I step out of the door for a walk
around the block
and am instantly surrounded in the magic
of a spring evening in the ‘hood –
immersed in birsong and frogsong
and the fragrance of spring flowers
as the cool air embraces them
and in the sky a star twinkles at me
connecting me to the divine –
to a cosmos bigger than my problems,
enveloping me in Its peace and joy
I am a part of something amazing
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
The son and I talked about the tree
on the drive home.
850 years it had lived on this planet!
It had been seeded in the late 1100’s –
around the time of Genghis Khan
and England’s King John,
before Mansua Musa or Marco Polo,
da Vinci or Michelangelo.
Before Henry VIII, Elizabeth I, Shakespeare,
Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr. or Mooji.
It rooted into the soil as a tender seedling
and grew during the Black Plague; grew
while the ash from Krakatoa blocked the sun;
and while factories sprouted up across
the northern hemisphere. It grew while
soldiers fought to end slavery; while
World War I and World War II raged
across Europe; while our planet warmed;
and while division and despair
made humans sometimes wonder
if our planet was beyond repair.
It grew.
Quietly, without fanfare or medals
or approval or star ratings –
it lived, created oxygen, and grew –
because that is what trees do.
And maybe when it was older and sturdy,
indigenous children played in its bends
and called it “friend.”
I like to think that’s true.
Yesterday I visited my wise friend, Charles.
He could tell I was scared about our world.
“Just be present,” he said. “Be a tree.”
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
(From *Looking Forward: More Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist*.)
https://www.amazon.com/Looking-Forward-Adventures-Christian-Scientist-ebook/dp/B0C3G5H57Q/
Baptized in sunshine
Life blessing me in birdsong
Spring is on the way
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
T’was ten days afore Christmas and all o’er the Earth
human kinds were scrambling to find Christmassy mirth.
We looked under our beds and up to the North Pole,
looked in our attics and in our cookie dough bowls.
We looked to see if we could order the spirit online
or find it at the supermarket or in a Christmassy pine.
We looked in the fridge and under our car seats,
looked for it in old movies and in peppermint treats.
And then we stopped and settled our searching thoughts,
and it occurred to us that Christmas couldn’t be bought,
and that it wasn’t hiding from us here or there –
Christmas was in this moment, in our hearts, and everywhere!
And the Christmas joy spilled out of us, joining the joy of the Cosmos,
reaching out with love to the darkest, farthest outpost.
And hope filled our hearts, and love broke down the walls.
And we heard the Cosmos proclaim: “On earth peace, good will to all!”
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
It says 3:33 on the clock beside the bed
and when I look at the clock sideways
I see birds flying on the canvas in my head.
I think, “Somewhere in the world a new life
has just been born!” I’m filled with hope –
not “hoping-for-the-best” hope, but expectancy-
of-good hope – hope bigger and vaster,
reaching me faster
than the speed of light.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Love’s celebration
feel the joy surrounding you
never-ending Life
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
This new day holds a promise
of opportunities
to do something good
see something beautiful
meet a new friend
have a good laugh
heal someone’s pain
find the magic
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
“To those leaning on the sustaining infinite, to-day is big with blessings.”
-Mary Baker Eddy
I can’t sleep and go
to my friends’ FB walls
treasure-hunting for hope;
for love that calls
to all creation; for jewels
of inspiration and wisdom
that go beyond human rules
and resonate with the rhythm
beating in my own heart.
And I bring back these gifts:
A poem about father-love;
A photo of a puppy nestled
in her new human’s arms;
A painting of a golden sunrise;
Posts about epic bike rides
and happy-together times;
Pictures from mountain climbs;
The blessing from a flute;
Photos of home-grown fruits;
and everywhere magic.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
There’s a large part of this story that’s not mine to share and I’ll leave to my friend to share if she wants. But I think I can share this part:
Looking back on Facebook at the history of our friendship, it looks like we met on November 8, 2018, and became immediate friends. I was taking my walk on the Bellingham boardwalk when I first met her. It was a cold day. She wore a hat, I remember. I recognized a kinship – I saw in her expression a shared experience. I opened my heart to hear her story and she poured her heart out to me. Heart-to-heart. I felt so privileged by that – by her trust in me.
I understood some of what she was going through – I’d gone through a similar experience about ten years before. I’m not sure what I said to her. I might have told her that I understood – that I’d been there, too – that I knew she was in a scary place – but that she was also in a really amazing place – that she was completely free to create a whole new life for herself and that I knew that was scary, but that I thought she’d find it was also really exhilarating. An adventure!
I went home and found her on FB and discovered we had a bunch of friends in common. That was cool. And I asked her to be my FB friend.
Through the last four years we’ve sometimes run into each other by magic – not purposefully, but always perfectly. We’ve come upon each other at rallies and in the supermarket and walking along a street. When it was my turn to get a COVID vaccine, I was a little freaked out, and I contacted my friend because I knew she was working at the vaccination site and I knew I could count on her to help walk me through what I had to do. She was a blessing to me during that time.
And today I ran into her at the supermarket. She shared with me that last weekend, through her new role at work, she was in a position to help someone who told her that she “most likely” had saved his life.
As she was sharing her story I started crying. And then she started crying. And we hugged and cried and laughed together. She asked me if I remembered where she was when we’d first met, and I nodded and said, “And now you’re saving lives!”
In the last few days, I’ve felt the Cosmos reaching out to me with hope and reassurance and love. I’m being constantly reminded of all the Good in the world. I’m so grateful for that.
I was feeling discouraged this morning. No, “discouraged” is an understatement for what I was feeling – what I was feeling was something beyond that. As I was posting on FB, my friend, Kathy, commented that she could use a hug and said she’d be working to register voters at the Mount Vernon YMCA. Coincidentally, I needed a hug, too. I also needed to get some groceries. So I got in Rosalita Ipswich O’Molenovich and drove, first, to the supermarket, and then to the YMCA.
When I got to the supermarket, I saw a man standing on a corner with a sign indicating he was in need. And the thought that came to me was, “I maybe don’t want to be on this planet right now, but maybe I can do some good while I AM here.” So I parked and walked over to the man and asked if I could get him something in the supermarket. He said he was really hungry, so I asked him if I could get him a sandwich, and he said yes. I bought my groceries – including TWO quarts of Paul Newman virgin lemonade – and then picked up a sandwich for the gentleman on the corner.
When I brought him his sandwich, I realized he was probably pretty thirsty, too – it’s hot here today – and I realized the second quart of lemonade was for him. He smiled and thanked me and took the sandwich and lemonade from me.
I was already feeling much better.
After the supermarket, I drove down to find Kathy at the YMCA to exchange a hug, and met a whole lot of other really cool people, too. There was young Roran with his rainbow drawings, a woman who helps victims of domestic violence, a couple people who work with Planned Parenthood, and folks from PFLAG of Skagit County. And meeting these people – brave and compassionate and caring people – has given me back my hope.
This is what happens when you give a little kid (me) a virtual pack of crayons. Rembrandt, I ain’t. But I needed something cheery on my wall, and I ain’t apologizing.
The promise will be fulfilled –
joy, peace, love, hope – all of
creation living in rainbow light.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 