always brought me peace to know you were here guiding her and keeping an old woman company. Thank you to Glen for providing funds to pay for Rod’s transport and loving my mom from afar with groceries and care beyond what was expected. Thank you to Rod. Rod, you have buried too many family members. The burden of grace, love and comfort seems to always fall on your shoulders. Thank you for being here, working with Nick in this time and the countless things you have done, that no-one knows about…Jesus knows! Thank you to all of you…words cannot express the depth of gratitude I feel for what you have done for my mother.

She would be, at the same time, beaming with the attention and love all of you are showing and, privately, embarrassed by that same attention and love. She loved each of you, in her way. 
I want to thank you all for coming, family and friends from near and far, in-person or virtually. Your presence here is a powerful expression of your love for her. You bring tears to my eyes with your love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

How do you sum up someone’s life in a message? Especially, how do you sum up this woman…this pink-haired, loud-talking, belly-laughing, life-loving, sailor-swearing, craft-making, and deeply loving woman? You can’t really. But we can pause, remember stories, laugh, cry, breath, shake our heads and silently thank God for creating Angela Botsis.

Her story is a story of nanas.  She was named after Angelique Botsis, her paternal nana. Angela was a woman with the Mediterranean fire of Greek ancestry – the fire of Apollo and the love of Aphrodite. She spoke her mind, made friends easily, loved openly, got angry quickly, and forgave even faster. You never doubted what she thought or felt about you. 

One of my earliest memories of her younger childhood days was when the family was over at Glen’s house for some or other function and he discovered an old 8mm film of the family’s beach vacation to Durban. Our family loved going to Durban on vacation. It is no surprise that she ended up living there. We loved being there! The video Glen found had footage of my mom and Terry in a rickshaw. I can’t quite remember who it was, but one of the sisters was howling in terrible fear as the Zulu driver jumped up and down and carried them along the beach front. When we watched the film, I just remember watching these four siblings, howl in laughter while simultaneously making fun of each other and getting annoyed at being made fun of all over again! It was a beautiful memory.

She grew up in a loving family and, like all Greek families, it was large, loud and surrounded by food. Something Ingrid learned on our first Christmas together with mom and Rod’s family. We gathered for Christmas lunch and started with spaghetti bolognaise (my mom’s recipe – wow she could cook!). Ingrid thought it was a strange Christmas meal but proceeded to load her plate. I was impressed by this woman I loved and how she ate! What she didn’t know was that the spaghetti was a first course, followed by course after course of eating. For hours we sat, laughed and ate. Large, loud and food…that is how I remember my early days with mom and our family. But there were the other days…small, just the two of us, facing the world together. It wasn’t quiet mind you…that is not the Angela way…well, mostly.

She was a pioneer in many ways, probably one of the earliest ways was having me. That was not the done thing in her day…a young 20-year-old who had fallen pregnant outside of marriage. Tsk tsk, they would say. Who cares, she would say. Instead of getting married, and instead of getting rid of me, she chose to have me. She CHOSE to have me. And so, I was born, the day after her 21^st birthday…separated in hours from each other’s birth times, a metaphor that no matter our physical distance, we are always connected within.

How do you repay someone for giving you life? I don’t know how to do that. It was selfless, unconditional and costly. Yet she did. She endured shame, criticism, rejection, heartache all because she chose to have me. That is why we had this bond…a mother’s love, for her child, sure, but a mother’s choice too. And with that choice, a love from me that was as passionate and fierce as hers was for me.

She pioneered in work, choosing a career as a nurse, then working at Cargo Motors as a secretary, then for Tongas mushrooms as a salesperson, then Eskom as an occupational health nurse and finally helping at churches in multiple ways. A woman in business at a time when women were told to be quiet and do what men told them. She pushed through, pushed back and didn’t give a shhh. Well, you know what she would say…

She volunteered often…at church in multiple ways, helping with youth groups, serving with the non-profit I co-founded, and establishing quite a reputation for her food. She fed you. That was her way…are you sad, eat, are you angry, have some cake, are you sleepy, try a bikkie, are you hungry, try this feast. If you never tasted her food, you have sadly missed out on one of the greatest gifts God gave us through her!

Later in this service we will hear your stories and memories of Angela. Recently, a group who traveled to Cape Town to do some service work and who got to know my mother, gathered to share their memories of her. I’m betting they will be similar…stories of love and joy, grace and acceptance…along with a dose of volume and brutal honesty!

I have so many memories of my mom…literally thousands upon thousands. Moments of us together, just the two of us, at restaurants, walking on the beach, sitting watching movies, talking and talking and talking. I won’t bore you with all of them, but they also aren’t to be shared. They were our memories, and I will ruminate on them for the rest of my life until I see her again.

But a few memories might help you know the Angela I knew.

I believe the reason for her incredible joy is because of the hardship she endured in her life. I spoke of the criticism and ridicule she received for having me. However, she never received that from her own mom and dad (my nana and papa). They loved her through her choice and loved me like their own son. And so, it was a hard blow when my mom and I found her mother, my nana, after she had died in her home. That was when we went out on our own. She learned to raise me and make a life fighting for every scrap along with the way, sometimes with the help of others, sometimes despite their help, sometimes even when the help hurt more than it helped. She kept going, loving, laughing and finding a way…often at great financial expense rather than being wise with her money. She chose to spend rather than save and give rather than receive.

I am well aware of the deep love she had for me…no one, and certainly no man replaced me. She dated, and even married once, but she didn’t accept any threat to me and stood up for herself with courage. So, she pioneered again, and chose me instead of staying married to an abusive husband. She divorced him after only two months, and we went on our way again. There were others, but the one that came closest to her and with whom she loved longest was Manfred. They dated for 15 years or more (I can’t quite remember), but they never married. Sadly, his own demons got the better of him, and he committed suicide, choosing to do it in my mom’s home because of the love and peace she brought him. She never dated again after that. She was done with love interests…well except for that elusive Jewish, Apache, Arab wealthy man she wanted to marry. Like I said, her incredible joy came because of these hardships.  She knew the worst, so she knew to enjoy everything else.

Perhaps that is why her smile came so easily, and her laughter flowed so freely and why she would always stick her leg out in photos, like a Rockefeller Rockette! Why shrink back from joy when the darkness can threaten so easily, push back…that’s the Angela I knew.

She was a pioneer of hairstyles. I can’t tell you how often she was stopped and congratulated for her hair. Multiple times a day, by retail clerks, grocery store cashiers, people at church and on the street. Her hair was like her personality. Bright, vibrant and attention grabbing. Her hair started a trend in Faith Community Church. After her first visit, we began to notice a number of gray-haired ladies (I would never dare call them old), sporting new pink, purple and blended colors. She was a trendsetter.

She loved to make food and to eat. One of our pastimes when she would visit in the States would be to search out all the famous restaurants and delis at which to eat. Our favorites were all the triple D places: famous from being on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, we would find all these small places and try their food. And she would always walk out being friends with the owners, often leaving with a wink and a nod at the older men owners! She was vivacious and large as life.

She would often ask for photos at these places. Oh, my word, the photos! She took photos everywhere. And not just one. Thousands, upon thousands. I would be commanded to stop driving on main highways so she could take a photo of a view, or a tree, or a sign. Thank God for digital cameras and camera phones, or the cost in development would have been huge.

She was nana. She loved these boys of mine as deeply and passionately as she loved me. She took her skills at making crafts and made each of them their own quilt, affectionately called, nana’s blanket). Each winter, nana’s blanket is put on their beds and keeps them warm. She made one for Ingrid and me too. It sits on our bed to this day Some of you know that same warmth.

She suffered much but loved more. She was passionate and crazy, old in body but a child in heart. She was powerful beyond measure without, yet gentle and soft within. She was a pioneer - not someone who will have a documentary or movie made about her - but a pioneer along with thousands of other women who broke the glass ceiling that said to women, “This far and no further.” And if there’s one thing you know about Angela. No one told her how far to go or where and when to stop - ever. To all those women...exemplified by my mother. Thank you for fighting. Thank you for pushing. Thank you for leading us into the future. 

I thank you for allowing me this time to share, but if you will allow me a moment more. What is Angela’s legacy. I think her legacy is best summed up in a passage of scripture. You see, she was a Christian. We both became Christians around the same time. She followed Jesus and called him Lord and Savior. She didn’t always get it right or do it well at first. She made mistakes, had issues and asked questions. But she loved Jesus and kept following him. At the end of her life, she spent her days writing out notes to sermons and reading her Bible.  Some of you were sent these sermons and devotions often delivered by Rod and me…we are very sorry! She would spend hours doing this. Everyone says she loved me so much. That is true. I felt that...deeply. But she loved Jesus too. So deeply and so powerfully that I believe she was growing more in love with him than she was with me. She began to radiate Him.

Here’s what I mean…listen to this passage from Galatians 5:22-23, from The Message Translation:

“But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.” 

(Galatians 5:22-23)

Some of these descriptions of what is commonly called the Fruit of the Spirit became characteristics of Angela:

• Affection for others: she showed that abundantly and you all experienced it personally.
• Exuberance about life: perhaps the best characteristic she showed.
• Serenity – she seemed at peace, despite longing to live closer to me and my family. She may have taken away your peace at time, but she had peace within. And the photos of her body after death, showed someone at peace.
• We develop a willingness to stick with things: she stuck with people loving them deeply. I experienced that personally but watched her do it with others specifically.
• A sense of compassion in the heart – she always wanted to help those less fortunate, often to her own detriment.
• A conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people: she believed in the goodness of people and things…except for spiders…they were evil, and bees (she was allergic) but everything else was treated with holiness. 
  
• We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments: she spoke her mind, so she never had to worry about keeping her word, because she spoke openly.
• Not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely: well, maybe not this one…she was a force, maybe not so good at the self-control.

And maybe that’s because the Angela I knew, lived with a longing. A longing for acceptance and connection that drove her. She would sleep on the couch in the midst of our crazy home life enjoying the hustle and bustle of people and children. Part of that deep longing was for her own father and mother who she missed deeply. She could seldom talk of them without tears. But now she is reunited with them and maybe pushed past Jesus to run into their arms first!

I said earlier, how do you repay someone for giving you life? Perhaps by making the choice she made. Ingrid, Kevin, Connor, I choose you. My mother’s commitment is my mission statement in life - to be the best husband and father I can be. I fail at it often, but I commit to it here and now again more deeply and more passionately than ever before. If I can do it half as well as Angela, that will be exceptional indeed.
That’s how I will repay my mom, by doing this for the rest of my life

And mom…
…I miss you, 
…I love you…always.

And until that sweet moment in heaven where we can embrace again,
I will love these three like you loved me.

That is our hope. That is our future. That is our Heaven!

And that is all possible because God loved us so much, that he created us, sent his son to die for us and through faith in him we can unite together with each other and with him.

Dear President-Elect Biden

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Congratulations!

I am sure there will be lawsuits and arguing against your presidency. But I don't think they hold much weight. You won with the largest vote ever in the history of the country. I voted for you because I saw within you a person of character and substance. I have seen you as a man who lives with his mistakes, loves his family, supports his children through their darkest moments. The story of you at the graveside of your son on election day moved me deeply. I have heard people speak of your capacity to forgive, to collaborate and to cross the aisle to get things done. We need that character and ability now more than ever. 

As the news stations show pictures of cheering and celebrations of those who voted for you, others might be apprehensive or angry. But, we are America together. We are in a fight together...a fight against a virus that seeks to destroy us, a fight against a struggling economy, a fight against our inner demons and external threats. You lead us in that fight. You campaigned on fighting for the soul of America. I am with you in that fight.

Four years ago I wrote to President-Elect Trump asking him to be a humble president. I write that same message to you now, hoping that you will live this out in the coming years.

President-Elect Biden: be a humble president

I follow a definition of humility coined by John Dickson, in his book Humilitas. He defines humility as the noble choice to forgo your status, deploy your resources and use your influence for the good of others before yourself. It is a practical definition that can be used well to guide you in your presidency. If I may be bold, here are some thoughts on how you can be humble. I don't expect you to succeed at this all the time. I fail at it often, even daily. But what a worthwhile goal to strive towards in being humble!

First, it is a noble choice. Not weak, not crazy or stupid. It is dignified, powerful and displays a virtue well depicted by your friend, President Obama. Make that noble choice for ALL of us!

Second, forgo your status. You have been given the highest status in public service in our country. There are many titles and statuses that go with your new position of POTUS - commander in chief, signer of laws, one who appoints judges and more. The fullest one is that you are a public servant. Forgoing means not holding onto your status for your benefit, but using it for the benefit of others. Be a public servant...serve ALL the American people well by forgoing your status benefits and using them to help everyone improve. Since we live in a world where what happens across the globe impacts us here at home, you have the privilege and opportunity to forgo that status in the expense of serving humanity. Please, do it well. Status has been given to you Forgo it as a servant to ALL.

Third, deploy your resources. The election has bestowed on you numerous resources to help or destroy the world many times over. In your public life deploy your resources for the good of America and the world. Deploy these resources wisely, and for the good of many, not the benefit of the few.

Fourth, use your influence. One description of the president's power is that all he has are relationships and influence. But oh, what influence and what powerful relationships. You have the ability now to influence global markets, determine family prosperity for generations, unite or divide us as a country, plunge us into a world war or build a global village. You have that influence. You could use it for personal benefit, familial promotion or party aggrandizement OR you could use it for upliftment, empowerment and improvement for ALL.

I am not naive to the impossible task this presents, or to the past struggles we have witnessed in recent years. We are a divided country, with huge rifts to overcome. I am aware of the struggles, but not as deeply or as knowledgeable as you are. This is why I ask you to be better than we hope...a tough request I am sure. Avoid lowering the base part of who we are, resist reducing our rhetoric to sound bites and instead lift our hopes, raise our dreams and expand our vision. Paint a picture of the greatness we might become, but then inspire us to work with you in building that grander experience for all of us.

Restore our soul, and guide us to deep, good character once again.

Be humble Mr President.

Make that your legacy.

God bless you.

God bless us all.

Leadership Masterclass

Photo by Alfred Aloushy on Unsplash

Governor Cuomo just delivered a masterclass on crisis leadership in his briefing on the state of work in New York State. 

His briefing was clear - detailing facts when they are facts and his own opinion when it was his opinion. He kept to the script of what he planned to say. He focu

He focused on care - presenting facts and plans he highlighted and spoke with compassion and care for those affected.

He was calm - he answered questions and presented real solutions using common sense in his communication.

He was confident of his team - when asked a question he had no answer to, his response was, we should look into that. He looked around at his team and they had an answer to the question which he did not know an answer to (nor did he know they had a plan for it either). After a clear response from his team, he responded with support of their answer, humor in the midst of it and did not steal the show from the one who spoke.

Throughout these briefings he has clearly stated that he is not running for any political office other than the one he currently holds - governor of New York. He has made these statements consistently to be clear that his decisions and comments are not to gain political currency for a future presidential run.

From the outside watching in, in my opinion, he is leading brilliantly.

The World is on Tilt

Photo by Jordan Bauer on Unsplash

I remember the old time pinball machines. They had this mechanism that stopped the game if you lifted the machine up to stop the ball rolling in a direction. It was appropriately called "tilt".

The world is on tilt right now.

I'm not sure who is lifting it up, but it has certainly stopped.

And as with any human effort, there are good things and bad things. Bad things abound in greed, anger, scams, the loss of human rights and poor leadership. Good things abound in love, care, comfort, sacrifice for others and crisis leadership.

Every day we are faced with the choice: to perpetuate the bad or the good.

Honestly, it's always that way, it's just that now - the stakes for our decisions are much higher.

So, choose well my friends and readers.

Choose good.
Choose love.
Choose care.
Choose sacrifice.
Choose wise leadership.

Choose to turn off the tv, and close the social media apps.
Choose to breathe, stretch and breathe again.

We will get through this, and we will be able to grieve together at our losses, laugh together at our survival, grow together as a human race once again.

But maybe, we will stop racing and start being again. Maybe, we will hold onto the tilt just a little longer, and discover a brave new world of unity and togetherness again.

It will soon be time to try that quarter again and get the ball rolling.

Handwashing Like a Pro

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

Most of us wash our hands by washing the same areas over and over for 20 seconds (are people still doing that?) We are left with dry skin that slowly gets raw. 

But the video in the link below titled Wash Hands Like a Pro shows why it takes 20 seconds to wash your hands properly. Consider it a public service announcement. And for the inevitable question, no, the video is not suggesting using ink to wash your hands. It's using ink to show coverage!

Wash Hands Like a Pro