Do They Know Its Christmas?
Back in the early 1980’s, which is the dark ages of the information age, there was a horrible famine in Ethiopia. During that time, the BBC aired a documentary chronicling the famine and how thousands were literally starving to death. In the way the Holy Spirit seems to move, (Sir) Bob Geldof, the lead singer of the punk band the Boomtown Rats (famous for I Don’t Like Mondays) happened on that particular documentary and was so moved to create a charity effort. He and Ultravox lead singer Midge Ure co-wrote the anthem, Do They Know its Christmas, to raise money and awareness for the famine sufferers. Assembling together a calvcade of early 1980’s Brit pop superstars including: Bono, Boy George, Duran Duran, Bananarama, Big Country and the Police. The radio station I listened to at the time started promoting it and there was a screening of the making of it on MTV, which my friends and I eagerly watched. I couldn’t wait to get the 45 of the song, so I could do my part. The following summer, the Live Aid concert was held to raise additional funds for Ethiopia to provide food, shelter and medicine. The concert featured probably the greatest performance by Queen ever, as well as a few other seminal concert moments. I was on holiday in Australia at the time and had a chance to go to the local Live Aid concert in Sydney (my poor aunt and grandmother, being dragged by me to it) so I can say, yes, I was there. INXS was the headlining group, and it was just as they were beginning to get huge in the States, so it was kind of cool to be a part of history.
It is possible for one person to change the world. Yes, George Harrison held his concert for Bangladesh back in the early 1970’s, but one song helped spawn a movement. If it wasn’t for happenstance, We are the World (the American equivilient of Do They Know it Christmas) would have never happened. The Big Man and I are on opposite ends of the musical spectrum, and he much prefers We are the World (my personal opinion: hated it). It also spawned Hear’n Aid, which consisted of heavy metal bands. The video has a bit of Spinal Tap-ish quality to it, which by today’s terms is quite quaint and funny. The downside is that Band Aid spawned a thousand other fundraising songs and concerts (the best was when the Simpsons’ spoofed Well Aid for Baby Jessica).
Band Aid did change me, as it brought awareness of the outside world to my door. I was so excited to do my part, that by buying a record I could change the world.
My consciousness was raised.
My future as an advocate for social justice was secured.
In the late 1990’s, I did a lot of agitating for the Jubilee campaign. It was based on the Biblical principle of a Jubilee, where debts were forgiven and the slate wiped clean. It was a chance for the emerging world to escape crushing foreign debt and begin to invest in resources at home, to prevent the need for future loans and stopping the vicious cycle. This soon morphed into the Millenium Development Goals, cast by the United Nations to eradicate poverty within one generation.
There are eight goals:
ERADICATE EXTREME POVERTY AND HUNGER
ACHIEVE UNIVERSAL PRIMARY EDUCATION
PROMOTE GENDER EQUALITY AND EMPOWER WOMEN
REDUCE CHILD MORTALITY
IMPROVE MATERNAL HEALTH
COMBAT HIV/AIDS, MALARIA AND OTHER DISEASES
ENSURE ENVIRONMENTAL SUSTAINABILITY
DEVELOP A GLOBAL PARTNERSHIP FOR DEVELOPMENT
The Anglican Communion (which I as an Episcopalian, am a proud member of) has helped raise awareness for this campaign through various means. There are so many things that one can do on a daily basis to make these goals a reality. By purchasing fair trade products, you are helping making these goals a reality. Offering a screening of No Woman No Cry, a brilliant documentary on maternal health around the world, will help raise awareness of child mortality and maternal health. Supporting the March of Dimes will also help raise awareness of those issues in our country as well. The RED campaign, as well as www.one.org has continued to combat AIDS, and raise awareness of how the disease affects the developing world, as well as the first world. Episcopal Relief and Development and Heifer International both offer opportunities to personally contribute to making these goals a reality. By meeting these goals, it is a hope that my son’s children will know a world where extreme poverty, hunger and a lack of environmental sustainability are ideas encountered in a history book, not the newspaper. No one will ever have to ask, do they know its Christmas?
Women of God can never be like women of the world. The world has enough women who are tough; we need women who are tender. There are enough women who are coarse; we need women who are kind. There are enough women who are rude; we need women who are refined. We have enough women of fame and fortune; we need more women of faith. We have enough greed; we need more goodness. We have enough vanity; we need more virtue. We have enough popularity; we need more purity. Margaret D. Nadauld
Showing posts with label episcopal church. prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label episcopal church. prayer. Show all posts
Monday, December 15, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
through the past, darkly
Every so often, I have one of those fitful nights when I really, honestly can’t sleep. I think about things-nothing major-and hope for the best to fall back asleep. Tax time brought back a lot of painful memories of how the past year transpired and played out. I didn’t think that it would impact me as much as it did. Instead of claiming two children, it was one. Instead of claiming adoption expenses, it was a failure.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
through the past, darkly
Every so often, I have one of those fitful nights when I really, honestly can’t sleep. I think about things-nothing major-and hope for the best to fall back asleep. Tax time brought back a lot of painful memories of how the past year transpired and played out. I didn’t think that it would impact me as much as it did. Instead of claiming two children, it was one. Instead of claiming adoption expenses, it was a failure.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
through the past, darkly
Every so often, I have one of those fitful nights when I really, honestly can’t sleep. I think about things-nothing major-and hope for the best to fall back asleep. Tax time brought back a lot of painful memories of how the past year transpired and played out. I didn’t think that it would impact me as much as it did. Instead of claiming two children, it was one. Instead of claiming adoption expenses, it was a failure.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
The remaining pieces of my heart went into tiny mosaics.
I laid awake in bed the last few nights, having the past year play out in my mind. The emotional roller coaster that I was on, the turmoil and tumult my family went through. . It was prolonged grief, and since November I have started to slowly claw my way out of the pit. I am starting to see the morning light and letting the darkness fade. This past year has seen my faith and relationships tested beyond compare. The saying that you don’t know who has your back until you’re in need is very true. People who I thought I could count on turned out to not be true blue, other people completely surprised me and stepped up to the proverbial plate.
My faith kept getting tested over the course of the past year, and to perfectly honest, inwardly I turned my back on G-d. Outwardly I continued to worship and praise, and pray and study but on the inside I was as dry as the Sahara. My faith wasn’t even as small as a mustard seed, it was microscopic. I felt abandoned. I cried out to Him, why did you put me through all this? Haven’t I had enough? You continue to make me suffer. I have lived a good life yet You punish me.
I was angry at Him, despite my dependence on Him. I was mad that my whole family had to suffer, that I was blind to warning signs and had selected vision. I was angry that my dreams were shattered like glass breaking into shards. I was angry that my son was affected on so many levels. There was such angry and vitriol in my home for months on end. I had given the devil a foothold into my life, and he was ready to settle in for the long haul.
There is real evil in the world. I’ve seen it, experienced it and lived it. It’s not evil on the same level as genocide or a serial killer. It’s an every day evil that is so insidious you don’t even notice it until its too late. It starts with a few small failings here and there. You just don’t do something that you always do. Nothing big, nothing major. For example, you always mop the kitchen floor at night, one day you just decide you won’t do it. It spirals down into a habit of not doing it. Then you decide you’re just too tired to pray at night, so you skip it. The next day, when you realize you haven’t been reduced to a pile of ashes, you skip it again. And again. And so on. Until the habit you had has been broken and a new, bad for you one has formed. This level of evil would rumple and crumple me, unless I turned my back and excised it. I can’t even begin to list the bad for me habits this everyday evil created in my life-and as a consequence, my family’s lives. But with surgical precision, I have removed the cancerous growth. Now I am in follow up treatment, with daily prayer and conversation. I am returning to pursuits that I laid aside last spring. I am enjoying my kitchen with a ferocity that has been unmatched in years. I am even getting truly serious about getting healthy again. My sewing machine is no longer idle. The cardstock is being dusted off. I am becoming whole again. Laughter is again ringing out in my home.
The darkness before dawn yields the most magnificent sunrises.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Unpretty
I go through the ebb and flow of feeling pretty and not so pretty in the course of my existence. There isn’t any one particular thing that makes me feel prettier than others. I know I have some outfits that I feel like a rock star in, and then there are others that I feel like crawling under a rock and hiding.
For most of my life, I relied on others to provide me feedback on whether or not I was pretty. I let them guide me in how I felt about myself. I wish I could say I came about the realization that was pretty dumb years ago, but I actually came to it Christmas Eve. My son and I were cuddled up together, and we were talking about the excitement of the next day. We had put out reindeer food, so they wouldn’t be hungry on the long journey and he wrote a letter, apologizing to Santa for the really pathetic pancake like cookies (bad baking soda). He was leaning up next to me on the couch and we were just snuggling before bed, and he looked up at me and said I was pretty.
Bam!
That’s all the confirmation I needed. See, my son is autistic, and one of the beauties/curses of autism is the inability to lie. If he isn’t feeling it, he isn’t feeling it. So, when he said I was pretty, he meant it.
While it was someone else telling me that I was pretty, it was also like my conscious speaking to me. A conscious that I have been working hard to develop and expand upon, that I have struggled with accepting the limitations of, and learning to be. One of the wonderful side effects of this is being more in touch with my body and mind than I have in years. My post operative pain was intense, but I think it was because I could actually FEEL it for the first time in a long time. I can feel the stiffness in my back when I wake up in the morning equally as I feel it dissipate as the morning wears on. I am getting in touch with my hunger and thirst symptoms and learning to tell the difference therein.
I started meditating years ago, and it is as time has gone on my practice has waxed and waned.
It seems as my practice follows where I am in terms of body acceptance and peace. The more accepting I am of myself, the more I seem to meditate. In those dark corners of vacillating between starving myself and bingeing to “control” the weight, I am also not freeing my mind. My meditation practice is closely intertwined with my spiritual discipline; in fact, they are one and the same. It does matter if I am chanting “om shanti, shanti om” or “veni, creator spiritus” or saying the rosary (and yes, Episcopalians do pray it)its communication with a higher power and being vulnerable.
The union of self acceptance and spiritual practice really isn’t all that surprising. As you become more enlightened, some of the little things pass by the wayside. You don’t sweat the small stuff as much. There is that sense of Zen. I am not kidding when you feel like you are one with the universe.
My intention is to start off the new year with the intention of spending a few moments each day in silent meditation. To just be with the universe, and just be. Veni, creator spiritus, veni.
For most of my life, I relied on others to provide me feedback on whether or not I was pretty. I let them guide me in how I felt about myself. I wish I could say I came about the realization that was pretty dumb years ago, but I actually came to it Christmas Eve. My son and I were cuddled up together, and we were talking about the excitement of the next day. We had put out reindeer food, so they wouldn’t be hungry on the long journey and he wrote a letter, apologizing to Santa for the really pathetic pancake like cookies (bad baking soda). He was leaning up next to me on the couch and we were just snuggling before bed, and he looked up at me and said I was pretty.
Bam!
That’s all the confirmation I needed. See, my son is autistic, and one of the beauties/curses of autism is the inability to lie. If he isn’t feeling it, he isn’t feeling it. So, when he said I was pretty, he meant it.
While it was someone else telling me that I was pretty, it was also like my conscious speaking to me. A conscious that I have been working hard to develop and expand upon, that I have struggled with accepting the limitations of, and learning to be. One of the wonderful side effects of this is being more in touch with my body and mind than I have in years. My post operative pain was intense, but I think it was because I could actually FEEL it for the first time in a long time. I can feel the stiffness in my back when I wake up in the morning equally as I feel it dissipate as the morning wears on. I am getting in touch with my hunger and thirst symptoms and learning to tell the difference therein.
I started meditating years ago, and it is as time has gone on my practice has waxed and waned.
It seems as my practice follows where I am in terms of body acceptance and peace. The more accepting I am of myself, the more I seem to meditate. In those dark corners of vacillating between starving myself and bingeing to “control” the weight, I am also not freeing my mind. My meditation practice is closely intertwined with my spiritual discipline; in fact, they are one and the same. It does matter if I am chanting “om shanti, shanti om” or “veni, creator spiritus” or saying the rosary (and yes, Episcopalians do pray it)its communication with a higher power and being vulnerable.
The union of self acceptance and spiritual practice really isn’t all that surprising. As you become more enlightened, some of the little things pass by the wayside. You don’t sweat the small stuff as much. There is that sense of Zen. I am not kidding when you feel like you are one with the universe.
My intention is to start off the new year with the intention of spending a few moments each day in silent meditation. To just be with the universe, and just be. Veni, creator spiritus, veni.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Do They Know Its Christmas?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w5cX_ncZLls&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Back in the early 1980’s, which is the dark ages of the information age, there was a horrible famine in Ethiopia. During that time, the BBC aired a documentary chronicling the famine and how thousands were literally starving to death. In the way the Holy Spirit seems to move, (Sir) Bob Geldof, the lead singer of the punk band the Boomtown Rats (famous for I Don’t Like Mondays) happened on that particular documentary and was so moved to create a charity effort. He and Ultravox lead singer Midge Ure co-wrote the anthem, Do They Know its Christmas, to raise money and awareness for the famine sufferers. Assembling together a calvcade of early 1980’s Brit pop superstars including: Bono, Boy George, Duran Duran, Bananarama, Big Country and the Police. The radio station I listened to at the time started promoting it and there was a screening of the making of it on MTV, which my friends and I eagerly watched. I couldn’t wait to get the 45 of the song, so I could do my part. The following summer, the Live Aid concert was held to raise additional funds for Ethiopia to provide food, shelter and medicine. The concert featured probably the greatest performance by Queen ever, as well as a few other seminal concert moments. I was on holiday in Australia at the time and had a chance to go to the local Live Aid concert in Sydney (my poor aunt and grandmother, being dragged by me to it) so I can say, yes, I was there. INXS was the headlining group, and it was just as they were beginning to get huge in the States, so it was kind of cool to be a part of history.
It is possible for one person to change the world. Yes, George Harrison held his concert for Bangladesh back in the early 1970’s, but one song helped spawn a movement. If it wasn’t for happenstance, We are the World (the American equivilient of Do They Know it Christmas) would have never happened. The Big Man and I are on opposite ends of the musical spectrum, and he much prefers We are the World (my personal opinion: hated it). It also spawned Hear’n Aid, which consisted of heavy metal bands. The video has a bit of Spinal Tap-ish quality to it, which by today’s terms is quite quaint and funny. The downside is that Band Aid spawned a thousand other fundraising songs and concerts (the best was when the Simpsons’ spoofed Well Aid for Baby Jessica).
Band Aid did change me, as it brought awareness of the outside world to my door. I was so excited to do my part, that by buying a record I could change the world.
My consciousness was raised.
My future as an advocate for social justice was secured.
In the late 1990’s, I did a lot of agitating for the Jubilee campaign. It was based on the Biblical principle of a Jubilee, where debts were forgiven and the slate wiped clean. It was a chance for the emerging world to escape crushing foreign debt and begin to invest in resources at home, to prevent the need for future loans and stopping the vicious cycle. This soon morphed into the Millenium Development Goals, cast by the United Nations to eradicate poverty within one generation.
There are eight goals:
ERADICATE EXTREME POVERTY AND HUNGER
ACHIEVE UNIVERSAL PRIMARY EDUCATION
PROMOTE GENDER EQUALITY AND EMPOWER WOMEN
REDUCE CHILD MORTALITY
IMPROVE MATERNAL HEALTH
COMBAT HIV/AIDS, MALARIA AND OTHER DISEASES
ENSURE ENVIRONMENTAL SUSTAINABILITY
DEVELOP A GLOBAL PARTNERSHIP FOR DEVELOPMENT
The Anglican Communion (which I as an Episcopalian, am a proud member of) has helped raise awareness for this campaign through various means. There are so many things that one can do on a daily basis to make these goals a reality. By purchasing fair trade products, you are helping making these goals a reality. Offering a screening of No Woman No Cry, a brilliant documentary on maternal health around the world, will help raise awareness of child mortality and maternal health. Supporting the March of Dimes will also help raise awareness of those issues in our country as well. The RED campaign, as well as www.one.org has continued to combat AIDS, and raise awareness of how the disease affects the developing world, as well as the first world. Episcopal Relief and Development and Heifer International both offer opportunities to personally contribute to making these goals a reality. By meeting these goals, it is a hope that my son’s children will know a world where extreme poverty, hunger and a lack of environmental sustainability are ideas encountered in a history book, not the newspaper. No one will ever have to ask, do they know its Christmas?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Million miles away
It's palm Sunday in my faith. I am still recovering from the great Easter egg hunt I coordinated yesterday. I had put it on a local events website & we had over 100 people show up!
What a great problem to have. Sometimes G-d does answer prayer.
I have been struggling with my faith. I had reached a peak in my 20's where I did spend a considerable amount of time with G-d. I did spend a lot of time in prayer. I found G-d where I went, and really had experienced namaste (the light in me recognizes the light in you).
I must fully disclose that I was single, and didn't have as many responsiblities as I do today.
Lately, my spiritual practices are pretty non existent. I don't pray like I used to, and I feel like another lent flew by without me deepening my relationship with the Lord. So, it saddens me, of course.
I have tried, with fair to middling success, to kickstart it. Post surgery, when i had plenty of time for navel gazing, I felt that spiritual euphoria come back. It felt good, and I was at peace and truly content.
It's just life gets in the way. I don't have the time to spend in prayer like I used to. I have a life & responsiblilties that need to be taken care of. It's hard to balance it all out.
Add to it, I'm the only one in my family that feels the spiritual pull. The big man isn't churchy plus he belongs to a different denomination than I do with no reconciliation there. As a result, I go to church alone. My son thinks since daddy is home, he should stay with him. Neither one takes saying grace at dinner overly seriously. And forget ever doing a family devotion!
So, I have to put aside all the spiritual dreams I had for my family & accept what I have for what it is. Yes, it is painful when I go to church, alone. It stinks that my own son won't go to the church activities I plan & run because he wants to stay in jammies. I do get jealous that other families worship together.
But I need to put all that aside, & just be. I need to accept what I currently have & be grateful.
I let those feelings cause me to be separate from G-d. Jewish tradition does not have a concept of Hell. Instead, how far you are from G-d determines your eternity. The further you are away, the more difficult your eternity will be. No fires of eternal damnation; just distance from our Father.
We can have either heaven it Hell here on earth. It's how close or far we are from Him.
Right now I'm feeling a million miles away.
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