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Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Article on John Lennon Has Me Thinking About Faith, Art & Life

I took this picture in Strawberry Fields in Central Park last summer.

I did some New Year's cleaning and organizing this past weekend and came across an older issue of the magazine Guideposts. I enjoyed this lovely article about one woman's encounter with John Lennon, and have it here for your enjoyment. My comments follow, so this it a longer entry today.

"
The bicyclist pedaled closer, his face unshaven, his eyes hidden beneath round wire-rimmed glasses. Hair spilled from his wide-brimmed hat. His clothes fluttered in the breeze. "How you doing?" he shouted, waving hello. A hippie, I thought, dismissing him as I walked up the busy street with my family. He coasted past, vanishing down the road. Something about him seemed familiar. A minute later another bicycle raced by: a Japanese woman, with long, curly hair—and an unmistakable face. "That's Yoko Ono," I said to myself. Oh, my…That "hippie" had to be John Lennon. What are they doing here in Karuizawa?
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My husband, Stephen, was a minister and we moved to this Japanese mountain town five years earlier, in 1971, to work at the missionary camp his parents managed, a place where people came eager to experience a new world and deepen their faith. But it was hard work raising our three young children, Becky, seven, Peter, five, and Debby, two, on top of the chores that had to be done. I cooked three meals a day for up to 50 people. Nights I set up the coffeehouse we ran.

"Come to the Power and Light Company," read the signs we put up along the machi, the main street in town, inviting the community for free coffee, cake and conversation in English.

Missionaries had been coming to Karuizawa for years to enjoy the cool breezes coming off the evergreen slopes of Mt. Asama, the charming little shops that lined the machi, which sold cherry-wood carvings and kokeshi dolls. The Japanese elite fell in love with Karuizawa too. Emperors, diplomats and entertainers built grand, Victorian-style homes with gorgeous moss gardens. That must be why John is here, I thought. He must own one of those mansions.

I wasn't a Beatles fan. Back in Oregon where I grew up, I adored Pat Boone. Beatlemania shocked me—the moppy hairstyles and the loud, raw rock 'n' roll. "We're more popular than Jesus now," the papers quoted John as saying. I was appalled. How could he be so arrogant? I wasn't surprised disillusioned Beatles fans burned their records in response. Anyway, I decided to put the John and Yoko sighting out of my mind. I'll never see them again, I bet.

That Sunday, as always, missionaries from the different denominations in town packed into Union Church. Midway through the service, I heard murmuring in the back. I strained my neck to see. A man and woman were walking down the aisle, looking for an open seat. You guessed it. John and Yoko. They settled in, but the whispering didn't stop.

"Who is that?" "He's one of the Beatles." "I didn't know they went to church…" The minister cleared his throat, loudly, and everyone went back to listening to his sermon. But I couldn't focus. What was John doing in our church?

Later that week Peter and Debby played in the sandbox in our yard. I sat in a lawn chair, keeping an eye on them while some people from the church were visiting. I just wanted to relax before I had to bake the cakes for the coffee shop. Suddenly two bicycles slowed down at our house and pedaled into our yard. It was them! Their son, Sean, was sitting in a child's seat attached to John's handlebars. Stunned, I got up and walked toward them. What do I say to the most famous Beatle of all? "I saw your signs on the machi and thought they were clever," John said, breaking the silence. "I was telling Yoko here that we needed to see what it was all about." The camp volunteers saw who'd showed up and quickly began gathering. "What are you doing in town?" I managed to ask.

"We're staying at a cabin owned by Yoko's family," he told me. It was crazy. John Lennon, coming here because he saw our sign?

One woman pushed in front. She had a reputation for being blunt. "I read about your divorce—how could you leave your first marriage?" she asked. "What are you doing now that the Beatles have broken up?" Everyone crowded closer. I expected John and his family to turn around and pedal away as fast as they could.

But John just smiled. "Right now I am putting my music on hold to spend time with my wife and son," he said. The woman didn't seem quite satisfied.

"Do you belong to a church?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "I'm C. of E."

A worried look came across the woman's face. "The See…what?"

John laughed playfully. "The Church of England. Haven't you heard of them?"

More questions came, and he listened to each, answering kindly and politely. He didn't contradict anyone in any way. One of the most famous people in the world—notorious even, to some—in our humble yard, being scrutinized by people he didn't know, and taking it all in stride. Even I had to admit, I was surprised by his patience.

"How could you say those things about being bigger than Jesus?" someone asked. I had wondered that same thing myself.

John shook his head. "When we talk to reporters, we play around with them," he said. "We're just a music group. Don't people know that Jesus is far greater than we are?" Finally, the crowd seemed satisfied. Maybe he wasn't just some arrogant rock star.

Just then there was a commotion in the sandbox. Debby had hit Peter with a plastic shovel. I knelt down to placate the two of them.

"How old are your kids?" John asked.

"Debby's two and Peter is five."

"Sean's about the same age as your little girl, but he's so quiet and shy. Maybe he could benefit from playing with a girl like that." I looked at Sean as John reached down and gently ruffled his hair. In that moment, John didn't seem like a hippie anymore—he seemed like any other concerned dad.

We talked a little more about our kids. Before I knew it, an hour had passed, and he, Yoko and Sean prepared to pedal off on their bikes. "It's good to talk to all of you," John said. "I've been looking for something this summer, something spiritual," he continued. "I've been speaking with a lot of the missionaries I've met here, about life and what it all means. Thank you for your words." He waved goodbye—and I waved back as they rode off, little Sean perched on his daddy's handlebars.

I had made all sorts of assumptions about John Lennon—that he was arrogant, disrespectful, antireligious, a rebellious hippie. But the man I met was none of those things. In fact, he was modest and self-effacing. Not like my idea of a rock star at all!

I never did speak to John again. But I hope we helped him that summer. He certainly helped me. He reminded me of why I had come to Japan in the first place. To welcome people—not to judge them. And to grow in my understanding of the world.

"


I liked that this article sort of set the record straight regarding much of the demonetization the conservative Christian Church in the USA has regarding that old statement John Lennon made about being "bigger than Jesus." You may also recall Lennon was in the news again recently in December regarding lost interview tapes and the anniversary of his death. I heard a snippet or two of that old interview in the news while the story made the rounds, and it struck me at how much his family values were aligned with mine, though we are so very different. He was weathering criticism for wanting to take a break and raise his youngest son, and his commitment to his spouse, and those types of choices, etc. I find this particularly compelling being at a similar point in my life, albeit much less talented, and with different struggles and situations. I am am concerned with my own things as an artist in 40th decade of my life. I was a productive artist once, and I was an artist before I was a wife and mother, and before my family went through it's tragedy*. Now I am trying to be all the things I want to be and am called to be, as a child of God. It's good to know others have been on this path before and made it work, and it's good to be reminded that my time among the living could be up at any time. There are things I'd like to accomplish, and at least, leave this world with a little more done than I am currently doing.

Anyway, enjoy.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Today is the First Day



Today is the First Day...of the next season of my life. I have a child who is a high school senior, a child in middle school and one in elementary school. I quit my job, because I need a part time job that will allow my late afternoons and evenings to be free. I need to be here for my family more than my recent job permitted. It was good while it lasted and now it's time to move one. I have big plans for myself. I have things I want to do for God and ministry. I have things I want to do for me (artist & hula-hooper-woot!) and my family. What does God want me to do? Some areas and things I can sense and feel a prompting from Him, and I think there will be somethings that are a surprise and a challenge. God, please help me, I need it.

I'm feeling good...BUT I don't walk by feeling I walk by faith.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Journal Entry - Summer Rain

This morning it rained, that driving and drenching rain of summertime in Florida. It was just Big Daddy, me and the dog. I was going to stay home. Big Daddy had some errands to run. I knew by a few things he said, that he wanted me to go with him. I was thinking to myself there were three little ways he showed his love for me today, so I sat right on his lap and told him so. His way of asking me to go with him was the first. He is growing his hair out a little for me because I like it that way, that is the second. I cannot remember the third thing right now. Sometimes life is just slow and mundane. But it is wonderful.
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Monday, March 9, 2009

When Doves Coo, When Roosters Crow

Having joined FaceBook recently, I became the recipient of one of the questionnaires that get passed around there. It’s a pleasant enough exercise to fill out for oneself. I enjoy reading the ones my friends have filled out, it helps one to know and understand them a little better, particularly friends that are distant and I have been out of touch with. The question that provoked my thoughts on this post was, “What is your favorite sound?”

I couldn’t just pick one. There are many I enjoy. This is not exhaustive and today is not the day to wax poetically about rain on a tin roof, the laughter of children or the sounds of the sea shore. I'm thinking about bird sounds today, as you probably guessed from the title.

When we first moved to Central Florida my parents chose a home in a subdivision that was quite wooded, this in itself was in contrast to most of the newer neighborhoods that they looked at. There were pine trees and old oaks in abundance. I remember falling asleep to the sounds of a Mourning dove cooing, though I had no idea at the time what kind of bird was soothing me. Which is ironic when I consider how many times I rocked out to a certain song, the lyrics saying, “Just like a white-winged dove, sings a song, sounds like…oooh, baby, oooh, said oooh.” How pleasant it was to fall asleep, or wake up with fresh air and the sounds of the doves wafting in on the breeze.

There are many doves around here. However, until recently I was not able to hear their gentle song because of the sounds of another bird: The noble rooster. Roosters seem to polarize, they are either loved or hated. They are most abundant in Key West, and less so here in the middle Keys, but their presence has been steady since we moved here about 10 months ago. (You can read more about Keys Roosters here, if you like.) I personally enjoy their crowing, though I will admit to threatening one particular fellow who begins his “sunrise” at 2:30 am, if he‘s in our yard while crowing! Most nights this doesn’t even bother me, but on sleepless nights, when I’m sick, or restless or grouchy, I have threatened to ring his neck and put him in my pot! The sound of a faraway rooster crowing is comforting; the sound of him right under your window is “alarming”. For now though, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about it since I have not heard the rooster for a solid week. Wonder what happened to him? I can guess…

Friday, March 6, 2009

So Fresh, So Clean (so green)

Well, you know I am hanging my clothes out to dry (I blogged about it last summer here), as the weather permits. Which is quite often here in the Keys. I believe we get an average of only 40” of rain a year, which isn't very much, and we have very fair weather, no ice or snow ever. I began making my own laundry detergent again, and rather than rinsing with fabric softener, I put a little plain white vinegar in the rinse cycle. I have been doing the vinegar rinse for a couple of years now. I find it especially effective with my husband's dirty clothes when he does construction work. Our clothes are sun and wind dried, clean an fragrance free(except when I use a little Doc Bronner’s lavender castille soap rather than my own concoction).

Nobody in my home is hyper-allergic, and I actually like the smell of some detergents and fabric softeners. It’s just that I also like things to be natural, simple and clean whenever possible, and think it’s important to cut down on strong or harsh chemicals.

This lack of fragrance really hit home last week when we were preparing for the church rummage sale. A lady generously gave us all of the items she didn’t sell at her own yard sale, and there was an abundance of good stuff. Since the Lord takes such good care of us, wouldn’t you just know there were some nice, gently used clothes in our daughter’s size, and right when we need them! The clothes and other items from this kind lady were so clean and in such good condition they didn’t even need to be washed before we used them. However, because we are not used to all of the fragrances that commercial laundry products have anymore - the scent was so powerful! I dare say it bothered me a little bit!
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So my lesson in this:
Once you get used to going a little greener, you don't even miss the old way you did things, and even get to preferring your new habits.
Here are the detergent recipes, if you're interested. I use recipe #6 with Fels-Naptha soap.

Monday, January 5, 2009

I missed My Love...

...And thought of this song.


This is a great song no matter who sings it: Joe Cocker, Slade, or the above. I personally am fond of Joe Cocker's version. My Darlin is home now.

Friday, January 2, 2009

My Resolution

mail Pictures, Images and Photos
I am not a fan of New Year’s Resolutions because I have never been successful at keeping any that I have made, so far. In the spirit of optimism and new-leaf turning I am making one this year. It’s not a grand, earth changing, life altering one. It’s simple. I am resolving to be an aunt like my Aunt Teresa.


My Aunt Teresa was not related to me by blood, but by heart. She was among my parents’ closest, dearest friends and their next door neighbor for a decade, perhaps more. They remained life-long friends even after my folks moved to the West Coast and then down South. My Aunt Teresa gave me the best advice on my wedding day. “Just be nice to each other,” she said. (I share it now whenever I’m in the presence of newlyweds.) I cherish the memory. My Aunt Teresa never forgot my birthday and always sent me a card. Later on, she even remembered my children’s birthdays, even though she had only met Adam* once. For a time I was pretty good about the card thing myself, but years passed, and I slacked off. This year I have marked my calendars, and hope to follow in Aunt Teresa’s thoughtful footsteps and send my various family members & friends a card, in a timely manner, for their birthday.
That's it.
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Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Aviation Adventure

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That's us before take-off


Big Daddy has wanted to go on a bi-plane ride for several years now. When we moved to the Keys he was glad to see bi-plane rides advertised at the local airport, just a stone’s throw away. I thought I would surprise him with a ride on it for his birthday. I was not planning on going with him. There are many exciting things I would like to do, however, this intimidated me. There is the obvious reason – being so high up in the air and in an open, exposed cockpit. The other reason is this: For past few years my equilibrium or something has changed. I cannot tolerate roller-coasters or the like. The movement, height, and speeds that go along with such things don’t agree with me like they once did. At one time I was able to go on such rides over and over again with no problem. Recently, even swinging on the park swings with my children makes me a wee bit dizzy. So I thought the bi-plane ride would upset my head and my stomach. I am so glad I was wrong! I thought you only live once; I may as well go with him for this ride. I was rewarded with a thrill! I would do it again, it was simply breathtaking. I highly recommend it. Our pilot was a character, a bit salty, but he did a great job. He made it thrilling enough for Big Daddy and not overly so for me. I think that Big Daddy was genuinely surprised and enjoyed himself. It was a blessing for us both and I thank God for the opportunity.


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This is a view of the 7 Mile Bridge from above

Monday, November 17, 2008

Memorial

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In Loving Memory of F.C.D.
January 2, 1932 - November 17, 2000

And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
Rev. 21:3-4





The photo is of my Dad and I on my wedding day, it's one of my favorites. I picked the Bible verse because it comforts me, particularly in regards to this situation. I posted the Mills Brothers song because they were among my Dad's favorite musical artists. (Two other songs I considered posting, because they remind me of my Dad are Had A Dad by Jane's Addiction and I'll Be Seeing You, but I was looking for the version by Billie Holiday. The Mills Brothers seemed the best fit, I think my Dad would agree.) I can remember falling asleep to their records, as well as the Ink Spots, during the summers of my childhood. My dad would have the old cabinet stereo playing the records in the house. He ran a cord and a speaker out to the porch where he, my mom and their friends would be sipping martinis, chatting and laughing. Perhaps even playing cards, probably Pinochle. I remember feeling happy and secure. That was life back then.