Livestock Under Our Tree

People ask for all kinds of things for Christmas. Diamonds, furniture, new clothes.

This year, I've asked for a goat. My husband Randy wants a cow. In case you're wondering, no, we've not gone out and bought the farm. The animals we plan to purchase for each other, through Heifer International, will go to families living in poverty-stricken areas of the world.

I love what this organization does. In a nutshell, here's the scoop:

Heifer's Mission to End Hunger

Heifer envisions…A world of communities living together in peace and equitably sharing the resources of a healthy planet.

Heifer’s mission is…To work with communities to end hunger and poverty and to care for the earth.

Heifer's strategy is…To “pass on the gift.” As people share their animals’ offspring with others – along with their knowledge, resources, and skills – an expanding network of hope, dignity, and self-reliance is created that reaches around the globe.

Heifer’s HistoryThis simple idea of giving families a source of food rather than short-term relief caught on and has continued for over 60 years. Today, millions of families in 128 countries have been given the gifts of self-reliance and hope.

Read more at www.heifer.org

When the Last Child is Fed

My dad is an intelligent, thoughtful, well-read man. He's also passionately opinionated, which is what makes verbal sparring with him so much fun. Religion and social justice are two topics I love to discuss with him, politics is one I stay away from. If you ever meet my dad, please heed this piece of advice. Don't get him started up on George Bush. Trust me. You do not want to go there!

The last time I saw my dad we chatted over breakfast. Our initial topic of discussion was the rapidly growing market for organic foods, including chicken, pork, and beef. Being a successful cattle rancher, dad had lots to say, mainly that while organic techniques might work well on small farms, they are not feasible for large operations, designed to produce large quantities of food. From there we moved on to the topic of how many animals designed for consumption are raised in cruel conditions. This concerns me a great deal. Him not so much. Finally, at my insistence, dad allowed that yes, some livestock does indeed suffer on its path to our tables.

"So. Is this a moral issue?" I asked him. "Is it something morally responsible people should take a stand on?"

"Yes. Maybe. Probably." He paused to take a sip of coffee. "But I look at it this way. I produce as much beef as economically as possible. That's what I do. And when the last hungry child on the earth gets fed, then I'll worry more about the animals."

My dad is the most generous man I know. He gives away his money, his time, and yes, his hamburger and his steak. No telling how many hundreds of pounds of his best beef have gone into the stomachs of hungry children and their parents down on their luck.

This is one discussion where I let him have the last word.

He's the best.

Thankful for You

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.

Albert Schweitzer

A Terrible Blessing

I got called to my supervisor's office today. At the hospice where I serve. I thought I'd hidden my distress, but someone who loves me ratted me out.

"I need to know," she said after she'd closed her office door. "I heard last night was rough. Are you okay? Because if you're not, I want to know. I want to take care of you. Whatever it takes. "

Tears. I hate them, hate them, hate them. They betray me. "I'm okay," I said with swimmy eyes. "Don't worry about me. I'm just fine."

But I'm not.

Tell me. Who could be fine? Last night was one of those nights.

A man younger than me died in front of my eyes. I held his mother in my arms while she watched him breath heavy, agonal breaths. His death, unlike most hospice passings, was not gentle or easy. He struggled and fought until the very end. I did everything I knew to relieve his suffering. God I tried! But despite my best efforts, I could bring no loveliness and no peace to his room.

I comforted a dying woman's only son. He was six four. Beautiful, shiny black skin. Huge, red rimmed eyes and a trembling chin. He did not want his mama to die. He was not ready and he looked to me to tell him what to do.

To me.

A stranger.

And so I held his huge hands in my small ones and I prayed with him. He already knew, but I reminded him that God was enough, and that not even a sparrow falls outside of His sight.

A woman was restless and in need of company. So I turned the covers back, dimmed the light over her bed, warmed oil in my palms, and massaged her feet. I stroked her heals, her soles, each swollen toe. While I poured my energy into her skin, she poured out her heart, putting voice to her grief, her anger. She was pissed off! And so very sad. There was so much she wanted to do, so many places she wanted to see. It wasn't fair because soon, really soon, she would be gone.

All of this, and the question I'm asked is am I okay?

Tonight I feel like a scapegoat. Not of sin, but of grief. Tonight this job is too hard. I'm not strong enough or stable enough or faithful enough to do this work. I am called upon to care and to bless and I am not up to the task. I am a blessing, yes, but a terrible one at best.

But I'm here. I lived through the night and I came back tonight to do it again. I'll be back next week and the week after that.

I am the best I've got, giving the best I have, to the best God made.

Okay or not, this is what I do.

Time to Kick Back, Time for Some Fun

Last night, with a sigh and a prayer, I hit the Send command, thus launching my latest novel through cyberspace and into the hands of my waiting editor. There's work yet to be done. Edits will come, rewrites I'm sure. But for now, I get to rest.

Lord, I need it.

I'm tired. In body and in soul. I've been weepy. My joints are creaky. This past couple of months I've spent too much time in the chair, too many solitary hours in front of a screen. I've not spent enough time outside. Not chatted away enough hours with my family and friends.

That's the bad news. The good news is that now I'm done, I'm wasting no time. It's been less than twenty-four hours and already I've got a full couple of weeks of face-to-face fun with real people lined up. Lunch dates, movie dates, hours set aside to chew the fat and eat some too.

It's not easy being friends with a writer. When deadlines close in, relationships get neglected. (not to mention things like meals, laundry, grocery shopping, and bills.) Every time I meet a deadline, I vow to myself I won't ever let it get down to the wire like that again. The people I care about deserve better.

Few of them complain. How amazing is that? I am so grateful that they give me grace.

And so on this day, the first one if forever in which no deadline looms, I offer this post to them.

Thank you my friends. I love you. I so can't wait to lay eyes and arms on you.