Harvest

The last time I wrote something on here, I was about to start planting things, and now it's harvest time.  The time between sowing and reaping seems to be the busiest time of year.  When the sun comes out, there is so much to do!  The community garden, my church and the farmer's market have all helped me to feel a part of the place where I live, after a year.  Weeding with people makes for good friendships. 

I didn't know a year ago whether I would find kindred folks around here or not, but I'm glad to find that there are plenty, and some of them even have time to hang out with me!  My new community is very easy going and settled, compared to the city.  Grandmotherly Anna emailed one day and invited me over to pick berries that she's been growing and picking for years and years in her back yard.  I know her family well.  Her daughter and I took a hike at Silver Falls in the early summer, and she is also related to Taj's new principal.  Connections abound. 

Picking berries is something that people in my church do a lot of together.  I've had quite a few invitations.  We have a list serve and people put random requests and offerings on it every day.  Today someone asked for a pressure washer to borrow, and another person said she needed a renter soon. I asked where to get my computer fixed, and if anyone had a carseat for a friend who is coming from out of town for a visit.  I got four offers for each.  We borrow tools, share harvests, give rides and advice.  Being indebted to folks makes me feel a part of things pretty fast.  I like that. 

I'll be headed back down to Monmouth to work, twice a week, again in a month, but for the summer I've enjoyed being in my new town full time.  I've been working hard at weddings at the local resort hotel, and making pennies an hour selling fair trade goods at the farmers market, taking my dogs for walks and doing lots and lots of weeding, between home and community garden.  I even have a tan for the first time in my life! 

A week ago a friend came down from Portland to go wine tasting with me, and I brought her to a concert in a church-friend's huge back yard, where another church friend's husband played some folk music.  I know that she must have felt so strange seeing me with this new life, but it was ok with me.  I really felt a part of my community for the first time, and didn't regret losing the one I used to have in the city.  It does help that it has been a summer full of reunions.  I've been to two family reunions for my family, hosted one for Jimmy's, and in two weeks there will be one at the beach with my former home-group "tribe" at Imago Dei.

I live for reunions.  I'm so so sentimental.  With our July reunion that I started for my dad and his cousins a few years ago, I see the value of getting together each year when we lose one of his cousins, and we all remember visiting with them just a year prior at the last reunion.  Death is so hard, but a tradition of being together with family makes for less regret.  In my own life, I haven't had any friends die yet, but I still like to keep up with people, and not just on Facebook.  I really like to be able to visit in a relaxed way.  I used to go to the annual BBQ and baptism at Imago to see my people, but they don't do that any more, so we're starting our own gathering at Rockaway Beach.  I hope it can be a yearly tradition.  Friends from Chicago and Seattle are coming, even.  I'm so excited to see them.

This photo is of the spot where we have my dad's reunion every year, where his great grandparents were married, in Champoeg.

Losing the weekly farmers market ritual next month would have been hard, but I have another venture to replace it!  I have been on the list for a vendor space at the local antique mall for nine months now, and I've finally come up on the list.  This may be just what I need for my creative side to awaken.  I've been scouring country estate sales all over the county, and having so much fun!  There are some pretty amazing treasures out here in the boondocks.  Here are two of them, new neighbors of mine and my new friend's husband and son, just in case you thought everyone out here was politically ignorant.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8xOel2f5pI&feature=relmfu 

Time to plant something.

I've officially lived in Yamhill County for six continuous months now, and while I'm not jumping for joy to be out of the city, I can picture things working out for me here. In some ways it has been like outer space--I experience familiar things in little spurts or via long-distance communication and hardly ever in a relaxed setting. There are new friends to be discovered here though, and I may have found a few already! (Stay tuned....)

Over this six month period, my heart has become more and more affected by and curious about the land that I drive through every week, and the people who farm it. I've been so interested to know if many of them are eating well and getting access to whole, fresh foods as my gramdpa Bill and grandma Eva did when they were farmerfolk.

One of my favorite memories in all of my life was when my uncle took me to the sweet old general store where my grandpa, who I never met, took him when he was little. The store was far from home, but it had the best quality seeds, so they made the trip once a year for seed. Grandpa died just before I was born, but his legacy of valuing quality food is still strong in our family now.

As I drive through the valley, I see that each giant piece of land seems to be dedicated to just one big crop--mostly nuts, grass, landscape trees, or grapes, and once in a while, corn or pumpkins... this is the way it has been back to the day of my grandparents' parents' farms--I know. It is the way that farming works now that industrial tools are used and big yields are expected. But I wonder how that affects the farmers. Without the basic biodiversity of multiple crop farming, habitats for beneficial insects and essential farming practices like crop rotation aren't able to thrive, and the land is stripped of its rich nutrients. Earth-scientists know this, and yet we continue to farm for the sake of immediate yields and not for the health of the farmland.

I've shown some of the beautiful things that I've witnessed on my country drives, but some of the uglier things have been too shameful to photograph. The cattle farm just between Salem and Rickreall has no visible cows on it. They are hidden in a huge warehouse, and yet their manure pours down the hill in liquid form and floods the trenches that line the expressway. At least a mile of that stretch fills ones nose with pure sulfur, unlike the earthy manure scent I get from the grass-fed cattle farm near to where I turn when I drive from I-5 through French Prairie Farm Country, into the Newberg area.

The white dust that covered much of the farmland near to Taj's school last fall was also disturbing to me. I knew that my great grandfathers, Nils and Robert would not have had such amendments, nor would they have wanted to cover their fields with powdery chemicals, and they certainly would never have sprayed the toxic round-up that is used on all non-organic corn crops these days.

I often cringe when I see Latino workers in the fields, wondering what chemicals they are being subjected to, just because their lives are seen as less valuable in our society. If they weren't seen that way, I'm sure there would be an outcry against the effects that modern farming has on the health of these individuals, as there seems to be in Europe, where migrants don't work on farms as much.

As with all of my heart's social burdens, I have to say "I can't fix this," and move on to do what I can do. Part of what I can do is work with the Sustainability Club at the University, to bring in engaging educators who know more than we do about farming and our land. Part of what I can do is to write this here. But a really satisfying part that I really long to do is to work on my own little bit of land and make it bio-diverse.

I planted some trees and flowers this week, and I can tell you--my little bit of land is pretty much solid clay and rock. Digging a small hole is a major undertaking. There is no way that I could grow tomatoes or potatoes in that soil as it is now. It would be better used for making bricks than growing things. But as part of my weed-management plan (Jimmy is more concerned about killing weeds than growing good things, generally), I've initiated a form of permaculture that is already having wonderful effects. In our ungrassy areas, we laid down newspaper in sheets, five or six sheets thick, and then laid composted mulch on top, with sand mixed in to give it weight. This kills weeds, but it does something else too. After a few years of doing this sandwiching of carbon and nitrogen, there will be a good depth of fertile soil to use for whatever we need to grow. In the meantime, I have a choice....

I stand at the crossroad now of a consequential decision--to plant in raised beds here, on my land where I can watch things grow every day and work alone to fend off weeds and pests, or to join in a communal workforce at the university or at a church nearby, where there are community gardens.

I shared a community garden plot once in Portland. It was really hard, because it was out of sight, and during the summer, completely out of mind. Even with sharing duties with my many co-workers who had been in a very committed group which shared passion for this stuff, it was really hard to pull my part of the weight. The only reason I'm even considering doing it again now is for the sake of my own need for community and for the social power that comes out of a shared vision.

We need so many more community gardens on this planet! Mostly for those people who don't own any land of their own. I believe that we all have a basic need to grow things, even though so many people are out of touch with that need. I feel like it's a human right to be able to grow our own food, for a sense of power over our survival, if nothing else. Having lived in apartments for the past few years, I really appreciate that so few people have access to land. I was fortunate to have spots to plant berry bushes and rhubarb in my last apartment. Most apartment dwellers don't get that.

So I think I'm going to join the garden. I have my own greens here, planted in pots on my porch. Greens are the kind of thing you harvest continually, so that works best on the porch. Rhubarb and berries are perennials--they grow back every year, so they will go in the ground here too, but for my carrots and parsnips and tomatoes and squash, I think I'll join the garden. Hold me to it!

Happy to be Mrs. Moss

Yesterday was Jimmy and my fifth "mo-versary". I first heard about mo(nth)versaries in a book by my favorite theologian, Marva Dawn, who didn't get married until she was in the second half of her life, and who is a big fan of celebration. Taj and I have celebrated them for a few years now, and Jimmy's not as into it, but I like to mark the passing of months and years in little ways, when it's not too much trouble to. What I hoped to do each moversary was to bake one of the recipes of the various cookies that my friend Dana made for our wedding desserts. I haven't managed to find time to do that since our second month, when we were preparing to bring the puppies home. I'm definitely not the Martha Stewart I dream of being.

I think I finally have some perspective on my marriage, after five months, and: this is a good marriage--something I never really dared to hope for. We thought that our slight religious and political differences were going to cause the most trouble, but we found a church that we both like somehow, and it's really just the TV that we bicker over. (He likes it on, and I like it off.) Our worlds are very different, but our marriage works well in spite of that.

About a month ago, I came home after a fun urban weekend in Portland with some friends, and Jimmy decided it was time to show me "The Archery Shop," in Yamhill. He had told me very little about this sacred place where he and his dad go often on Thursday evenings, and he felt that the time had come for me to see it, so I put on my rugged rain boots and gloves (I was told only to dress for cold and mud). We got in his big truck, that has been sitting unused since we got a hybrid this past fall, and we went over some rivers and through some woods, and ended up on a long gravel road that led to one of the most remote stretches of the Yamhill River that you might ever imagine finding. The "shop" was a huge garage-like corrugated metal building with a wood stove inside, and a TV hanging high above it where some sports channel was silently showing golf events, a little store with archery things to buy, and a huge space for shooting targets with bows and arrows from many yards away. The shop owner took our money at the little store, and his grandson was one of two people shooting--he was about Mason's age, 12.

We didn't stay inside though. Jimmy wanted to show me the "3D course". He didn't tell me what that was. He just led me down a steep path toward the river. Next to the river bank, a ways off, there appeared to be a deer laying down. We stopped at a little post with a sign on it, and Jimmy shot at the deer. When we walked up to the deer from many yards away, I saw that it was made of foam rubber, and it had a little, fist-sized brown circle under its rib area, and Jimmy had shot his arrow right into the middle of that circle, without the use of any kind of telephoto lens. The next target was a foam alligator, and the next was a wild turkey! It was fun walking through the woods looking for new foam-animals. I enjoyed seeing him get his arrows into the tiny, invisible targets too.

Jimmy doesn't describe things at length unless it's an idea that has to be explained in order to understand, or when he's giving you a lesson. He sees the beauty of letting us discover things like this first hand for the first time, and I've learned to enjoy that, mostly because I trust him so much, I think. He's really great at demonstrating that people don't have to analyse and articulate as much as I always have--but just trusting natures course, and experiencing it rather than taking everything apart with words and acting like words are sufficient for putting them back together. I feel like we found each other at a good time in my life--I was ready to experience life in a less controlling way, and he is a good example of living life in that way. I had no idea that I was headed here, of course, but it is good to live with someone so different, who isn't as anxious or pressed by the troubles of the entire world.



Jimmy loves to play. When he's not at work, he's usually trying to find ways to get outside and run around, find geo-caches, play frisbee golf, spot wild animals and birds or shoot at things, with pool cues or arrows or guns. I don't naturally tend to do any of these things, but I'm learning to like some of them because he has been such a great teacher. I never had a lesson in bowling or pool before--I figured it was just something some people knew how to do, and others, like me, didn't. When he taught me how to throw a bowling ball, it only took me a few tries, and I started doing well. That was astounding! I don't usually feel very productive when we're doing these kinds of things, but I'm learning to be ok with that, and he reminds me of the ways that play has value.

He likes meat, and I like vegetables and grains best. Good thing he's good at cooking meat! I'm pretty good at cooking it sometimes too. I love that the meat that he brings home every fall lasts all year, and it is free of steroids, hormones and genetically modified feed, and it doesn't create excessive waste or pollution, because it's not bred for humans on land that could be used for growing enough vegetables to feed the world. It is wild. What a luxury to have wild meat! I don't eat the big hunks that he does, but I agree that it tastes amazing. This year Mason will start hunting, so we may have lots! Jimmy is pretty generous with his meat. Come October, you should ask him for a taste.

This weekend we went to the regional archery tournament in Lincoln City. The shooting competitions lasted forever and was pretty unexciting, but the wind and hail storm that rocked Jim's parents' motor home was exciting. We were in there with his folks, their two dogs, and our two dogs. I can see where Jimmy gets his laid back ways. His parents just rolled with all the challenges. The dogs were too freaked out to go outside, and it didn't even seem to bother Jim's mom that my dogs were peeing on the linens and pooping on the floors. She was prepared with all the back-up supplies and she remained unruffled. That's Jimmy too. He knows how to clean the house well, and does so periodically, but he's not going to keep it sparkling clean all the time just in case someone comes over. Man, do I ever have a long way to go in that department. I'm trying to at least keep the clutter level down, but with three kids, it's hard for me sometimes. I'm glad his expectations aren't as high as my mom's.

I always heard that the first year was really rough, but for me, being married is nowhere near as frustrating as dating was. I know that Jimmy will be here for me, and I don't have to worry about him going away, which is what caused me all kinds of anxiety in my past relationships. He's very patient, understanding and forgiving. He even manages to get through my emotional storms without taking them too personally. I am very blessed to be married to such a guy.

Domesticity

I finally had a chance to sink into the Yamhill Valley and its ways over Christmas Break. The week of Thanksgiving Jimmy started a new shift at work in which he works noon to midnight. Then the next week we got two little two month old puppies (My step-son Mason is playing with Kirby, above). So needless to say, when nearly all of the students left campus down in Monmouth during the first week of December, I was eager to stay home and sleep in with my family, and tend to my new little babies. What a godsend to have nearly a month off from driving down to Monmouth.

In the time I had at home, besides keeping the puppies from chewing up and swallowing every single object they get their paws on, I started to do my shopping in McMinnville rather than in Salem, and I started to cook a LOT. We hosted Christmas at our house, which was a first for me. I really enjoyed hosting and cooking for everyone, and buying all of my presents from local farmers, orchards, roasters and artisans.

When I went through the House of Myrrh workshop called "Heart Design" in 2010, one of the projects we did was to make a "life dream" map. A lot of my life's dreams have been coming true lately--besides getting married; having a beautiful, memorable wedding; and having a sweet, strong man around to help me do things I could never do on my own, I have time and funds to buy fresh, local (or wild!) produce and cook things from scratch more than once a week. ...Now I just need a dreamy garden and a trip on the orient express.... oh and I still need to become a jazz singer. Those are less attainable dreams, but possible still!

I dream I didn't have that's coming true this Lenten season, that might strike you as almost as terrifying as being a jazz singer, is that I'm going to preach a sermon at a church! One of the pastors that oversees my position at work asked me to preach at her church, a tiny little Episcopal one in Monmouth. I'm not sure if I will ever agree to preach again in the future, but for this one time, I'm really excited about it! During a trip to Birmingham three winters ago, a very liberated older woman named Katie, a deacon in a Episcopal church, and a virtual stranger who I was staying the night with because of a mutual friend, said something rather prophetic as she was driving me to the airport: she said that I should look into being ordained. I was so shocked and honored at the thought... it would have never occurred to me at that point. I'm still pretty sure it's not my calling, but maybe preaching will shed light on that some more. I think my husband is hoping I won't like it too much. It must be weird for men to be married to women pastors. It's not a traditional picture of domesticity.

I'd like to play the domestic role and decorate my new house more, but I haven't had a lot of money to since I had to get a new roof for my rental house in Portland. I think I'll enjoy it more decorating gradually anyway. I spent this past weeks' spending money on a concert in Portland. It was very satisfying. So many old friends and acquaintances were there. It was emotional for me. Portland tugs at my heart these days. I like where I live because I feel really free to be me here. In the city there is so much pressure to keep up with trends and norms. I guess if I was a trend-lover then I would feel more free in the city. I do miss the familiar sights and smells, the variety, and the intense nostalgia that Portland holds, but I think that leaving has made it all the sweeter.

I have found some of my places here in Yamhill County. They are still new, but they are definitely mine now. Some of them are: the Mac Goodwill, George Fox, The Red Fox Bakery (thanks Diane!), A Family Healing Center, The Blue Goat Cafe in Amity, Eggers Acres, North Valley Friends Church, Coffee Cottage, Harvest Fresh Grocery, and Recipe--dumbest name ever for a restaurant (says the Portlander in me), but it is suited to this quirky, pretentious but un-hip wine country life, and they do cook very good, locally harvested food, which is really all that matters to me.

Here's what I made from scratch today--quinoa salad with arugula and almonds, and spicy pumpkin and hominy stew.

Winter Growth

Driving on my route from work to home today, it was 2pm and the temperature still hadn't risen above freezing, and the sun hadn't been out all day, so the tree limbs and blades of grass were still heavily coated with frost. It was magical. What I kept noticing, though, was that in every bare tree that stood along the highway and near a field, there seemed to be a beautiful and regal hawk, perched in a top branch. I counted seven or eight, right along the highway. I never saw so many hawks during my life as a city dweller. They are all over out here.

The nut orchards are frosty and bare limbed, but the nuts are still being sold everywhere, according to signs on the roadsides. Otherwise, it's time to start living on canned produce and stuff from down south! No produce stands are open now--just grocery stores.

With the lack of fruit hanging around on my daily commute, I've taken to listening to sermons about fruit. Today on my drive I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller from Galations five, about the fruit of the Spirit. It helped me so much to hear his ideas. The main thing that I brought away from it was the idea that Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Faithfullness, Self Control, etc, don't grow in us EVER, except for the by the presence and work of God's Spirit... and in the presence of the Spirit, heart-growth and heart-change is ALWAYS happening, regardless of our asking or trying--any more than an apple can ask or try... even in the winter seasons when we don't see things growing as quickly.

I've been pretty insecure lately about the lack of progress that I've made in areas that have made me annoying to live with, and yet, as I tell Jimmy, I'm so much better than I used to be. I used to be borderline OCD--I'd freak out when roommates left pools of water or grease on counters or food smudges on the fridge, and now I can live with three children, one of which leaves smudges and pools everywhere. It doesn't get to me any more. The fact that I've gotten better--more patient and more temperate, is a mystery to me. It didn't come about by my own will or effort--that's clear. But I've been heartfully hoping that I will continue to get better, so as to make life easier for my husband.

Dr Keller also said that fruit has nothing to do with other peoples lives being changed when they are around us. He said that religious people without any fruit of the Spirit get away with taking credit for the spirit's growing fruit in other people's lives "through their ministry," but this says nothing about the Spirit being in their own life, and shows no evidence of their own fruit. All it shows is that God is present in the other person's heart. Interesting. This seems very true to me. When people claim credit for our growth, we learn, falsely, that growth is conditional and circumstantial, dependant on a person with expertise.

Most profound was the idea that "All of the fruit of the Spirit exist together, and ONLY together". Real, deep, lasting Peace always comes with Humility (like the converse--anxiety always comes with the arrogance of thinking we know what is supposed to happen), and Self control always comes with Joy (addiction is only necessary in the absence of Joy). If we have Peace, but not Self control or Faithfulness, then we just have an unruffled temperament--it's not the fruit of the Spirit alive and growing in us.

The idea of Joy coming from God and not from circumstance really got me. When he mentioned the idea of Joy being something that God grows in us, and can't be found apart from God, I realized that I've been telling myself a lie--I've been taking responsibility for my husband's joy-level since the day we got married. What a weight off to see that I don't need to do that. Not that I don't annoy him, but his essential Joy and Peace don't ever come from me. That is true, clearly, and such a relief. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this, among women. Hopefully you will remind me of it later on if I remind you of it now. I'm sure to forget it!

Christmas Tree Season

Today I saw maybe 15 trucks full of Christmas Trees on the highways between home and work. They were looking very rushed too. I got the impression that they were in a rush because vendors underestimated the number of Christmas trees that were needed for the season. They say that in hard economic times, it becomes even more important to folks to celebrate family traditions like Christmas.

The grape leaves have all fallen now, and frost covers the fields every morning, but harvesting is still happening in the Willamette Valley. There are still a few fields with lots of pumpkins left out to rot. It seems that the Christmas consumers on the West Coast are much more eager than the Halloween ones were. Either that, or it was a REALLY good year for pumpkins.

The patterns in my life are changing too, as harvest time winds down. Jimmy has started to work fewer and longer shifts, and he's no longer getting up at 5:30am. With him staying up later, I'm enjoying staying up a bit later too (as you might notice by the time stamped on this entry). I like the new schedule for many reasons. For one, I have only two or three weeknights a week that I have to cook for both ends of the meat-eating and non-meat eating spectrum. Since I have only a half time job, I have been trying to do most of the cooking, but it's challenging when you like to cook from scratch, and your kids are all very picky, and one is a vegetarian, while dad is a huge meat lover and mom is lactose intolerant.

Tonight I cooked for just the three kids, who all three happen to love mac and cheese. My first preseverative-filled dinner was a blast. Wow. That was easy! I only had to cut up some veggies and heat leftovers for myself while the pasta simmered. I like the challenge of cooking for my family a lot, actually, but after three nights in a row it gets hard. Now I have just a day or two at a time. That is perfect. The new schedule is great for another reason too--it gives me and Jim time alone on our two common days off, when the kids are at school. We haven't really met our goal of having twice-monthly dates since we have been married, so far, unless you count a one-hour escape to do some quick wine tasting up the street. Maybe now we'll at least get some relaxed lunch dates in.

Work is getting better for me now, too. Two students are becoming good friends, and when I walk through campus nowadays I often see two or three students with whom I've had a solid conversation, so when I smile at them, it is really sincere and not so awkward. It takes so long to build relationships! This weekend we are having a retreat at the beach, and for once, I'm not anxious about whether anyone will come or whether we'll have things to talk about if they do. Things are starting to feel natural, and organic.

By the time my daughter sees this entry on facebook, the secret will be out--we will have two new members added to our family tomorrow. They are two little boy Yorkie pups that we are buying the kids as an early Christmas present. It will be so fun and so chaotic around here for the next few weeks, while we get them trained. A great Christmas experience!

Yesterday I realized how wonderful it is to live in the country at Christmastime. I drove through four small towns, all of which had the same 40's era Christmas decorations--either wreaths, candy canes, or christmas tree shaped lit-fake-fir-garlands, hung high on electric poles and light posts. It was so charming and quaint, to see this variety of americana replacing traffic and strip malls that I always associated with Christmas before, having grown up in Clackamas, where most of my family still lives. No strip malls in my life any more. I am blessed. I'm excited to host my family's Christmas gathering out here in the country this year!

Planting and Politics

The grape leaves are all slowly turning a rusty brown color now, and the grapes have all been plucked. It's time to bundle up for the winter and stock up on lots of veggies and fruit at the produce stands that are closing down one by one, until Spring. I got some amazing deals at one yesterday. Thirty nine cent a pound apples, fifty cent a pound carrots and tomatoes and three red bell peppers for a dollar! I wish I had time to do some canning! Next year.

For the past couple of weekends I've been trying to get time to plant our leftover wedding favors--some Japanese Maple trees--in the yard, but opportunities keep coming up that get in my way... this past weekend the thing that came up was a work opportunity. A student that I've been getting to know, who heads up the Sustainability Club at Western invited me to a conference called "Powershift West" where students get together every other year to plan for campaigns and initiatives on campus that will educate and transform the way we work, eat and play ...and lobby our leaders. The conference covered progressive topics like land development, corporate power structure, and green energy, transporation and agriculture.

It was so good to be in the middle of a youth-led educational movement that addressed so many of my own interests. Some of the things that I'm hoping to look into more are: The Steady State Economy, The Global Footprint Network, the New Green Economy Conference, and the Move to Amend Campaign, which seeks to undo Corporate Personhood, which is a root cause and concern of the Occupy Movement, it seems. (Check out Annie Leonard's great cartoon-video "The Story of Citizens United." and while you're at it, today is the release of her new short video on US debt.)

Two weeks ago I had a tough call to make. I've been learning for years about Free Trade Agreements and the World Trade Organization and all of the bad that comes from this new globalized system of oppression that starts with wealthy western Multi-national Corporations and our banks and ends with stripping the lands of the globe of it's caring farmers and it's inherant value, dumping waste, and setting up factories everywhere that have no one to hold them accountable to being good to people or the land around them.

My least favorite stories about free trade exploitation come from the region where Taj's grandparents died, in Mexico. Human rights abuses are unending in Oxaca and the Southernmost parts of Mexico, where farmers have lost their ability to grow food for even themselves and their families, and when they unite to fight to get their land back in the way that has always worked before, they are killed with the weapons and mercinary training that come as part of a package deal from agreements made by the World Trade Organization. (The mercinary training part is why I have gone to the SOA Watch vigil in Fort Benning each of the last three Novembers--that's where Mexican soldiers come to get their training, as part of the package.)

I heard that Mexico's former president, Vicente Fox, was coming to the campus where I work, and I was compelled to raise my voice against his message in some way--this is a powerful man who became more powerful when he sold his own people into slavery through his cooperation with the World Trade Organization, and then he had the nerve to come to the place in the Willamette Valley where so many former Mexicans live and work and strive to become citizens because they want so desperately to get away from the effects of Free Trade in their homeland, and here he came, to show our business students about how "prosperous" free trade is, and all that it promises for our future as "united" North Americans. I was just sick whenever I saw the posters with his name and photo on them. And that so few people saw the incredible treatury in his words and actions made me want to shout and keep shouting.

I envisioned a vigil outside the hall where he was to speak. I spoke to a Sociology Professor that was interested in doing a demonstration too, and he said that he'd bring his whole class out in protest. I asked my supervisor what he thought about this idea. Having set up a non-violent demonstration-march on campus last Spring for MLK Junior Day, he liked it at first, but then on furthur consideration, thought it too extreme. He suggested a teach-in instead. I didn't fight him. I thought about how it would be hard for me too if I set up a vigil... I would have to cancel Taj's orthodontist appointment, and I thought about all of the school that she would miss if she didn't get her braces on the Veteran's Day Holiday as we had been scheduled to. I weighed her current struggle with her school work against her grandparents struggle to live, breath and hope, and I backed down.

Last Sunday we went to a new Friends church here in our town, and after the sermon, during the time of open sharing and silence, a man told a story of how God had moved him to act with compassion on a neighbor who had egged his guest's car. He said that he went over and washed the man's own dirty car because he felt that if he stopped listening to God's call to do these kinds of radical things, he might stop hearing them altogether. That was very profound to me. I know, you're thinking that I was feeling bad that I hadn't washed Vicente Fox's car, but really I was wondering if I had ignored God's call on my conscience, and if that would have consequences. And yet I know that God is not one who punishes. I know that if I was intended to start my career as a radical non-violent leader during Vicente Fox's visit to Oregon and chose not to because of two small obstacles, God will still keep working with me. So I'm letting it go.

It has been discouraging for me to be down here in the country when the Occupy movement is going on in Portland, but at the same time, I know that the Occupy movement is not one that I would do well with. I know that I would only be frustrated at the snail's pace of progress toward any kind of united set of goals or solutions that people of so many different backgrounds might really unite around. I know that the movement needs leaders, and I wonder sometimes if I couldn't help in that area, but I have to trust that there's a reason that I moved away right when it was starting up. I know that things like that don't happen randomly and accidentally. So I'm waiting to find some people that I can lead with where I am, and in the meantime I can keep supplying the Occupy movement with food and with prayer. This is hard, but I do feel that it is a call for me from God to be patient and wait for the right time and the right issue, just as I have waited for the right time to plant these trees--I won't let the time pass when it comes, and God won't let me, either.

When I was at the Powershift West conference, someone handed me a small flyer with information about a teach-in there at the U of O. That was encouraging. My supervisor had a good idea. That's something that I can work toward for now. Honestly, I don't think 98% of the studentbody of Western is any more ready to hear about my views on Vicente Fox than 98% of America is ready to run down and camp out in freezing weather as a way of envisioning a more effective democracy together.... probably both groups need to be lovingly educated quite a bit more. Maybe that is my call.