Ubiquitous kindness revisited

Last week I blogged on the widespread kindness I am finding in the world. I focused on specifically on the way the sports and school systems in Springfield, Oregon have gathered around my visually impaired grandson, allowing him to do things like successfully run on the cross-country track team. All of that is still true.

But I need to revisit the theme because Reilly ran in his second race this week, and it didn’t turn out so well. He ran into a pole.

Apparently the race began late and the coaches released more kids than usual onto the track at the same time. The first part of the trail followed a city sidewalk, until it veered off into a more rural path. It happened on this sidewalk, complete with telephone poles. The crowding of so many kids, the narrowness of the sidewalk—who knows why, but it all threw Reilly a little off. Even though he was looking straight ahead, and even though the accompanying runner was right there, he ran full force into the pole. He’s fast, and those around him watched with horror as he hit, bounced back and crumpled to the ground.

He rallied quickly, but felt dizzy and disoriented. He was taken to the hospital and then kept home the next day to watch for signs of concussion. He didn’t have one. Young bodies are resilient, and Reilly finished the week back in school. Next week he plans on racing again.

But this has served as another wake-up call. Reilly behaves so normally that we frequently forget the extent of his impairment. Even he forgets, which is good. But it can be dangerous, too.

It’s made me wonder if I might have been a bit glib in my last post about God’s grace and kindness permeating the world. I could even be tempted to blame God for letting this happen, or to blame myself for not praying enough. And of course I could blame the system—the very system that I saw last week as demonstrating the ubiquity of kindness—for letting Reilly down.

I could do all of that, but I’ve chosen not to. I will continue to affirm the power and pervasiveness of God’s grace. But I need to put it in the context of this imperfect world, where accidents happen, kids go blind, and millions of refugees wander Europe in desperation. I need to ask, with tears, “Where is God’s kindness in all of this?” I need to admit that I don’t know.

But I need to keep asking. Keep affirming. And keep praying, even offering my life as part of the answer.

So next week my prayers for God’s manifest kindness and grace will accompany Reilly around the curves of that cross-country trail. I will dare to prayer for the refugees across Europe. I will dare to ask how I can be involved.

And I will continue to affirm the ubiquitous kindness of an all-seeing, loving and powerful God.

The ubiquity* of kindness

Some say that iniquity is ubiquitous, but I see it as just the opposite. I see kindness lurking around just about every corner, lying in wait for the right moment to jump out and offer you a lollipop or an organic pear, depending on your preferences.

I see it every time a car stops to let me cross the street, even where no marked crosswalk exists. I see it in my neighbors bringing the left-overs from their Indonesian meal, thinking we might like to sample their country’s cuisine. I see it in the number of old friends who kicked in on Facebook to wish me a happy birthday. I see it every time Hal fixes breakfast.

Yes, it’s kindness that wins the prize for ubiquity. It’s everywhere!

Most recently I saw it in the Willamalane Park and Recreation Department in Springfield, Oregon. My daughter Kristin lives there with Jon and their three school-age kids. The oldest, Reilly, has been visually impaired since birth with a rare combination of ocular albinism and optic nerve hypoplasia. (I’ll dispense with definitions; you can google them if you’re curious.) Simply put, he doesn’t see well. Corrective lenses bring his vision up to about 20/800 in each eye.

Other than that, he’s a normal, bright and out-going 13-year-old. He attends a public middle school (always gets a front row seat in class), plays several musical instruments and loves sports.

People and organizations go out of their way to make sure Reilly’s life is as normal—and as rich—as possible. From the school district, to the Lane Regional Program for kids with special needs, to the county park and rec department, and the state association for the blind, Reilly is provided with services that help him learn to navigate his challenges. These includes an iPad and computer with special apps, weird binocular glasses that let him watch movies, braille lessons, large print library books, a support group of other visually impaired kids and their parents, participation in a summer camp for the blind that includes horseback riding, and much more. These acts of “official kindness” are provided at no cost, as are so many services to kids with special needs.

Reilly is athletic and has actually been on a soccer team since the first grade. His keen sense of hearing helps him follow the action, and when he gets close enough to see the ball, he does what needs to be done to it. Most spectators don’t know he has a problem. And in the first grade, the kids are out there mostly to run around and have fun.

But now in middle school, it isn’t working out so well on the soccer field. So Reilly is changing sports and has joined the cross-country track team. However, it’s quickly become clear that vision matters in this sport, too. And here’s where that ubiquitous kindness pops up again.

The Willamalane Park and Rec, sponsors of the team, have developed a plan. It seems it matters to them that Reilly be a successful member of the team. So this last week, on the day before the first meet, a trainer took Reilly on a special tour of the trail, marking curves and potential problem spots with colored paint. And on the actual day of the meet, an adult runner accompanied Reilly the whole one-and-one-half miles. Other kids on the team had agreed to look out for Reilly, too.

He made it to the finish line, of course. When asked about his experience, he responded, “Awesome!” (that ubiquitous middle school phrase).

Even awesomer—the amount of kindness built into the systems that take care of our kids.

I recognize that Jon and Kristin live in a middle class school district and that their taxes help fund these services. I also know that in the Springfield/Eugene area the same services reach to all social and economic levels. Kristin has become a special-ed teacher for the visually impaired, and many of her young “clients” come from families that definitely could not afford these services otherwise.

On the other hand, I suspect that across our country as a whole, many children with special needs fall through the cracks. These types of services are probably not uniformly available to all. Freedom and justice—and kindness—for all remains more an ideal than a reality among some populations in our country.

At any rate, I rejoice in the specific kindnesses shown to my very specific grandson. And I trust that Reilly himself in turn will become a source of ubiquitous kindness.

And maybe even of justice for all.

*ubiquity: great word, meaning a state of being widespread, all around us if we only have eyes to see

                                    On your mark, get set, GO!

                                     Accompanied

                                         Made it!

The benefits of being invisible

My meeting, North Valley Friends Church, sponsors a Wednesday community meal followed by classes for all age groups. I have joined a group entitled, “A Path Through the Later Years,” for people facing old age or those wondering how to help their parents through this time of life.

In her book, The Gift of Years, Joan Chittister identifies three distinct phases in the aging process: young old age, old age, and really old age. Hal’s parents, at 95 and 97, are really old. It amuses me to see myself as a “young old lady.”

Well—it sort of amuses me. In fact, I’m holding off on personally applying the “old lady” label. Maybe in a few years—say 10—it’ll fit better.

But I have entered the realm of the retired, and it is indeed a new phase of life. I intend to be intentional and positive about it all, part of the reason for joining this group.

The word “invisible” came up several times in last week’s session. It seems that older people frequently feel that they have become invisible to those around them. I remember my friend and former NVFC pastor Stan Thornburg talking about this experience. It expresses diminishment and isolation, a lessening of value in the social marketplace.

Actually, I’ve been an invisible person for years. I remember a small incident as a young woman. Going out the door at the end of a party, a friend looked at me and asked, “Nancy, have you been here the whole time?” (I had been.)

The larger the group, the quieter I become. That used to distress me. It doesn’t any more. Invisibility has its uses.

This relates to the assignment the group leader gave us last week. We are to reflect on our “passions,” on what gives us purpose and joy. Being a reflective, intuitive person, I’ve been thinking along these lines for a long time. I’ve already defined my vocation as “to discover and express the grace of God hidden in the ordinariness of life.” I live this out primarily through prayer, poetry and relationships with people. (It helps that they all begin with the letter “p.”)

In my reflections this week, I’ve identified the link between my vocation and invisibility. In essence, I’m called to be a spy. I love watching people and listening to them talk. I love the interweaving of voices, emotions and the spaces between them. Grace frequently surfaces in those spaces.

I’m realizing that being invisible makes me a better spy. If I grow more invisible as I age, I guess that means I’ll become more astute in my espionage. That could be dangerous—if it were not all about grace.

One more thing to be thankful for.

Canadian geese and Alzheimers art: grace sightings

An Oregon spring abounds in grace. I will only mention a few recent sightings.

--Canadian geese on the lake: Early one morning at Tilikum, I walked to the lake and enjoyed the company of a family of Canadian geese. We pretty much had the place to ourselves. Mist rose off the water as the sun joined us.

--Reading the river: My experience as Listener at the Leadership Institute for Group Discernment surprised and delighted me. During our four days together I heard God’s voice as currents flowing together in a river. One the last day, reading the river back to the group was my joyful “responsibility.”

Oregon wild flowers: We spent a day at Oregon Gardens and were surprised again at the vitality and variety. What a gift.

Saturday morning cinnamon rolls at the Newberg Bakery: Making new habits is fun. We walk through the quiet streets, bring along a poetry book and read to each other over our second cup of coffee.

Alzheimers art and grandma: The Oregon branch of the Alzheimers Association has been using art therapy among those suffering with Alzheimers disease, and they sponsor an annual art contest and auction. Hal’s mom, 94 years old, participated this year and had her watercolor of Mount Hood accepted for display and the auction. Some of us accompanied her to the exhibition in the Portland Art Museum this week, where her painting was displayed along with that of the other 80 winners. Grandma doesn’t remember painting the picture, but she accepted that it was hers and seemed to enjoy all the attention. In fact she smiled more than is common these days, and that was the best part of the evening. We discovered that a chain of care-homes for the elderly had pre-purchased her painting for $400.00 and will hang it in their corporate offices. Of course, that’s neither here nor there to Grandma. But the whole experience was a grace-filled affirmation to all of us that she is still a person of great worth and creativity.

Thanks be to God.

The impatient child...comes home

A few days ago, little Natalie Lucia was born. In a sense this child belongs to the whole congregation of North Valley Friends. We have been cheering her on for several years, inviting her to come home. We have struggled alongside her parents, Rob and Kim Felton, in their battle with infertility, and we rejoiced three years ago in the adoption of Madeleine who came into their arms from birth. Some of us wondered if that was the end of the matter.

But God had a surprise in store, and he allowed Kim to live her dream of going through pregnancy. This was after the second adoption fund-raising activities, the months of waiting for something (someone) to turn up, and several last-minute disappointments. Then one Sunday early this year our pastor announced from the pulpit that Rob and Kim had experienced a “little bump” in their adoption plans. She then projected the scan on the screen, and it slowly dawned that the “bump” was a baby. Growing inside of Kim.

It’s been fun to watch Kim beginning to “show,” to share in the amazement and excitement.

So it was with alarm that we received the news on Easter weekend that Kim had gone into premature labor, almost too early for the baby to survive. That was three weeks ago. Three weeks of living in the neonatal intensive care unit, on-and-off IVs, constant monitoring, praying for time. Again, this has touched our whole congregation.

But she’s here, seven weeks early, but healthy. She even seems plump in her photo. She’ll stay in the hospital until sometime in June, but she appears to be thriving. Those few weeks apparently were vital.

Here’s a prayer/poem I wrote three weeks ago (one that was answered).

To the Impatient Child
(a poem that is really a prayer)

 Little one,
your time will come,
but not today.
Soon, you will come out
of hiding and greet
the world with a yell,
but not just yet.
Soon, you will meet
her face-to-face,
the one you only feel
now, blood-to-blood,
swimming in liquid love,
moving with her
in a dim warm space.
Soon, you will meet
him, feel his heart
beat as he holds you
to his chest, pats
your back, hums,
but not now.
It’s coming soon,
believe me--
real air on your face,
light, colors, music
and a whole open place
of people who will receive
you with so much love
you’ll need time
to take it all in.
And time is what
we’re asking for now.
So rest easy, settle back,
let yourself grow.
A world of wonders approaches.
But not today.