Author: Jana

  • extreme mormons?

    Because, just maybe, it’s possible to spread the word of God when you’re standing on the handlebars.

  • stones

    It has taken me a few days to think about how to respond to John’s post about the stoning of Malak, an Iranian woman accused and convicted of adultery.

    I chose not to follow John’s links to images of stoning, because I have already seen such images and as the horror of them is indelibly etched into my memory I don’t need another witness to the brutality of such a practice. [Note: For me, such images spiral me into crisis. Am I the only one who can’t eat, can’t embrace, can’t hold fast to joy when I faced with such horrors? Is it wrong or naive to protect my own strength by not daring to look?]

    So this morning as I meditated I recalled my mental images and I put myself in the place of Malak. In my mind I tried to feel the fear of my impending death. As I did so, I felt such outrage at the brutality and barbarism of being stoned to death. I felt I could neither comprehend nor find empathy for a culture who would sanction such torture.

    And then I shifted my attention to those who would throw stones. I felt the rough weight of rock in my hands. I marveled at the power I have to hurl rocks at another person with the intention of harm. I looked around me and saw others throwing stones. I felt the pressure of doing the same. In looking down at the stone I thought of this post, and reflected on the power of such small bits of compressed earth. With the power to wound and kill and the power to open the heavens. And I thought of the boldness of silence. Of taking the time to pick up a stick and write in the sand. And how such an act not only acquitted the accused, but also condemned those holding the stones.

    So I signed the petition against the stoning of Malak. And I am holding her and her accusers close in my thoughts today. And I have recommitted myself to finding solutions to torture that expose its barbarity. And when I am in my garden later today I will tell the story of Malak to the stones that circle my peach tree and rosebushes. I will pick them up and feel their heft and roughness. I will take time to gaze at them and think of my connection to the earth that formed them and my connection to the pain and torture that is a world away and yet so close that I must act. The stories that rocks the tell me allow a focus on what is most essential, most plain, most true. To see that rocks are meant for building bridges, for creating conduits to the divine, for reminding us of our own fragility.

  • Note to the long-legged orange and black spider that lives in my car

    Dear Spider:
    I want you to live and long and fruitful life. I want you to spin lovely webs, eat gobs of tasty flies, and make many 8-legged babies with your beloved….

    So please, please, stop climbing up my leg while I am driving the morning carpool to summer school! I am sure there are many much nicer places to make your life than in my car. Like those bushes that I parked nearby today. Don’t those bushes look much nicer than the hotter-than-Hades interior of my aging station wagon?

    For the love of Arachne, please take note that my gearshift knob is not a nice place to sun yourself, and that the trauma caused by your two journeys up my calf this morning will not foster long life for either of us.

    Sincerely,
    pilgrimgirl

  • where have all of the feminists gone?

    http://www.doonesbury.com/strip/dailydose/index.html

  • chicken

    Chatting with a Friend at a Quaker potluck:

    “I brought the BBQ chicken.”

    “But you’re a vegetarian?”

    “Quakers are so considerate of vegetarian Friends–trying not to offend–that I bring the meat to the potluck because no one else will.”

  • seen

    A bumper sticker in the parking lot of my optometrist’s office:

    “Nobody’s Imperfect”

    Coming soon: photos of the new glasses that I was picking up at said office….

  • perfection?

    This afternoon E asked me if I’ve ever had a perfectly wonderful day or a completely awful day. I suppose I’ve had my even share of each, just like everyone else living on this planet. I said in reply:

    “Just about every day is perfectly wonderful to me.” And I meant it.

    As I sit at my computer tonite feeling droswy, but not yet quite willing to call it a day, I can look back at all that this day has brought: a relaxing morning after the kids left for summer school where I got much accomplished around the house and had some QT with Ellycat, my delight at the kiddoes’ return from school at lunchtime, my appointment with the optomotrist where I chose some pretty funky new glasses, two hours of swimming laps while the kids were in swim practice and remembering the strength of my former swim-team self, a simple dinner with the whole family, a quick jaunt to the garden to water and to visit with friends, a few hours after the kids were in bed to unwind with a recently arrived netflick, a drowsy John waiting for me to retire to bed with him.

    Hmmmm….perfectly perfect, in my opinion. :)

  • suitcase


    Imagine an attic of an old mental asylum, filled with the trunks and suitcases of the now-deceased patients. Then imagine that the suitcases are found and the contents are documented to tell the stories of their former owners. Amazing stuff.
    My favorite story is Madeline’s.

  • Sugar Foot

    While we were eating at Bullock’s BBQ in Durham, North Carolina, our waitress (Mary Sue) called my daughter “Shugah Foot.”

    She called me “Sweetie Pie” and didn’t bat an eyelash when I requested a veggie burger instead of their world-famous vinegar-style pork barbeque. Though I eschewed the pig meat, I indulged heartily in hush puppies and buttery-rich peach cobbler. Yum :)

  • embarrassing

    What’s your most embarrassing moment? I like to tell John’s, but today I’ll offer a few of my own…

    –discovering a hole in the crotch of my pants just after I got home from meeting and spending the day with my boyfriend-at-the-time’s parents.

    –realizing that the yellow stripe across the chest of my favorite swimsuit was completely see-through when wet (this, after having worn the suit for a couple of years).

    –putting in a swimsuit off of the clothesline at summer camp and realizing a few moments later (in front of fellow campers) that there is a large moth in the crotch of said swimuit. [Note: not the swimsuit with the yellow stripe, in case you were wondering]

    –the day I walked out of the house with an American cheese slice stuck to the seat of pants (placed there by my ever-so-loving toddler daughter). Also, a similar incident with a large (like 5″ square) Pokemon sticker on my back.

  • sunrise, last day at the beach


    sunrise, last day at the beach
    Originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    Click on the photo above to view some pics from our North Carolina trip.

    This picture is from our last morning in Corolla (on the northern tip of the Outer Banks). John and E made one last quick trip to the beach to release E’s pet shrimp back into the ocean so they wouldn’t die. The sun was just rising as they walked down the beach access path.

    It was hard to leave such a lovely place….

  • epitaph

    Seen on a headstone at the Siloam Methodist Church Cemetery, somewhere on the rural roads of North Carolina:
    Written under the husband’s name, “Her Hero”
    Under the wife’s name, “His Habit.”