MORGAN'S MOMENT

"Beware of 
    extreme minus tides."
We read the headline
    with delight.
We love
    extreme minus tides.
They reveal
    what is hidden.
We take off our shoes
    and squish in soft sand.
We check the wear
    on our boat anchor system.
We meet creatures
     not often seen.
Wonder is found
     in the depths of life.

- ArtMorgan

 MOMENT MINISTRIES

PUGET SOUND SUMMER
                                        HEADQUARTERS

SINCE WE LAST SPOKE
After nearly three weeks working on our summer place in preparation for activities, we headed for Corvallis to prepare for the Burd party. (With a couple of extra hours to spare I painted the front deck railings to go with the new paint job on the house).
We were on to Ashland to visit grandson Michael and Ken and Marilyn Salter…Onward to Palo Alto and a wedding rehearsal supper at a Japanese restaurant in Cupertino…Then a wonderful family wedding for Alan and Ylva at their poolside…Back up I-5, sleeping at the same stops, then picking up Grace and Max to return to the cabin. Great weather enroute. 
In the meantime Kyle flew off with classmates to Washington DC. Lauren (and Karen) are preparing to head to Davis for a Volleyball tournament. Andrew is playing summer baseball.
Paul and Mary did time at their Eagle Crest time-share, seeing the Lorenzens in the process. Paul is back to do weddings, etc.

       It is not without guilt that I live the "moment" life. Much of the time I feel that I am out of the stream of life, just fiddling. 
        There is an illusion, perhaps, that all my traveling, writing, correspondence, doing weddings and memorials and other occasional events, justifies my existence. 
         Who knows what matters? 
         But I want to confess that when I meet someone like Barbara Ross (Iike I did at Jerry and Lynda's party) I feel that touch of guilt. Barbara is a State Representative as well as member of the Corvallis School Board. She is immersed in immensely important issues. I am sure that she would welcome tangible support in various causes. There are many and they are difficult. I think of the difficult battles being fought and sometimes lost that I have not entered. I give her a hug and wish her well and she smiles a "thank you." 
         I go back to my fiddling, or so it seems to me.
         Listening to friends who are out "fire-fighting" is as inspiring as it is guilt producing. People are working to establish a state wide health care program, retirement center for low income seniors, build Habitat homes, fund a new community service center to meet needs of the homeless and indigent, campaign for racial and sexual justice (the battle is not done), and so on. I encourage them, sometimes contribute money, share their concerns. Then I go back to my fiddling.
         Yesterday I fiddled away the afternoon sailing with my grandson.  For some reason he wanted me tell him some Bible stories. I laid on him the story of Moses parting the waters and saving his people while the enemy soldiers drowned. My grandson (age 6) said, "That's not true, grandpa. Tell me another." He's going to be OK.
         In weeks to come we'll have visitors from many places and walks of life. We'll talk. I'll try to avoid telling Bible stories. We'll cook oysters and drink wine and try not to think of the Kosovites going home to burned houses and villages. What else better to do? Maybe that's what Nero thought. Sometimes playing a fiddle is not a bad thing to do. I've always liked the image of the fiddler on the roof, trying to keep the music going in precarious times. 
         If you are one of those who are out fighting fires, we owe you. Not knowing what else to do for the moment, I'll keep fiddling.