We have lived in Paris, TX for three months.
1. I am in awe of the
quiet, the calm.
2. It is a blessing
to watch my small-town husband, who for 45 years worked hard at becoming
citified, reconnect with his roots. He
is rediscovering long lost friends, and they are rediscovering him. Even though I often walk away from yet
another “do you remember, and whatever happened to…” conversation, I am thrilled
for John.
3. I want to
work. I don’t want to work. I want a job.
I don’t want a job. I want to
contribute. I don’t want to feel
obligated. I want to serve. I don’t want to be bothered. I want to feel productive. I don’t want to feel bound. I want to find my place. I don’t want to feel pressured. I want to think and solve problems. I don’t want to feel responsible. Truth be known, I want my place in Paris to
find me, tap me on the shoulder, and clearly state, "this is where you belong."
4. Much to our
surprise, we have found a church home. We
joined First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) as soon as we realized that
this community of welcoming, thoughtful, open-minded, devoted, accepting and
sincere Christians exists in Paris.
We find ourselves among Christians with whom we can openly
voice our disbelief in the notion that God, the Father, sent his son to suffer
and die so that the rest of us could be forgiven of our sins. I can
openly express my view that, much like Martin Luther King or Gandhi, Jesus was
executed by folks like most of us, folks who will not tolerate the passionate,
non-violent action of Love on a consistent, daily basis. We make repeated and creative attempts to
silence Love. Jesus’ death and
resurrection demonstrate that we can’t kill Love. And that changes everything.
5. Last summer we
sold Fredericksburg peaches and veggies under the hot sun in south Austin. This summer we are growing our own peaches
and veggies.
6. Here’s what I know
today: Life is not predictable. Seriously unpredictable. Six months ago I had no inkling that Paris,
TX lay just ahead. The willingness to
follow an intuition that seemed unrealistic led us here, and we are so, so
grateful.
Easter is the hard holiday for me to wrap my mind around. I wish it changed everything but it did not. It changed a few lives in a positive way, and continues to do so, but most of the world has been, and is, oblivious to the loving spirit to which you refer. And many come to their awareness of that loving spirit through another path. Today I am reading Karen Armstrong's "Twelve Steps to Compassion" and trying to practice compassion toward "those who persecute me". This compassion stuff is hard work. Loving them: now that is a whole 'nother story.
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