I babysat the other day for a toe-head rascal of a 7 year old boy. He spent most of the day tromping around in his cowboy boots, trying to ride his power wheels up a grassy hill (then convincing me to push the thing with him on it up the hill), and insisted we watch country music videos on CMT at a deafening volume, even while we played with Lincoln Logs (which were undoubtedly the high point of my babysitting experience). His family lives in a huge, impeccably decorated house in country club hills and the kid hardly went 5 minutes without telling me about some new thing they had (like a ski condo in Colorado), or something they were soon to get (such as a convertible). This wouldn’t have bothered me so much if it didn’t seem as if he felt he had to prove himself and his family to me through what they possess or could easily attain. He thought it was hilarious to spank me on the butt and when I told him it was disrespectful and asked him not to do it again, he gave me a sassy Dennis the Menace smile and told me he did that to all his babysitters, and even his mom from time to time…cute huh? Despite my various complaints he was a cute kid, and though he told me he hated me several times (followed by saying “hate means love and love means hate”), he apparently got my digits from his mom and called me about 5 minutes after I had left his house to let me know what was now happening on “Trick My Truck” – which by the way is a sweet show. He may have been a bit more impish than your average Joe jr. but overall he seemed like a typical all-American kid leading the privileged and often indulgent life some of us Americans now lead. What struck me most from our time together was something the kid said as we played with his army men. He had two sides lined up, fighting against each other, one was overflowing with men in all green and the other side looked thrown together, a bunch of tan and worn out army figures, many of which were already knocked over. As he flew a wooden plane over dropping pretend bombs and making comical explosion noises, I noticed how scant the men were on the shabby looking side of the battle. “It looks like we’re getting a little low on men over here; I think it’s time to call in the extra troops”. I said this and started picking up army men from the extras pile and adding them to the side that was clearly disadvantaged and losing. “Oh that side’s not Americans,” he said casually with a bit of attitude, “we don’t care about them.” Wow….he continued dropping bombs on the suffering foreign army. I hear Toby Keith singing “we’ll put a boot in your ass, it’s the American way” said to anyone who messes with the U.S. of A., and it’s no secret (nor does it need to be) that many of us U.S. citizens take great pride in our country and the way it’s run, but I guess I did not realize that in our patriotism a mentality has developed that our lives as Americans are somehow far more important than the lives of individuals in all of the other 193 countries in the world. Though most people wouldn't admit to having this mentality, we can see there is truth to it just by the words of this 7 year old. Regardless of your stance on the war in the Middle East, or on war in general, you can’t deny that the lives of the innocent people being bombed in Iraq are every bit as precious as yours and mine. And if we’re that far removed from the reality of the pain in the war occuring right now, of children loosing their parents and people watching as bombs fall on neighboring homes, than something is terribly wrong.

American Girls and American Guys. We'll always stand up and salute. We'll always recognize. When we see Old Glory Flying. There's a lot of men dead. So we can sleep in peace at night When we lay down our head. My daddy served in the army Where he lost his right eye. But he flew a flag out in our yard Until the day that he died. He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me To grow up and live happy In the land of the free. Now this nation that I love Has fallen under attack. A mighty sucker punch came flyin' in From somewhere in the back. Soon as we could see clearly Through our big black eye Man, we lit up your world Like the 4th of July. Hey Uncle Sam Put your name at the top of his list And the Statue of Liberty Started shakin' her fist And the eagle will fly Man, it's gonna be hell When you hear Mother Freedom Start ringin' her bell And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you Brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue. Justice will be served And the battle will rage This big dog will fight When you rattle his cage. And you'll be sorry that you messed with The U.S. of A. 'Cause we'll put a boot in your ass It's the American way. Hey Uncle Sam Put your name at the top of his list. And the Statue of Liberty Started shakin' her fist And the eagle will fly Man, it's gonna be hell When you hear Mother Freedom Start ringin' her bell. And it feels like the whole wide world is raining down on you. Brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue. Toby Keith Lyrics "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue"

"We will respond, but not in kind. We will not seek to avenge the death of innocent Americans by the death of innocent victims elsewhere, lest we become what we abhor. We refuse to ratchet up the cycle of violence that brings only ever more death, destruction and deprivation. What we will do is build coalitions with other nations. We will share intelligence, freeze assets and engage in forceful extradition of terrorists if internationally sanctioned. We will do all in our power to see justice done, but by the force of law only, never the law of force." -William Sloane Coffin

- maybe next time, Mr. Coffin

"I am blessed to live in a democracy, not a totalitarian state. But the democracy i cherish is constantly threatened by a brand of politics that clothes avarice and the arrogance of power in patriotic and religious garb." Parker J. Palmer

What better time to begin a blog than 3 in the morning? I can't sleep. I read and than laid in bed until about 1 when i finally decided to give into my sleeplessness. I peeled and ate a kiwi in the kitchen and then went outside and climbed up on the roof of our van and looked up at the stars. Alright, so stars are kind of hard to see in Arlington because of all the street lights but i looked up at the sky, and the moon and the breeze were perfect. I have recently come to find silence to be one of the things I love most. I have never in my life hated silence but in past years I think it was a symbol to me of the anxious thoughts it often made room for, more than it was something to take comfort in. Regardless of this anxiety i still appreciated silence for it's hospitality to thought, and welcomed opportunities for undisturbed thinking - though i often found them quick to lead into a deep well of introspection. It's interesting how throughout my life I've unintentionally seperated my thought life and my prayer life. I never wanted to, i guess i just didn't quite understand that to pray without ceasing did not mean each day had to be filled with a endless recitation of praises and requests and confessions. I guess at some point in between my praying and my thinking i felt Jesus nudging me and asking me to invite Him into my thoughts. Not that i have close to mastered this ceaseless, prayerful thinking, but i have come to find great contentment in silence, a peace rarely found before. I guess when i have the company of Jesus in my thoughts, instead of myself, i find his constant assurance instead of solely my persistent doubt, his grace in the face of my laden criticism, and his overwhelming love and acceptance for me when i have none for myself. All this to say i have come to love silence even more since i have found it can mean peace. I have also found it creates space for listening and learning, more about myself, more about others, more about life. I read a quote recently that said the soul loves silence because it is shy and silence helps it feel safe. This suprised me at first, probably because in our society people busy themselves so as to avoid silence - but perhaps they do this because they are afraid of what they might learn or see about themselves if they allow their souls to be exposed in silence - even if it is only them seeing it. Maybe what's scary about it is how foreign our "souls" can be to us, how we can maintain a outwardness that is not, when it comes down to it, a reflection of who we really are. Or maybe we are afraid to confront the hurt, or unanswered questions that we know we have avoided but are still way down there in our souls. The irony is that by trying to protect ourselves from the pain or angst that silence, or really listening to ourselves might bring, we are keeping ourselves from the freedom that follows. I think this freedom comes when we know our souls and make room for our souls, and our inward self no longer has to be separate or unreached by our outward self. Not only is there freedom for us as individuals in this wholeness and greater knowledge and acceptance of ourselves, but there is freedom in new community that is found when we can share contentedness in our true selves with others. I like this quote from a William Stafford poem: "And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy, a remote important region in all who talk: though we could fool each other, we should consider--lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the dark." I think its time i go give sleeping another shot.