PEACE ON EARTH...

Nearly every morning, I listen to a short meditation--part of Unity Church's "Daily Word" that appears in my Mail Box each day. The meditation lasts about five minutes or so, and repeats daily until a new one pops up on the first day of the next month. There are recurring themes: Love, Light, Presence, Grace, Power, Peace...I especially like Peace, but I generally leave it to others to figure out. The United Nations, for example, or Human Rights Watch, or the Global Peace Initiative. They're professionals, and I have great faith in them, although I am terribly discouraged by the current situation of our world.

A few months ago, as I tried to pay attention to the meditation--in a calm and mindful sort of way--I heard: "Peace in the world begins with peace in my heart." I hadn't really thought of it that way, but of course it does. If I am peaceful in my heart this morning, I will act with peace and grace, and everyone I encounter will (maybe) pick up my peaceful vibe and, in turn, spread even more peace. A Kumbaya moment for sure. And it sounds fairly simple: Peace begets peace begets peace... But, let's wait just a minute. What is peace? It sounds like a silly question, but really--is my peace your peace? Or, conversely, is your peace my peace?

In my mind, Peace is the absence of war. The absence of fighting. I remember my mother had a pat answer whenever I asked what she might want for her birthday or for Christmas. "Peace and Quiet wrapped up in a big red ribbon," she would answer. She did not laugh, or even smile when she said that. I may have been a bit challenging for her.

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But, now, as I begin to poke around the internet, I also begin to realize that Peace (wrapped in ribbons or not) might be a bit more complicated than I thought. For example, a young student from St. Mark's Senior Secondary School in New Delhi, India, wrote an essay explaining that Peace was NOT the absence of aggression, violence or hostility, as I obviously had thought. Rather, Peace flowed from the presence of justice. Hmm...the presence of justice. A lofty thought and a positive definition which made me sit up a little straighter and realize that Peace has two faces: Positive Peace and Negative Peace. I had defined an example of Negative Peace while the young man had described Positive Peace. I'm going to suggest that both fulfill our desire for peace, but both are not created equal.

A definition of Positive Peace reads like this: "Attitudes, institutions and structures that create and sustain peaceful societies." Whoa! Now that would require work and planning and preparation and will and openness of heart and mind. Not to mention a great deal of courage and love. A second definition builds on our first: "Absence of war accompanied by particular requirements for the mutual settlement of relations (such as) justice, mutual respect, respect for law and good will."  What a wonderful world Positive Peace could bring to us all. It might sound just a bit like heaven...and, perhaps, prove to be nearly as lasting.

Negative Peace is defined exactly as we've already realized: "The absence of violence or an absence of fear." Both of which are good things, but not necessarily lasting things. The "absence of..." phrase makes me feel as if I'm teetering on the brink...one wrong step, one misspoken phrase, one tweet too many and we plunge over the edge. Peace, as we know it, could disappear instantly, and what takes its place is none too attractive. And, to be honest, keeps me awake at night.

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So? Where do we go from here? I think I'm deciding to live with and be grateful for any Negative Peace we can generate; but, in addition, to hold tight to, and never give up on the concept and the creation and the growth of Positive Peace. To reach for harmony, acceptance, compassion and tolerance. To celebrate and learn from our differences. To nurture our relationships and friendships. To accept what is, but to never stop working toward making what is, better. 

Let me quote Abraham Lincoln here...a sentence or two from his First Inaugural Address: "We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection...The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the Better Angels of our Nature."

Blessings on you all...

PULLING YOURSELF UP...

Over the past few months I've pondered the phrase "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps." It's a common phrase, one I've certainly used from time to time. A phrase I've subscribed to over the years; going so far as to point out two events in my own life in which I "pulled myself up" (quite successfully, thank you very much) by my very own size 6 1/2 bootstraps.  Ah...no wonder that phrase has wound its way through the centuries after appearing in a book titled: "The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen" in which said Baron pulled himself out of a swamp (some versions claim he also saved his horse) by his very own pigtail. On the other hand, that book is described as being a collection of traditional tall tales, and that may be where we need to let it rest.

Last April, a young man named Jason Ford, described as a millionaire tech entrepreneur, stepped in front of the PBS Newshour cameras to present his "Humble Opinion" regarding our revered "self-made" success stories. At a quick glance, Mr. Ford appeared to be just such an example. The first in his family to become a millionaire, he had built a software business, then sold it for (in his words) a fortune. Exactly the fellow you'd love to introduce to one of your gorgeous single grand-daughters.

Then he continued, but not in the way I had expected. Not at all. With barely a pause, Mr. Ford told us that if we looked, "just a little deeper" that version of his success story would be a lie. I listened closer.

Step by step, Mr. Ford explained that although his parents were teachers, and sometimes took on temporary jobs to make ends meet, they were homeowners in a safe neighborhood that boasted good schools. You see, his grandparents had helped his parents make the down payment on that house. And the simple fact of home ownership and educated parents and safety and security assured that Mr. Ford had a pretty strong leg up on attending college.

Which he did, on a scholarship. While he was in college his grandmother passed away leaving an inheritance that was divided among her children and grandchildren. In Mr. Ford's case, his share of the inheritance assured that he could finish college debt free.

As his story continues, we learn he had encouraging mentors; family members who could introduce him to successful business owners; an unexpected loan from the sale of property his wife's grandmother had purchased decades before; supportive co-workers; personal self-confidence; and, an engaging personality. And...he was white. And his ancestors were white.

Like it or not, race plays a significant role in this story. Yes, race. And class. And community. And privilege. That is the reality. One that most of us don't want to recognize and even more, don't want to talk about. You see, if his wife's grandparents had been black, they would not have been allowed to purchase the land that eventually financed Mr. Ford's start-up. His wife's grandmother would not have been promoted to the position of School Superintendent. His own parents would not have been able to buy the house in which he grew up...the one in the safe neighborhood close to the good schools.

As Mr. Ford tells us, not everyone is qualified to be an entrepreneur. Or an astronaut. Or whatever you choose. Each endeavor requires a specific set of innate skills and personality; those traits (including gender and race) with which you're born. But, as he describes, we also need help and support. Encouragement, mentoring, financial aid, a sense of security. None of us succeeds alone. The help we receive may be visible or invisible. It may be money or encouragement. We may be born with it or we may acquire it. But it's there.

When Mr. Ford finished his story, I realized with a start that I didn't really write my own story...the one I've told with a fair-sized modicum of pride. My story is really about group effort and has encompassed decades of  help and support  and encouragement and love, and a little loan one summer to tide me over. I didn't pull myself up by my bootstraps, a lot of other people were pulling right along with me. I'm one of the lucky people. As Jason Ford wrote: "I attribute a majority of my success to the generational privilege that comes from being a middle-class White American..."

Amen.

Jason Ford appeared on PBS Newshour on April 28, 2017. He also published "The Real Reason My Startup Was Successful: Privilege" on the website medium.com.   

  

UNTIL THIS MORNING...

Tuesday Morning, 8:00 a.m. Arizona Non-Daylight Savings Time. I turn on the TV...

"Good morning. I am here today to announce that the program known as DACA that was effectuated under the Obama Administration is being rescinded." Thus spoke Jeff Sessions, Attorney General of the United States of America.

The same Jeff Sessions who, in 1986, was rejected by the Senate Judiciary Committee for the position of  U.S. Attorney because of accusations from colleagues and co-workers about his perceived racism. The same Jeff Sessions who was known as a "hard line anti-immigrant lawmaker," and who, over the years, opposed various parts of the 1965 Voting Rights Act. That Jeff Sessions.

One might have expected President Trump to make the announcement himself. After all, he is the President and is expected to shoulder the hard work that entails but, instead, he delegated his Attorney General to stand before the cameras and read the statement.

Mr. Sessions presented his case: President Obama's Executive Order was illegal and unconstitutional. President Obama had circumvented the legislative branch with an unconstitutional exercise of authority.

(President Obama had reviewed what Ronald Reagan in 1986, Bill Clinton in 1996 and 2000, and George Bush in 2007 tried to do and failed. Those three presidents had "lawfully" involved the legislative branch in their efforts to achieve immigration reform, but the legislative branch refused every overture, every time. President Obama decided on another tack.)

Let's look a little closer at DACA or its formal title: The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. In listening to Jeff Sessions this morning, and then reading the transcript of his statement, I'm afraid he might have left out a few points and veered just a bit off course.

Here is the official list of requirements to apply for and maintain DACA status:
1: The applicant must have been under 31 years old as of June 15, 2012.
2: The applicant must have come to the United States before his/her 16th birthday.
3: The applicant must have lived continuously in the United States from June 15, 2007, until the present.
4: The applicant must have been physically present in the United States on June 15, 2012, and at the time of application.
5: The applicant must have come to the United States without documents before June 15, 2012, or his/her lawful status expired as of June 15, 2012.
6: The applicant must be currently studying, or graduated from high school or earned a certificate of completion of high school or GED, or have been honorably discharged from the Coast Guard or the U.S. military. (Technical and trade school completion also qualifies); AND
7: The applicant must NOT have been convicted of a felony, certain significant misdemeanors (including a single DUI), or three or more misdemeanors of any kind.

In addition, an applicant should consult an attorney, and collect the required documents:
G-29--Notice of Entry of Appearance as Attorney
G-1145--E-Notification
Form I-821-D--Consideration of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals
Form I-765--Application for a Work Permit, AND
Form I-765WS--Worksheet explaining your economic need to work.

Now, simply collect those documents, two photos and a $495.00 fee (check or money order) and mail to a Phoenix area Lockbox.  Repeat every 24 months. Well, until today anyway.

Please be aware that DACA does not include a path to citizenship, but it does provide a temporary legal status as long as all requirements are met.

Now THIS is important because it is often misunderstood: DACA recipients CAN NOT receive federal benefits. That means NO welfare and NO Food Stamps. Please read that twice. Then pass it on. Because it is true.

DACA recipients, once qualified, can apply for a Drivers License and a Work Permit. In some states they may also qualify for In-State College Tuition. That has been very on and off in Arizona and, right now, is wending its way through court. Once a DACA recipient has found a job and received his/her Temporary Employment Authorization Card, he may apply for a Social Security Number and report wages and pay taxes. A DACA recipient will NOT and does NOT receive Social Security benefits. (But I do and a small portion is because of the taxes they pay. Today that makes me very sad.)

And that is pretty much DACA in a nutshell. That is what the shouting is all about:

An opportunity to remain in the only country and home you've ever known. An opportunity to attend school and learn a trade...if you qualify academically. An opportunity to support the country you've adopted with your tax dollars. An opportunity to live in peace. An opportunity to live without fear. An opportunity to provide your children with a brighter future than you ever had.

Well, until This Morning.

LOOKING FOR THE HELPERS

June 1, 2017: We awakened to a beautiful morning. In our part of the world, the earliest hours of the day still carry a tinge of coolness and, if we concentrate, we can sense a hint of moisture in the air. These mornings are numbered, however. They will not last more than another week or two. We live in a desert after all, and according to recent records and heat maps, our temps have risen over 1.5 degrees in the past 22 years. I live here. I believe it.

A little after noon today, the White House rolled out a modicum of pomp and circumstance related to President Trump's announced speech on the Paris Climate Accords. Would we stay in? Would we leave? The President enjoys creating a certain amount of suspense and uncertainty, but today he ran late, and by the time the wayward teleprompter cables were fully functioning, word was out. He was withdrawing the United States from the climate accord. We would join Syria (as someone said, they're rather busy right now) and Nicaragua (who felt the accords were not strict enough) as the only three countries not participating.

A bit of history: 198 "Parties" participated in the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change which was adopted in 1992 and entered into force in 1994. The ultimate goal at the time was "to prevent dangerous human interference with the climate system...including greenhouse gas concentration."

In December 2015, the original parties to the UNFCCC met in Paris to update the 1992 agreement. The resultant Paris Agreement sought to strengthen the global response to the threat of climate change. The objective now was to hold the increase in global average temperature well below 2 degrees Celsius above its pre-industrial levels.

Per a Scientific American repost of a Climate Central article dated 04-20-2016, the pre-industrial temperature data from 1881 to 1910 is considered the most reliable. It is those baseline temperatures we reference as NASA and NOAA monitor today's temps. Whereas the Paris Agreement specified a rise of 2 degree Celsius, scientists are working to limit the increase to 1.5 degrees. At that level, they feel a relatively stable climate, to which humans and other species can adapt, can be maintained. The 1.5 degree goal should also minimize the worst impacts of climate change such as drought, heat waves, heavy rain, flooding and sea level rise.

If current trends continue, scientists believe the world will cross that 1.5 degree threshold in ten to fifteen years. Around 2025-2030. Whereas, I may have shuffled off this mortal coil before then, I expect that my children and their children, not to mention those adorable great-grand babies just now beginning touch their toes to the ground, will still be calling this planet "home."

I hope.

I wish I were more optimistic. I wish even more that President Trump was optimistic and positive and innovative and had written his 30 minute speech to encourage us all to join hands and hearts and minds across borders and seas and cultures and, together, address our climate issue. I know it's an extremely complicated one, but why did we throw up our hands, walk away, and decide to go it alone?  If we're not in the room, we're not in the discussion. If we're not in the discussion, we're shortchanging all those who follow. And if we're shortchanging all who follow, we've failed.

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June 2, 2017: Yesterday was not a happy day at our house. We both were disappointed with President Trump's decision and declaration on the Paris Accords and the questionable facts and figures he threw out so easily. Politifact  has published numerous tweets in which he uses the word "hoax" to describe climate change, but he contends those are jokes. His exact words in a November 16, 2012, tweet are: "The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive." I don't believe he was joking that time. And certainly not joking yesterday when manufacturing, mining and coal seemed to be writ large. Wind and sun and forward thinking had been left behind.

I hope you all remember Mr. Rogers and his calm and peaceful neighborhood filled with love and kindness. I loved Mr. Rogers, and often watched with my small daughter. I needed Mr. Rogers yesterday. And then I remembered a recent PBS Newshour segment in which we were reminded of Mr. Rogers' advice for times when we were frightened or worried. We were to "Always Look for the Helpers." That phrase had come from Mr. Rogers' mother. I told my Babboo, "We'll look for the helpers."

And, this morning? When I began to read the newspaper and, later, follow up with NPR morning news, I found them. The Helpers. They were all around us. Our Phoenix mayor, Greg Stanton, announced the city would continue to honor the Paris Climate Agreement. Soon, Tucson, Tempe and Flagstaff followed suit. By noon, 30 mayors, 3 governors, 80 university presidents and 100 businesses had announced their continued support of the Agreement. More followed. I learned that the northeastern states had already reduced their carbon emissions by 37% since 2008. There were helpers all across the country.

And then, the absolute highlight when it came to helpers:  Dale Ross, mayor of Georgetown, TX, population 50,000. I might describe him as quintessential Texas. Unassuming, genuine, and good-old-boy (in the best sense of the phrase.) And...for purposes of this post, a Republican who proudly wears his lapel pin from President Trump's inauguration. His interview was all about the fact that Georgetown, TX, located an easy distance from Austin (but conservative to the core) is powered 100% by renewable energy. Ross is fairly blase about that, considering it simply an economic decision. In his words, "...sign today and know what the bill will be in 25 years," as opposed to oil and gas. Although Texas is rich in fossil fuels, Ross looked to its other natural resources, wind and sun. He describes it as a "no-brainer." He contends the wind always blows in the Panhandle and  the sun always shines in West Texas. Why waste that? He also praises our Secretary of Energy, Rick Perry who, as Texas Governor, vastly improved the state's electrical grid, thus making Georgetown's independence possible.

I think I'm beginning to feel a bit better. Still disappointed in our president, of course, but sensing a certain optimism. A budding certainty that our imaginations don't have to be stifled just because President Trump's seems to be. A firm certainty that our world is one, and together we can keep this beautiful blue ball alive and healthy and circling our far away sun. As long as we look for The Helpers and join hands with them, we'll be all right.        

LIFE IS NOW. SEIZE IT & MAKE IT AMAZING

One doesn't have to live in an Arizona retirement community to fully grasp that Life Is Now, but the nature of that choice brings a great deal of reality to that somewhat poetic thought. Years ago, when we were virtual newcomers here and living on the Main Street of SCG, we became inured to the flashing lights and screaming sirens of emergency vehicles racing past nearly every morning. We generally spotted them sometime between 9:00 a.m. and noon.

Did you know, it's a fact that older people die most often in the morning? When we wake, our body temperature rises, our respiration picks up, our heart rates and blood pressures rise and digestion begins. That is a lot of systems coming back on line, and the stress of those activities can be enough to set off an "acute health event." More specifically, we are most likely to die at 11:00 a.m. If we somehow  make it to noon, the next most popular time of death is 6:00 p.m. Per The Atlantic, it's a matter of genetics and statistics. In other words, every day is a crap shoot.

2017 has not turned out to be one of my better years. January, February and now, a third of March, have simply come and gone and I have no sense of when they were here nor where they went. I used to live like that and wasted complete decades worrying about tomorrow, regretting yesterday, and letting today slip out the back door when I wasn't paying attention. I blame Donald Trump for it, but I think I'm giving him much more credit than he is due.

Because it's me. It's really all  me. I let the election take over my world and began to view each day as one more to live through. One more campaign speech to parse. One more outrageous statement to criticize. One more TV editorial to fact check. And then? It was over. And I was on the losing end, not handling it well. Yesterday, I looked up--just above my desk--and read: "Your Life is Now. Seize It and Make It Amazing." I always imagine that God will sound exactly like James Earl Jones. I'm not sure which one of them spoke yesterday afternoon at about 4:00 p.m., but whoever it was caught my attention.

And so, as with all my crises, it's simply time to: A--Begin to meditate again, and B--Work my way through the appropriate quote. I call it "tapping away" on my laptop, but my Coach describes it as "unfolding my narrative." Isn't that a wonderful image? Unfolding my narrative. That's why everyone needs a Coach. To help us unfold our narrative. I just can't say that enough!

Here we go: I know that I spent the months of 2015 and 2016 concentrating on Mindfulness, and those months moved forward day by day with stately grace. I realized the differences between one day and the next, and remembered those days. Sometimes in detail. I didn't feel rushed and I didn't feel lost. Time wasn't wasted. Time, as a matter of fact, was often wrapped with silk ribbons and treasured. It was never ignored.

Now, right this minute I'm glancing at my watch. It's 3:51 p.m. It's one of those days that makes me remember why we moved to Arizona. BC is fishing with his friends somewhere near Reno, Nevada. He calls daily to let me know he's fine and the fishing is wonderful. They've had a bit of snow, but more of sun. He will bring home stories that will not end, and he'll grin that fishing grin of his that tells me life just couldn't be any better.

And, I'll reciprocate. I love sitting on our patio as the evening sun dips below what we call McMicken Dam--a relatively low earthen dam designed to collect run-off water from the desert that stretches to our northwest. It was built in 1956 and protects Luke Air Force Base (and us) from a catastrophic flood. When the sun finally disappears just below the dam, our palm trees and fencepost cactus become silhouetted against the night sky which, itself, has just begun to bloom with stars and the brighter planets. The breeze cools the slightest bit and, sometimes, even carries the tiniest scent of moisture with it. I'll tell BC what it looked like and felt like and sounded like. And we'll be happy, and mindful for this minute and this hour and this day. For Life and Love and Now.  

MY QUEST FOR COURAGE

Just when I began to feel that I could sleep again; that, perhaps, the world wouldn't end sometime next week; and, that someone...anyone, would finally shout "NO" to Donald Trump (and mean it), my hopes and dreams were crushed because I discovered that Courage has been banned in Washington, DC.

Yes, I believe Courage has been outlawed. Probably erased from the dictionary and ripped from the Thesaurus. And, most alarming of all, I fear it is missing from the souls of all 100 U.S. Senators and 435 Representatives. Missing. Gone. Disappeared. And just when we are in the midst of accepting or rejecting Cabinet Nominees. The very people who will have the greatest effect on our day to day lives and those of our children and grandchildren as they grow older.

Now, I would be the first to say that I, myself, am not very Courageous. It is easy for me to simply remain silent when someone makes a statement I disagree with or don't believe is true. It's easy for me to remain silent during an entire discussion because I want people to like me, and people will like me if I remain quiet and let them assume I'm in agreement with them. Every single one of them.

But all of that carefully crafted non-courageous  passivity kicked me smack in the face a few weeks ago. I attended a gathering of friends...I assumed. But, the friends weren't really friends and, I discovered, neither was I. We weren't each other's people. I had tried to be their people, but I wasn't their people. Actually, not even close. I hadn't been true to them and I hadn't been true to me. But, my feelings were hurt, and I felt lost. I whined a little to my coach, told him my story, and waited for him to pat me on the head. But he didn't. Not even close. I think that's how coaches are supposed to be.

He assigned me a project. It's called inquiry, and it means I had to begin digging into this whole years-long situation. Digging deep with excruciating honesty dripping from every pore. And I did. I started slowly, but gained a bit of strength and speed as my thoughts grew and matured. And, the end result? I realized how I honestly believed and felt and I suddenly was empowered. Really! Frankly, if you want to meet someone who has spent most of her rather long life terrified to disagree or question, or wander from the norm of the moment, it would be me. Yes, me. I found courage this past Friday and it felt good. It felt really good. I was energized all day yesterday, and I'm still doing pretty darned well this afternoon.

My discovery wasn't  Big Courage--Not the kind I'm hoping our Senators will exhibit as each Cabinet Nominee's name comes before the full Senate. But, for me, it was just as scary. The stakes were high and the quality of my life was in question. But today? Today, I could conquer the world. But I don't really need to do that. Today, I just need to be true to myself and everyone I'm around. Today, I will hope that someone else discovers that bit of courage. That empowerment that proves it's OK to disagree. The empowerment that demonstrates this is who I am. This is what I believe. This is what I must do to be true to us all. That, my friends, is so much better in the long run. Amen.

"COURAGE IS A KIND OF SALVATION"
Plato  

WATCHING...AFTER ALL

On Friday morning, January 20th, 2017, I decided that I would not watch the Inauguration. My mental health has been a little shaky since November 8th, and I had some concerns that Donald Trump's hand on two bibles (one of which had belonged to Abraham Lincoln) might be just enough to pull me right over the edge. I was a little afraid to risk it.

As consolation, I planned to listen to the Inauguration on NPR. You see, I have never missed watching an Inauguration--either as grainy newsreel footage on TV or more recently, actual live minute by minute coverage. And that statement dates back to 1957...Dwight Eisenhower's Second Inauguration. I was twelve years old.

As Americans, I believe we have a very real responsibility to pay attention to all governmental activities that might take place on any given day. So, I tuned into KJZZ, our local NPR affiliate at exactly 10:00 a.m. our time. That, in itself was a break in tradition, because I always start an Inauguration at the very beginning. The oath would be administered at 10:00 a.m., our time, and I felt strong enough to handle that, but I would turn it off as soon as Donald Trump returned to his seat.

Listening rather than watching really isn't too bad. I was surprised, actually, at the fullness of the experience. This time, Chief Justice Roberts administered the oath perfectly (in contrast to 2008--his first time--when he muffed his lines so badly, he and President Obama repeated it at the White House the next day.) Despite my intentions, when President Trump began his Inaugural Address, and as he continued to speak, I knew I needed a 55 inch screen to be sure I was hearing exactly what he was saying. I wondered if he'd picked up one of his old campaign speeches as he rushed out the door of Blair House that morning? But, no. He was saying exactly what he intended to say. He was reading intently from his teleprompters. He was earnest. He was real.

In only 17 minutes and 17 seconds, President Trump had created the picture of a bleak and despairing America. Not only were the inner cities "trapped in poverty," but wealth had been "ripped from the middle class" only to be "redistributed across the entire world."  We had "made other countries rich while the wealth, strength, and confidence of our country had disappeared over the horizon."  We had "subsidized the armies of other countries," "depleted our military," "spent trillions overseas... while America's infrastructure had fallen into disrepair and decay."

And then he announced: "From this day forward, it's going to be America First*." And, yes, "First" was capitalized in the transcript of his speech. Sometimes, a presidential candidate really should read an American history primer before jumping into the ring.

I believe we're all rooting for America. It's our home and our heritage and, at its best, it's the greatest country in the world, but the tone (at this point in the speech) began to harden: "protect our borders from the ravages of other countries making our products, stealing our companies and destroying our jobs...unite the civilized world against...at the bedrock of our politics will be a total allegiance to the United States of America..."

Then, "...most importantly, we are protected by God." I'm actually OK with being protected, and I like to feel protected. But I do not want to be so bold as to suggest that God protects the United States just a little bit more than other countries because we are a favored nation. I'd rather believe that God is watching over all of our world, our solar system and the universe--continually hoping and praying that we learn to live with one another in peace and harmony. We are not alone on this beautiful blue ball we call the earth. There are 7.5 billion of us breathing the same air, drinking the same water, and harvesting the same foods. I believe God's love and protection is given to all, we just have to reach out and accept it.

Actually, as I began to examine the transcript of his speech this afternoon, some of it could have been uplifting. A sentence here and there: "We must think big and dream even bigger...When America is united, America is...unstoppable..." And there are more. But, sadly, not enough. Both tenor and tone denote anger, hatred, fear and distrust. Long time themes of Donald Trump. None of which gives me much hope. SAD.

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*America First: The"America First" Committee was founded in 1940 by prominent Americans, many of whom, years later, served in government. Those associated with America First were opponents of the United States entering World War II. America First was seen as an anti-Semitic group. Charles Lindbergh may be the person most closely associated with the Committee. He "expressed sympathy for the persecution Jews faced in Germany but suggested that they were advocating for the United States to enter a war that was not in our own national interest." In a speech dated September 11, 1941, he threatened that Jews would be the first to suffer the consequences of the U.S. going into war. "Tolerance," he said "could not survive war and devastation." Lindbergh also noted that the Jews had too much influence because of their significant ownership of the motion picture industry, the press and their presence in the government. Three months later, our ships were hit at Pearl Harbor and, within days, the America First Committee disbanded. Pat Buchanan briefly revived  "America First" during his abbreviated run for President in 2000.

HELLO GOD...

"Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret." Really...it's Margaret.  I know I call myself Margie now, but you might remember me as Margaret. Margaret Elizabeth Catherine. Yes, the Dodge City girl. The Dodge City Sacred Heart Cathedral Grade School Margaret.

For those of you who may not be of the Catholic faith, let me explain that extra name tacked on behind Margaret Elizabeth. Good Catholic children choose an additional name when they are confirmed in the Catholic Church. In my era, we were in the Fourth Grade when we were confirmed. The name we chose must be a Saint's name. In my school, a Very Saintly Saint's name. I chose Catherine, partly because my Mother was named Catherine and partly because I was rather taken with St. Catherine of Sienna. I always connected her with St. Francis, a person full of goodness, but in reality she lived a century later than he. They are, however, Co-Patron Saints of Italy. Practically speaking, Confirmation is a means of having one more Saint in your arsenal to call on in times of trouble, because you can never have too many saints. Especially now.

I've been writing in a Gratitude Journal for fourteen months now. It's a good exercise during my early morning quiet time. I've loved my Gratitude Journal, and I'm more than a bit pleased that I've stayed with it this long. But, lately, I've been running into a Gratitude Drought.

It was still dark on the morning of January 7th, 2017, when I settled myself into my  early-morning soft and cozy chair. I had read my Personal Development chapter, read and absorbed my "Daily Word" message, and it was time to record a bit of gratitude:

"Dear Lord," I wrote. "Today it is hard for me to muster up heartfelt sincere gratitude. I know I owe you more gratitude than I have room for in this little book, but I can't seem to find it because of my worries about Donald Trump..."

On January 10: "Dear Lord, I should probably be reading Pam Grout's new book right now and learning how to live gratefully, because I am not waking up with gratitude in my heart...just worry. And, this is a year in which love and gratitude will be sorely needed. I don't feel charged with leading the way, but I do feel I need to find some positive among all the negative. That will be a worthy search. Thank you for the idea..."

On January 13: "I think, Dear Lord, that I might have been drinking decaf coffee yesterday morning and that was the reason everything was so blah and discouraging. Today, I double-checked, and I have caffeine. I feel much better. I hate to sound like a broken record, but I hope you understand that it is very hard for me to deal with Donald Trump being in charge of this country. Please, St. Margaret, St. Elizabeth, St. Catherine and you too, God, please try to override the worst of his instincts, and help me as I search for my Highest and Best Self. Amen."

P.S. Sooner might be better than later. Thank you..