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lynnmurphymark

Life on life’s terms

Much later in my life I began to write, first by journaling, then by writing two books, and now by writing a blog. I am in my mid-70’s and still working on becoming a better citizen of this world. I love observing life each day and putting my thoughts about the day in writing. I find people fascinating and do most of my writing about the people I encounter. I write this blog mostly about life on life’s terms. Every day there is a new experience to be had.
  • lynnmurphymark

    03/21/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    It’s a dog’s life

    About halfway through yesterday I remembered that on March 20, 2021, I drove into Missouri back country to meet a “hobby breeder” of dachshunds. I didn’t know what that meant, but she said she had a female dog that she could no longer breed, and was willing to sell her.

    At the time, Jan and I had just lost our Minnie Dog and were heartbroken. My firm intent not to get another dog right away dissolved as each day I came home to no canine shenanigans, no tinkling of collar medallions, no pup to feed, no comforting dog presence on the couch. The house just felt too empty.

    We debated about getting a puppy. At our age, it is altogether possible that a dog might outlive us. Jan was more puppy oriented than I was – and she still is, by the way. I have had to stay strong in my belief that a baby dog would be more than we can handle. 

    Anyway, I got this breeder’s name and number and agreed to the two hour drive to meet the grown up dog in question. I was shocked at the conditions that about 12 dachshunds were living in. I asked to meet Mollie, the dog that was of no use to this woman anymore. Just before I left home, Jan said if I didn’t like what I saw to come home without a dog. Well, I didn’t like what I saw, so I came home with a dog, contrary to my instructions.

    We don’t know how old Mollie is. I don’t believe anything her owner told me, including her waffling about whether Mollie was three or five. To her assurance that Mollie was a healthy dog, I texted her the next week that Mollie had a case of heartworms and was going to go through the caustic treatment for this infection. Her response to me was to tell me to bring her back. My response to her involved my dead body.

    We do know that Mollie was abused. She is simply too nervous a dog who cringes if a hand is raised in her presence. She is afraid of most people. She is always on alert for any noise out in the hall of our condo building. She barks and growls incessantly when she hears outside noises. It takes her a long time to accept anyone who visits except for people that are soft spoken and kind and patient with her.

    Jan will tell you that Mollie is really my dog. She wants to be wherever I am and gives me  looks of love that are really touching. Jan will do when I’m not around. I think it’s because I rescued her, put her in Minnie’s crate in the back of my car, and left the hellhole behind. When we got home and I took her outside, it was obvious that she had never been on a grassy surface before. The way she carefully lifted her paws as she felt the soft grass told us this was her first encounter with real earth. She was raised in a plastic shed with an attached wooden deck littered with dog droppings. There was a plastic pool full of water that served as the heartworm-bearing mosquitoes breeding pool. My guess is that most of those dogs were infected with what is a fatal illness if untreated.

    So it has been 4 years since she came to us. We have gotten used to the habits that we can’t break. She lives a pretty sheltered life – quite the opposite of where she was. I believe she learned feral habits because the breeder did not bother to train any of her dogs how to live inside a house instead of a big plastic shed crowded with other dogs.

    There is nothing quite like the unconditional love from a dog. She is nicely settled into a quiet life. Some of our friends who visit regularly are now her friends too. She will flip over on her back for a tummy rub without any prompting when Rose or Katie or Claudia come over. They are her people too.

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/19/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    “This lucky star…”

    Every morning as the day starts to unfold I choose music to listen to as I do my reading and reflections. Some days it seems like Bach’s carefully measured notes add some structure to my morning. Other days I’m ok with a musician that I have been listening to for decades. James Taylor is a guy who has made such a musical niche in my brain that I know most of the words to most of his songs, and harmonizing with him is a fun exercise. 

    This morning I needed someone who flaunts the requirements of pop songs by creating unusual lyrics and melodies. My go to guy is Lyle Lovett. A good friend introduced me to him sometime in the 1990’s and I have been a fan ever since. His Large Band can play jazzy stuff, gospel, blues and country western style songs. He sings about life as he experiences it with its quirks and comedies. His choice of subjects to sing about is always eclectic and sometimes quite sarcastic and funny.

    For years he was accompanied by Francine Reed. Their musical relationship morphed into a friendship that has lasted since 1985. When she is featured it is usually in a conversation where they tell each other off, or, Francine tells him exactly what she thinks he should do. When he sings about someone ugly, she tells him, “Well, you ugly too!” 

    This morning the first song up is a typical happy one. He tells us that he has appreciated his life thus far but isn’t quite sure where it will go from here. “I’ve been up so long on this lucky star, it could be all downhill from here!” I share that observation with him. I have had a great run and mostly good luck, but I’m old enough to have seen how life can turn on a dime. Like it did on Monday, when a routine ride to work turned into my Prius being sandwiched between two cars in an unexpected collision. Thankfully there’s no whiplash effect, only a pretty big bruise where my knee hit the steering wheel. It could have been a lot worse.

    I think one of my favorites is about how a person can turn life around. It’s about reaching that point when life as it is known is due for a big damn change. The best line is the one where Tonto tells the Lone Ranger to “kiss my ass, I bought a boat, I’m going out to sea…” I think I resonate with that line because I’ve had boat buying moments. Like in 2009, when I decided I’d had enough of Saint Louis gray winters. I pulled up stakes, quit my hospice job, and moved to Santa Fe, where the sun shines 300+ days a year. For the first time in my life I left one job without having another one lined up. The Universe provided me with a school nurse job. It was one of the most challenging and fun jobs. It was the perfect ending to a very long career in nursing.

    Speaking of nursing, I have finally decided not to renew my nursing license. I’ve been retired for 10 years with no intention of ever entering the nursing work field again. Really, the only thing I would be qualified for is to answer phones and pass out water. That truth finally came home when the Missouri State Board of Nursing sent me the reminder to renew. Apparently I have reached an inner consensus that I can separate myself from what has been an identity for over 50 years. I will still maintain my nursing-advice-upon-request phone line. After all, I have clients from coast to coast who routinely use this advice line when some mysterious ailment appears.

    So, I’ve been up so long on this lucky star that I honestly believe that this blue planet provides me with everything that I need, and nothing that I don’t. 

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/18/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    Three’s a crowd

    Yesterday being Saint Patrick’s Day I put on my green “Murphy” long-sleeve Tshirt in honor of the occasion. Off to work I went, priding myself on how efficiently I got my morning started. I printed some papers for work, packed a little bag full of my erroneous 2024 tax return, (there’s a huge shredder dumpster in the office), got my steps in, and fired up the Prius. It was earlier than my usual departure time, which also pleased me.

    I forgot about the place of the sun just over the horizon at that hour. As soon as I merged left across four lanes of Highway 40 I was reminded that the brilliant orb of the sun was positioned perfectly in the middle of my windshield. When the sun is that bright, at that particular place in the sky, there are big pockets of sun-blind driving when heading East. Even putting the visor down doesn’t hide enough to make any difference. So I carefully drove along, paying attention to the brake lights of cars ahead of me.

    There wasn’t much of interest on NPR at that time, so I really concentrated on stopping and starting in the morning traffic. Traffic eased a little as we approached Big Bend and we all picked up speed. Unfortunately we were headed right into an almost completely blind spot. Cars in front of me slammed on their brakes. I was fast approaching the car in front of me, but was able to stop just inches from its bumper. 

    What happened next occurred in a split second. I looked in the rear view mirror to see a black sedan fast approaching, causing me to utter some unhelpful cursing. It was going at such a speed that I instinctively knew we were meant to collide. The car hit me with enough force to send the front of my car under the bumper of the car in front of me. 

    There I was, taking a minute to breathe deeply a few times. Into the glove compartment I went, in search of my insurance information. Then a young woman was at my window, asking if I was OK. I got out of the car as quickly as I could and assured her I was fine. Then we went to the car in front of me, where there was a young woman dressed in scrubs, telling us she was OK. 

    Here we were, pulled as far off the left lane as we could get. It was cold out, maybe 35 degrees or so. I asked the woman in scrubs if she was on her way to work. Yes, she is a nurse at Big Barnes. That prompted the other young woman to say she works labor and delivery at Missouri Baptist and was on her way home after working a night shift. Of course I had to tell them that I, too, belong in the sorority of nurses. What are the chances that three nurses would meet in this unfortunate way?

    Like the good nurses we are, we kept asking each other, “Are you sure you’re alright?”. And the nurse from Missouri Baptist was apologizing profusely – “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry!”. The nurse in front of me noted that I had been able to stop just in time not to hit her, but when nurse #3 plowed into my rear bumper, my front end wound up tucked under her rear bumper. 

    We were each making phone calls to police and family. Pretty soon three Richmond Heights patrol SUV’s parked in positions to protect us from the bumper to bumper traffic. Each officer took one of us aside to get our information and review our driver’s license and insurance information. Before long, nurse #1 declared that her car was mostly fine and she needed to get to work. Off she went with a loud “POP” as she pulled away from my front end.

    A tow truck magically materialized and loaded my badly-damaged-at-both-ends Prius, and nurse #3’s front-end-mangled car. One of the nice officers said he would give us a ride to the police station. I loved getting into the back seat of his SUV. Note to self, the back seats are made of plastic for ease of clean up, I presume. Right in front of me was an impressive looking rifle, and the window next to me was secured with bars. This was my first time riding in the back of a police car and I quite enjoyed it. The officer told me that people think it’s cool to ride in the back seat until they are the ones riding in it. 

    By this time, nurse #3 and I were exchanging information and becoming friends. I reminded her that being a nurse is like being in the mafia – you know too much, so you can never leave. We spent the rest of the day texting back and forth.

    Well, what the hell. Happy Saint Patrick’s day, and thank Goddess for looking out for us.

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/16/2024

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    Church lady

    Today is a special day. I will have the honor of speaking at Eden United Church of Christ, the home church of one of my Deaconette friends, Kathy H. I offered to give a talk on immigration and was kindly invited to do so. The special aspect of this is that the Pastor has given me his sermon time. It’s not lost on me that this is the season of Lent and churches usually have a template for each Sunday in Lent. I don’t know where immigration fits in this schedule, but I do know that the Bible is a rich source of instructions about the treatment of immigrants. 

    That is what is so egregious about the way this administration is treating immigrants. 47 and his sidekick claim to be “Christians”. Of course, 47 holds the Bible upside down and says that revealing his favorite Bible verse is too personal. What sidekick believes is unknown to me but my guess is he is a great supporter of “Christian nationalism”. As for president musk, he claims to be a “cultural Christian”, whatever the hell that means. I doubt that any of them can quote any part of the Bible where we are instructed by God to feed the hungry, quench thirst, clothe the naked, visit the sick, and welcome the stranger.

    Instructions from God abound in both the old and new testaments. As early as Leviticus 19:34 we are told: “The alien who resides with you shall be to your as the citizen among you;  you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.” Then, in 1 Chronicles 16:19-22, come these compelling words: “When they were few in number, of little account, and strangers in the land, wandering from nation to nation, from one kingdom to another people, God allowed no one to oppress them… saying ‘Do not touch my anointed ones’”.

    Perhaps the most compelling Old Testament verse contains the words of the prophet, Ezekiel. The Book of Ezekiel says this in 47:22: “You shall allot it as an inheritance for yourselves and for the aliens who reside among you and have begotten children among you. They shall be to you as citizens of Israel; with you they shall be allotted an inheritance among the tribes of Israel.” Just last month 47’s flunkies detained undocumented parents in Texas on their way to an emergency medical check-up for their 10 year old US citizen daughter, who is recovering from brain cancer. The entire family, including the US citizen child, was hastily deported to Mexico. Here is where the cruelty becomes absolutely chilling to me. 

    I have been waiting for a shoe to drop regarding our National Visa Center. This is the department that evaluates family-based petitions to bring certain family members to the United States and grant the immigrants a green card. I am mostly worried for my family from Sierra Leone in Africa. 47 would no doubt consider this a s**thole country. There are three young people waiting for permission to join their mother and sister here in Saint Louis. They have been approved for their interviews. This process may take several more months depending on the ability of our embassy in Sierra Leone to schedule their interviews. The more time elapses the more worried I get. So instead I pray for their safety. They have been thoroughly vetted and found to be acceptable for emigration to the United States. God willing, they will be here in the next few months.

    So, I may be preaching to the choir today at a liberal Protestant church. My hope is the congregation members will learn truth about our immigration system and the dangers that it faces as 47’s minions try to achieve Project 25’s goals. You know, the Project 25 that 47 said he knew nothing about. 

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/14/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    Be very afraid

    That sounds so melodramatic! But if you are Mahmoud Khalil, languishing in a Louisiana detention center far away from home in New York City, you have reason to be on edge. Mr. Khalil was arrested in the lobby of his apartment building after being shown a picture of a “warrant” on an officer’s phone. His 8 months pregnant wife, a US citizen, was with him when he was snatched away from his life as he knew it. Despite their declarations that he is a Lawful Permanent Resident, the officers took him anyway.

    Here’s the thing. People like him who are green card holders are not exempt from following our rules and laws. If they break a law, they can be arrested like anyone else. What can’t happen, though, is that they can be deported without first experiencing due process. The law says they are entitled to a hearing before an immigration judge who will determine the severity of the “crime”. 

    Instead the officers kept telling them that his student visa had been revoked because he led a pro-Palestinian demonstration at his school. When they were informed that he is no longer here on a student visa, but has a legitimately earned green card, they changed their story and said his green card had been revoked. They told the Khalil’s that the State Department had cancelled his right to be in the United States. The implication is that he is a terrorist, thus a danger to the United States.

    What exactly did he do to earn this imprisonment? He was an organizer at Columbia University for campus protests about the war in Gaza. The government is saying that he distributed leaflets that had a “Hamas symbol”. No one, though, has been able to produce a copy of this paper. His attorney says there is no proof that Mr. Khalil provided support of any kind to a terrorist organization. 

    His “crime” is that he exercised his First Amendment rights: freedom of speech, freedom of assembly and the freedom to express grievances and request action from the government. According to the State Department, his presence here would have “serious foreign policy consequences for the United States.” Maybe his other “crime” is that he disagrees with 47, who has voiced plans to take over Gaza and build a resort community. Apparently the Palestinian people can just be shuffled off to some other locations. 

    Yesterday I was 10 minutes late to work because I was having a parking garage moment with NPR. If anyone had noticed, they would have seen me vehemently yelling at my car radio. I was having a virtual argument with a deputy secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. This ignoramus kept insisting that Mr. Khalil’s student visa had been revoked because he was fomenting support of terrorist organizations. The interviewer kept reminding they guy that the student visa was no longer an issue because he is now a Lawful Permanent Resident married to a US citizen. Back went the official to the revocation of a student visa because we won’t tolerate rabble-rousing students in this country. However, he failed to acknowledge that green card holders are protected by all laws of the United States.

    I don’t know how Mr. Khalil got his green card. I am willing to bet that he and his US citizen wife applied for the card and that he was fully vetted by immigration services before that card was granted. This is how it goes for my clients. Just this week a British man who married a client of mine got his green card. It took more than two years for USCIS to check him out and determine that he was a person of “good moral character”, and that their marriage was “Bonafide”. I had to send in reams of paperwork to prove this, among other things. He and his wife were extensively interviewed by an officer at the USCIS field office downtown. 

    This process worked for my son-in-law to get his green card. Thankfully he has applied and been granted US citizenship. Otherwise he could speak out against this administration and be in danger of revocation and deportation. 

    47 has declared that this is only the first of many deportations of green card holders. According to the Atlantic magazine, there is another Lawful Permanent Resident who has been targeted for deportation. This is a new and developing story, so that’s all I know at this point. I’ll be paying more and more attention to this travesty of justice.

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/13/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    The past blew into my awareness

    At the seasoned age of 75 I have accumulated lots of stories and memories of the people who helped make them. Once in a while someone will float into my awareness from decades ago, and this happened to me the other night. 

    Once upon a time, in 1983, I was hired by St Anthony’s Medical Center in South County. My task was to open a new psychiatric service. As the Nursing Coordinator I was to work side by side with a Clinical Coordinator and create a new service on the campus. We spent the entire summer of that year interviewing hundreds of people to staff 75 beds. We labored long and hard to create programming for a variety of units. We were in construction meetings for hours for the important job of picking colors and carpets and furniture. We opened our programs on my birthday, September 20th, 1983. That was a memorable birthday…

    My first co-worker was a really nice man who lasted about six months under the constant pressure of a difficult boss. More about her later. Anyway, when he resigned, looking depressed as a dog, I was on my own until a replacement could be hired. It took a few months to find just the right fit for this job. 

    One morning I was introduced to my new co-worker. He was a young man, good looking, and dressed impeccably. His PhD was in psychology, which seemed apropos. He was settled into his nice office – mine was a small room next to the elevator shaft. I should have known right then what my boss thought the pecking order should be between a nurse and a psychologist – even though this nurse had been singlehandedly running the joint.

    Here’s my favorite, somewhat appalling story, about our boss. After the Psychiatric Center increased to 150 beds and a new building was put up to house an Adolescent Center, we managers were stressed to the max. I volunteered to go talk to our mutual boss about a few things that we could use to support the programs and keep making the boss look good. I went to her office to plead our case. I could tell by the look on her face that she was not pleased. Here’s the best part: her comment that ended the meeting was, “Well it sounds like I have a bunch of brain-damaged whinebags for managers.” I couldn’t wait to get out of there and go tell my coworkers what she really thought of us.

    But back to my psychologist friend. He had a great sense of humor, which seems to be my #1 criteria for becoming friends with anyone. We collaborated well and continued to improve the services offered at SAPC. Both of us had a pretty strong work ethic, which is an important factor when one is in the trenches. That kind of relationship stands the test of time.

    Anyway, the other night his name floated into my awareness. I don’t know why, although I have fond memories of our work together, suddenly he would pop into view in my mind. I decided to use Mr. Google and see what I could find out about him. Turns out he has a successful consulting service and the website included a picture of him, complete with graying hair. There was an email address, so I wrote him a brief note titled, “a blast from your past”. 

    I got an answer the next morning. He is about to become a grandfather this year. His son lives in Los Angeles, just like Ted. He remembered working together when I was pregnant with Ted. And he asked about Jackie. He suggested we zoom together soon.

    We have a lot of years to cover, and I can’t wait to hear his very funny stories about his work. I emailed him back this morning agreeing that we should zoom soon. 

    Our work relationship lasted almost a decade. He knew me when I was in a very dark place and offered his support and kindness. We lost touch after he left SSM and started his full time consulting business. But, more than 40 years later, I remember how much I cared for him. Sometimes people float in and out of our lives for a lot of reasons. He definitely is one of the good guys that I have encountered in my lifetime.

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/11/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    Good vs evil

    Today wasn’t supposed to be a blog day, but then I did my first things first readings of Richard Rohr’s meditation and Heather Cox Richardson’s letter. They both touched me so that I thought I would borrow their words and add a few of my own. 

    First I read Richard Rohr’s piece and feel serene and in touch with the Universe. Then I ruin it by reading Heather Cox Richardson’s stark views on reality, and there goes serenity. I try really hard to hang on to my basic belief that God is in the details of life and in every living thing. I try really hard to visualize 47 and president musk and the spineless members of congress as children of the living God. That gets harder every day.

    Theologian Serene Jones offered this:

    God does not stay at a distance from us but constantly seeks to transform our lives by asking us to awaken to the divine presence. God is a mysterious, creative, sustaining life force.… God is there all the time. The challenge for us is to open our eyes, ears, hands, minds, and hearts to receive the truth of God’s real, persistent presence, God’s grace. When we open ourselves to it, we are changed by it. The way we perceive the world shifts, like a radically refocused camera lens, and we experience life differently. You see everything around you as suffused with God’s love. You see God’s grace everywhere, saturating all existence. This process of awakening to what is already true, but you haven’t previously seen it, is called conversion—a word that literally means “to see anew.” 

    I try really hard to look for the good in this new administration. So far I’m stumped. Our economy appears to be tanking and we are told that we must expect an adjustment before we are enriched by new policies. People at my level of society are not the intended beneficiaries of the “adjustment”. Anyone who believes that is delusional. I really really want to ask a few of the people I know who voted for all this if “this” is what they were expecting. Jan did try to engage one of our trumpian friends about this and got the answer that checks and balances would take care of any problems. 

    I guess I’ll move on to Heather Cox Richardson, and the paragraph from her letter that sent my serenity packing:

    That is, the Trump administration has arrested and detained a legal resident for expressing an opinion that Trump officials don’t like, likely using Khalil to launch this extraordinary attack on the First Amendment because they don’t expect Americans to care deeply about his fate. Once the principle is established that the government can arrest and jail protesters, though, officials will use it to silence opposition broadly. “This is the first arrest of many to come,” Trump posted just after noon. “We know there are more students at Columbia who have engaged in pro-terrorist, anti-Semitic, anti-American activity, and the Trump Administration will not tolerate it.”

    Mr. Khalil, who has done nothing more than exercise his first amendment rights, is detained somewhere in Louisiana away from his home and his pregnant wife in New York City. He is a Legal Permanent Resident, holding a green card. His rights as a green card holder who has been arrested for a “crime” are that he be given a hearing before an immigration judge. The law states that he cannot be deported without due process. I will be following him and his unlawful seizure to see where this goes. 

    We should all be very concerned by the stark abuse of power that seems to be everywhere. And republicans who took an oath to be in charge of following the Constitution are cowering in their lavish offices in Washington DC. If only God’s grace, available to all, would guide them to do the next right thing. I want to believe that it can.

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/10/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    Raising chickens

    If you want to have a good laugh google “Dame Wilburn and chickens”. Dame is a comedienne who tells stories on the Moth. This particular story is one about how she and her wife made a decision to raise chickens in their backyard in Detroit, Michigan. I won’t spoil it for you if you decide to listen to her 10 minute very funny story about the ins and outs of raising farm animals in the city. Yesterday I met Rose for coffee and made her listen to it right there at Paneras. We were laughing out loud in our booth.

    Dame came back into my attention yesterday morning, when I got a text from Jackie in New Jersey accompanied by pictures of the latest home project. Apparently the price of eggs -which, I must add, 47 said he would be lowering right away – finally pushed them over the edge. By God they will raise their own chickens and collect the eggs. This text reminded me of the comedy bit from Dame who wanted, in her words, “to stick it to the man” and get her eggs for free. Except having chickens is not free by the time you factor in building supplies, heating lamps, food and Mom’s hourly wage.

    Dame’s wife built a chicken coop out of butcher block scraps from Ikea. It looks to me like Momoh has made his favorite trips to Home Depot in order to get supplies for a large coop located in their back yard. There are eight baby chicks in the basement complete with warming lamps and a little ground to run around on. They are too little to be considered egg machines just yet. 

    Apparently part of the deal is watching their baby butts to make sure they stay clean. Otherwise the chick with a dirty bottom can get sick. Guess who’s got that duty. Why is it always the Moms? Anyway, this reminded me of one of my favorite lines from “Fried Green Tomatoes”. Sipsey was watching where the sheriff chose to sit in the café. Even though the sheriff was a good guy for the most part, his choice of seats made Sipsey exclaim, “Oh it don’t make no kind of sense. Big ol’ ox like Grady won’t sit next to a colored child. But he eats eggs that shoot right outta chicken’s ass!”

    According to Dame, whose wife researched the raising of chickens on Wikipedia, a chicken will produce one egg a day, six days a week. So I did the math for the New Jersey farm people. Eight chicks times one egg times six days a week is 48 eggs. That’s four dozen eggs every week. That’s one dozen eggs per week per resident at their house. I like eggs myself, but…

    Anyway, this just adds to my love and respect for Jackie and her ability to stretch herself in a lot of different directions. Full time Mom of two very energetic boys, full time educator, full time construction assistant, full time cook and bottle washer, full time lawn care and cleaning person, and now full time chicken mom. I don’t know how she does it, but she is a genuine full time responsible woman who still manages to coordinate her outfits in the dark before dawn every day. I am so proud of her and her accomplishments. 

    I’ll be visiting New Jersey at the end of March for a delightful long weekend in their lovely household. By that time I expect the chicks will all be named, and will have developed their own personalities just like everyone else in the house.

  • lynnmurphymark

    03/08/2025

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    It was a God thing

    Yesterday being Friday, I couldn’t wait to get home, eat a little lunch and get ready for my nap. Jan had other plans for me, so I made a trip to her Dierberg’s with a short list. While I was parking, my son, Ted, called. He had an interview yesterday with a university in Florida that is looking for a PhD in philosophy. He filled me in on his experience and it sounded quite positive to me. Now he waits to see if he gets a second, in person, interview. Of course I had googled the university to find out what I could. It’s a huge school in the Miami area and their philosophy department is looking for someone with Ted’s credentials for a tenure track professor. More will be revealed.

    Some weeks ago two friends separately recommended an event that happened yesterday evening. I took their advice seriously and got a ticket to hear Nadia Bolz-Weber. I had vaguely heard of her but never read any of her books. Again, Mr. Google helped me read up on her in preparation for the event. I almost decided not to go, not to leave the house one more time. Something propelled me out the door and into the car, so off I went.

    She is a part rebel and part wild-child Lutheran pastor. These are the first impressions I got when she came on stage leading the audience in Harry Belafonte’s famous song, “Amen”. The venue was Manchester United Methodist Church, a huge sanctuary that holds over 1,000 people. All seats were taken, so the sound of such a large crowd singing gave me goose bumps. Right away I knew I would be delighted with her. She has an alto range voice which makes her my kind of singer. She wore jeans and a cardigan and has a big mop of greying hair – the kind of color that you earn on the hard way through life.

    But before she came on stage I found a seat in a pew on the very edge of the sanctuary. There was just enough room left for two pretty big men to join their friend and leave enough space for me. The man next to me was friendly and we chatted, sharing that neither of us knew much about what the evening would be like. He asked what I do for a living. When I told him I work as an immigration paralegal, his face lit up. “I might need your help.”, he said. 

    He owns a construction company and employs many Hispanic people and Bosnians. I took a chance and asked how he verifies their eligibility to work “legally”. “Not well”, he said. We talked about the danger-fraught environment. His company has not been raided yet, but he knows that is always a possibility. He told me how close he and his family get to his employees. He said they are like family to him and his father. They attend all the Quinceanera celebrations, eat meals together, and pay a fair wage for a day’s work.

    Something told me to reach in my purse and give him one of my cards. He asked for two more for his dad and his business partner. I promised to email him some “what to do if ICE approaches you” information that he could pass out to his workers. We decided that it was meant to be that we sat together. He gave me his contact information and Monday I will email him as much information as I can.

    Back to Nadia Bolz-Weber. The evening unfolded in a most delightful combination of her philosophy and the occasional singing of some good old hymns. By this time I was a complete follower of her down to earth theology. She spoke of Jesus in terms that I could understand about this mysterious yet very real man. She spoke of the enduring power of a rebellious rule-breaker in the face of oppression and dominance by another culture. 

    It was obvious to me that she was encouraging us to not lose hope in the face of what’s happening around our country; that good will always prevail, even if it happens after systems are broken and beyond repair. She spoke to us about faith, grace, human failings, and recovery. In many ways she reminds me of Anne Lamott, another woman that I admire greatly for her pithy, funny, and deep reflections on life.

    Yesterday was a God day for me, all day long. I am so grateful.

  • 03/06/2025

    lynnmurphymark

    Today’s blog

    Lynn Murphy Mark

    The breakfast buffet

    There are definitely some gifts that keep on giving. Some gifts benefit others in new ways. Some gifts are thoughtfully picked out with the main purpose of bringing joy. Jan and I were the beneficiaries of such a gift last Christmas. Our New Jersey kids and grandkids sent us a “Bird Buddy”, the subject of this blog.

    I have been a fair weather bird nutritionist for several years. I listen to friends who are bird lovers about the best food for backyard wild birds. My biggest question always is, “are there seeds out there that the squirrels won’t like?”. My experience of putting seed out has been watching squirrels figure out how to raid the kitchen and turn it into the neighborhood squirrel feeder – birds be damned. A friend recommended a type of seed that squirrels allegedly will leave alone. Safflower seeds is the answer. Well, in Creve Coeur, Missouri, they have acquired a taste for them. Squirrels 1, Lynn 0.

    I bought a “rodent proof” feeder and watched the neighborhood rascal learn how to shimmy up the pole and get to the food. He would also jump on the top of the feeder, stretch his rubber body until he could eat upside down. I finally gave up and just started spreading seed on the ground. Squirrels 2, Lynn 0.

    So when the package arrived before Christmas Jan and I could not imagine what was in the big square box. We decided to wait until Christmas but then Jackie gave us permission to open the gift a few days early. We were completely surprised by the contents. I watched YouTube videos about how to assemble a little house-shaped electronic gizmo bird feeder. At one point I wished my son-in-law, Momoh, was around because he would have snapped it together in no time. Finally, I followed the recommended steps instead of relying on Who-needs-instructions-I-can-do-it-myself ignorance. 

    It was a month after Christmas before the weather permitted me to spend time outside assembling a hook to hold the feeder, and finally hang it. The nifty little camera was all juiced up and ready to take pictures of the feathered visitors who came to feast on a whole new kind of mixed seeds. I placed the feeder where we could watch it from the living room and I can see it from my desk. 

    The guidebook said it might take a couple of days before birds would start visiting. Not in Creve Coeur. It was only up for a couple of  hours before our feathered neighborhood residents discovered a new restaurant in birdtown. I kept watch for the squirrel but he apparently has found another venue. I haven’t seen him come close. Instead, every bird in town is spreading the news.

    So far our most common visitors are the house sparrows. A cardinal couple comes faithfully every day as do the several pairs of mourning doves. We’ve had Juncos and Chickadees, house finches, and one robin. In the morning after the sun comes up I love watching the crowd take turns helping themselves to a hearty meal. There is occasional bad bird behavior as the sparrows do a little shoving to get to the perch. The doves, being the biggest birds, simply squat in the middle of the seed platform so there’s no room for anyone else. Then the little guys are confined to pecking seeds off the ground.

    The photographic restaurant was an immediate success. So much so that I went through a 10 pound bag of seed in no time. Finally I decided to become more like my favorite restaurant. First Watch opens early in the morning and serves food until early afternoon. Every morning I fill a big scooper and carefully pour it into the feeder. The patrons are already lined up on tree branches waiting for a table to become available. Throughout the day, pictures of birds come to my phone. I really enjoy checking out who is visiting.

    These days there it’s easy to get discouraged by the political environment. Every day the question is, what will they screw with today? And, unfortunately, there’s always an answer about yet another critical agency being gutted by fools who often have to reverse the damage they’ve done. So, my Bird Buddy helps me remember that Mother Nature will outlast the buffoons. I watch the tiny creatures and marvel that they evolved from the dinosaurs millions of years ago. Come to the table, little feathered buddies!