I wake up and reach for my phone to find the time and moments later I’m bobbing along in the Eff Bee whitewater with my fellows posters – good morning, world! – and I’m trying to dodge the flotsam and jetsam of a culture that seems Intent on keeping the world’s hatred and fear fueled. I’m dodging words: “libtard” and “Karen” and “POS” and “asshat” – and there’s talk of violence – mob mentality – coming from both sides – all sides – and, of course, there’s the logjams of the “experts” appearing periodically to provide background info on the history of Nazis and the Civil War. I was a history major myself and I can relate to the urge to show off my expertise on these things, but my intuition is telling me that, for the people flailing in the whitewater with me, now is not the time to pause to give a history lesson – maybe we can do that later when we reach a quiet eddy in the river. Right now the roiling current pulls us towards the boulders – tribalism, greed, me-firstness, bigotry, bullying, ego – and I point my feet down the river as the whitewater guides told me to do – and I choose to keep my survival simple for myself – Love. Love is my lifevest. Keep it simple. I don’t have to choose sides or who to love. Keep it simple. I choose Love – all-encompassing, all-enveloping, universal, unconditional, all-inclusive Love. I let Love guide me through the whitewater.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Below: Anderson Creek. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.
I felt the need to go to a quiet place – somewhere away from the crowds and noise. I headed for Clayton Beach.
I’d gotten about half-way down the trail to the beach when I heard happy laughter and chatting behind me. I turned around to see about a dozen women coming down the trail. I pulled off to the side so they could pass, and they stopped to chat for a bit. I learned they were a hiking group from Hillcrest Church in Fairhaven. And then one of the women in the back stepped forward and I recognized Francine – the mother of three of my former eighth graders – and the pediatrician who’d been called in at the birth of my oldest son. Francine is one of my favorite people, but I haven’t seen her for years. It was cosmic to run into her in the middle of a trail in the Chuckanut woods!
But wait! There’s more!
The group of women went ahead of me, and I followed behind, stopping to snap pictures every now and then. When I crossed the bridge over the train tracks, I found one of the women waiting for me on the other side. She asked me if I’d ever lived in Kitsap County. I told her that I’d actually graduated from high school there. She said she had, too, and then she asked me if I’d ever taught there. I almost answered no, and then I remembered that year I’d taken over a fifth grade class a month into the school year, years ago. It had been my first real teaching gig, and it had been a challenge for me. I told her the name of the school that had housed my fifth grade class, and she said she’d gone there, and so had her younger brother, David. She said she thought I’d been her brother’s teacher, and gave his last name. Immediately the face of her brother came into my thoughts – I remembered him, and I remembered what a cool kid he was!
I asked her where David was now, and she let me know he’d passed ten years ago. My heart sank. I told Julie how much I’d enjoyed her little brother. And then Julie told me that she remembered me as being a positive part of David’s life, and she remembered her parents had liked me. That meant a lot to me – I hadn’t felt like a success that year. To know that I’d had a positive impact on even one child’s life was a healing thing.
I went on down to the beach, took a right between the big rocks, and looked out at the water for a while. There was a nice breeze blowing down there. I always feel Love speaking to me when there’s a nice breeze, and I feel the love of loved ones who have departed. I thought about David and Francine and Francine’s children. Sweet memories. Sweet connections.
I moved back to the main beach. A pup came bounding down to the beach from the trail, leaped onto a log, bounced onto another log, and scampered back to her humans. She was delightful. Her humans gave me permission to take more photos of Tulia, and I managed to capture one of her as she peeked over a log at me.
I met up with the women from the Hillcrest church again before I started back up the trail. I told Julie that she had David’s eyes, and she smiled and asked, “I do?” I told her yes, I remembered David’s bright eyes. Francine and I hugged again, and she took a picture of us together to show to her daughter.
When I got to the bridge over the train tracks, I moved to the mesh wires to take a picture of the tracks, and just at that moment an AmTrak train came around the curve as if just for me! Grinning, I waved to the train and snapped pictures as it moved towards me.
It was a lovely walk back through the woods and to my car. My heart was all filled up with the wonder of the unexpected gifts the Cosmos continually sends me.
Pop was born on June 21, 1918, and lived 101 years after that. He died the day before the first case of the pandemic was reported in this country. He had impeccable timing.
But more important to me, personally, than his mountaineering achievements, was who he was as my dad. In the last years of his life, he lived near me, and we were able to spend a lot of time together – going on drives, and exploring the highways and byways of this part of the state.
Dad: Let’s head out into the open countryside, head towards the coast. Karen: Let’s do it! Dad: I don’t want to go into the city. I don’t want to run errands with you. (I nod my head in understanding.) Dad: (His voice cracking.) I love you. Karen: I love you, too. Dad: It’s nice that we have each other to love. Karen: Yes, it is! Dad: Thank you for including me when you take these drives. (I smile – I take these drives FOR Dad.)
I turn onto Samish Island Road, thinking maybe I’ll go to Bayview State Park. Dad: Have you ever been to that little island that’s connected to the land? Karen: Samish Island? Do you want to go there? (Dad nods his head, and I head out to do the loop around Samish Island.) Dad: Is Mom alive? (I shake my head no.) Dad: I had a dream that she’d died. (He starts tearing up.) I think I’ve already mourned her. (Dad’s quiet for a bit. We’ve almost finished the Samish Island loop now.) Dad: Can we see Mount Rainier from here? Karen: I think it’s hidden behind those hills. Dad: Let’s go someplace where we can walk on a beach. (I head for Bayview State Park.)
After parking, Dad and I make our way to a bench near the beach. When I’m getting Dad’s walker out of the back of the car, I see the cans of root beer I put in there months ago – I’d bought them for Dad, and had forgotten about them. Now I grab one, join Dad on the bench, and hand the root beer to him. His face lights up and he smiles and takes it from me. Dad: Do you ever dream about Mom? Karen: Yes. I had a dream that she was sitting on the top bed of a bunk bed, dangling her feet over the edge. She had a happy, mischievous smile on her face. There was an open casket on the bed behind her. She said, “I’m done with this!” and hopped down. I felt like she was done with the whole dead-thing, and was happy. Have you had a dream about Mom? Dad: Yes. I dreamed she died. Karen: She loved you, and loves you very much. Dad: She was such a wonderful person. Karen: Yes, she is! (Dad and I are quiet for a while, just enjoying the sunshine.) Dad: This is nice here. I’m glad we made this stop. That’s a nice, gentle breeze. It smells like saltwater. (He belches and laughs at his own belch.)
When we get back in the car, Dad says he had a dream where he had to fart once, but there was no place to fart. He starts laughing – cracking himself up. I’m laughing, too. Then Dad asks, “Do you and Mom have a lot of nice conversations?” And I tell him that we do.
As we’re heading back to Dad’s home, he turns his head and points, “That would make a happy picture! That house all covered in flowers! But I don’t have my camera with me…” I turn the car around and head back to the flower-bedecked house, and get out my camera for Dad to snap a photo.
We get back to his home, and Dad doesn’t recognize it at first – he has moved three times in the last year, and it’s all a little confusing. I explain that their last home couldn’t take Mom and him back when Mom got sick. And then when Mom passed, we had to find another home for Dad. I tell Dad that I felt that Mom had directed us to this place – a place with hummingbird feeders and cats and dogs. Dad asks, “So Mom knows these people then?” And I think about this, and then nod my head yes. (I believe Mom does know these people, even if they never actually met in the person.)
Dad gets back in the house and doesn’t recognize anything. I ask him if he wants to go to his room – and he asks, “I have a room here?” I point the way, and once he enters he says, “Oh! I remember this place now!” He sees his paintings on the walls, and pictures of his friends and family. He realizes he’s home. He starts grinning at himself and says, “I’ve been thanking these people for allowing me to stay here.”
Dad points to a book by Leif Whittaker about Leif’s father, Jim. “I think I got that book for Christmas.” I tell him that I think Jim Whittaker gave him that book when he came to visit him here. “Jim visited me here?!” Yes, I tell him, also his friends Rick and Cindy, and Tom Hornbein, and Mary from the Mountaineers. Dad is shaking his head in amazement now. He says, “The things I’ve forgotten would fill a book!”
Karen: Are you going to take a nap now? Dad: Yes, I want to make that transition into the dream. Karen: What dream is that? Dad: (Tearing up.) The dream about the real world. (And I know he’s thinking about the world where Mom is still with him.) Karen: I love you, Dad. Dad: I love you, Karen.
She searches for me, and when she finds me, she smiles and says, “Gramma Karen, come.” Being invited into her world feels like the greatest honor, ever. Bigger than an Oscar. Bigger than a Nobel prize. Bigger than a Pulitzer.
She clasps her little hand in mine, trusting me to get her safely across the road, and looks up at me, and we grin at each other in mutual adoration.
There is nothing better than this. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
I’m going to assume that when Michelle Obama speaks of seeing the “humanity in all people” she really means ALL people – every race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, age, size, and political leaning – and, yes, that includes the MAGA folks, too. It saddens and distresses me when the inspiring speeches made by the Obamas are used as just another way to vent hate on “the others.” We have enough of that already. Maybe we can take a moment and honor the Obamas by trying to look for the good in EVERYone, and nurturing that.
“So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them… And God saw everything He had made and, behold, it was very good.” – Genesis 1
Here are some of the cool new friends I made in Grove City, PA, this week:
I always love visiting the Bookends bookstore on Broad Street when I’m in town. It’s one of those places where you feel the kindness and magic as soon as you walk in. When I went into the shop this week, I’d just come out of Beans on Broad, where I’d introduced my toddler granddaughter, Linh, to Dr. Seuss’s Cat in the Hat. I was hoping the bookstore would have a copy of the book I could buy for little Linh. Tonya, the owner of the store, greeted me with a smile as soon as I walked in, and led me right back to her Dr. Seuss collection. Allie rang up my new book at the cash register, and then she and Tonya graciously agreed to let me snap their photo. There is such power in friendly smiles.
Up the block from where my mom-in-law lives is a corner lot with flowers blooming out of every nook and cranny, and a little pond with gurgling water that always brings me peace. It was very cool when I finally met, Andrew, the owner of this little paradise. As well as being a gardener, Andrew, I learned, teaches history at Grove City College. I told him I’d been a history teacher, too – but for 8th graders. We talked about the history past generations have lived through, and the history we’re living through now, too. And Andrew pointed out that no matter what history we’re living through, there’s always good around us, too. Right on!
On my walk yesterday, I saw a man zip across the street with a lawnmower, and begin mowing one of the yards I was passing. On my return trip I passed him again – moving at a quick pace down a different street, pushing his lawnmower in front of him. I stopped to have a chat with him and learned his name is Ryan and he mows 65 yards in the neighborhood! Whoah!
Trooper pup saw me from across the road and started wagging his tail, and smiling at me. I asked his human if I could give Trooper a pet, and she let him skip up to me. Trooper’s whole body wagged as I scratched him behind the ears and petted him. Happy pups are one of life’s best things.
The U.S. Defense Department does not recognize Humoristianity on its list of religions. We are humbled by this gratifying acknowledgement of Humoristianity’s non-acknowledgement, and are pleased to join the likes of the UU, atheists, agnostics, Wiccans, deists, followers of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, and others in our non-inclusion. It is an honor we do not take lightly.
Humoristianity was established in 2007 on the Amazon Religion forum by…well…me.
The mission of Humoristianity is to spread laughter and good will across our planet. Here are the tenets to the one true fallacious faith:
1) You must be able to laugh at yourself.
2) You must be able to recognize how ludicrous your beliefs might appear to others.
3) You must want nothing but good for everyone, everywhere in the universe.
4) You must have a natural aversion to meetings, committees, and scheduled events (as we will be having none of those).
***
May your irrepressible good will reach those athirst for kindness in a desert of bigotry and fear. May you bring laughter to those in desperate need of a good laugh. May your joy lighten the burden of those carrying a heavy load of hopelessness and despair. May the stodgy, stuffy, and stingy, the bigots, bullies, and busybodies, be transformed by your good humor and love for humanity.
When I woke up this morning, I felt myself going to that dark place – that place of fears and worries and dread.
I needed to get out of the house and go for a walk and smile at people. I needed an adventure.
A couple of weeks ago, a friend I’d met in the Seeing Bellingham group – a friend I’d never actually met in the person – invited me to join her and her friends for coffee at the Way Cafe in Birch Bay. Julie told me that they meet every Thursday morning there. She invited me again a couple days ago. I was kind of nervous about sitting around a table with people I’d never actually met – but, this morning when I started going to the dark place, I realized a drive to Birch Bay and joining Julie and her friends was exactly what I needed.
So I googled and made a list of directions for myself – exit here, turn right there, take another right here, and then a left – and I set out for the Way Cafe.
Oh, my friends! It was so fun meeting these women this morning! Tricia and Nancy, Jean and Julie and Carol, were welcoming and wonderful. I needed the laughter I found with my new friends, and I soaked up their kindness.
When our time together came to an end, I decided I wasn’t done, yet, and headed up to Blaine with L&L Bakery macarons on my mind. I love the L&L Bakery! Lili, the owner, was there today, and it was so good to see her again. Lili radiates kindness and good will and makes the world a better place. She and her staff also make really good baked goods. I snagged myself a couple of macarons, wished Lili a good day, and headed down to Marine Park.
When I got to the park, I could see workers setting up fences around the perimeter in preparation for the “Scottish Gathering” Blaine is hosting this weekend. Liam and Joe let me snap their picture as they helped set up the fences. (When I introduced myself to them, Liam said his mom is named “Karen,” too – which brought me a smile. Karens rock!)
I walked on down to the pier and took some photos of Semiahmoo across the water to the west, and Canada across the water to the north. An AmTrak train came through Blaine, and I watched it make its progress past the Peace Arch and on into Canada. I wished everyone on board happy adventures.
I had happy adventures myself today. I’m so glad I talked myself out of the house, and up to Birch Bay and Blaine today.
I followed my nose and ended up at Lake Padden today. On my walk around the lake I stopped to sit on Wendell Holboy’s bench. I feel connected to Wendell and his bench – his wife, Noemi, had been one of my mom’s friends in the last years of her life, and his granddaughter, Emily, had been one of my 8th graders. I always smile when I see his name on the plaque by the bench, and think of Mom and Noemi and Emily.
As I was sitting there, this sweet little family passed by – Papa, Mama, infant in a stroller, a toddler on a balance bike, and a smiling pup. The toddler fell off his bike just behind me, and I could hear his parents talking with him – turning his fall into a game. I loved their approach – and I told them that. The little boy got a big smile on his face and started scooting his bike to me – he recognized right away that I was a friend. He footed his bike right up next to me and gave me a big grin. My grandma heart melted.
I learned his name was Max, his parents were named Thomas and V, his four-week-old baby sister was named Phoebe, and the smiling pup was named Potter. I saw that V had a climbing rope attaching her to Potter, and asked her if she was a climber. I learned that both she and her husband were climbers, and that she’d climbed Washington’s “five peaks.” I told her I’d climbed Rainier, Baker, Adams, and Hood with my dad when I was younger, and we talked about climbing for a bit.
Thomas and V gave me permission to take photos of their family, but the one that I think works best here is one of their family from the back – Max toodling along on his balance bike.
There’s this place between the two docks on the east side of the lake where I’ve sometimes been able to spot turtles lined up on a log. I remember my surprise the first time I spotted those turtles maybe a decade ago – I’d never seen turtles in the wild before. I don’t think I saw turtles on the log last summer, though, and when I didn’t see them today, I felt my heart sink. Maybe, I thought, turtles don’t live at Lake Padden anymore.
I was almost back to my car when I saw a big brown lump ahead of me in the middle of the trail. At first I thought it was a turtle, but then I laughed at myself: “Karen, you’ve got turtles on your mind.” But as I got closer and I saw a head sticking out of the brown lump, I realized it WAS a turtle!
I didn’t think the middle of the trail was a very good place for the little guy to have placed himself, so I picked him up and told him I was taking him to a better place. As I walked him back to the spot where I’d seen turtles before, I passed the sweet family I’d met earlier, and little Max reached out and touched the turtle’s shell, a look of wonder on his face. Mickey saw the turtle and started grinning – she and I took turns taking photos of each other with the turtle. Chuck passed by with his pup, Bella, and got that same look of wonder that Mickey and Max had gotten when they saw the turtle. I put the turtle down on the shore next to the water, and, after a few minutes – when he felt safe – his legs poked out of the shell, and he darted into the water too fast for me to snap a picture. MAGIC!
On the way back to my car, I passed Alaena with her paddleboard – I told her that I needed to try that someday, and she got a big smile on her face, and told me I absolutely SHOULD try it! She said it was totally worth the 100 bucks for the paddleboard, and graciously agreed to let me take a photo of her posing with it.
Blue dragonflies flitted around in the bushes and landed on the trail in front of me; and a family of ducks swam around near the reeds – mama, papa, and two fluffy ducklings. Awww…
May 31: Today when I landed in Fairhaven, I got there so early that my car was the first one parked on the block. It came to me that I hadn’t been to the Cafe Blue in a while, and I decided that that’s where today’s adventures would start.
Even that early, the cafe was brimming with happy people when I walked in. Micah, the owner of the cafe, looked over and saw me and greeted me. He remembered me! – and thanked me again for the book I’d given him last year. The counter person who was taking my order asked about the book. I told her that I like to write stories about the cool people I meet on my adventures, and Micah is one of those cool people and he’s in one of my books. She grinned and wrote down my name so she could find my books at the Bellingham library.
The Cafe Blue is one of those places with an abundance of magic.
Micah and his cafe are magnets for kindness and good will. When I was done ordering my mocha and a strawberry pastry, I found one last table that wasn’t occupied, and settled onto a bench there. The young man in the line after me wasn’t going to be able to find an empty table, though, and I told him to feel free to share my table with me. He smiled and thanked me and settled onto the other end of the bench to work on his project.
I watched people come into the shop and greet each other, laughing and enjoying their time together, while soft music played in the background. When it was time to go, I stopped to say good bye to Micah. “This place attracts kindness,” I told him, “and you’re at the center of it all, Micah. Thank you.” Micah smiled his wonderful smile and thanked me for coming back to his shop, and we wished each other good days.
I wandered down to Marine Park from the cafe. A couple coming out of the park told me that they’d been watching a fledgling osprey learning how to fly, and told me where I could find it, if it was still there. Alas, it was not. But I did see my old friend, Dan, and his pup, Jakada – it’s always good to see them. A rousing game of kayak polo was going on in the bay, too, and I stopped to take a couple photos.
I decided to check out the heron rookery and see how the chicks were coming along. The chicks have GROWN since I was last there. Every now and then one would stretch its wings – like it was preparing to fly. That was cool to see.
I went through the dog park, and through the woods for a while, and then, when it was time, back to my car.
I met new pup friends today: Elmer and Hoby and a sweet little blue-eyed pup whose name has slipped into the ether. I met new human friends, too – Luke (the blue-eyed pup’s human), and the couple that told me about the osprey; and about half a dozen people at the rookery who shared the heron magic with me. Bill was there, too, feeding peanuts to the crows he met along the way.
I always leave my walks in Bellingham with a smile on my face, feeling good about sharing this planet with such beautiful earthlings – two-footed, four-footed, feathered and furred.
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 