Can Christmas be over already? Where does the time go? Has anyone else noticed that time passes more swiftly these days? Not that many are sad to see 2008 behind us. Yet, today for my first blog of the new year 2009, I prefer to dwell on the positive.
Lets see .... Christmas was hectic but happy this year. Dinner was at my house and we worked hard, especially Angel, to make it delicious and welcoming. It was great to see my sister and brother-in-law, my brother Jeff and his family and of course, my daughter Tina and family crowded into our tiny living room. But we all got to enjoy our meal - buffet style - and open presents. There seemed to be so many bags and boxes that it took me several days to discern who gave us what. So many lovely thoughtful gifts - especially the homemade knitted variety and the home baked yummy ones! The company and warmth of family - that's what mattered most.
After Christmas we joined my son and family for lunch and a movie. It's always a joy to be with Sam, growing so strong and handsome. The celebration continued yesterday at Jeff's and we got to see Claudia, Rob and Adrian and more family.
So I start 2009 grateful for family, for the hope of a new president and hope for the economy. I pray that this year will be a healthy one for us all.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Friday, January 2, 2009
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Proud to be an American
Today I am very proud to be an American. Last night history was made. We elected America’s first African-American president. This is enormous. To me, it is remarkable that so many ignored the “race” issue and voted for the candidate that they thought would do the best job. I am amazed because .…
I remember the 20 year old me in the early 1960’s, full of hope for the civil rights movement. It would be hard but my generation would change the world. So many of my friends were in interracial marriages. My Jamaican friend married a Jewish man and his parents refused to attend their wedding. My Irish-American friend married a Phillipino and both families were dismayed. My Mom and Dad were very accepting of my relationship with my Puerto Rican boyfriend but my grandmother threatened to die if I married him. I did marry him and she didn’t die but learned to love him. My husband and I would discuss our future family – how our children would be enriched by having 2 cultures. And they were!
But in my wildest dreams, as I witnessed the march on Washington, Dr. King’s speech, the eventual breakdown of segregation and movie stereotypes – I never imagined that hearts would be converted to the degree that America would elect a man of color to lead the nation. How wonderful! How extraordinary!
We voted at 6 a.m. yesterday and it was already crowded. For the first time in years I was voting for someone I was excited about and not the lesser of 2 evils. People came out of the voting booth smiling. The demonstrations in Times Square, Harlem, Grant Park and all over the country were inspiring. It was truly one of America’s best moments.
Now our new president faces unprecedented challenges. But what drew me to Obama first and foremost was his calm, intelligent, compassionate vision. His community organizing skills, his willingness to listen to all sides of an issue. His deep desire to bring people together. This is what my friends in the 60’s wished for – “C’mon people now. Smile on your brother. Everybody get together. Try to love one another. Right now.”
We have a marvelous opportunity. To face bleak times together and use all of our talents, gifts and creativity to come up with the answers. To walk a new path. We’ve taken the first step.
I remember the 20 year old me in the early 1960’s, full of hope for the civil rights movement. It would be hard but my generation would change the world. So many of my friends were in interracial marriages. My Jamaican friend married a Jewish man and his parents refused to attend their wedding. My Irish-American friend married a Phillipino and both families were dismayed. My Mom and Dad were very accepting of my relationship with my Puerto Rican boyfriend but my grandmother threatened to die if I married him. I did marry him and she didn’t die but learned to love him. My husband and I would discuss our future family – how our children would be enriched by having 2 cultures. And they were!
But in my wildest dreams, as I witnessed the march on Washington, Dr. King’s speech, the eventual breakdown of segregation and movie stereotypes – I never imagined that hearts would be converted to the degree that America would elect a man of color to lead the nation. How wonderful! How extraordinary!
We voted at 6 a.m. yesterday and it was already crowded. For the first time in years I was voting for someone I was excited about and not the lesser of 2 evils. People came out of the voting booth smiling. The demonstrations in Times Square, Harlem, Grant Park and all over the country were inspiring. It was truly one of America’s best moments.
Now our new president faces unprecedented challenges. But what drew me to Obama first and foremost was his calm, intelligent, compassionate vision. His community organizing skills, his willingness to listen to all sides of an issue. His deep desire to bring people together. This is what my friends in the 60’s wished for – “C’mon people now. Smile on your brother. Everybody get together. Try to love one another. Right now.”
We have a marvelous opportunity. To face bleak times together and use all of our talents, gifts and creativity to come up with the answers. To walk a new path. We’ve taken the first step.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Rembering 9/11/2001: The Hope
On September 12th, 2001, my 60th birthday, I did not go to work. At Mass that morning, I was struck by the readings for that day: all about forgiveness and not seeking revenge. As a former spiritual director of mine would say, there are no coincidences. And the thought did occur to me very soon after the attack. Please don’t let this result in retaliation. The Sharks and Jets song from West Side Story kept playing in my head. “Well they began it, they began it … and we’re the ones to end it once and for all!” For a short time, I lived in hope.
Later that day, to get away from the TV and the horrific replays of collapsing towers and falling bodies, I went to walk in the Botanical Gardens. As I sat outside the Café, on another bright blue day, something seemed strange. It was so quiet. The sky was so alone. Of course, there were no planes, no visions of spear like jets bent on mass murder; for a long time after September 11th, whenever I saw a sleek jet, fear would grip my heart.
But right there at the Café, the stories of goodness began to unfold. A woman coming back to thank a Café worker for helping her the day before, when she was desperately trying to find out if her daughter was safe; her daughter was with her now. It gave me hope: human kindness and compassion were not destroyed after all.
Still later, our family gathered at an upstate restaurant to celebrate my birthday. And my daughter’s gift was a surprise announcement that she was pregnant. I remember thinking that this child should be named Hope. And today, five year old Sierra is a constant reminder that hope for the future is alive and well.
I finally got back to Manhattan; the freedom to walk where I wanted was already disappearing, for security reasons. Sad. Since I worked for a social service agency based in NYC, we were immediately mobilized to respond to the tragedy. First, we were organized into a 24 hour telephone response team to answer calls coming in. We thought most calls would be from victims or their families needing help. But all the calls I took were from people from all over the country wanting to help. HOPE. Goodness seemed to be making a comeback big time.
On the day I returned to work, my daughter called me, urging me to get out of Manhattan; she was scared. I felt so depressed after work I began to walk up First Avenue. A candle light vigil was scheduled and I saw people beginning to line up along the street. But I had no candle. There was a church nearby and I went inside feeling distraught, drained, and left out. I began crying; it was all too much. When I came out of the church onto the avenue, a woman gave me a candle. And I stood, with countless others, of all different ages, colors, faiths, nationalities. We stood shoulder to shoulder along First Avenue singing “God Bless America”. Hope.
A week later, the Annual Westchester Mass for Older Adults was about the only event that hadn’t been canceled. The usual festive occasion was quickly toned down in keeping with the somber times. During the Mass, a young man came into the church. He still had his firefighters uniform on – it was covered with soot. He was a rescue worker, just returned from Ground Zero, and had stopped into church only to come across a hundred or so senior citizens. At once they embraced him, invited him to the luncheon after Mass, where he was the guest of honor and spoke to us about his experiences and the sacrifices so many heroes were making in their efforts to find survivors. Nothing turned out as it had been “planned” for that day but I am sure no one forgot the 2001 Westchester Mass for Older Adults. And the special gift I received from those days, when so many were at their best and gave so unselfishly was Hope.
Later that day, to get away from the TV and the horrific replays of collapsing towers and falling bodies, I went to walk in the Botanical Gardens. As I sat outside the Café, on another bright blue day, something seemed strange. It was so quiet. The sky was so alone. Of course, there were no planes, no visions of spear like jets bent on mass murder; for a long time after September 11th, whenever I saw a sleek jet, fear would grip my heart.
But right there at the Café, the stories of goodness began to unfold. A woman coming back to thank a Café worker for helping her the day before, when she was desperately trying to find out if her daughter was safe; her daughter was with her now. It gave me hope: human kindness and compassion were not destroyed after all.
Still later, our family gathered at an upstate restaurant to celebrate my birthday. And my daughter’s gift was a surprise announcement that she was pregnant. I remember thinking that this child should be named Hope. And today, five year old Sierra is a constant reminder that hope for the future is alive and well.
I finally got back to Manhattan; the freedom to walk where I wanted was already disappearing, for security reasons. Sad. Since I worked for a social service agency based in NYC, we were immediately mobilized to respond to the tragedy. First, we were organized into a 24 hour telephone response team to answer calls coming in. We thought most calls would be from victims or their families needing help. But all the calls I took were from people from all over the country wanting to help. HOPE. Goodness seemed to be making a comeback big time.
On the day I returned to work, my daughter called me, urging me to get out of Manhattan; she was scared. I felt so depressed after work I began to walk up First Avenue. A candle light vigil was scheduled and I saw people beginning to line up along the street. But I had no candle. There was a church nearby and I went inside feeling distraught, drained, and left out. I began crying; it was all too much. When I came out of the church onto the avenue, a woman gave me a candle. And I stood, with countless others, of all different ages, colors, faiths, nationalities. We stood shoulder to shoulder along First Avenue singing “God Bless America”. Hope.
A week later, the Annual Westchester Mass for Older Adults was about the only event that hadn’t been canceled. The usual festive occasion was quickly toned down in keeping with the somber times. During the Mass, a young man came into the church. He still had his firefighters uniform on – it was covered with soot. He was a rescue worker, just returned from Ground Zero, and had stopped into church only to come across a hundred or so senior citizens. At once they embraced him, invited him to the luncheon after Mass, where he was the guest of honor and spoke to us about his experiences and the sacrifices so many heroes were making in their efforts to find survivors. Nothing turned out as it had been “planned” for that day but I am sure no one forgot the 2001 Westchester Mass for Older Adults. And the special gift I received from those days, when so many were at their best and gave so unselfishly was Hope.
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