Juxtaposition of Lives

Orion called this evening, but the connection lasted only a brief time, less than a minute, and the connection was lost. We did learn that he has been in the thick of the Fallujah battle for the past two weeks. He sounds very tired, but assures us that he is all right.

What an odd juxtaposition of facts, ideas. In the midst of a horrid onslaught that will not do anything to check the growth and power of terrorists, that has destroyed countless numbers of lives and more infrastructure and to be told that our son is “all right.” We can only wonder what that means. He did not call back; we have no way to contact him by phone and also do not know if he has email access at this time.

I was going to ask him if he received the oatmeal/raisin/chocolate chip cookies we sent for his birthday. Even if the phone connection had sustained for any amount of conversation time, I’d not have asked. It seemed almost obscene to ask such a question in the midst of what he is enduring. What he has seen; what he has done; not done, and how this experience has changed him.

There is a deep quiet at my center. There are tears in that deep quiet, but they come out only very seldom. When very tired. When the futility of war surges up in front of me and blocks out every other thought or realization.

The mix of realities in our lives at this time are mind boggling. On November 8, beautiful Zoe Allison Bartz was born. Her lovely mother had complications, but she is all right. There it is again; that phrase. All right. She (Mom) will have another test on Monday (Nov 21) and that will determine the next steps in managing the complications of the C-Section delivery. Joyce looks much better now; Zoe is energetic, eats and sleeps well and begins to follow figures, faces, voices. It is thrilling to see the joy in her father's face, as he holds her, comments on what she does, or will do in the future.

Yesterday, Zack came home from school and asked me if I know about Helen Keller. He then proceeded to show me the library book he has about her, and that he can already do the signing alphabet quite nicely; that he knows some words, too. He is working on a science project about the Eastern Newt, a salamander that is one-half inch long, when it hatches. Zack’s eyes are bright with enthusiasm about Zoe, about his encounter with the magnificent Helen Keller, about his new role as the attentive and loving big brother.

I move from phases of new-baby fatigue fog to feeling more alert to groceries and dishes and baby/family care. To thinking about the book, which is set aside for now, except for some more in – depth thinking about the chapter that is in revision. I notice the presence of clean water and how much of it we use in a busy household, especially one with a new baby. And I wonder if new babies in Fallujah or the Sudan have any access to such a luxury.

Thoughts swing from an Army son whose life is in danger every second, to planning nourishing meals that are compatible with a breastfeeding Mom’s diet, to figuring out how to balance the household needs on Greenview with those of the new-baby home on Newcastle. I ponder the possible march MOB (Mothers Opposing Bush) will conduct on Mother’s Day, in Washington D.C. and wonder if I will have the stamina to participate. And, if not, what other opposition we might put forth locally.

As I wash dishes and rinse diapers, I continue to say to the war-makers: “No! You cannot have my children. You cannot poison the environment by allowing your cronies to dump toxic wastes into the air and water, as a thank – you for their contributions and other sources of support. You cannot prepare a world of chaos for this beautiful new baby, and others like her, who have or do not have all the amenities that provide such luxurious comfort for her, for all of us in her family. You cannot strut about the world, shaking your verbal saber swords of threat and manipulation so that you can have it all. So that you can have and sell whatever weapons you and your defense contractor friends come up with, at the same time you threaten those who you have picked up and put down as they do or do not serve your purposes of empire.

Soon, we will all enjoy Thanksgiving dinner. While we gather in the various homes, with plenty of food and safe festivity, the echoes and shadows of those who are in battle, at risk, in any one of the many areas of conflict in the world, are with us.

We cannot predict when we will hear from Orion again, or how the rest of his life will be after the encounter with this terrible, illegal and unjust war. One thing is certain; there is much need for healing, for renewal and re-design within the souls and bodies of those who have gone to this conflict, and those of us who wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. Continually working toward more grace, wisdom and courage to be more alive, more capable of recognizing and living in truth.

For the sound of his voice this evening, we are grateful. For all the gifts of our lives, we are grateful. And, we wait.