We arrived in Bangkok after 17 hours, had a 3 hour break and then flew to Kathmandu (another 3 hours).  From Los Angeles airport door to Kathmandu airport door, it was just under 25 hours. Today is Monday, I think. Carla and I are staying in the apartment, while the rest of the group is in the hotel. Yesterday, we had a welcoming ceremony with the kids. Today we went on a 4-5 mile hike into the hills to see the location for the new home (still under construction) and a temple.

No hot water, intermittent electricity, mosquito nets, hot and humid — BUT there are no complaints. The kids are wonderful, the country is beautiful, and the group is wonderful.

Day 2 (or 3) or whatever it is — Tuesday evening — Went into town, on vans that would accommodate 9 people max in US but take 24+ in Nepal.  Squeezed, hot — and understatement.  Tried to exchange some money. Saw a bit of the temple.  Went to a grocery story.  Walked a lot. Had more wonderful meals with rice, lentils, spicy sauces, etc.  So far so good!

Two important life lessons: 1) whenever you’re unhappy, go help someone who is worse off, and 2) when you are doing good and having fun simultaneously, that is heaven on earth!

In the previous blog, I alluded to an upcoming mission trip to Nepal. It happened quite by accident when my friend Carla Friedrich, a Swedenborgian minister in San Diego, put a note on her Facebook page asking for volunteers to help birth a dream of founding a Children’s Home, probably in Mexico. She linked with the Wayfarer’s Chapel in Los Angeles that was planning a mission trip to an orphanage in Nepal and then connected with a second home in Nepal, created and run by Swedenborgian missionaries and supported by the church.

She was asking for friends to join in the mission project, make a film, and create a business/promotional plan. Having time on my hands and some experience in business, I jumped at the opportunity. Grace happens!

The trip – which begins on September 18 and ends on October 11 – includes three segments of about a week each:

1. The full group of “Carla’s five friends and helpmates” plus the six-eight Wayfarers’ Chapel folks will do mission work at Ama-Ghar Children’s Home in Kathmandu. I don’t know if I’ll be hammering, painting, cleaning toilets, or tutoring. Check out www.ama-foundation.org for pix and details.

2. Then we split. The Wayfarers’ Chapel folks stay at Ama-Ghar, while “Carla’s five” go to Loving Arms Mission, in another part of Kathmandu. While there, we help with those children and get started on the film and business plan. See http://www.lovingarmsmission.org

3. Returning to the full group, we embark on a spiritual pilgrimage in the Himalayas with seven of the ten original women Nepalese sherpas. It’s an amazing story because they come from different communities and castes, and they are now working to promote empowerment opportunities for women and youth. See http://hopebuilding.pbworks.com/Ten-young-women-who-climbed-Everest-inspire-Nepal%27s-youth,-women-to-dream-big

During our time in Nepal, Kymri Wilt (another of Carla’s friends and a professional travel photographer) and I will be adding to our blogs and putting photos on Facebook. (Kymri’s is http://miraterra.blogspot.com.)

A couple of friends have asked if they could help. I don’t have much room for school supplies, but head lamps (for children who need to study when the electricity has gone off) and financial gifts are always welcome. If you wish to help make Carla’s dream come alive, we’d be delighted. (I’m paying airfare and trekking costs of $2000, and Carla hopes to get a grant to cover some of our room and board. But we need about $50/day to cover food and lodging, so there’s a big gap that needs filling). If you are able and willing to support us, you can: 1) mail a contribution directly to me, which is easiest for me but not tax-deductible for you; or 2) make a tax-exempt gift by sending a check to “Nepal Service Project,” and mailing it to Wayfarers’ Chapel; 5755 Palos Verdes Dr. South; Rancho Verdes, CA 90275; Att’n: Rev. David C. Brown. If you do this, please let me know so that I can properly thank you.

Of course, you can also check the websites for the two orphanages (above) and get connected that way.

But please know that your prayers and encouragement are the most important gifts, so please keep them coming. And you might want to subscribe to my blog so that you don’t miss out on the coming goodies. Thank you.

This is the first of two blogs on the misfortunes (literally) of the last six months and the amazing events happening now. After reading this, please subscribe and stay tuned for the next story, on the adventure of a lifetime.

Ted Kennedy Jr.’s story about going sledding just after losing his leg left me teary and gasping for breath. Here are his words as his eulogized his father:

But today I’m simply compelled to remember Ted Kennedy as my father and my best friend. When I was 12 years old I was diagnosed with bone cancer and a few months after I lost my leg, there was a heavy snowfall over my childhood home outside of Washington D.C. My father went to the garage to get the old Flexible Flyer and asked me if I wanted to go sledding down the steep driveway. And I was trying to get used to my new artificial leg and the hill was covered with ice and snow and it wasn’t easy for me to walk. And the hill was very slick and as I struggled to walk, I slipped and I fell on the ice and I started to cry and I said “I can’t do this.” I said, “I’ll never be able to climb that hill.” And he lifted me in his strong, gentle arms and said something I’ll never forget. He said “I know you’ll do it, there is nothing you can’t do. We’re going to climb that hill together, even if it takes us all day.”

Sure enough, he held me around my waist and we slowly made it to the top, and, you know, at age 12 losing a leg pretty much seems like the end of the world, but as I climbed onto his back and we flew down the hill that day I knew he was right. I knew I was going to be OK. You see, my father taught me that even our most profound losses are survivable and it is what we do with that loss, our ability to transform it into a positive event, that is one of my father’s greatest lessons. He taught me that nothing is impossible.

For reasons that will soon be clear, the last six-nine months have been like traversing a slick driveway, worrying that I might break a leg, slide into traffic, or worse. Basically, I felt like a victim. The can-do attitude that was had anchored me in past years was buried in a snowdrift. I knew there was a loving Father* out there and that nothing is impossible (eventually!) but I couldn’t feel His strong, gentle arms carrying me up that hill I couldn’t climb alone.

In the past, when those dealing with feelings of victimization came to me for ministerial support, I would listen sympathetically and reassure them that they are not bad people and they are not alone. Then I encourage them to get therapy (if appropriate) and do three things: 1) create some beauty – art, gardening, music, writing, anything – in their lives; 2) reach out to those in greater need; and 3) make a list of five-ten simple easy-to-do things and complete at least three of them. In doing so, they will regain some semblance of self-esteem and slowly – with the encouragement and help of others – their lives will turn around. Good advice, no?

But now I was on the receiving, not the giving, end of such wisdom. Recognizing that I needed professional help, I made an appointment with Dr. Dark Chocolate, M.D., Personal and Family Therapist. Seeing my maladjusted state, he recommended regular sessions. When he was unavailable, I went to one of his colleagues at Self-Help Therapies, P.A., either Ms. Freecell, M.S.W., or Mr. Spider, M.F.T. The three of them also recommended group therapy, so I joined four-six others in regular Red Wine Group sessions. (I always came away feeling better after these meetings, especially when Dr. Chocolate led them.)

And why, you may ask, did I need such intensive psychological and spiritual support?

Looking back, it probably started when I resigned as pastor from the church, although I believe it was the most loving thing to do. It had became clear that I was a lightning rod for disappointments that began before my tenure and would continue long into the future unless I withdrew from the situation and let others take over.

Soon afterwards, I was asked to support an amazing project developing a cultural awareness programs for non-native Alaskans. I was thrilled to research and develop a lecture series, educational web programs, and traveling exhibits that would introduce people to the gifts and challenges of the Iñupiat (Eskimo) culture. Unfortunately, just as we were hitting our stride, the project imploded when political issues and financial stresses halted the effort. I fell hard.

About the same time, the adult son of a close friend was helping me with yard work. After a year of trust and appreciation, he returned to his previous drug and gambling habits – and also stole cash, checks, and equipment from me. I understand how hard it is to get clean from one’s addictions (as shown by my need to visit Dr. Chocolate on a regular basis), but I nonetheless felt betrayed.

Then the biggest trauma – the cancer that broke my spirit and turned me into a victim – concerned my tenants. I had moved from the larger (upper) unit to the smaller (lower) unit as a way of saving money when I left the church, renting to a lovely couple with two fine boys. When the recession hit, the father (a self-employed contractor) could not find work. Monthly rent payments were late or for partial amounts. I tried to help by recommending him to friends and hiring his wife to help on my website; I worked out a new payment plan. Seeing them in tears, I paid to get their dog out of the pound after he had run away. I loaned them money for a much-needed date. While I was not their minister, it seemed that I had become their savior.

And then the payments stopped entirely. She received a minimal salary as a freelance web designer and office manager, and he had no work. They begged; I implored; things got worse. The fact that California law greatly favors the tenants did not help. So when they owed me over $6,500, I finally evicted them (after all, I was unemployed and broke also). My anxiety was heightened because they lived above me, and I feared for what they might do to my house, my dog, or me. I had to wait a month until they actually left – another $2,000 lost. In the process, for the first time in my life, I was paralyzed by fear.

I changed the locks, struggled to regain my footing, and slowly inched up the icy hill. Friends sustain me; tomatoes ripen despite aphids and weeds, Kyrie’s four puppies are healthy and growing, and even the occasional stranger brings words of comfort and good will. In particular, I thank Alan Olson who wrote to tell me that he had enjoyed my website and blogs and wondered why I hadn’t written in several months. He ended: “So, I am just a voice out of the cyber-virtual fog of the internet, calling out to encourage. Keep writing, keep encountering, keep expecting that what you see before you is only a veiled covering for what truly ‘is;’ and lies beneath the surface.”

Like Teddy Kennedy’s words to his troubled son, simple expressions of encouragement can also be the steady voice of hope. Thank you, Alan.

Yes, grace happens!

But wait! – there’s more! If you call 1-800-THANK-GOD within the next 10 minutes, we’ll double the offer and you can have two doses of grace for the price of one!

… About three weeks ago, Carla Friedrich, my best friend when we were at the Pacific School of Religion, put a note on her Facebook page asking for volunteers to join in a service trip to Nepal and help her develop a film and business plan for opening a new orphanage. Details will be in the next blog – coming later this week.

And, then, when I told Dr. Chocolate about Nepal, he decided that I was no longer in need of therapy. However, he gave me the address and phone number for a 12-step program that could be helpful. It’s called 12-step Elliptical.

I’m heading there now….

* I apologize to myself and others who cringe at the idea of a patriarchal god, but the image of Teddy Kennedy’s care for his crippled son and God’s love for all of us is just too beautiful not to use.

“Yes, we can.”

Really?  Can Barack Obama’s winsome and winning phrase become a rallying cry, a call to arms, if not armaments?  Will the coming eight years be hailed as the “Yes, we can” era, just as the last eight were the “9-11” era?

“Yes, we can.” –  I sense that this could have been Sully Sullenberger’s mantra as he maneuvered his precious cargo through Hell to Hope before finding sanctuary and safety on the Hudson.  He entered the cockpit as captain on January 15, a few days before the Inauguration; he exited the plane as champion of the nation’s spirit.  Yes, we can – and he did.

The man sitting next to me on the flight from Maryland to California raises butterflies and grows Christmas trees back in Massachusetts.  He is heading west to visit his wife, who is currently working in California.  As he shares stories of his life, the symbolism of connection (visiting his wife), transformation (the emergence of butterflies from caterpillars) and celebration (Christmas trees) enchants me.   Can we do the same for our country?  Can we reclaim the vision of the Pilgrims whose yearning for connection, transformation, and celebration with God and each other gave them the courage to embark on a dangerous journey to new life in America?

They could.  Can we?

I am reminded of Lyndon Johnson, who met with Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. in the early days of his Presidency. As they discussed the challenges of drafting new civil rights legislation and the about-face from hate and fear to hope and opportunity, Johnson bluntly told King that the good Reverend mustn’t let up.  Much as he might want to draft and sign a Civil Rights Bill that would change the country forever, Johnson told King that it was not possible.  “Keep the pressure on,” he implored.  I cannot do my part unless you do yours – so organize your people and keep the protests coming.”  Being the right person in the right place and the right time isn’t enough to bring about major change, even if that person is the President of the United States.

So King and his cohorts did exactly that.  The demonstrators marched, the ministers preached, the people walked and talked and wailed and sang.  And the good protestors gave power to the President who signed the Civil Rights Act of 1965 into law, changing our country as we knew it, beginning a change that made the last election possible.

It’s a lesson we need to remember, for Obama is not saying, “Yes I can,” but “Yes we can.”  As we have seen in the first two weeks of Obama’s presidency, the forces of hate and entitlement are real. Johnson and Jesus couldn’t fight them alone, Obama can’t either. We need to keep the pressure on.

Pondering the connection between Captain Sullenberger and President Obama, I realized that heroes are made when hope is birthed.  Hope is the seed that finds its fruit in connection, transformation, and celebration.  And thus the rallying cry of “Yes we can” demands that each of us becomes a midwife to the hope that lies inside, yearning to see the light of day.

To which the people shout, “Yes, we can!”  And we keep the pressure on.

Barrow, Alaska is the northernmost community of the United States, lying inside the Arctic Circle and north of North Pole, Alaska. It is flat, treeless, white, and wonderful!

Compared to the world capitals that I have come to love, Barrow is a bit, well, barren.  But while the town doesn’t have that much to commend it (except for some distinct and delightful “characters,” the Inupiat (Eskimo) people sure do! They combine playfulness and joie-de-vivre with a serious intentionality to do the right thing. It was a joy to spend two days with them last week, and I hope to return in February.

In earlier posts, I  promised a bit more background on the consulting project I am working on, but here’s the gist: it’s with the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation Federal Holding Company (see www.asrcfederal.com), a subsidiary of the Arctic Slope Regional Corporation (see www.asrc.com).  ASRC was established as part of the Alaskan Native Settlement Claims Act (ANSCA) that appropriated native land in exchange for money to develop 12 regional corporations throughout Alaska.  ASRC, on the North Slope, is the largest. Its mission is to serve its shareholders — the Inupiat people of the North Slope — with dividends through business proceeds as well as supporting new educational and employment efforts.

The Federal Holdings company is the only ASRC subsidiary outside Alaska; a minority-owned business, it supports federal agencies with technical and support services.  As you might imagine, many of the employees of ASRC Federal have never been to Alaska and have limited knowledge of the Inupiat culture and values.  My effort is to develop a Cultural Awareness Program to educate them on the rich traditions, customs, and moral underpinnings of the people of the North Slope.

In short, I get to travel to amazing places, meet wonderful people, and learn about their history, art, language, and values.  And so, here are a few pictures:

The sun doesn’t rise or set in Barrow for 2 months in the winter. These photos were taken in mid-day in mid-winter with a background flash.  There is a deep twilight from about noon-2:00 pm.

Note, there is no “hitching post” for horses, but the Ford Broncos and other motorized vehicles hook up to electric plugs for engine block heaters.  When it’s really cold, people leave the cars running all night.

The Inupiat artwork is amazing. This basket is constructed from threads of whale baleen, with a handle of walrus ivory.

It was two weeks ago – Monday, November 3 – and I was in a major funk.  Like most of my friends, my savings were gone and my meager retirement accounts were rapidly disappearing. I had moved from the upper (larger) unit to the downstairs so as to save funds by renting out the bigger space.  Kyrie’s adorable pups had gone off to new homes, and she had lost much of her beautiful coat with a skin infection. She looked ratty and I felt the same.

Of course, the real reason for the funk was that I had preached my last sermon the day before and had no idea when I might be called to a new church – let alone regular income.  Further, strict (and appropriate) guidelines require me to end all pastoral and social connections with church members — thus requiring me to lose many dear friends. The bleakness of my situation was hitting me full square in the heart.  Although I considered staying in bed all day, I decided instead to go to my women’s clergy study group and then remembered that I had agreed to make calls for Obama.  And this is when the light began to dawn.

Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”  (Matthew 14)

My assignment was to call people in the area around Lynchburg, Virginia (Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson country) to encourage them to vote for Obama and to tell them their polling place and give them a number to call if they needed a ride.  The first person I spoke with was a man who was happy to chat all day.  After explaining that he was semi-retired and had a number of health issues stemming from service in Vietnam, he proceeded to give me the sales pitch on why I should vote for Obama!  Yes, he knew where the polling place was and would be there early in the morning.  He kept repeating that this was the first time he had voted; his pride in himself and the country spread from rural Virginia across the airwaves into my heart.

Almost four hours later, my last call was to an older woman, who bragged about how she and her neighbors, Annie Mae and Betty Sue, had already set their alarm clocks for 5:30 so that they could be meet at 6:15 to carpool together to the polls.

I went home as upbeat as all the good Virginians I had spoken with and was happy to return early the next morning to make calls to Ohio. There, most of the calls were to answering machines, but of the actual people I spoke with, the majority had or were planning to vote for Obama.  That night, a dozen friends came and went to watch the election returns and celebrate the good news.

But that was just the beginning.  Email messages came in from friends and family across the country sharing stories similar to mine.  One friend had served as a poll worker helping people put their ballots into the locked box.  She reported that an elderly black man with gnarled hands from a life of hard work took a long time in placing his hand over hers, tenderly caressing the moment.  Videos of celebrations in Europe and Grants Park came in.  Hope was blooming all over the world.

It was then that I realized two things: first, Obama’s victory has done more than anything else in my lifetime to give credence to democracy.  Whether one voted for him or not, it is clear that the vision of America that represented freedom and opportunity for all people is – though injured – still alive and kicking.  I’m not sure what historians will use to describe this new post-post-modern age – the Age of Hope, the Age of Honor, the Age of Horrors, the Age of the (true, nuclear) Holocaust… I’m not sure what it will be called, but there is no doubt in my mind that it is a new age.  There is a fundamental shift in people’s thinking that is taking place.

Second, I believe that the name that historians give to the future will (for me and the world) be measured by the extent to which we act like Peter in the story from Matthew.  Peter saw Jesus, Jesus said “come, ” and Peter started walking across the water.  But then Peter got scared and began to sink.  In short, fear will poison our possibilities.  Live in hope, live in faith – and we (like Peter) can cross the torrential waters of economic and global terror and make it to safety.  But if we let fear guide our actions, then we and the world are sure goners.

And that’s my “sermon” for today … and tomorrow … and, with God’s grace, a lifetime!