Category Archives: Friends

The Until We Meet Again Tour – 10 July 2016, part two

With Grace Ji-Sun Kim and Elisabeth Lee, the Until We Meet Again Tour visited the 9/11 Memorial and the new Freedom Tower.

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The Until We Meet Again Tour – 10 July 2016

The Until We Meet Again Tour took a short, about .4 of a mile, walk today to Church of the Master. As noted earlier, my intention had been not to accept invitations to preach during the tour. However, invitations began to arrive from congregations that mean a great deal to me and it became impossible to say no. Once again I am delighted I agreed to preach. It was a tender, precious moment filled with sorrow and joy. The experience crystallized a reality that has been emerging for me – I will miss the people of New York even more than I will miss the places of New York.

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See you along the Trail.

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The Until We Meet Again Tour – 9 July 2016

The Until We Meet Again Tour wandered down to Times Square. The day began with a long workout with NK Body Philosophy. Sermon writing followed. Grace Ji-Sun Kim and I entered a number of ticket lotteries for Broadway shows. We both won tickets to An American in Paris. Grace and Elisabeth went. I continued the sermon writing process. While waiting for the show, we checked out a bit of the fourth annual Street Soccer USA New York City Cup.

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The Until We Meet Again Tour – 8 July 2016

Once again the Until We Meet Again Tour hopped the 7 Train and rode out to CitiField. Grace Ji-Sun Kim and her daughter visited New York and went along. The Mets lost. The weather turned cold. But a good time was enjoyed.

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But there’s no Irish whiskey, so what’s the point?

JamesonI know why
the rum is all gone.

Well,
technically
I don’t. Since
there was never any rum to begin with,
it can’t be all

gone.

But I wonder

why clothes are pouring out of the hamper.
And I wonder
why the sink is full of dishes.
Again.

A cooperative poem
Words – Mark Koenig
Formatting – Michelle Barthel
Title – Ginna Bairby

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Purple not flowers – exercise gear

IMG_1706 (1)I had fallen away from my exercise routine. After a stretch where I worked out daily, I probably logged five workouts in the last month. I put out an alert to my friends and support network. They responded. Some offered encouragement. Some shared expressions of concern. Some even used the “l” word. And some figuratively kicked my butt.

Joann Haejong Lee essentially said, “Get thee to the gymery and attend the Prince’s songs as thou moveth.”

Maybe her message was a tad more direct and a lot less faux Shakespeare. But I got her point.

And to the gym I went. And with a Prince playlist there seemed only one shirt and bandanna choice.

See you along the Trail (and hopefully in the gym).

 

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Trust

A friend and I drove up to an ATM. I was in the driver’s seat.I asked if she wanted me to back up and allow her to walk up to the machine. She handed me her card and gave me her PIN number.

“I trust you with my child,” she said. “I am certainly going to trust you with my PIN.”

To all my friends, most recently the parents of Ms. E, who have shown me that trust – you have my thanks.

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15 April 2016
Washington, DC
photo by Shannan Vance-Ocampo

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Never forgotten

We, or at least I, often never know the impact we, I, have on one another. Sometimes all it takes is showing simple kindness and decency.

She moved across the hall, clearly intent on talking to me before the meeting began. Although it had been years, I recognized her. She had taken part in a group working on prison-related issues. I had been the staff to the group. I recognized her. But I could not recall her name.

“Do you remember me?” she asked before we had a chance to shake hands.

I answered truthfully. “I do. But I am sorry, I don’t recall your name.” I took her hand.

She smiled and told me her name. I smiled back.

“I will never forget you,” she said.

I shifted my weight, a tad uncomfortable.

“I came to you with my husband in prison. In prison for murder. Murder he had done.”

I shook my head in agreement.

“I asked if I would be welcome at the group you were with. That group working on prisons and prisoners. I was nervous, so nervous, because my husband was guilty. I felt alone, so alone. I could not find a place to talk about my husband and what he faced. Not in my church. Not in my community. I was desperate for support. I thought that group might be a place. But I was scared. Scared they would not want me either. But I was more scared of being alone. I finally got up my courage and asked you.”

“I remember,” I replied. Somehow my throat had become dry all of a sudden.

Tears pooled in her eyes.

“And do you remember what you said?”

She did not give me a chance even to nod. “You did not hesitate. You said, ‘Of course you would be welcome.’ And then you said, ‘If anyone has a problem with me being there you would speak with them.'”

“I did,” somehow I scratched the words out. Her tears flowed freely.

“It turned out that no one had a problem. I found a place I could tell my story freely and where people accepted me and loved me. I found a family in that group. They stood by me and they stood with me when my husband died in prison. They were wonderful. But none of that would have happened without you. None of that would have happened without your kindness to me. I will never forget you. God bless you”

The dryness of my throat was exceeded only by the wetness of my cheeks. And since words would not come, I did what I rarely do, I opened my arms and offered a hug.

And we hugged and wept together for a holy moment.

When I regained control of my voice I said, “Thank you for telling me. I am sorry about your husband’s death.”

“He was a good man. He had his flaws. And one big one. But I did love him.”

I smiled. “I knew that every time you talked about him.”

She scuffed the floor a bit. “When I saw you tonight, I had to tell you. I will never forget you.” We shook hands, smiled, and went our separate ways.

I have never seen her since that night.

But I have never forgotten her.

See you along the trail.

 

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Purple flowers – Old town Alexandria

Purple flowers Old Town Alexandria

17 April 2016
Old Town
Alexandria, VA

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The competition

As I completed my work out at the Gym at the Shire and prepared to mount the elevator to return to the Shire itself, I noticed some of the others using the gym. Treadmills pounded; weight machines clanked. Grunts and sighs and snippets of conversation filled the air.

I briefly watched a younger man, much younger than me, struggle to do exercises I can do easily. And for a moment, I felt accomplished.

Then a woman, not young but not as old as me, smoothly moved into a headstand. Her ease and grace reminded me of the struggle I sometimes have just to stand on my feet. And for a moment, I despaired and thoughts of giving up filled my head.

For a moment. Only a moment.

The moment quickly passed and I realized as I exercise I do not compete with those who are ahead or with those who are behind, those who can do more or those who can do less. It is a journey of self-care. It is a competition with myself, with that voice in my head that tells me I can’t. And every time I make it through, every time I do something more, something new, I win.

And with support of family, trainer, friends, I have many wins. And more will come.

See you along the Trail.

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