Feeling unsettled.
What’s going on?
Scared of what might come.
Don’t think ahead. Focus on now.
Okay.
Can you breathe?
Yes.
Then do that. Be grateful for that.
Can you sing?
Yes.
Then use your voice and sing yourself a song.
Can you love?
Yes.
Then love. Love like there’s no tomorrow. Love like there’s only now.
Okay.
Feeling better?
Yes. Thank you, Karen.
Any time. I’m always here.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
She was trying to understand the unfathomable –
trying to find a reason and cause for the hate and insanity
the greed and racism, willful ignorance and inanity.
And finally she realized she was looking at it upside-down:
Trying to find a source for a story that’s not true
is like trying to find the reason fairies exist
or hobbits live in her shoe;
It’s like asking why Road Runner and Wiley Coyote
are always in a fight;
It’s like trying to find the source for darkness
instead of turning on a light.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(Photo by NASA.)
I wake in the early hours of the morning –
all is still and dark. I try to identify my feelings.
I am scared. I’m scared for the people detained
unlawfully in prisons. I fear for those in danger
in lands at war, and in my own nation. I’m scared.
I reach my thoughts out to my God, to Love.
The voice says, “I’m Here.”
Like, “I’m here with you.”
But also like, “I am Here – that is My name.”
And I respond, “I’m here, too.”
And for just a moment I have a glimmer
of the God Who is Here – all-present,
filling all space, always, with no possibility
of separation between Creation and Creator.
I see nothing can separate any of us from Love –
not governments, nor presidents, nor kings,
nor war.
I feel a weight lift from me.
I feel the power of Love with all Creation
and know no one is outside
the power of that Power –
the power of Here.
I wrap myself up in the peace
of the early hours of the morning
and rest in the arms of Love.
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
(I stumbled upon this old post from 2016 and thought it would work well in 2025, too.)
About once a week I walk into town to buy a hummus roasted veggie sandwich and to see my friend, Frank, who works at the sandwich place. Frank is gay. We’ve never talked about his gayness or my not-gayness or anyone’s whatever-ness in conversation – I mean – it’s not like people usually approach a new friend, shake hands, and introduce themselves by their labels – “Hi, I’m Karen and I’m a progressive bleeding heart liberal heterosexual female Christian Scientist of mostly European ancestry (although there might be some Basque Reptile Alien in there, too) – and how about you? What are your labels?” – but, yeah, Frank is gay. This week when Frank asked me how I was, I gave the usual, “I’m good. And how about you?” And he gave the usual, “I’m good.” But this time something made me stop and really look at Frank. And I asked, “Frank, how are you really?” Frank said it had been a rough week.
He said he’d been in a bar earlier in the week, and he’d heard people at the next table over saying – in deliberately loud voices so Frank could hear – “Yeah. Those people in Florida deserved it.” Frank had tried to remain civil to them – he and the bar-tender had had their own conversation – loud enough to be heard – about the terribleness of the tragedy. And the people at the next table spewed out some more hatred. And Frank wondered about them: Hadn’t they ever been targeted for being different in some way? Didn’t they know what that felt like?
I started tearing up. “Frank, where does that hate come from? I don’t understand it.” Frank shook his head sadly, and said he thought it came from ignorance – from people being afraid of what they don’t know. He said he leaves those people in the hands of the Lord – and he didn’t mean that in a vengeful way – but in a “God will help them” way.
I told Frank that I was with him. I told him that he wasn’t alone. And he thanked me and gave me a hug.
Later on I was thinking about what Frank had said – his wondering if those people had ever been targeted for being different – and it made me remember a time, years ago, when I’d been watching a local “town meeting” on television and I’d heard someone say that “All Christian Scientists should be lined up against a wall and shot.” It had been strange and disturbing to hear someone who didn’t know me wish me dead. It stuck with me. I learned something from that.
Anyone could become a target – hatred is a form of insanity, really, and it doesn’t have to make sense – maybe tomorrow it will be stubby people, or extra tall people, or people with green eyes, or left-handed people, who will become the targets.
I think when we take the time to get to know each other – to try to understand each other without judgment or condemnation – to listen to each other – when we take the time to get rid of our own ignorance – we are doing a lot to make the world a better place. It’s been said so many times, but I think it’s true: Love really IS the answer.
I went in search of joy –
trusting Love to lead me
to treasure beyond compare.
I found birds – cormorants,
ducks, swans, and geese –
calmly doing what birds do
and it brought me peace.
Joy!
I passed by places where
I’d spent time with loved ones
and happy memories filled
my soul and made me smile.
I remembered the love
and found the love was with me still.
Joy!
I passed a woman with a bag
of belongings on her back
and asked her if she needed a ride.
She pushed her bag in my car
and got into the passenger seat.
I asked her if she was hungry
and we went to the espresso stand
to find her something to eat.
The barista understood what we
were doing and gave my new friend
extra crackers and we smiled
conspiratorial kindness at each other.
Joy!
And as I drove my passenger to her
next destination she told me that God
had sent her on her journey today
with a message she’d had to deliver
to someone up the road.
And it came to me then that she’d
been a message delivered by Love
to ME today to help lighten my load.
Joy!
– Karen Molenaar Terrell
Magic!
I went in search of treasure today – looking for the things that bring me joy. I parked down near the Alaska Ferry Terminal in Fairhaven and walked up to 11th Street. Stopped in at Village Books and bought myself an anthology of Mary Oliver poems – joy! Then walked back down to Fairhaven Coffee, hoping I’d find Kenzie barista-ing to give her a copy of my latest book (she’s in it) – and she was there! Kenzie is studying to be a social studies teacher – and I was a social studies teacher for a good chunk of my career – so we talked shop for a while – joy! I walked up to the trail to the dog park and walked through the rookery – remembering when those nests were full of squawking tuft-headed babies – the memories brought me joy! Then I walked down to Marine Park and sat on the block where my 100-year-old dad had once sat and remembered our time together there – joy!
I took Chuckanut home. I passed a woman walking on the side of the road with a big bag full of her belongings. I pulled over to ask her if she needed a ride. She described where she needed to go in Burlington and I told her I could take her there, so she got in the car and I headed towards Burlington. On the way, I asked her if she was hungry. She said she’d had a banana today. I told her I could buy her something to eat at the Otter Bean Espresso down the road.
Ali was working at the espresso stand today, and I introduced her to my guest and explained that I wanted to buy her a meal. Ali’s face lit up. She went through the food options for my guest, who ended up choosing a cup of chili and a mocha. When Ali handed my new friend’s chili to her she let her know she’d added some extra crackers. Ali and I smiled big smiles at each other and I thanked her – joy!
I brought my new friend to her destination and then continued on to Fred Meyer’s for some quick shopping.
I ran into my old friend, Kim, from Youthnet there and we exchanged greetings. Then, as I was leaving, I saw Kelly, the parent of one of my former eighth graders, coming towards the store. Kelly was literally glowing with joy. She said she was there to work on fundraising for Meals on Wheels. She said working with that organization was something that meant a lot to her – it felt good to be part of it. Joy!
What an amazing day Love gave me today – so many gifts! So many opportunities for joy!
There was another time – almost exactly eight years ago now – when I was terrified and felt like I was facing challenges impossible to overcome. Both my parents were in the hospital – Mom on one floor, Dad on the floor above her. I’d just learned that Mom was not going to be allowed to return to her retirement community apartment because they couldn’t provide the medical care she’d need. I had made calls to assisted living places and to offices that provided in-home nursing care and learned that the cost of my mom’s care – combined with care for Dad – would cost $8000 or more a month. Their savings might buy them a couple months, but then I might need to get into my own retirement savings to care for them.
And beyond the money terror, I was feeling a deep grief. Mom was dying. My sweet mama was dying. No one would ever love me like Mom loved me, or know me as she had known me. I remember sobbing with hopelessness.
I talked with my husband about our options, and he supported me in my decision to have Mom brought to our home. He agreed to help me care for her. The social workers at the hospital were concerned for me – they kept asking me if this is what I really wanted to do, and I said yes. I didn’t know how we were going to do this – my husband and I were both working full-time then, and I wasn’t sure when we were going to actually be able to sleep. But I knew it was the right thing to do. I felt Love leading me to make this decision for Mom.
Mom was brought by ambulance to my home on President’s Day eight years ago. A hospice nurse from Hospice Northwest came to show Scott and me how to care for Mom. We weren’t sure how long we’d have with her – I think we were told she wasn’t expected to live more than six months – but… I picked up on the signs from the hospice nurse as she examined Mom that we probably didn’t have that long.
Mom and I spent the whole afternoon telling each other how much we loved each other. Mom – who’d always been one of the bravest people I’d ever known – was scared. I can’t remember any other time when I’d seen her scared. She asked me, “What happens when I die? Will I see you again?” And I told her that nothing could separate us from the love we have for each other. Love doesn’t die. I assured her we’d meet again. She nodded her head and seemed to accept my words as the truth. Later, as it got hard for her to speak, I asked her one more time if she loved me – I was greedy. And she looked at me with such intensity – her eyes on mine filled with love – and nodded her head. I will never forget that look in her eyes. I carry it with me still, and it reassures me.
That night I slept on the couch by her hospital bed. I had this beautiful dream full of butterflies and green fields and felt this sense of joy and peace and love brush by me. When I woke from this dream I realized Mom wasn’t struggling to breathe and I thought, “Oh, she’s okay. I don’t need to give her any medication right now.” And I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, and then I realized… I got out of bed and felt my mama, and she was cool. I went upstairs to tell Scott I thought she had passed, but I wasn’t sure. Scott came downstairs and felt her pulse, and said, “Moz is gone, Sweetie.”
The hospice nurse came and walked us through what we needed to do. I’ll always be grateful for our hospice nurses.
But now my thoughts turned to Dad – he was soon to be released from the hospital and I still didn’t know how we were going to give him the care he needed. He was 98 then and suffering from a kind of dementia – and I didn’t feel equipped with the skills to help him. I prayed. I prayed desperate prayers, and I went for a walk to try to find some peace. As I was walking, a rainbow suddenly arched over the field I was passing, and I felt Mom with me.
The social workers at the hospital asked me if I’d ever looked into adult family homes, and gave me a pamphlet with phone numbers. On the second call I felt I’d found the right place for Dad and when my brother and I stopped by to check it out we saw bird feeders and dogs and cats – and we knew Mom would have loved the woman who answered the door. Again, I felt Mom’s presence with us. We’d found the right place for Dad – and within his budget, too!
I learned something from that experience. The answers are always there – even when things seem impossible. I hadn’t know that adult family home even existed the day before – and now here it was! Just waiting for Dad! Love had this place waiting for him!
Dad lived another three years and the people in his adult family home became like family to us. They are still very dear to me.
And I still feel Mom and Dad with me. We’ve never been separated. Nothing can separate us from Love. We’re connected by Love, forever and ever. Amen.
I woke up at 2:00 in the morning, feeling scared for the world. I went downstairs to commune with the Cosmos and the cats. Sparky cat settled onto the sofa next to me, and blinked his reassurance. I heard Love say, “I’m right here.”
I went back to bed to sleep a little more, and when I got up I drove up to Fairhaven for my walk on the boardwalk. I haven’t been there for a week and I’ve really missed it. But it seemed empty when I got there – almost like a ghost town. I wondered if maybe the cold was keeping people away, or maybe we aren’t getting as many Canadian visitors as we normally do. It was kind of weird. But then a young woman carrying a cup of coffee smiled at me, and I heard Love say to me, “I’m right here with you.”
I took the boardwalk down to the coffee shop in Boulevard Park and ordered a mocha. I sat on my favorite high chair and swung my legs back and forth while I sipped my drink and toodled around on my phone and watched people. When I left the shop, the baristas called out, “Have a good day!” I thanked them, and then called back, “You, too!” They laughed and nodded their heads. And Love said, “I’m still here.”
Going back on the boardwalk towards Fairhaven was warmer – my back was against the wind. I saw a man coming my direction turn around and walk backwards, and I smiled at him and said, “That’s better, isn’t it?” He grinned and nodded and said it was great exercise to walk backwards, and it was also a lot warmer.
A sweet pup named Remi approached me for a scratch behind the ears. He looked like he was hobbling a little and his human explained that he’d just been through two surgeries – one for his hip and another for his back. She said he’d been paralyzed at some point. But here he was – walking! I told Remi’s human that I was glad he had her, and she said she was glad she had him.
And Love said, “I’m right here.”
I had already decided I was going to treat myself to a breakfast at the Colophon. I hoped I’d get my favorite seat in the corner – but I’d take whatever I was offered. I also hoped Taryn would be there – she always makes me smile.
The hostess recognized me and welcomed me in. She asked me if I’d like my favorite seat in the corner! Then Taryn appeared – she was going to be my server! And THEN – when I got situated in my corner seat, the Four Tops came on the background music channel, singing, “I’ll be there…” and I started cracking up.
I love when the Cosmos has fun with me.
Okay. Here’s my current struggle: I’m trying to keep my wall kind and joyful; I’m also trying to be an ally to those in need of allies right now; I’m trying to nurture the good in people and trying not to feed what’s bad (and this includes myself); I’m trying to trust in Good – trying to trust that my fellow humans have the wisdom and courage to see and do what’s right and decent even when the odds are against them. And when I bring all of this to my wall it looks like a hodgpodge patchwork of swans and smiling pups, political insanity and heroism, frustration, anger, Christopher Walken and Borowitz. It’s a little messy right now.
I apologize. I’m trying to bring order out of chaos here and it ain’t easy.
If nothing else, please know this: I love you. I honor the good in you. The world needs all the good you have to bring to it right now.
In the stillness before the sun rises –
before the wordle and strand games;
the Facebook feed and the “breaking news” –
I give myself a moment to hear only You.
I feel Your love with me right now and here,
enveloping me in the assurance
that we are dear to You and we don’t need to fear
whatever may come.
We are One
in Love.
-Karen Molenaar Terrell
Adventures of the Madcap Christian Scientist 