I just have to share this quick glimmer I experienced today in Fred Meyer’s. I put myself in line behind a little family – a mother, a girl of grade school age, and a little boy sitting in the seat in the shopping cart. The little boy was shaking a tube of candy and making it rattle, and he was having such fun with that, I found myself grinning as I watched him. I asked him how old he was – and I held up two fingers and then three – “Two? Three?” He held up three fingers in response, and said, “Three.” I told him my granddaughter was going to be three in a couple months, too. The little boy’s mother turned around and smiled at me then. She knew she was looking at a grandma.
I asked the little girl if she was a big sister, and she smiled and nodded her head. I told her I was a big sister, too – I have two little brothers, and I know what it means to be the “big sister.” I told her I could tell she was a good big sister, and she smiled.
The mother and daughter talked in Spanish for a moment, then I saw the little girl get out her own wallet. The mother had already paid for her groceries, but now the little girl was going to pay herself for her own art supplies. Her mother patiently helped her count out the money – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten – the total for the purchase had been $9.93 – so now the mother and daughter counted out three pennies, so that the little girl would get a dime back. They carefully put the cash and pennies in the cashier’s hand, and the cashier smiled and placed a dime back in the little girl’s hand.
And I can’t even tell you what there was about this exchange that so touched me, but I found myself tearing up at the sweetness of it.
Here’s where I am right now, she said. I need a reason to go on. Does anything I do or say or write make any difference, or fix what’s wrong?
Platitudes and preaching, sermons and lectures from the “experts” – aren’t helping or healing or making anything better.
Why am I here? she asked. The age-old question. I see cruelty, selfishness, greed, hate going unchecked. I see evil rewarded, and true heroes unsupported, and the unfairness of it is killing me.
I see and hear people who I thought were my friends saying the most hateful things – condoning murder and torture – with faces that show no remorse, or recognition of the rot of civilization.
I feel like I’m in the land of the walking dead, she said, like the zombies are already here among us, with their bland and placid faces reciting the lies they’ve been fed.
I feel hopeless, she said. Hopeless and helpless, mourning the loss of decency, and kindness, of honesty and intelligence and grace. I need a reason to go on, she said.
And the Cosmos answered: Love.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
“There is a large class of thinkers whose bigotry and conceit twist every fact to suit themselves. Their creed teaches belief in a mysterious, supernatural God, and in a natural, all-powerful devil. Another class, still more unfortunate, are so depraved that they appear to be innocent. They utter a falsehood, while looking you blandly in the face, and they never fail to stab their benefactor in the back. A third class of thinkers build with solid masonry. They are sincere, generous, noble, and are therefore open to the approach and recognition of Truth.” -Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 450
Okay, so I was a little obnoxious yesterday. (But what else is new, right?)
In the last week, I’ve noticed that people aren’t as quick to exchange smiles with me as they used to be. At first I took this personally – thought there might be something wrong with my appearance in some way – but I quickly rid myself of that notion – I mean, I’m as glorious as ever, right?
It occurred to me that maybe folks are really struggling right now and that smiles are just really hard for them to summon up. I decided it was time to bring out all my weapons of kindness.
I made a quick stop at one supermarket to use their restroom and see if they had a couple items I was looking for. There’s an employee storage room kitty corner to the restroom and I smiled at a man standing in the door to the storage room and he… well, he didn’t smile back. And then another employee came out of the restroom and I smiled at her, and again, nada. I smiled at a third employee who was stocking stuff, and got nothing. So I asked her – in just a chatty way – “People don’t smile any more, do they?” And SHE SMILED A BRILLIANT SMILE, and said that she’s noticed that, too.
I found the items I was looking for and went to the self-checkout. I smiled at the woman who was overseeing the checkout, and got nothing. So I scanned all my items and paid, with her in the background watching. And then I asked her about the bag I’d brought in for my groceries – it used to be when I’d put it in the bagging area after I’d rung my items up, that I’d be tagged by security as trying to steal the bag – was that going to happen now? She SMILED and said they’d changed things, so that wouldn’t happen anymore. I told her I’d known I’d be okay because she’d been watching me and knew what I was up to, and she laughed. I thanked her for doing such a good job, and she smiled again, and pointed at my shopping bag. It says “DOCTORS WITHOUT BORDERS” on it and she wondered if I was a traveling doctor. I told her no, but I donate to the group. And she thanked me for doing that.
I wheeled my groceries out to my car. I noticed a man of about my age, wearing a safety vest, was cleaning up the parking lot with one of those stick things. I wheeled my cart to the cart corral, and then got in my car and rolled down the window to speak to him. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for keeping the parking lot clean.” He looked surprised that I’d even noticed him, and smiled. He told me he was actually a store clerk, but his hours had been cut recently, and he’d been off work for a while. He’d just gotten called back to do what he was doing. I thanked him again for doing such a good job, and he smiled.
Now in another superstore, I smiled at a woman of about my age, and got a blank stare in return. I decided to try a different tack. “Hello,” I said to her. She turned and looked at me then, AND SMILED. “I just needed someone to smile at me, and you looked like someone who would do that,” I said to her. She grinned then, and nodded, and gave me a beautiful smile.
Maybe in these interesting and challenging times, when it comes to smiles, sometimes I just need to be explicit: “I really need a smile today.”
“During this final conflict, wicked minds will endeavor to find means by which to accomplish more evil; but those who discern Christian Science will hold crime in check. They will aid in the ejection of error. They will maintain law and order, and cheerfully await the certainty of ultimate perfection.” Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 97
Oh, my friends! I really needed what I found on my Clayton Beach hike today: peace, stillness, quiet. I had a little mini vacation from my computer – there was no password I needed to remember or files I needed to access; no problems I needed to solve; no fears or worries or news demanding attention. It was lovely.
As I got near the beach, I saw a small family of deer crossing the path up ahead. Magic! And pretty soon Wes and Leigh appeared on the trail, coming my way. They told me that I had flushed the deer out for them – that the deer had turned towards them when they’d seen me. Leigh and Wes were as excited about the deer magic as I was. I love meeting other people who recognize magic when they see it.
When I got down to the beach, I found a boulder to sit on. Then I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the waves shushing onto the beach, and the birdsong coming from the forest. I felt rich beyond imagining.
I stayed down at the beach for a while, snapping photos, looking for agates (I didn’t find any today, but it was fun looking), enjoying my alone-ness.
When I headed back to my car I passed a group of hikers with toddlers and babies, being led by Jillian from the Whatcom YMCA. Jillian told me that the group meets every Thursday for a hike. How wonderful! Maz, Carina, and Jillian graciously posed for me and gave me the okay to post their photo on Facebook.
By the time I got back to my car, my soul was filled with birdsong and babies’ smiles, new friends and the magic of waves and rocks, the forest and life.
A couple of weeks ago I saw a pair of red-haired women walking on the boardwalk and was struck by how much they looked alike. I asked them if they were family and learned that they were mother and daughter – Roxanne and Hallie. Hallie, I learned, had come from Denver to perform as one of the leads in the Pacific Northwest Opera‘s production of *Ariadne auf Naxos*, and Roxanne had driven up from Olympia to spend a few hours with her daughter before her performances began.
I shared with Roxanne and Hallie that my mom had earned her degree in music performance back in the 1950s. Mom had been accepted into the Portland Opera Company after she graduated from the University of Montana, but had chosen to marry my dad instead, and move with him to Colorado to start their life together. They’d soon moved back to the PNW, though – to Olympia, in fact – and that’s where I’d spent my first years.
We swapped stories about Olympia and music for a bit then – I shared that I’d met my husband at a wedding – he’d been the photographer and I’d been the wedding singer – but I’d never had the kind of musical training, skills, or discipline my mom had had.
Hallie told me more about *Ariadne auf Naxos*. *Ariadne auf Naxos* was a comedy, she told me – and, as she described the plot, I found myself laughing out loud. It sounded like a hoot! I told her that I was going to google more about it, and I might try to get tickets for it.
But then life happened, and two weeks went by, and I never purchased tickets, and it didn’t look like seeing the opera was something I was going to be doing.
But yesterday, as I was sitting on a bench with my son in Fairhaven, I saw a pretty copper-headed woman walk by with a young man, and I realized it was Hallie! I called out to her, and she turned and grinned – she recognized me, too! I gave Hallie a hug, and met Gyan – who is the pianist for the opera.
Hallie offered to set aside a ticket for me to today’s show – but I still wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to make it. When I got home, though, it felt like running into Hallie again had been too cosmic to ignore, and I immediately purchased two tickets for today’s show.
Scotty and I got there just before the curtain rose. As soon as Hallie stepped onto the stage, I think we both knew we were looking at a star.
During the intermission, I happened to run into Gyan. I wasn’t sure if I was going to see Hallie again, so I asked Gyan to let Hallie know that I had made it to the performance.
The second half of *Ariadne auf Naxos* was where the vocalists really had a chance to shine. And Hallie’s performance blew me away! She was spectacular – her vocal range was extraordinary; her role as a coquette had me laughing out loud; she had incredible stage presence. Hallie is a unique talent.
After the performance, I stayed around to see if Hallie would appear. I didn’t see her right away, but I got into conversation with two of the other opera singers and asked them to let Hallie know that Karen had made it to the show. As I was talking to them, they pointed to my left, and said, “There’s Hallie!”
I gave Hallie a hug, and I got to tell her, in person, how wonderful her performance was. Then Scott and I, star-struck fans that we are, made sure to get our picture with her.
Hallie Schmidt. Remember that name. This woman is going to be famous one day. And I got to see her at the beginning of her career!
Driving away from that world-class performance in beautiful McIntyre Hall, past the strip malls and Starbucks on College Way, and in twenty minutes back in our home in rural Skagit County, seemed sort of surreal to me.
My ego gets pulled into the false narratives – wanting to set the record straight – who started what and who did it first and who is the most violent and who is the worst.
And my ego’s input feeds the beast, feeds the narrative, feeds the hate-feast. It becomes a finger-pointing frenzy of sleights and wrongs and fear, with everyone only hearing what they want to hear.
I think I’ll get off of this crazy ride. I think I’ll focus on what’s true. I think I’ll spend my time and energy in loving you and you and YOU.
When I was going through a clinical depression in 2007-2008, one of the most prominent symptoms for me was a debilitating, overwhelming feeling of guilt – I felt unworthy, undeserving of joy, ashamed of my human foibles and flaws, afraid I might unintentionally say or do something that would hurt someone else. I contemplated ending my life because I thought – in my unhealthy mental state – that it would make life easier for others if I just wasn’t here.
So I speak from a place of personal experience when I say: Let’s STOP SHAMING EACH OTHER. Let’s stop throwing guilt on each other. We don’t know what anyone else is going through – but, trust me, EVERYone here is working their way through some challenge(s). What we see on each other’s FB walls is just a slice of a person’s life, and some people choose not to publish their struggles here – but that doesn’t mean they don’t have them.
Let’s assume that EVERYone could do with some kindness and tenderness and grace – even those people who seem to have “perfect” lives.
Went up to Concrete today to pay a visit to the 5b’s Bakery. 5b’s owner, Em, came out of her office and sat down with me for a coze. It was so good to see Em again – she is a remarkable person who’s led a remarkable life, and it’s always fun to talk with her. Em introduced me to her sweet therapy-pup-in-training, Hugo, and gave me the okay to take Hugo’s picture. And a friendly young man named James who hails from NY and works as a forest ranger gave me the okay to take HIS picture, too.
As I drove home from Concrete, I impulsively turned off onto the Baker Lake Road to see what I might see. I ended up at the little Shadow of the Sentinels interpretive trail. This trail holds special memories for me – it was my first hike with my youngest son when he was a week old; when my dad was 100, his care-giver, Gwen, loaded her van with Dad, another man in their adult family home, me, and a couple of wheelchairs and took us all up to the trail because she knew Dad and Joe were in desperate need of a trip to the mountains; and when my granddaughter was not quite one, she’d hiked the trail, too. I was surrounded in sweet memories: Xander trying to focus his new eyes on the trees; Dad pointing to the tops of those trees and checking to make sure I’d gotten a picture of the forest canopy; and my little granddaughter toddling along the boardwalk, holding her mama’s hand, and grinning at her papa who waited for her at the end of the trail – a trail he’d hiked with me when his little brother was just a week old.
And, honestly, it felt like none of those memories were separated from me by time at all – all the love is still with me, and I can still feel the joy of those moments surrounding me in the woods.
For most of my drive home, I had no one behind me or in front of me on the road. It was lovely. I was in my own little bubble.
I stopped off at the Otter Beans Coffee stand for a lavender green iced tea. The young man in front of me in line was fun. He’s a manager for the local casino and took out his phone to show me some of the shows that will be appearing there soon. “Whose Live Anyway?” comedy show is coming soon – that looks like it will be fun.
I brought home more photos, some new memories, and a perfect lavender green iced tea made by Dani.
This morning’s message from the Cosmos told me to take a walk on the Padilla Dike Trail. I have come to trust this Cosmic voice when I hear it – it always seems to lead me to the exactly right place I need to be. So I grabbed my camera and headed out to the trail.
Sometimes I just walk as far as the shed, but this time the voice told me to go to the cluster of benches about half-way down the trail. So I did that. And as I was looking out at the water, I saw a little head bob up and then disappear. I recognized what I was looking at right away – an otter! I LOVE otters! Transfixed, I waited for the head to surface again – and then I saw a whole family of otters was out there – I think I counted four of them! They moved towards me through the water – diving and rising – until they were right in front of me! One of them emerged from the water, happily chomping on a fish. Every now and then one of them would swim close to me and look at me – curious what I was all about. I was charmed.
I yelled to a man coming down the trail, “Otters!” And he came over to join me in the otter magic. Because it was a little cold this morning, I had thrown on my knitted pink hat (dating back to 2017) before I’d started on my walk. Now the man smiled down at me and told me he liked my hat. I asked him if he knew when I’d first worn this, and he nodded his head, and said he did. And this led to a conversation about politics – but it wasn’t one of those hopeless, depressing conversations about politics – this conversation was full of humor and hope.
The man, Pat, was a Vietnam vet, and he talked a bit about that. Then I saw he was wearing a jacket with a mountain logo on it, and I asked him if he was a climber. I learned he’d climbed Denali when he and his family had lived in Alaska, and I told him I’d climbed Rainier, Baker, Adams, and Hood in my younger days. And THEN I saw he was wearing a WSU cap, and he told me his daughter had gone to school there, and he was a Coug now. I told him my son and I had both gone there, too.
By this time the little family of otters had swum away, and I could see them scampering on the shore of the island not far out in the bay. I pointed them out to Pat, and we watched them for a little longer.
I asked Pat if I could take his photo – it would probably end up on FB, I told him, and asked him if that was okay. Pat told me he wasn’t on FB, but his wife was – and he’d let her find him there.
After Pat and I parted, I began my walk back to my car – I think I was smiling the whole way. I was so grateful to have seen the otters this morning. Magic!
The magic wasn’t done, yet, though. I discovered a whole ‘nother place I’d never been before – but I’ll put that in the next post. (Photos by Karen Molenaar Terrell.)
For I am persuaded that neither Facebook, PayPal, Fox, or AI, nor trolls, nor bots, nor politicians who lie, – not conglomorates nor fake news nor oligarchs nor gazillionaires – can separate us from the power of Love that is everywhere. -Karen Molenaar Terrell (at 5 in the morning and still half-asleep)
I typed this poem out on my Facebook wall early in the morning, and when I came back to check on it, I found a little box underneath it, with the question: “What does this poem mean?” I was curious what Meta’s AI would have to say about a poem that talks about Meta’s AI. (Which is META by definition.) I found myself laughing out loud when I read when Meta AI had to say about the poem. It was kind of sweet. It actually guessed correctly my intent. It lacked any human ego and took no offense. It was kind of charming. Here’s a screenshot:
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 