When Ignorance Is Not Bliss But Deadly

 

We fight a war in a country called Afghanistan that few Americans had heard of before the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Probably no more than one in a hundred of us could have identified it on a map.

The war began as an attempt to destroy the group responsible for the 9/ll attacks, though the  group is more often found in other countries now, like Yemen and Somalia—countries as unfamiliar to us as Afghanistan.

Our lack of knowledge of the countries where we fight has proved deadly. The deaths of American and other NATO troops in Afghanistan by their supposed allies, Afghani soldiers, has risen sharply in the past few weeks. Some of the killings were caused by members of the anti-American insurgent group, the Taliban, who sometimes infiltrate Afghani forces.

Observers contend that the Taliban are not the main reason for the killings, however. They suggest that the American-led NATO troops don’t respect Afghani culture. They burn the Quran, they say, disrespect women, and look down on Afghani society, causing them to be resented by the people they supposedly are protecting.

Americans appear to have little interest in countries outside of their own even when their soldiers die there. Tests of American students indicate a lack of knowledge about other countries. The interests of their parents center on news and literature concerning domestic issues. Foreign affairs are rarely mentioned in political campaigns.

Yet thousands of Americans, not to mention Afghani citizens, continue to be killed, wounded, and traumatized because we decided to fight there. What happens outside our national boundaries can lead us to life and death decisions. Shouldn’t we learn about the rest of the world so we can choose wisely?

How Did Our Exciting Story Become so Irrelevant To So Many?

 

Following is a scene from my novel A Sense of Mission. The scene follows an unsuccessful attempt to find a church home by three Christians:

We headed to a nearby Greek restaurant and took a table in the back to avoid standing out in our good clothes.

“So?” Ethan said, after we had ordered.

Matilda sighed and unfolded her napkin.

I said, “It’s amazing. All these high rises around. Lots more people, probably, than when the church was in the middle of a suburb, but the church seems to be dying.”

Matilda moved to one side to allow the server to fill her water glass. “I guess they’re doing their best to meet the needs of a changing neighborhood. Did you see the signs for two other groups that meet in the church? One Spanish, I think, not sure about the other.”

“Vietnamese,” said Ethan. “But one group seems almost totally absent, even though it’s probably the largest one in the neighborhood.”

“You mean the middle-class professionals enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning in their apartments and condos?” I asked.

“Right. How come Christians can’t seem to reach this group?”

I shrugged. “Look at the building. It fit fine with the architecture of the single-family suburb. Now it reminds me of those European cathedrals—kind of a dinosaur as far as relevance to the way people live today.”

“But why isn’t it relevant anymore?” Ethan asked. “That’s why the people don’t come now—the church doesn’t seem relevant to them. For the most part, they aren’t atheists or hostile to the church. They’re just indifferent to it. How did our exciting story become so irrelevant to so many?”

Eventually, Ethan answers his own question: “Christ isn’t tame, is he? He doesn’t wait in a box for us to open it on Sunday mornings. If you find where that Christ is, let me know. It’ll be scary, but I want that.”

Where does that Christ dwell, personified as Aslan in the Narnia tales as “not a tame lion”? What are the characteristics of a Christian gathering, or a Christian life, with that Christ at its center?

 

 

An Extreme Makeover of Christendom

 

The columnist Ross Douthat suggested that American Christians must find a way “to thrive in a society that looks less and less like any sort of Christendom—and more and more like the diverse and complicated Empire where their religion had its beginning . . .” (From The New York Times News Service, 2010.)

We have witnessed an extreme makeover of the Christian-oriented western culture that was called Christendom. Christianity has lost much of its influence in the larger society. Much conflict in the stories I write focuses on the struggles of American Christians to deal with the changed views that surround them. Often the characters live for a time in other cultures where religion remains a part of everyday life.

They understand, as I did after similar experiences, how closely intertwined are religion and government in some non-Western nations. It is a part of the national identity of those societies. Should one group’s religion be forced on a society to preserve that identity?

Is preservation what drove the early Christians? Perhaps one key is found in Douthat’s observation that today’s society is much like that of the Roman Empire. The Christians of that day did not try to change the Empire with a political movement. Instead they caused the Empire to change itself because their way of living attracted people to Christianity.

Once Christianity became compulsory for all, it lost much of its power. Small groups within the state churches dared live the radical lifestyle of Christ and pass on the Christain faith. The outer life, which springs from the life within, cannot be forced.

 

Impromptu Community; A Moment of Unexpected Grace

 

Most of us have experienced impromptu community, an unexpected incident that binds us to the people around us. Passengers on a plane bound for the United States on September 11, 2001, had to land unexpectedly in Newfoundland, Canada, when U.S. airspace closed following terrorist attacks in the U.S.

The Newfoundlanders showered unexpected hospitality on the passengers, lodging them in schools and churches, and feeding them. This hospitality, coupled with the horrifying events of the day, bonded the passengers to each other as well as to their hosts.

Perhaps a serendipity, a surprising moment of grace lifts us up. Eventually, the moment passes and we return to our own lives. Yet, that transforming moment pushes us gently toward hope.

A friend sent me a link to such a serendipity. First: a pedestrian square filled with tourists, couples, babies in strollers, children, the bored, the young, and the old. Then it becomes, for an instant, a community through the power of music.

Listen to the music, but watch also the touch of a sudden community.

 

Politics and the Prayer of St. Augustine

 

Lately, so the polls tell us, fewer Americans identify themselves as Democrats or Republicans. More of us call ourselves independents. Apparently, the current political scene has caused many to disavow party loyalty. Will we now choose more wisely?

Can we study issues instead of casting our ballots according to political sound bytes? Can we understand and respect those with whom we disagree? Never disparage them even if we come to different conclusions? Search for intelligent compromises?

Evidence of maturity is a realization that holding a political belief is not equated with God’s anointing. We are all humans with human failings. A successful democracy in the United States, the Middle East, or elsewhere requires the understanding that the political process is not just about me or my group. It’s about the community, be it nation or neighborhood. It’s about the people with whom we disagree as well as ourselves.

St. Augustine prayed:  God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. In a political sense, we need the serenity to accept that not all issues spring from politics nor can they be solved through laws and elections. May we have courage for those issues that require difficult political decisions, and may we know wisdom to discern ways we can work together for the good of all.

Political Power And Forgiveness

 

You can’t help but feel sorry for the three Russian young women, displayed in the glass box for all the world to gloat at their humiliation. They stare out as though struggling to project a cool image amid their nervousness, the way young people do when called to account by their elders.

Their predicament is more serious than humiliation. A Russian court sentenced the women to two years in jail for singing a ribald song in a cathedral against Russian President Vladimir Putin. It went something like “Virgin Mary, Save Us From Putin.” It was disrespectful but mild considering that the recent election of Putin suggested grave improprieties and even fraud.

After protests developed over the election, Putin signed a new law that raised fines for participation in unauthorized protests to near the average annual salary in Russia. [link] Protesters and opposition bloggers have not only been fined but imprisoned.

The religious leaders of the Russian Orthodox church appeared outraged at the women’s actions and called their performance in the church part of an assault “by enemy forces.”  Finally, after accusing the young women and their supporters of sacrilegious acts, they called on the court to show mercy.

The young women said they did not mean to offend believers but were protesting the close ties between Putin and the Russian Orthodox church. Patriarch Kirill, head of the church, strongly supports Putin. [link]

Harsh punishment of the women is not likely to endear the church to the protesters, especially the younger ones. Wouldn’t community service have been a more appropriate punishment?

Bring Back the Military Draft?

 

A friend of mine believes that America began to decline as a nation when the military draft was abolished in 1973. I don’t know that I agree. Plenty of experts, it must be said, don’t think the American nation has declined, but believe that much of the rest of the world is simply catching up with us. Others believe our ability to adapt and innovate is as strong as ever.

I can see my friend’s point, though. We no longer have a citizen army, with most young men bearing equal burdens to fight, if necessary, in the country’s conflicts. New recruits are not as likely to come from the class of richer young people, those with privilege, as from those of the less advantaged. The bodies brought back from Afghanistan tend to be grieved by families of lesser education and money.

In a democracy, reality trumps policy. During a time of recognized threat to this country, young people of all levels volunteer for military duty, but they don’t understand long conflicts where even people they are supposedly helping sometimes kill them.

When a significant percentage of American citizens don’t believe in sending troops to a conflict, a draft leads to protests like those during the Vietnam War. If we had a draft today, we might not have entered Iraq and might already have exited Afghanistan. Less advantaged young people would not carry the burden of dying while the richer ones attend college and find lucrative vocations.

What if we passed a law that forbids our country from committing ground troops to a conflict for longer than ninety days unless we first reinstate the draft?

To Appreciate Our Right To Vote, Live In A Country That Doesn’t Have It

 

Less than half of eligible voters cast ballots in our state primary this year. What kept the voters away? A long ballot? Not enough time? On vacation? Thinking it didn’t matter?

Voting for me is automatic. So far as I know, my parents never campaigned for a candidate or contributed to a political party, but they voted in every election for which they were eligible. They volunteered as workers at my school, the neighborhood polling place, on voting day. We discussed candidates around the supper table, never with bitterness or hatred but with serious questions and opinions. Who was the best candidate? Why? What incumbents had done a good job and should be reelected or hadn’t and should be voted out of office? My dad, who never finished high school but loved history, provided background on the political development of our country.

Voting and taking an interest in elections seemed as natural as going to church. I’ve voted ever since I was eligible. Many of my votes were absentee because I worked and lived overseas, places like Saudi Arabia and North Africa. As a U.S. consular officer, I notarized ballots of many overseas Americans.

A local employee who worked for me in Saudi Arabia once asked if he could see my ballot that had just arrived. To him, unable to vote in free elections as I was, I suppose it seemed as priceless as a valuable manuscript. He treated it almost with reverence.

Perhaps that’s the reason I can’t understand why my fellow citizens don’t exercise this wonderful gift that allows them to elect their leaders. Perhaps they would if they’d lived in countries where the citizens have no elected leaders.

 

Syria’s Nightmare

 

Bashar al-Assad, the dictator of rebellion-challenged Syria, has threatened to use chemical weapons on his own people if outside nations come to the aid of the rebels that Assad’s forces kill without mercy. No one takes Assad’s threats lightly. His father, dictator before him, massacred thousands, including women and children, in the village of Homs, for their part in a 1982 rebellion.

Few people suggest that the U.S. become involved with ground forces, given Iraq and Afghanistan. Instead, the U.S. works with contacts developed by the U.S. embassy in Damascus before its closure due to the war.

Robert Ford, the U.S. ambassador to Syria, remained in Syria as long he could with members of his staff. Very unpopular with Assad’s government, they risked their safety to stay as long as possible in order to maintain and develop contacts within the Syrian opposition.

Most believe Assad will leave, though no one knows when. At present, the forces opposing Assad are suffering serious losses after they took the battle to Syria’s major cities. The longer it takes for Assad to leave, the stronger the desire for revenge when he does exit the scene. To discourage this outcome and provide support for a country that will respect all ethnic and religious groups, the U.S. works with the Syrian opposition, now based in neighboring Turkey. Past contacts by the embassy prove valuable.

Fear of ethnic killings haunts anyone engaged with the Syrian conflict. The minority Alawites, a branch of Islam considered heretical by most Muslims, have ruled Syria for decades through the Assads. Revenge reprisals against innocent members of this sect are possible, as are actions against the minority Christians within Syria. The Christians have generally supported Assad, despite his brutalities, because his government is secular and not interested in religious extremism. Rumors float of al-Qaeda terrorists sending in fighters to vie for an extremist state.

Let us hope and pray that the engagement of the international community, including America’s diplomats, will find success against the tide of anger and hatred bubbling in Syria’s multi-ethnic cauldron.

 

Atlas and the Vulnerable

 

I read Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand, several years ago. The message, as I remember, is the burden on those who strive and work of carrying the rest of the world. “The rest,” Rand believed, are parasites who live off the labor of the producers.

Ayn Rand was born in Russia and witnessed the horror of the communist takeover there. America became her ideal, and she immigrated to the United States as a young woman. She believed in unfettered capitalism, a complete separation of economics and state.

Ayn Rand’s philosophy may work well for those of us endowed with the blessings of health and self worth. But not all of us are. None of us is immune to a catastrophe that could ruin us. And why do we presume that those with power will always use it in beneficial ways? Without laws, the powerful too often become corrupt.

Years ago I saw a play given by homeless people about homelessness. It taught me some of the many reasons for their condition. Some homeless are shiftless and lazy. Some work hard but make poor choices or are victimized by shysters. Some suffer misfortunes that are beyond anyone’s control like medical illnesses that could strike any of us and leave us helpless.

Vulnerability is closer to all of us than the more fortunate sometimes suppose. If we desire a civilized society, we must provide ways for the widows and orphans to overcome their vulnerability so they, too, can contribute.

The best welfare we can give a person is the means to find his or her gifts that benefit society. For myself, I know that for any success I have enjoyed in this life, I owe much to the parents who raised me. I began with the advantage of a family who loved me, taught me that I am of worth, and gave me confidence to make my way.  They paid for a college education for me that I might have certain skills. They gave me a love of learning. These are gifts that I did not earn.

What If We Burned Every Religious Text?

 

A letter to the editor of our island newspaper suggested that we “gather together a handful of free thinkers . . . and stage a burning of Korans, Bibles and Torahs to protest ALL the Abrahamic religions. Perhaps their pernicious belief in One God, a male god who plays favorites, metes out violent punishments and promises dubious rewards in a fictional Heaven—perhaps these beliefs are the true malignancy and cause of all our suffering. Maybe, if we just burn those pesky books, all the evil in the world will go away . . .”

As a Christian, I could profess anger at the man’s suggestions. But why? The man expressed a sincere conclusion from what he sees in the world. Better to examine why he sees such evil in religion, including Christianity.

His letter was written when a small church in Florida caused a media sensation by burning the Muslim Koran. No matter that leaders of all major religions protested the actions of the fringe group.

I suspect this fringe group was the straw that led to the writer’s suggestion. No doubt he was appalled by terrorists who cause unneeded suffering in the name of religion. Perhaps he remembered the Crusades of the Middle Ages. He appears also to have read passages in the Old Testament written when the Hebrews first sought to understand their God, before prophets like Amos called for justice for the poor as few nations had previously known and which call us today (“let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everflowing stream”).

If we got rid of all Biblical writings, we would no longer have Jesus’ instructions to his followers to love one another. We would not have his example of forgiving those who hated him. We would not have the New Testament letter which encourages Christians to “bless those who persecute you . . . Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all . . if your enemies are hungry, feed them . . . ” We would not have Christians inspired by Christ’s teachings to care for the hungry, the thirsty, strangers, the naked, the sick, and the prisoners.

Do some people who call themselves Christians do despiteful things? Certainly. But so do people who profess no religion. Christ told us how to tell his true followers. “You will know them by their fruits.” Christian teachings don’t cause evil, but the failure of Christians to live them out does.

The Gift of Ignoring

 

Everyday as I boot up my computer, I try to ignore the items that fly at me off the news page. I don’t check my email, either. I look at the weather and ignore the rest. (This is the Pacific Northwest, where weather is as changeable as young love.) I confess to failing occasionally, but I believe the ability to ignore is a gift worth cultivating.

I’m able to write full time, certainly a blessing. However, blessings can be wasted. I must plan my time intentionally, guided by purpose. First I write for several hours. Then I allow myself a brief check of email in case an urgent one requires immediate attention. Otherwise I give only a cursory glance to the digital messages. Then it’s necessary chores: perhaps a marketing task or cooking a casserole or cleaning the house or attending a meeting—whatever obligations I need to meet for that day.

Late in the day, when I’m tired and want to do frivolous stuff for a while, I’ll check email, blogs, maybe some social media sites, eventually the news. I have to work it this way.

The Internet is a bottomless pit that is the best illustration I know of insatiability. You can literally spend all day on it. But if you do, nothing else gets done.

An intentional life requires discipline, including the gift of ignoring even good things until the right time.

 

“Even the Good Parts of It.”

 

Sometimes good works are done for wrong reasons or out of ignorance.

Richard Holbrooke, the U.S. diplomat who brokered an end to the genocidal Balkan wars of the 1990’s, was influenced during his entire career by the tragedy of America’s involvement in Vietnam.

He spent his first diplomatic postings in the 1960’s in that country, taking part in efforts to “win the hearts and minds” of the Vietnamese. He saw those efforts fail, and disillusionment followed as he realized that American power, great as it is, has limits.

 

 

Holbrooke wrote: “But then finally it all seemed to come down to one simple, horrible truth: we didn’t belong there, we had no business doing what we were doing, even the good parts of it.” (quoted in The Unquiet American: Richard Holbrooke in the World, page 105, from an article he wrote for The New Republic, May 3, 1975.)

 

Holbrooke died suddenly in the middle of his diplomatic mission in another war, this one in Afghanistan. He saw differences with Vietnam, including the fact that America had been deliberately attacked by enemies with bases in Afghanistan. However, he also detected similarities with the quagmire that became Vietnam: ” . . . the existence of an indefensible border harboring enemy sanctuaries; American reliance on a corrupt partner government; and, most critically, the embrace of a counterinsurgency doctrine, which he had learned through painful experience was an exceedingly difficult military and civilian strategy to execute.” (The Unquiet American, page 95.)

How did the United States become involved once again in nation building? Because we allowed our justifiable anger at the 9/ll attacks to carry us too far.  To attempt even good things that we had no business doing. Emotion overrode reason.

 

Clock Time and the Other Time

 

We measure time by clocks and watches and cell phones. We divide time into minutes, hours, days, years. This measure of time is scientific, verifiable.

But when we wait to find out the results of a loved one’s operation, time creeps. When we are on vacation, time flies. The time you spend in a dentist’s chair may be the same verifiable time you spend sharing kindred thoughts with a friend, but they will not appear the same time to you.

To ask which kind of time is the right one is meaningless. They are not in competition, but measure different processes. Our ability to physically order our lives requires the first kind of time. Our inner selves live by the other time.

We are body and we are soul. To each its proper place.

 

Fair Play and Community

 

C.S. Lewis in his book Mere Christianity states his belief in a moral law of nature which most people in most cultures adhere to. We, by and large, believe in things like fair play and unselfishness. Nevertheless, though we profess to believe in these principles, we may fail to carry them out in actual practice. We excuse ourselves when we fall from our own standards by suggesting that, in our case, an exception can be made. We are overtired, stressed out, or deserve special consideration.

Since the recession, much talk has centered on the greed of some Wall Street executives who are paid astronomical salaries in a time of privation for many Americans. Recently I read an article in the Seattle Times by John W. Dienhart , director of Seattle University’s Center for Business Ethics. He suggests that these executives probably do not think of themselves as greedy. They believe their salaries are justified because they work hard or because others who bring in less money for their companies are paid more or for other reasons which seems valid to them.

Dr. Dienhart suggests that all of us, including those executives, look at our choices from the standpoint of the community instead of self-centered viewpoints. Will the community as a whole be better off if I insist on a high salary? Do the choices I make impact the community as a whole for better or worse?

What about the amounts spent on campaign financing? Why do we spend millions to influence elections when job creation and education needs go unmet? Is our democratic community better off if elections are won by those with the most money?

We need to view ourselves as part of a community of all the people rather than a subset of our special interest groups. Is that reasonable or possible? How could that transformation occur?

 

 

Hope for Healing in the Holy Land

 

Conflict in the Holy Land has been around all of my life. Every U.S. president since the Second World War has dealt with it. My years in the Foreign Service acquainted me with diplomats who have invested considerable effort in attempts to bring the sides together. Yet the problems seem unsolvable, an irresistible force meeting an immovable object.

I recently read an article by Lynne Hybels, a co-founder of Willow Creek Community Church in Illinois,  in Sojourners (June, 2012). Hybels took part in a conference in March, 2012, called “Christ at the Checkpoint,” held in Bethlehem. Messianic Jews, Palestinian Christians, and American Christians presented Bible studies, lectures, panel discussions, workshops, and testimonies.

A friend of mine visited Israel and Palestine a few years ago as a Christian interested in peace between the two sides. He witnessed the coming together of Jewish and Palestinian families who had lost loved ones in the conflict.

It may be that Christians hold the key to a solution in that blood-soaked land. Neither “side” can expect complete vindication of their views. Too many wrongs have happened to expect complete justice. Can the Christian doctrines of reconciliation and forgiveness be the key?

Foreign Policy? You Mean Some Kind Of International Insurance?

 

The editor at the writing conference where I pitched a novel several years ago shook his head. “Stories with foreign themes don’t sell well.”

“Even with all the turmoil in the Middle East?” I asked.

“Even with that.” He didn’t offer to look at my one-sheet.

In the July/August 2012 issue of Foreign Affairs, Princeton Professor Robert O. Keohane reviewed a couple of books about the future of America’s place in the world. He discussed the disinterest of many Americans in international issues unless we are in a crisis situation. He mentioned the “intense domestic partisan conflict” that prevents problems from being resolved and that “constitutes a major threat” to our continued leadership abroad.

We seem unable to understand the opportunity we have for influence in the world. With the opportunity comes responsibility. How well we lead in the world depends on how well we govern at home. When our government appears dysfunctional, other countries tend to dismiss our advice to them about democracy and free elections. When we can’t work out compromises, as any democracy must, our efforts to defuse clashing Middle Eastern ethnic groups are ignored. We can’t keep our own house in order, so what right have we to advise other governments?

We will profit by an interest in the global happenings that influence us: the Euro currency crisis, the spread of Chinese commercial interests into Africa and South America, the Iranian nuclear crisis, and so on.

We are right to be concerned about domestic issues, but as Jesus said about the righteousness of the Pharisees: they were right to be concerned about such things as tithing, but they also should add justice, mercy, and faithfulness.

We need to add concern about issues beyond our shores to our domestic interests. If we don’t, the world will forget about us and our squabbles. They will look for leadership to a more internationally savvy nation, and who knows if that nation will be democratic and free?

To Community

 

A journalist friend of mine coined the verb phrase “to community.” He said we needed a verb form for the act of coming together in kinship-minded groups.

The protagonists in my stories often “community.” Their stories are sewn within the larger fabric of history, but the characters meld into community as they resolve issues in their lives. I don’t plan it that way, but for some reason, my characters can’t operate without this fellowship. It may be one of expatriate Americans in a foreign locale, or an impromptu group formed on a train, or a new family by marriage. The stories involve all kinds of plots, but the community forms in the midst of the action.

In Singing in Babylon, Kate and Philip find community in a home church in Saudi Arabia, then with Philip’s family. In Quiet Deception, a mystery set on a college campus, four students form friendships while some of their professors share shortcomings with their colleagues. In Searching for Home, Christian families bond in embassy communities in the Middle East as terrorism threatens. In Distant Thunder, it’s a group of strugglers who meet on a train, between Washington and Seattle, each at a decision point in their lives.

Communities are formed sometimes by age or interest and sometimes by circumstances that turn acquaintances into friends, then into members of a community. As my characters live out their stories, they teach me that Christianity is very much a community religion.

Catching Waves Instead of Drowning

 

A frustrated pastor I know suggested that the reputation of Christians is one of the main reasons those outside the church prefer to stay out.

Too often, we are perceived as arrogant, judgmental, and legalistic. We want to pass laws, so it is suggested, to force everyone to “my way or the highway.” Some say we are ignorant of the world outside our own country and equate the American way with God’s way.

The lessons of our history in this country should humble us. The slave trade continued for decades after the American Revolution, and slavery as an institution endured for almost a century after this nation was formed, supposedly “under God.” Yes, enlightened Christians led the way to abolish slavery, but many rank-and-file Christians thought slavery was okay because, after all, Abraham had slaves, didn’t he? Slaves had always been around. They were part of the natural order.

If more Christians, including Christian slave owners, had worked to liberate slaves and find a way to resolve the dilemma, both moral and economic, that the young nation found itself in, perhaps the Civil War could have been avoided.

If Christians had sympathized with the desire of some women to move beyond post World War II suburbia, the women’s movement might have developed a more humane thrust. An implied hatred of men might have been replaced by an understanding of the need for men to share responsibility for the home. Women simply followed men out into the same hectic, materialistic lifestyle instead of fostering a partnership. Christians might have redeemed the issue.

What would happen if Christians caught the waves of the future instead of trying to catch up after the waves broke? Or even drowning in them?

A Time of Wildfires

 

In a time of wildfires in much of the country, my husband and I visit a few acres of family land in eastern Washington. As we pass through the Cascades from the Pacific coast and enter the rain shadow, the landscape changes from lush fir and cedar to the pines of a dryer climate.

We drive partway up the side of a 4,000 foot mountain on a forest service road and park our ancient Toyota truck. After bringing out chairs, we lose ourselves in the hush. Overshadowing us are 10,000 foot peaks, still snow-capped in late June, the result of a wet, cold winter. The sun warms us now, as it draws out the unique perfume emitted by Ponderosa pines. Once in a while we hear the distant hum of a vehicle on the road far below, but the only other sounds are the wind scratching through tree limbs and the birds chattering from hidden perches.

So far this year, no wild fires have threatened, as in Colorado and other states, but we know it could happen here.

A few years ago, in one of the dry years that haunt us also, a wildfire blackened miles. It spread to this mountain. Yet patches of trees seem almost untouched, and life survives in others, too. They shoot out new growth from darkened trunks. Saplings grow, not only pines, but also maples. The slopes shimmer in glades of green, covering over layers of ashes.

God created a nature that works toward healing. Cannot spiritual and emotional scars heal also, like the renewal that blossoms over the burnt areas of our mountain?