It Feels Good to Be an American Again

In the week after our midterm elections, I turned on the television to watch my beloved Seahawks football team play the Buccaneers in Munich, Germany. At the beginning of the game, members of the armed services unfurled a huge American flag and held it above the field, making it ripple in waves. And then a Black servicewoman stepped up to the microphone and sang our national anthem. I found myself singing along with her: “…o’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave…” and, for the first time in a long time, I felt the truth of those words. My country has been through a lot in the last six years – the biggest trauma being the day of the violent insurrection on January 6th, 2021. But this week it feels, for me, like my country is finally rising from the ashes of that horrible day.

Later in the game, when the German members of the crowd in the stadium joined voices to sing John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” tears filled my eyes.

It feels good to be an American again.

(The photo below is of Sean and his daughter, Imani, taken by me at a local 2013 Fourth of July footrace – it just feels like it belongs here.)

Hugged in Love’s Sunshine

Earlier I posted, for my friends, a photo of an agate I found on a walk around the block. Here’s a little more about that:

I’d been watching the Seahawks-Buccaneers football game on television. It was down to the last two minutes. I could see my beloved Seahawks were not going to win this one, but I was, weirdly, okay with that. They’d played well in the last half and I was proud of them.

It looked beautiful outside, though – sunny and autumnal – and I didn’t want to waste even one more moment in front of the TV. So I zipped up my coat and went outside to see what I might find out in the great outdoors.

I lifted my face to the sun and just soaked in the warmth. I actually felt like I was breathing in sunshine (maybe I’ll write a poem about that some time). And… I felt this… rightness with the world. I felt immediately enveloped in Love – pure, whole, unlimited, universal, undiluted Love. And I thought of my friends and family and brought all of the people I know into that hug of Love with me.

And then I looked down onto the street, and found this agate just sitting there, waiting for me, glowing up at me in the sunshine.


They Can’t Buy Us Anymore

They can’t buy us anymore.

It was that anti-Patty Murray ad that Our American Century paid for – that ad snarkily mocking Sen. Patty Murray for voting to support LGBTQ+ rights and student loan forgiveness; criticizing her for supporting teaching the history of the Holocaust and slavery; and for denouncing white supremacy in the military – that made me realize how out-of-touch gazaillionaire conservatives are with the rest of us. After seeing that ad I realized that the people who paid for that ad either A) assume that everyone else sees the world the way they do, or B) assume that most American citizens are ignorant and uninformed racist/misogynistic/homophobic/me-firsters and, cynically, play to that group.

There seems to be this assumption made by the people who paid for that ad that we are all naturally inclined to be greedy, fearful, uncaring, and to think only of ourselves. But I don’t think they’re right. I think most people are drawn to what’s true and honest and fair. I think most people want to help others and I think it’s natural for people to be kind.

As Mary Baker Eddy writes in the textbook for Christian Science, Science and Health: “There is but one real attraction, that of Spirit. The pointing of the needle to the pole symbolizes this all-embracing power or the attraction of God, divine Mind.”

I see progress in my country towards equity and fairness. I have hope for America and Americans.

A Cat in My Lap

I was in some pain last night – I think it was from the digging and planting and hauling I did yesterday- and I couldn’t sleep. I came downstairs and sang the hymns Mom used to sing to me when I was a little girl and wasn’t feeling well. I could picture her face and hear her voice and feel her love as I sang to myself and it was comforting. I began to feel better and the pain faded away.

And as I was feeling full of gratitude for that, Sparky Cat suddenly jumped up and lay down next to me, leaned his head against my lap, and let me pet him. For you to understand what that meant to me you need to know that Sparky was a feral kitty when Scott brought him into our house five years ago, and he’s still very wary of being too close to people. He likes belly rubs from Scott and sometimes he’ll sit next to my chair and let me pet his head, but he’s not one of those cats that jumps in your lap and will allow himself to be picked up. He is skittish about too much contact. So this was huge!

In the Body of Life

and maintained
by the body of Life –
we are nothing less
than the whole
of Love
held in the never-ending
with all that is Good
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Blue Cosmos by Karen Molenaar Terrell

New Review for *The Madcap Christian Scientist: All Things New*

Someone wrote a new review on Goodreads for one of the books in my Madcap Christian Scientist series, The Madcap Christian Scientist: All Things New. I so appreciate it when folks take the time to do this for authors. Thank you to Katherine A.

Katherine wrote:

“Loved the familiar writing. I settled into book 3 after devouring books 1 and 2. The author’s humor was spontaneous and contagious, and dare I say that word again I’ve used way too much….familiar. As someone who often finds herself at the intersection of the human and the divine scratching my head,, The series gave me encouragement and permission to look at things a little differently.”

Katherine A’s review of The Madcap Christian Scientist

Nothing Can Stop the Magic

I am mostly oblivious about what I look like these days. I take a quick look in the mirror in the morning and then go about my day. This seems to work for me. But yesterday I saw a photo of me taken by Scotty as I walked through the Longmire parking lot, unaware I was being photographed – and…it really depressed me – I was looking at an old lady and I was like, “Who IS that person?!” (Scotty didn’t see what I saw in the photo – he told me I looked “cute,” but I saw something different.)

I almost stayed in bed this morning. Embarrassed about presenting myself to the world. But here’s what happened instead:

I thought about what the voice of the Cosmos has been telling me in the middle of the night for the last year: “You are not a body; you are a part of my body.” I realized I could make a choice to not let mortal ego impose itself on me. It hit me that – although I maybe can’t instantly change the appearance of my physical form – I can instantly change my attitude, my thoughts, my mental approach to life: My joy isn’t dependent on my physical form, or what others think of me, or my age or gender or weight. I don’t have to stop having adventures or living my life or sharing joy with others because I’ve gotten older. There are no limitations to joy or love or kindness.

“Oh! Someone said the snow geese are back! Let’s go check that out!” I said to myself.

I got dressed and got in the car. I’ve been listening to the same CD for the last six months, and thought maybe it was time to change it out – but I realized I’d brought my other CDs to Scott’s car when we went on our trip to Rainier. So I settled in to listen to my old faithful CD, and pretty soon I was on the road to Fir Island. And pretty soon I saw a pair of eagles sitting in a tree. And pretty soon I saw some way cool old barns. And pretty soon I heard snow geese honking in the air above me – and saw flocks of them winging through the sky in perfect formation. Such joy to see them again!

I decided to stop at the supermarket on the way home. When I was loading my groceries into my car, I moved a bag that had been sitting in there for who knows how long and found it was filled with old CDs! There was a John Denver one in there that was still wrapped in its cellophane – it was priced at $5 and I’m thinking I must have picked it up as an impulse item somewhere and then forgotten about it. I stuck that baby in my CD player and listened to the folksy tunes of John Denver singing about climbing Colorado mountains and farming Kansas wheat fields and the country roads that lead to West Virginia. A flood of sweet memories came back: My friend, Perky, playing her John Denver Christmas album as we celebrated “Christmas in August” at Rainier; my friend, Renee, playing her John Denver “Rhymes and Reasons” record in our dorm hall; going to a John Denver concert in Seattle with my friend, Carol. And here was John Denver, singing , “Yes, and joy was just the thing that he was raised on/ Love is just the way to live and die…” in my car. John Denver, who died almost exactly 25 years ago, still lives in his music.

Magic! Nothing – not age or ego or even death – can stop the magic.

Photos below taken by Karen Molenaar Terrell in Skagit County on October 17, 2022.

10-17-22: Eagle in a tree near Bow, WA. Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.

Skiing in My Head

I wake from sleep.
It’s still dark outside.
The tip of my nose is cold
from the October breeze
coming through our window.
The cold is rejuvenating,
rather than uncomfortable.
The morning chill suddenly
brings me back to a day
of downhill skiing.
In a flash it’s all there –
the waiting in line
to get on the chair,
and then in the chair,
skis dangling over the slopes
below – the whir of the chair lift
as it brings me up for my first run –
the anticipation and thrill
as I get closer and closer
to exiting the chair and “hitting
the slopes.” And then my skis
are on packed snow.
I’m pushing off – feeling my skis
bumping over the ruts and tracks
until they find a smooth stretch
and my body remembering
how to move over ice and snow.
As I lie in bed I feel my leg
muscles contracting and flexing
as my memory takes me over moguls
and swooshing down the Daisy run.

I’m fully awake now. I’m not out of bed, yet,
but I’ve already had a day of skiing
in my head in my bed.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

A Sharing for Mental Health Day

I’m so glad I didn’t give up on life all those years ago. When I think about all the new friends I never would have met; all the sunrises and sunsets I would have missed; all the adventures and travels I never would have had; and the hugs and smiles I wouldn’t have been able to exchange – I’m just so glad I made the choice to stick around.

Facebook sent me a message, suggesting that as a “community leader” (?) I post something for Mental Health Day – which is, I’ve learned, tomorrow.

So I went back to some of the posts I’ve written about my own experiences with depression – my first experience in 2007-2008; and my second experience in 2011-2012. The first experience with depression came from something “inside” me – I felt I “lost” myself for a year and had to work to find myself again. I came to see during this time that if I could love others, I had worth. If others could love me, there was hope. (I recount my “Year of Insanity” in The Madcap Christian Scientist’s Middle Book.)

My second experience with depression was extrinsic, rather than intrinsic – this one was caused by external stress that, I thought, I had no control over and that, I thought, I was powerless to change. I felt trapped and couldn’t see any way to make things better for myself.

Unlike my first experience with mental illness, this time I did see a professional for help. When I called my health insurance hotline to get help, the woman on the other end of the line asked me a series of questions. One of the last questions she asked me was also one of the hardest questions I’ve ever had to answer in my life: “Have you contemplated suicide in the last week?” I was so ashamed and embarrassed. I told her I had. She asked me if I’d contemplated a method. I told her I had.

She asked me why I hadn’t gone through with it, and I told her I hadn’t gone through with it because “I am a chicken shit, and I thought it might hurt.” She started laughing then – which is the best thing she could have done for me – and told me I’d given her a really healthy answer.

The woman on the other end of the phone found a counselor for me, but when I called the counselor’s office I learned this woman was a psychologist – and I told her office that I didn’t really need a psychologist – my problem wasn’t that serious – I just needed a counselor. The receptionist said she’d have the psychologist call me back. When the psychologist called me back, she assured me that she was, basically, just a counselor with a doctor’s degree and encouraged me to come in and see her. So I did.

My first session with her I just sat there and blubbered. My second session with her I blubbered some more and told her all the things I was expected to change in my current teaching position – things I had no control over – and I didn’t see how I could change “…and…and…”

The psychologist asked me, “Do you plan to go back to that position?” I told her I didn’t see how I could. And then she asked me a question that completely changed the course of my life: “Then why do you need to fix these things?”

Whoah. It was like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders in that moment. I saw that these things weren’t my problem anymore. I didn’t need to worry about them!

From that moment on our sessions together became all about creating a new life for myself. She helped me recognize the things in my life that were making me, literally, crazy, and that I needed to throw out; and she helped me recognize the things I needed to bring more into my life – creative things, artsy things, Soul-things. She helped me see there WERE options and I wasn’t trapped.

I ended up being led to apply for a new teaching position – working with students who were dealing with challenges and obstacles in their young lives that most of us have never had to experience. I found a healthy purpose in my professional life again, and a renewed love for teaching.

From this experience, I learned that we’re never trapped, and there’s always an answer – even if we can’t see it right away. As my wonderful friend, Laura Lavigne, says: “There are things we know we know. There are things we know we don’t know. And there are a whole lot of things we don’t know we don’t know – and THAT is where the magic is!”

This experience happened more than a decade ago. I’m retired now. I’m so glad I was able to retire from my career feeling good about teaching, and about myself. I got to give the keynote speech and sing a song at the graduation that year, and celebrate the beauty of education. And all of that happened because I found the courage to make that phone call, and find help for myself. Talking with a professional helped me unlock the mental bars and see the possibilities for my life.

-Karen Molenaar Terrell

“Unthinkably good things can happen even late in the game. It’s such a surprise.”
Under the Tuscan Sun

My Feet Are Stretching Like Happy Cats

My feet have been attached to sandals
most of the summer (fear of stepping on prickles
in bare feet). But on the first day of autumn
I walk barefoot in the field, and it tickles
my sole and my soul – where the grass is green
I feel my feet sinking into its soft sheen
and where the grass is dry I expect it to feel
brittle and scratchy, but it doesn’t! My feet
are walking on golden velvet. It feels luxurious.
My feet are stretching
like happy cats
on the grass
underneathe them.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell

Karen in her twirly dress. Photo by Xander Terrell.