Category: Gratitude

Seeking Asylum

I would like to clarify some misunderstandings regarding asylum seekers. An asylum seeker is not an illegal immigrant. An asylum seeker is one who because of the very real fear of violence, displacement, hunger or other persecution is forced to leave their home country in search of shelter in a foreign country.

Adopted in 1948, Article 14(1) of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights guarantees all people the right to seek asylum. These people are known as refugees. This is international law, yet each individual country creates unique pathways for asylum seekers. Today we are in the midst of a humanitarian crisis on our southern border. Thousands of people, families and children are seeking asylum in the United States due to the inhuman conditions of life in their home countries. How we treat these people is within our domain.

When an asylum seeker enters our country at a legal port of entry and proves through documentation the facts of their case, they begin a process, which may take months to complete. During that time they have two options. If they can find a sponsor, they are allowed to live with that sponsor. They are not allowed to work and must strictly adhere to all court dates, check ins and other policies set forth by ICE. If they do not have a sponsor they are forced to reside in a detention center.

I am sponsoring a young family who were granted the possibility to seek asylum in the United States. Their journey has been ongoing for the past three months. They speak very little English and are at the mercy of strangers and a very complicated system.

Kindness and compassion must not slip away as bureaucracy steps in. Respect is imperative. At the end of the day we are all human.

 

 

The photo shown is of the ankle bracelets that must be worn at all times by asylum seekers.

Engaging Community

A quote by Helen Keller reads: “Alone, we can do so little; together, we can do so much.”

The obvious truth of these words can only be known as we engage in community. And while it appears that some are lost in independent silos and more interested in entertainment than in civic responsibility, that has not been my experience.

Even before the horrible floods that devastated our region last year, many were engaged in trying to find ways to curb the rising tide of farm loss, homelessness and hunger, and the isolation of people due to drug and alcohol abuse.

Then came the floods making mockery of our efforts and forcing us to reckon with the reality that there is very little we can do alone. We need one another.

And so I, like many, have sought community and ways to lend a hand. It is not always easy to offer support. As a whole we have learned to be distrustful. We have bought the story line that says, “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps” and we are ashamed to admit it does not always work. The truth is, we need one another.

Today it seems we are engaging in a great renaissance of community. For me it involves organizing the Ontario Farmers Market. Or showing up to discuss the importance of protecting the natural resources in our area from unwanted usury. It means writing these two-minute posts for our community radio station in hopes that someone will be inspired to act.

This renaissance of caring means we must be willing to listen to one another as well as ensure that we are heard. If we do, we just might find this quote by Margaret J. Wheatley to be true,  “There is no power for change greater than a community discovering what it cares about.”

 

photo: planting trees, 2016

you can listen to Consider This on WDRT Community Radio every Thursday, 5:30pm, CST or listen hear on Soundcloud

Indomitable Spirit

It is -7 degrees F, and I am wondering how Louise is doing. Today is January 13. It is the coldest of the cold snap that will hit us this week. We had a break for a while and the temps hit 40 degrees F. I have begun to give Louise massage and physical therapy on her hind legs since she showed me that she had no desire to leave the planet just yet. (This might be the moment that you want the back-story posted on Dec 30.)

Louise is a sheep who I have had the good fortune to know for nearly fifteen years. She had been down for nearly three weeks. One of those weeks I was away and she had not gotten up at all. What I didn’t realize is that she was often moving her legs to push herself closer to hay or maybe she did it knowing she had to. I do not know. What I do know is our friendship, our communication and our relentless spirits are enjoying this time that we share.

Over the past few days she has stood up on all fours, with help of course, and has taken a few steps. The boldest steps took her outside of her pen into the warming sun. She had to step down a bit. She did it. And all the other girls came round to check on her and to see what goodies she might have for them to eat. They had been noticing that her water is warmed, and her apples cut. They had also caught on that if they were close to her pen there was hay left for them and sometimes a piece of squash came their way. Oh, and they definitely smelled the grain. They only get a bit of grain at shearing time, so that caught their attention as well. They are an observant lot.

The camaraderie does her good. I have contemplated putting her with the others but sheep lack the niceties of proper company and would never give her time to eat. I think she knows that, too. So a bit of time together – not meal times – works out well.

Many of you ask about her and I tell her that you are thinking of her. I am cherishing this time. I am continuing to learn about indomitable spirit and the sweetness of each moment. She is strengthening me as I help her. I am still under no illusions. But like my good friend and best veterinarian on the planet, Dr. Burch said with a giggle as we acknowledged the unlikelihood of this moment, “She just isn’t ready to go yet.”

So that is your update as I go to the barn, heavily layered and knowing one thing for sure: Wear your woolies. The sheep got it going on. She is so warm in her au naturel. And today will be brilliantly sunny. That is Nature’s way of compensation for the deep cold. I erected a plastic door to let the sun shine in on her. I feel her gratitude as I learn about her needs. So very grateful to have this moment. Very Best to All.

 

 

 

Wishing You a Life of Loving

When people tell me things, I tend not to believe. Not because I don’t want to believe it is just that a lifetime of experiential learning has often taught me something different…

And now Louise is teaching me. Louise is the other half of Thelma. They were my first two sheep and if you know me you surely have heard the story. Nearly 15 years ago I put the four-month olds into the back of my SUV and said, “You must be Thelma and Louise, because this is your last ride.”

About three weeks ago Louise went down and could not get up without help. And if you know my sheep they are a hefty lot, so as she weakened, so did I. Cold setting in and knowing I would be gone for a week, I started to accept the words I had always been told, “When a sheep goes down, that’s it.”

While that may be true for some, it does not seem to be the case for Louise – at least not until she teaches me more about living.

thelma and louise

I took these pictures of Thelma and Louise in the summer, grateful that they had given me one more chance to photograph them together. You can see Thelma there saying to Louise, “There she goes again taking our pictures, enough already!” (They came to me with tails removed and when I realized how necessary their tails are I promised them that all of their children would keep their tails – and they do!)

I have laughed with them, cried and prayed with them. I have allowed them to teach their children and great, great grandchildren how to live with human beings, how to not be afraid and how to wrap us around their beautiful hoofs in order to get treats.

So when I realized a few weeks back that our time together was nearing it’s end. I cried bitterly while remembering what Annie had told me about death, “We cry for ourselves, not for them.” Once again I had to admit she was right.

Louise was teaching me what so many of my animals have taught me as they passed into that good night. She was teaching me about will, about how to flourish to the end, and how to draw upon each breath with the gusto of a newborn.

I doubted I would see her alive when I left one week ago for holiday time with family and friends and knowing I could not let them down by saying, “You see, Louise is dying and I need to be there with her…” I said my farewell to her, still hearing the words, “When a sheep goes down…” and I was determined to be joyful as I ventured on.

This morning brought the extreme cold of the past week in full force. It “felt like” – 28 degrees or so the weatherperson told us, and with some trepidation I returned to the barn. The animals were happy to see me, well cared for by my friend, and then I went to see Louise. She was still in the cubicle where my young Amish friends and I had placed her, surrounded by the bales of straw to keep her warm. Once again she raised her head to my call, eyes bright with wonder, and yes, I believe it is love that I saw there.

Still capable of raising herself on her front haunches, she let me know she was glad to see me and questioned me silently – where was her treat? Louise defiantly teaching me: it isn’t over just because a sheep goes down.

Now I am not for a moment suggesting that she will be up and at ‘em again, but her joie de vive is still infectious. Two of us struggled to move her and ensure her continued comfort. Briefly she stood after one week of being down. No, she did not stand without our help, yet in those sweet moments with her today she helped reaffirm the preciousness of life and rekindled in me the thrill of living.

This evening I whispered my promises to her and thanked her again and told her I would be back in the morning, whether she is here or not. It is her call. I left her with her dignity and she with mine. Grateful for all of our moments, certain my perception of life has once again been altered toward the Good, and knowing I will walk into this New Year ready to give my all.

It has been a year of loss as some of my best animal friends have passed on. Each has taught me a bit more about love and loving. Each I carry in my heart.

So to you dear friends and family, I wish for you a life of loving, tender hearts to carry joy amid the hardships, and a desire to flourish, not merely survive. Peace is possible in our hearts and in the world. We can do this. We can.

Much love to all from all of us here at Echo Valley.

 

The picture of the blooming orchid was taken today. It was my Mother’s plant and lives on, reminding me again…about love.