My thanks to employee Robby at Fred Meyer’s who stopped what he was doing to come help me get the item I wanted from the toppiest shelf. Robby was very cool.
I took a moment to tell a father with an unhappy child in his cart what a good job he was doing – I saw his patience and calm as he talked his son through a difficult moment. He grinned and thanked me for noticing.
As I was going through the checkout I chatted and connected with my cashier, Patty, who is a former neighbor of mine. Then I turned to the woman sitting in a wheelchair behind me in line, and said, “Hello!” I think I took her by surprise because she got a big grin on her face before giving me a hello back. The man who was with her – her son maybe? – smiled at me, too. The woman said to Patty (referring to me), “She’s chatty.” And Patty laughed and explained that we used to be old neighbors. “We go waaay back,” I said, laughing.
I got to the door to exit, and there was another woman there, preparing to head out into the parking lot. It was dumping rain out there, and the woman and I looked at the rain and then at each other and started spontaneously laughing. “Hoods up!” I said, bringing my hood over my head. She pointed out that she didn’t have a hood. I gave her a quick nod, like we were comrades going into battle, and wished her good luck. She smiled and returned my good wishes.
His words angered the bigots, the bullies, the hateful, and greedy. When he forced them to look at themselves and see their own flaws, he triggered their hate. When he told them to love their neighbors, feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and heal the sick, they accused him of all the evil they saw in themselves. He agitated their egos, stirred the stagnant waters, brought cleansing sunlight to the mold of their thoughts. And their little egos were not happy about this. “What have we to do with thee? Leave us alone!” they cried. But he loved them too much to be silent and let them be.
His unyielding love for all God’s children exposed their own hate and incensed them. He was spat on, struck, ridiculed, and crucified for his love.
But he rose on the third day and made breakfast for those who loved him.
Because Love always wins. – Karen Molenaar Terrell
“If you venture upon the quiet surface of error and are in sympathy with error, what is there to disturb the waters? What is there to strip off error’s disguise?
“If you launch your bark upon the ever-agitated but healthful waters of truth, you will encounter storms. Your good will be evil spoken of. This is the cross. Take it up and bear it, for through it you win and wear the crown.” – Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 254
“The “still, small voice” of scientific thought reaches over continent and ocean to the globe’s remotest bound. The inaudible voice of Truth is, to the human mind, “as when a lion roareth.” It is heard in the desert and in dark places of fear. It arouses the “seven thunders” of evil, and stirs their latent forces to utter the full diapason of secret tones. Then is the power of Truth demonstrated, – made manifest in the destruction of error.” Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 559
While we wait for the world to improve, we might as well hope. While we wait for wars to end, we might as well love. While we wait to die, we might as well live. – Karen Molenaar Terrell
Photo of the Indian Memorial at Little Bighorn by Karen Molenaar Terrell.
Quiet and still, before the family is up, I turn the lights on the Christmas tree and sit in its cheery glow. I wrap myself all up in the soft blanket of Love and feel Her enveloping the world in peace and hope.
I sip my lemon ginger tea with honey, and contemplate Christmases past when the sons were youngsters, and my parents were still with us. Yesterday I was feeling sad about the absence of parents and friends who’ve gone on – but in this moment I feel them still with me and I hug them all in my thoughts and smile at their still-nearness.
Love is never lost. All the good of then is still with me here. Karen Molenaar Terrell
So I plucked up a copy of my Christmas book (literally called The Madcap Christian Scientists’s Christmas Book) sitting by my laptop so’s I could look for things to share. And the book flipped to this page and I realized this was the copy I’d given to Moz and Dad when I’d first published it – when they’d passed it had come back to me. And there was a note from Mom! It was like she was right here, speaking to me. I’d really been missing her lately, so to find this message from her felt cosmic to me. I don’t think I’d ever seen this note before – it was like finding a new treasure.
Christmas Eve, 1988. I was in a funk. I couldn’t see that I was making much progress in my life. My teaching career seemed to be frozen, and I was beginning to think my husband and I would never own our own home or have children. The world seemed a very bleak and unhappy place to me. No matter how many batches of fudge I whipped up or how many times I heard Bing Crosby sing “White Christmas,” I couldn’t seem to find the Christmas spirit.
I was washing the breakfast dishes, thinking my unhappy thoughts, when I heard gunshots coming from the pasture behind our house. I thought it was the neighbor boys shooting at the seagulls again and, all full of teacherly harrumph, decided to take it upon myself to go out and “have a word with them.”
But after I’d marched outside I realized that it wasn’t the neighbor boys at all. John, the dairy farmer who lived on the adjoining property, was walking away with a rifle, and an animal (a calf, I thought) was struggling to get up in the field behind our house. Every time it would push up on its legs it would immediately collapse back to the ground.
I wondered if maybe John had made a mistake and accidentally shot the animal, so I ran out to investigate and found that the animal was a dog. It had foam and blood around its muzzle. She was vulnerable and helpless – had just been shot, after all – but instead of lashing out at me or growling as I’d expect an injured animal to do, she was looking up at me with an expression of trust and seemed to be expecting me to take care of her.
“John!” I yelled, running after the farmer. He turned around, surprised to see me. “John, what happened?” I asked, pointing back towards the dog.
A look of remorse came into his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry you saw that, Karen. The dog is a stray and it’s been chasing my cows. I had to kill it.”
“But John, it’s not dead yet.”
John looked back at the dog and grimaced. “Oh man,” he said. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go finish the job. Put it out of its misery.”
By this time another dog had joined the dog that had been shot. It was running around its friend, barking encouragement, trying to get its buddy to rise up and escape. The sight of the one dog trying to help his comrade broke my heart. I made a quick decision. “Let me and my husband take care of it.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded and he agreed to let me do what I could for the animal.
Unbeknownst to me, as soon as I ran out of the house my husband, knowing that something was wrong, had gotten out his binoculars and was watching my progress in the field. He saw the look on my face as I ran back. By the time I reached our house he was ready to do whatever he needed to do to help me. I explained the situation to him, we put together a box full of towels, and he called the vet.
As we drove his truck around to where the dog lay in the field, I noticed that, while the dog’s canine companion had finally left the scene (never to be seen again), John had gone to the dog and was kneeling down next to her. He was petting her, using soothing words to comfort her, and the dog was looking up at John with that look of trust she’d given me. John helped my husband load her in the back of the truck and we began our drive to the vet’s.
I rode in the back of the truck with the dog as my husband drove, and sang hymns to her. As I sang words from one of my favorite hymns from the Christian Science Hymnal– “Everlasting arms of Love are beneathe, around, above” – the dog leaned against my shoulder and looked up at me with an expression of pure love in her blue eyes.
Once we reached the animal clinic, the veterinarian came out to take a look at her. After checking her over he told us that apparently a bullet had gone through her head, that he’d take care of her over the holiday weekend – keep her warm and hydrated – but that he wasn’t going to give her any medical treatment. I got the distinct impression that he didn’t think the dog was going to make it.
My husband and I went to my parents’ home for the Christmas weekend, both of us praying that the dog would still be alive when we returned. For me, praying for her really meant trying to see the dog as God sees her. I tried to realize the wholeness and completeness of her as an expression of God, an idea of God. I reasoned that all the dog could experience was the goodness of God – all she could feel is what Love feels, all she could know is what Truth knows, all she could be is the perfect reflection of God. I tried to recognize the reality of these things for me, too, and for all of God’s creation.
She made it through the weekend, but when we went to pick her up the vet told us that she wasn’t “out of the woods, yet.” He told us that if she couldn’t eat, drink, or walk on her own in the next few days, we’d need to bring her back and he’d need to put her to sleep.
We brought her home and put her in a big box in our living room, with a bowl of water and soft dog food by her side. I continued to pray. In the middle of the night I got up and went out to where she lay in her box. Impulsively, I bent down and scooped some water from the dish into her mouth. She swallowed it, and then leaned over and drank a little from the bowl. I was elated! Inspired by her reaction to the water, I bent over and grabbed a glob of dog food and threw a little onto her tongue. She smacked her mouth together, swallowed the food, and leaned over to eat a bit more. Now I was beyond elated! She’d accomplished two of the three requirements the vet had made for her!
The next day I took her out for a walk. She’d take a few steps and then lean against me. Then she’d take a few more steps and lean. But she was walking! We would not be taking her back to the veterinarian.
In the next two weeks her progress was amazing. By the end of that period she was not only walking, but running and jumping and chasing balls. Her appetite was healthy. She was having no problems drinking or eating.
But one of the most amazing parts of this whole Christmas blessing was the relationship that developed between this dog and the man who had shot her. They became good friends. The dog, in fact, became the neighborhood mascot. (And she never again chased anyone’s cows.)
What the dog brought to me, who had, if you recall, been in a deep funk when she entered our lives, was a sense of the true spirit of Christmas – the Christly spirit of forgiveness, hope, faith, love. She brought me the recognition that nothing, absolutely nothing, is impossible to God.
We named our new dog Christmas because that is what she brought us that year.
Within a few years all those things that I had wondered if I would ever have as part of my life came to me – a teaching job, children, and a home of our own. It is my belief that our Christmas Dog prepared my heart to be ready for all of those things to enter my life.
Here’s a link to the sermon I gave at the Skagit Unitarian Universalist Fellowship (SUUF) last Sunday, if you’re interested in listening to it. Topic: Choosing Love. https://suuf.podbean.com/e/choosing-love/
I admit I was nervous about traveling to LAX this week. I was flying with Alaska Airlines, and they’d had a spot of trouble last week. Also I was concerned there might be a dearth of air traffic controllers – seeing as how these heroic folks haven’t been paid for the last week I wouldn’t have blamed any of them for leaving to find work that would provide them with income. So it was with some trepidation – and a lot of prayer – that I I started my journey to Los Angeles on Tuesday morning.
There had been moments before my trip when I’d had this sense of certainty that Love was with me, preparing my way for me, leading me. I was motivated by Love to travel to California to see my son, daughter-in-law, and grandbaby, and I knew this was a right desire, and could only lead to Good. At those moments, I determined that my mission was to shine love on everyone I encountered on my trip. But, every now and then, a news headline would hit my newsfeed that had me doubting again. There was a battle going on in my thoughts between fear and happy anticipation to see my loved ones again.
My husband drove me the hour and a half to Sea-Tac (bless him!) and dropped me off at the departures door. Now it was just me and Love. It took practically no time to find the security line – and I was, like, the second person in line! I got through the whole security line in probably three minutes!
Once I was on the other side, I went in search of a restroom. There was a flight attendant in the restroom, standing by the sinks, cleaning out her bag – apparently she’d spilled something in it. I asked her if she was going to LAX, and she said she was – I told her we were going to be on the same plane then. Her job, I said, was one of the hardest jobs in the world – flight attendants have to serve and take care of everyone else first, but they’re dealing with the same difficulties as everyone else on the flight. She smiled and nodded and said that yup, we’re all in the same boat together. I asked her if she’d had any problems last week while Alaska Airlines’ technology wasn’t working, and she said she and her crew had been grounded 12 hours someplace. Yikes! But here she was – ready to get on another plane and serve her passengers. Another hero. She indicated – pointing to her bag – she was feeling a little frazzled at the moment, but I told her (and this was true) she totally looked put together, and I felt reassured knowing she was going to be on the plane with me.
An hour later, when I boarded my flight, I saw Sheryl there, greeting people at the door, smiling. I said, “We made it!” and she started laughing.
The flight to Los Angeles was incredibly quick and smooth – I think we landed early. And when I got there, my beautiful daughter-in-law and precious granddaughter were there to pick me up. My daughter-in-law set my little granddaughter down about ten yards away from me and let her race to me, a big grin on her face. I scooped her up and held her close and felt myself in heaven.
I was only in LA for three days – but it was chock full of joy and hope and good people. It was chock full of love. And it was so good to be with my son, daughter-in-law, and grandbaby again.
We went to the neighborhood playground and I climbed the equipment with my grandbaby and enjoyed watching her work her way around the big toys; We stopped at Shawn’s Pumpkin Patchhttps://shawnspumpkinpatch.com/ , where we met Whitney and Dennis, and I had fun volunteering to take family photos for the other tourists; We strolled down the Santa Monica Pier, and stepped into the photo booth for some pics; We went to the Cafe Gratitude for dinner and met sweet Kiara pup standing in line with her human there; The next day we went to the The Butcher’s Daughter for lunch – that day I was proudly wearing my Mariners shirt and I asked one of the servers if he was a Dodger’s fan – he said no, but I found out he was a Yankees fan, and I had fun talking baseball with him for a quick minute; I bought fresh-squeezed lemonades from Mike at Hot Dog on a Stick in Santa Monica – and I really wanted to give Mike a tip for his genuine kindness to me, but he wouldn’t take one – he graciously allowed me to snap his photo, though, and laughed when I introduced myself as a Boomer named Karen – passing my Karen test; Then my daughter-in-law, grandbaby, and I sat and listened to Ian Bradley and his drummer make music next to the Hot Dog on a Stick restaurant while we sipped our lemonades. I dropped a donation in their box and got thanked and twirled for my humble gift.
The morning of my last day there, my daughter-in-law brought me to a music-in-the-park event for toddlers hosted by the musician, Ryoji. And oh! Once again, I felt I was in heaven. The music, the youngsters, the parents and grandparents and nannies – of every color, race, and ethnicty – enjoying music and dancing together and showing love to one another – isn’t this heaven?!
In the afternoon my son drove me to LAX for my trip back to Sea-Tac. We gave each other big hugs goodbye, reminded each other we’d see each other again soon at Christmas, and I headed for the security line.
I got in line behind a woman who just radiated good will and kindness. I told her I’m always a little nervous about going through security – afraid I’ve accidentally committed some security transgression (this time I accidentally wore my cellphone into the full body scan, but – thank goodness! – the TSA official clocked the cellphone before he scanned me – he said cellphones are 99% of the reason the scanner alarms go off – yikes!). My new friend, Alia, laughed and yawned and said she was too tired to be nervous about that today. We got to talking then, and learned we were both on the same flight to Seattle! How cosmic! I followed Alia through the security line and then we both went separate directions in search of food. But we met up again in the waiting area before we boarded the plane, and got to talking about our families, the goodness of people, and kindness. Heaven again!
I met so many wonderful new friends on my trip! And every place I went I found heaven.
Hello, dear ones! This Sunday I will be speaking at the Skagit UU Fellowship at 10:30. The topic is “Choose Love.” You are invited to attend in person or via zoom. The fellowship hall is located at 500 W Section Street in Mount Vernon, Washington (right behind the post office). Here’s the zoom link: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/83222201810
It would be lovely to see you this Sunday and celebrate Love together!
Love, Karen
Let’s…
Choose Love over hate. Choose Love over fear. Choose Love over selfishness. Choose Love.
because…
Fear is not the boss of me. Hate is not the boss of me. Selfishness is not the boss of me. Love is my boss. -Karen Molenaar Terrell
Today may your confidence in the power of kindness bring assurance to the lonely and scared. May your unassailable joie de vivre transform the bitter, the bossy, and the bullying. May the stodgy, stuffy, and stingy be transformed by your irrepressible good humor. May you bring laughter to those in sorry need of a good guffaw. May those who mistake meanness for strength be edified by your example of unwavering good will and courage.
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 