The power of the 3 Yard Shift

One of my favorite Bible stories is about a group of experienced fishermen who went out on a lake to fish on an inky black night.  As time wore on, it became depressingly apparent that no fish were going to be caught in the net that night.  The prospect of dragging the water logged net back to the shore was the only thing that separated the engulfing gloom from the faintly emerging rays of dawn.

As the three contemplated their misfortune, a voice emerged from the diminishing darkness and shouted out a question, “Gentlemen, did you catch anything last night?”  Although they could barely discern the form, they responded by yelling back one miserable syllable…”NO”!

Most people would have shut up, for although misery loves company, most of us would prefer to leave it alone.  But not this guy.  Instead he offered an unsolicited word of advice.  He told them to drag the heavy, soggy net out of the water and deposit in on the other side of the boat.

Amazing!  Unbelievable! The guy was on the shoreline.  Did he even know anything about catching fish?  You wonder what went through the minds of the fishermen.  Did they question the logic of a ridiculous command?  After all, would it not have made more sense to make a suggestion about the stuff that everyone knows can affect a catch like…the fish aren’t biting because it’s the wrong part of the lake or you simply chose a bad day?

But to their credit, the fishermen obeyed.  And the narration records an extraordinary moment!   The text says that the fish rushed into that net that had move location a grand total of a FEW YARDS with such force and vigor that the huge number of fish began to break the net.  What a difference a 3 Yard Shift can make!

This story demonstrates the power of little shift.  More often than not, the truly impactful moments in my life can be traced to ‘just one little thing’,  a simple moment in time when I made a quality decision or took a deliberate action.  While not all these moments have been good ones, many have had monumental impact in my life.

I’ve learned to respect the dawn of awareness and recognize the fact that profound revelations rarely occur the limelight.  In fact, some of the richest shifts have occurred in the dark nights when my life boat has found itself moored on a lake which seemed devoid of opportunity and reward for my efforts.

It is there that I’ve learned to value the voice of intuition and wisdom which comes from a place where my rules and limited perceptions failed to make sense. I found that they don’t matter.  And as the dark scales  lifted from my eyes, it  becomes increasingly clear that the solutions have often been simpler and closer than I imagined.

The world of social media has shown that the ripple effect of one little thing can change a lot of things in it’s wake.  Today, the lives of several precious girls are being transformed because one individual decided to shift just a little and open up her heart to embrace some little ones at the Orphanage of St. Monica.  And in the process, many of us have shifted  our hearts alongside Rocky Turner’s mission.  And if this ancient story holds a deeper truth…there are many more who will be called to join.

So today, I’m encouraging you to set aside a few moments in your life to be open to a 3 Yard Shift.  It will require humility.  The sort that allows you to be open to guidance from unexpected sources.   But, I promise you…if you will listen and obey the voice, guidance will come.  For the solution is rarely about what’s out there; it’s more about the shift that comes from inside you…in your heart.

*this story is my paraphrased version of event.  An exact rendering of the ancient text can be found here.

• 1.  This week I catch a matinee performance of the film Julia & Julia.  Afterword, I’m consumed with an intense desire to cook something imaginative!  Alas, my efforts don’t yield anything close to Julia Child’s culinary creations…

• 2.  Tuning in to watch the President address the nation and congress about the healthcare reform my attention is arrested by one man who cannot contain his passionate disagreement and yells out ‘You Lie‘ while the President is speaking.  I’m stunned…

• 3.  Oprah launches her 24th Season with a live performance by the Black Eyed Peas.  What arrests my attention is not the show on stage but rather the show OFF stage in which a crowd of thousands performs an orchestrated dance which pulsates with live electricity.  I’ve never seen anything like it.   It’s called a ‘flash mob.’

My heart in your hands

(photo is courtesy of aussiegirl on flickr)

What underscores all of these random moments is Passion.  Passion for the perfection of the art of cooking, passion against perceptions and fears about a proposal, and the ebullient passion of a random crowd of strangers gathering together to create a spontaneous moment of celebration.

Passion is raw power.  It has the ability to move us to embrace our better selves or induce us to display our basest instincts.  Passion can embody good or ill, light or darkness.  Passion always creates a difference, but we must decide what kind of difference.

Passion colors life with vibrancy. Without passion, life is lived in between hues of dull grey.

Passion!

Is the inspiration behind genius.

Passion!

Is  purity which Loves for it’s own sake

Passion harbors gritty endurance

That withstands the gale of withering opposition

Passion is a nectar…

Which provides sustaining grace in the face of extreme odds.

Passion is the gift of insight which perceives a reality obscured to the casual observer.

Passion plays center stage in it’s own  drama

And dances to the beat of an unknown drummer

Passion manufactures it’s own joy…

And nourishes it’s own truth

Passion understands it’s own unique sorrows

And endures to reap it’s own peculiar Reward.

In my 5 year old world, her journey created an unforgettable adventure.  For my sister and I were placed in the care of two missionary families. They did their best to amuse us and keep us active while my mom undertook a dangerous humanitarian project.

Her trip was the culmination of a program named Operation Dorcas which derived it’s inspiration from a widow lady who sewed clothes for women and orphans in distress in Biblical times.  The difference of this modern day Dorcas operation in the early 1970′s expanded the outreach to men and women who labored long hours on treadle style sewing machines under Mom’s direction to make clothing for the victims of the Biafran war.  It was her job to teach them a trade and help these individuals who were refugees to get back on their feet by making garments for others.

It was only later, that I would hear of the journey my mother took in the belly of the beast; an apt name for a cargo plane stripped of essential elements, such as seats.

I was told of how she carried her own chair which was braced by the relief items that the plane was carrying to war torn Biafra in the eastern region of Nigeria.  Brutal scenes of devastation and starvation unfolded as people rushed to the landing strip when the plane landed to unload the clothing, food and relief supplies.  These were scenes which she would never forget  in the aftermath of the horrific war that almost divided the most populous nation on the African continent.

But the ongoing tragedy of our world today is that every day around the world, someone is still being devastated by war.  Today, there are more wars and more suffering human beings than at any other time in history.  And the aftermath of this reality, which displaces a vast sea of humanity with searing physical and emotional scars, still requires that people somehow learn anew the work of re-building a life.

So, when I heard about a fellow real estate agent, Sue Prins from Grand Rapids who went to South Africa to teach people how to sew and make a living through the use of treadle machines, my interest was piqued.  For it reminded me of the work my Mom was involved with in her 30′s.

This project named Vox Threads is using the treadle machine to fight another form of war…a war caused by the devastation of poverty and HIV AIDS which has left so many in this impoverished South African community without any means of livelihood.

Sue  & her daughter Ginger travelled to Kliptown, South Africa to give people the gift of life.  The gift of the tools through which to build a skill to knit together a new framework of provision to sustain themselves and their families.   This reminds me that many of the solutions that our world needs today are not new nor do they need to be to work.

The solutions we need require things like persistence, patience, generosity, perseverance, common sense and compassion.  These are ingredients which all of us have the capacity to give in some measure.

It can be as simple as keeping two little girls distracted and happy while their Mom was on a mission in Biafra, or donating to an organization like Vox Threads which helps people mend their lives again.  Or, you can simply GO…as Rocky Turner, the founder of Mothers Fighting For Others is to the little girls at St. Monica’s Children’s Home where she will work alongside others who are caring for these incredible young women.

The treadle machine symbolizes how our feet can be in motion to make something of value anywhere we are or choose to go. When one uses a treadle sewing machine, the motion of the feet creates the power to drive the motor which moves the sewing needle forward.  A metaphor for the path of life isn’t it? It’s about walking the walk, not simply talking the talk.  Where will you choose to put your feet to work today?

Picture courtesy of aussiegall on flickr

It can be said that when you ignite a spark that brings a twinkle to a child’s eye, you have released a brilliant burst of pure light!

When that light carries within it a passion and vision for the fulfillment of that child’s highest potential, it can set the world aflame.

A world in which darkness creeps in through brokenness, poverty of spirit and despair.  A world where the future is snatched from our grasp through our failure to capture the promise  of the moment. A world which desperately needs the transforming power of pure light.

This is why the promise within the sparkle  in a child’s eye is so precious. It represents untapped potential for the possibilities that extend beyond the limitations of our imagination.  Indeed, beyond the limitations of the present circumstance.  Possibilities for transformation from within.  Potential that we embraced wholeheartedly before we were told that ‘we could not.’

Do you remember that place?  I think that it exists within all us.  For some, the journey of life has almost smothered it’s memory completely, but if we are willing to brave the darkness and go to look for it…we will find that the inspired light within us has never left.  We must simply go and find it again.

That is why I have such joy about Inspire the Child,  the  project that Mothers Fighting For Others has launched in Kenya.  This vision aims to provide not just the physical bricks and mortar necessary to sustain the body, but also the support for the soul and spirit which is indispensable when building a life.  And aiding the progress of each precious child entrusted to our care safely through this life.

It’s an invitation really,  to experience the delight of renewing a promise of hope and the release of dreams.  One which will tangibly transform from within, all who participate in the circle of giving and receiving.  For this my friends, is exactly how one eventually changes the world!

But it is precisely this frenetic activity which compels me towards a deeper yearning for peace. The kind that comes from a quiet ease within oneself. The peace that distills the weighty concerns of day-to-day life into a tamed murmur. A stillness that allows me to hear the music which dances around within my soul.

I think that finding this peace is the most precious gifts of the season. A season in which we commemorate the birth of the Prince of Peace. It strikes me that this prince arrived incognito in the most distilled form possible…the essence of one tiny microscopic cell, an embryo implanted within a virgins womb.

Only God knows what went through Mary’s mind. But, we do know that she agreed to be a vehicle of grace. Giving her body to shelter a cell; a miracle which divided and multiplied until it slowly formed the body of an infant. A heavenly King who choose to enter the human race in the most helpless fashion possible.
It is in this selfless example of the simplest form of authentic self that I find the greatest encouragement. I’ve come to realise that peace will not arrive at my doorstep wrapped in a tidy bow, nor will it descend on my habitat simply because I choose to totally tune out all discordant noise. The message of the Prince of Peace is to find a stillness within the chaos, not a withdrawal from the messiness of life.

Peace does not require the absence of activity, it in fact demands it. It also necessitates the courage to become willing to become small in manner which serves another’s ability to grow into their greatness.

It is this gift of peace which brought God to earth. It is the unique gift of Presence that is offered to All without strings attached. Peace which embodies the recognition of God’s Divine Grace in every living thing and cherishes each life as though God Himself walked amongst us. Because in Truth…He still does.

The technician who installed it tells us that it will filter out 95% of the contaminants that flow through the municipal water system and then proceeds to list a dizzying array of stuff such as rust, organic material, sediment, chlorine, and unpleasant odors.

This is the second water filtration system that I’ve had installed.  And I am always intrigued by the process.  The water flowing with vigor from my tap looks clean but there are some additives which I’d rather not imbibe.

I’m not threatened by the awful uncertainty that my water supply will make me sick in the way that so many individuals around the world are. The western world does not have to worry about water born diseases. Yet, many of us are concerned about the quality of our water.  A search on google for water filters turns up over 3+ Million hits!

Later that evening, I’m listening to the ABC evening news with Charlie Gibson.  A feature story  about water reveals that studies have documented, that in addition to the items the water filtration technician informed me about, there are also trace elements of many common over-the-counter and prescription drugs showing up in some municipal water systems.

According to the ABC News segment, these include:  anti-depressants, pain medications, anti-convalescents, sex hormones and mood stabilizers.

So, how are the drugs getting into our water systems? No one is entirely sure, but here is what some researchers surmise according to the AP Probe:

“People take pills. Their bodies absorb some of the medication, but the rest of it passes through and is flushed down the toilet. The waste-water is treated before it is discharged into reservoirs, rivers or lakes. Then, some of the water is cleansed again at drinking water treatment plants and piped to consumers. But most treatments do not remove all drug residue.” (Quote from AP article)

Water is important primarily because it’s presence pervades every facet of our lives.  It is the primary component of the human body.  Without out it, we perish quickly.  Water sustains our thirst and it’s coolness soothes our fevered brows.  Water renews life on our planet and releases the grime from our physical bodies.  We relax within water.  Water courses through every element of life’s existence.

Water is powerful because it is ubiquitous.  It is present everywhere.  Yet only a small fraction of water on our planet is actually fit for human consumption.  And it is this water that we filter to ensure that when it enters our body, it nourishes and enhances the processes of life.

As I listen to Charlie, my mind plays around with another thought.  I’m thinking about how the incessant flow of information mirrors the role of water in our society.  It is also everywhere. We are continually bombarded by media generated messages wherever we turn….on the TV, Internet, newspapers, books, magazines, radio, billboards etc.

And we need to know.  For a planet which is battling all kinds of turmoil on every front economically, financially, culturally, philosophically, politically and militeraily is compelled by the need to be in constant communication.  But herein lies the implicit danger.  For not all information is fit for human consumption.  In fact most of it is arguably best ignored or ingested with caution.

I wonder how our lives might be enhanced if we treated what we listened to or looked at with the same level of caution that many now apply to what they drink?  What if we chose to filter out contaminants to our minds and emotions with the same disciplined precision with which we monitor the water filters in our homes.

It’s easy to think that this is not a big deal.  But just as the water from my tap may look clean yet carry elements which should be filtered out, the information which presents itself for acceptance to my mind must also be carefully examined.

Allowing our minds to be doused without placing our personal filter on the virulent negativity that runs rampant through the spigots which deliver our informational content is simply irresponsible and potentially dangerous.  The 95%  Negative Filtration Rule is great for my water and makes sense for Life as well!

Picture courtesy of Randy son of Robert on Flickr

One of the most significant gifts my parents gave me was their refusal to pigeon hole my development as a person. I use the word person because while they fully loved the fact that I was a girl, my worth or potential was never based on my gender.

Living in a cultural context which had rigid ideas about what girls did and did not do or become, their actions as they raised me made them pioneers. I was never told that I could not study a certain field, play certain games or aspire to certain goals because I was a girl. Nor was I ever pressured to find a husband or pretend to be dumb so as not to intimidate the guys.

I had to go outside my home to learn that these things were issues that girls face all the time. In fact, all over the world, girls are denied the right to learn to read and write, forced into sexual activity at a young age and told to put their dreams on hold. All for one thing…just because they are girls.

That’s why I love this video that I came across on the Internet a couple of days ago. Girl power is not about one upping boys or burning our bras. It’s much bigger than that. Girl power is about changing the way the world thinks about what works.

It’s about showing that one fully empowered girl who becomes a woman of strong internal fiber has the ability to not only rock the cradle but renew transformational change in our world.

So, here’s to every single girl who knows that her special place on the planet is one worthy of every unique aspect of her body, soul and spirit. And that regardless of the labels her current circumstances might dictate…Girl-power cannot be defined within the limitations of any culture, race, creed or religion.

It’s just too big!

While struggling to break the habit of a chocolate bar a day..(or let’s be honest…more) I became aware of how powerful an addiction to anything can be. Anything that takes away your independent will to make a decision is a form of enslavement.  I was addicted to caffeine and breaking free would require the thing I craved to become a ‘bitter taste’ in my mouth.

In reality, the dark underground that swirls around the underbelly of the cocoa trade in some portions of the west African coast is also slavery…albeit a far more destructive form of human entrapment, the horrible reality of child enslavement.  Of the estimated 300,000 kids working in the cocoa plantations of sub Saharan Africa, approximately 6% of those employed in the Ivory Coast are suspected to be employed through slave labor. The actual numbers range from 12,000 ~ 15,000 kids in the nation of Ivory Coast alone.

According to this compendium of articles, Ivory Coast is the world’s largest exporter of cocoa.  It’s the place where the big players go to get their supplies.  A  2002 report by Oxfam indicates that companies like Argill, Cadbury, Hersheys and Nestle buy their cocoa from commodities exchanges where Ivory Coast cocoa is mixed with other cocoa and sold on the world market.

In a well researched article on CNN Money by Christian Parenti entitled “Chocolate’s Bittersweet Economy” Parenti highlights the enormity of the problem in a country which supplies about 70% of the worlds cocoa.  It is a complex issue which involves the role of government, world markets, big business, extreme poverty and yes…Slavery.

But, it also involves each of us…YOU & I the consumer of these products.  For in the final analysis the market determines the eventual course of most economic entities.  Although slavery is not legal, the practise continues to exist because in simple terms…it can.  Focusing attention and bringing the spotlight to bear exposes the truth in it’s harshest terms. 

A BBC report on Child Slavery points out that the problem is world wide and includes  Asia, the nation of Haiti, Africa, the Middle East and in some parts of South America.  It is not that parents do not love their children; in most cases they are forced to sell their children out of the desperation which comes with abject poverty.

BUT, we err if we sit back and pass judgement and merely look on with consternation.  Because, the system needs an outlet.  Apart from a buyer, the entire house of card collapses.  The price of cocoa on the world commodities market is based largely on the price the western world is willing pay for it’s insatiable desire for the product.  When farmers are not paid a fair wage for their labor and are exploited by middle men, we become a part of the problem.  When we open our eyes and determine to know WHO is behind the product that we are consuming, we enter into line with the solution.

So, every consumer and dollar is a player whether we mentally acquiesce to it or not.  Our delicously sweet chocolate bars may not be that cheap or sweet at all.  In fact, they may be closer to the taste of quinine than any of us ever imagined.  Just a thought…

In contemplating what motherhood has been and continues to mean in my life, I wonder whether it is most appropriately defined as a noun or a verb? Is mothering merely a biological function which allowed me to carry life within my womb and sustain it through child birth?

Or is it more aptly described in the context of mothering?  As descriptive of the ongoing nourishment of life that transforms the giver and the receiver in much the same way that the physical stretching of the skin confirms the fact that something has happened within one’s body.  A process which has placed it’s one peculiar branding of ownership… guaranteeing that one will never be the same.

The success of motherhood may be highly dependent on some factors which are totally outside of a woman’s control. Take for instance….where one becomes a mother. Where one becomes a mother determines many things about the success of the process. If a woman is fortunate to enter into motherhood while living in a Scandinavian country, a 2006~ 2007 report by Save the Children indicates that she has done so in the best place in the world!

The worst place to become a new mama according to the report is the sub Saharan African continent. Incidentally, the place of my birth. In a cruelly unforgiving way, grim statistics indicate that being a mom in sub Saharan Africa, may literally entail a brush with death; either within the process of pregnancy or through the miracle that is entailed when bringing forth an emerging new life.

Every minute, someone on the planet is literally putting her life on the line to become a new mom. It is a fact. Every minute in time, a woman meets her death as she struggles to bring forth life.

The chances of survival to the one year birthday are equally stark….2 Million newborns will die on the day they are born and even more before they reach their first birthday.

But, what is most striking is that 6 of the 10 Million children who die every year could easily be saved by preventing the conditions which kill them in the first place. Prevention which involves clean water, proper sanitation and vaccinations.

This does not have to be expensive. There are many wonderful organizations around the world who are doing their part to mitigate this vale of tears which shrouds the joy of motherhood in so much suffering for women and children around the world. One such organization is Save the Children, an organization dedicated to helping people in some of the world’s most difficult circumstances.

I think that the highest use and definition of the word motherhood is in life giving action. The action of sustaining, caring and loving life. The action of fighting for the rights of those who cannot yet defend themselves. The action of giving of one’s self sacrificially for the welfare of another. Motherhood is not mere physical activity, its’ highest calling is the embrace of the enduring spirit of courage, strength and grace which resides in women from every tribe, people, race and tongue. A spirit which celebrates life even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.

There’s nothing quite like a festive African party.  For an African woman, the preparation of the food is more than a labor of love…it is hard work requiring skillful handcrafting and hours of preparation.  It is within this arduous process that my adolescent memories of entertaining linger, mostly because of the women who surround my mother to assist in the cooking.

I vividly remember their arrivals. Some are wearing their “good” clothes…others carry fancy bags brimming with colorful lapas,  lace blouses, high heeled shoes and headdresses.  Throughout the morning, a chorus of greetings welcomes each new entrant. This intimate gathering of sisters…coming together to do some serious cooking while enjoying the camaraderie of jovial banter, gossip and laughter.

It is here, that we, our mothers’ daughters are embraced by the earthen well of female wisdom.  It is within this circle, that these elders model the unique rituals of what it means to be an African woman.  Our mothers, aunts, grandmothers and older sisters shed all pretensions…naked womanhood is celebrated full strength, intertwined with wit, shared pain and laughter. 

As for the humorous banter There’s lots of that…because as the African saying goes, if you don’t laugh about certain things, you will cry.  The laughter bubbles throughout the day, much like the steaming caldrons over the huge outdoor fires.. The savory smells are as enticing to us, the daughters, as the juicy tidbits of gossip that flutter through the air.  We avert our eyes, eager to catch every morsel until a disapproving glance warns us to move out of earshot.

At times, we also see the pain of tears being wiped away followed by hugs, supportive murmurs, words of counsel and the wisdom of shared experience.   We are not the center of this circle, but we cherish our place.  We know that we are daughters…

To keep one’s mother in African tradition is one of the highest honors that a daughter can give to the one who carried her forth into life.  It is to respect the dignity and strength that it takes to survive in an environment where the harshness of the physical surroundings adds tremendous weight to the challenges of simply being female in a world that doesn’t provide a lot of external support.

This is why when I read the story of “A Most Amazing Village”by Liz Brody in the latest Oprah Magazine publication(May 2008), I instinctively understand the story of young Senteyo Lenaiyasa…a 14 year old member of an all female community in a village called Umoja, located in a remote part of Kenya.  Liz describes the women of Umoja in this way,

“From what I’d heard, this community is making history-a gutsy anomaly of female bonding in a world where women are still treated as livestock.” 

Senteyo’s story is a heart breaking account of a hard childhood with a poor widowed mother.  Her uncles marry her off for a few cows around the age of 13.  Prior to this she is circumcised…a gruesome practise which scars a womans genital organs presumably to control her desire for sexual pleasure.  Many women die from the procedure which is often performed with rusty blades.

Senteyo ran for her life.  It is in this small village of brave women that she finds refuge and a place to heal and begins to build a life.  It’s not a life without challenges.  But these ladies have a strength which has been refined through the furnace of deep affliction and abuse.  A passion nurtured by the deep communal waters of female support.

I am struck by the juxtaposition of another story taking place within the plains of Texas which is riveting the attention of our nation.  It is also a story about a community, but what grips my attention is the women.  These Women in identical dresses with long hair.  These Women with sad eyes and evasive mannerisms.  Women who have lost the rights to their children because the State of Texas indicates they failed to protect their daughters. 

The final outcome of this story will play out in the days and months to come, but the question remains this for me.  Who was keeping these young daughters?  How did they learn to what it means to become a woman?  Where did things go so terribly wrong that their mothers chose to protect abusive men rather than their daughters.  When the time comes…who will show these daughters how to become their Mothers’ Keepers?

Somewhere, we have lost our way.  Somehow we have accepted the meager offerings of privacy as full payment for the loss of community.  We have lost our understanding of what it means to have the right to be a full woman. 

Men cannot give this to women…only mothers can.  And only daughters can keep this sacred rite and continue its’ tradition.  When we link arms in loving support around wounded womanhood, we become bearers of an eternal flame. When we support other women who are suffering injustice, we learn that we are not alone.  In this way, we honor the sisterhood and we become our Mothers’ Keeper.

*******

The Project O Bracelet is transforming lives like Senteyo’s by providing jobs which allow women to provide for themselves and their families.   To learn more about this project you can visit the village of Umoja directly via…http://www.madre.org/.

Picture courtesy of OziAfricana’s photostream on flikr.com