A Moment with Merton

Photograph of Merton in ball cap by Ralph Eugene Meatyard
© Meatyard Estate

"Whatever I may have written, I think it all can be reduced in the end to this one root truth: that God calls human persons to union with Himself and with one another in Christ, in the Church which is His Mystical Body. It is also a witness to the fact that there is and must be, in the church, a contemplative life which has no other function than to realize these mysterious things, and return to God all the thanks and praise that human hearts can give Him. It is certainly true that I have written about more than just the contemplative life. I have articulately resisted attempts to have myself classified as an "inspirational writer." But if I have written about interracial justice, or thermonuclear weapons, it is because these issues are terribly relevant to one great truth: that man is called to live as a child of God. Man must respond to this call to live in peace with all his brothers and sisters in the One Christ."

Edited to add, for clearness sake, before the message of this quote becomes bogged down in semantics...

...too much angst over the difference between "A Christ" and "The Christ" becomes tedious once you realize that both are contained in the phrase "One Christ." Let's take a clue from Merton and bend our minds eastways for a moment as we consider the meaning of unity and of being united to God. And remember that "Christ" simply means "anointed". That's far more interesting to think about. One is annointed with Chrism, which means "oil mingled with balm". Oil...a source of Light and food. Balm...comfort, healing.

Hmm. There's lots there.

Adeste Fideles

It's the end of the day some call Christmas. All in all it was a good day. Even the blog scored...I got a digital camera for Christmas and can now proceed to photoblog the living daylights out of you.

I haven't got a lot of deep thoughts. It's been a good few days of snuggling and squabbling with various brothers and sisters. As always, the ridiculous excitement of the little ones upon seeing me is humbling and lovely and a little sad. I went to Mass with the family last night. I listened carefully to the readings, and looked at the Liturgy of the Hours for Christmas. It was interesting to notice that some of the readings strictly associated with Christmas in the Church are the ones that I hear repeated over and over all year by Quakers. So much so that we might be desensitized to them, a little. I've been spending time with them today, trying to let them penetrate a little deeper into my understanding, trying to penetrate a little bit deeper into their truths. These days, meditating on snippets of scripture seems to occasion the deepest worship. For someone who's been bible-allergic in the past, it's a wonderful re-discovery. Reading these verses in the particular context of Christmas and all of its stories and metaphors is powerful.

Christ is here! That's the message of Christmas. God is among us, and these readings speak to the reality of this presence. In prayer with these verses, traveling through the promises, through the longing, through the discovery of the Light, I've been filled with joy and gratitude at the gift we've been given in the presence of God among us. Emmanuel. I've felt again the call...adeste fideles, come all ye faithful. I've felt the call to come to the manger, to adore and give thanks for the manifestation of God's promise...a God to dwell among us...a God to cradle. The importance of the literal existence of a virgin-born god-child in Bethlehem two thousand odd years ago seems to fade away in the magnitude of the Truth that God has given godself to us and dwells with us.

All of these verses are taken from the readings for the Christmas masses, or the Liturgy of the hours for Christmas day.


In days to come the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it.
Many peoples shall come and say, "Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths." For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.
O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

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Then a shoot will spring from the stem of Jesse,
And a branch from his roots will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the Lord will rest on Him,
The spirit of wisdom and understanding,
The spirit of counsel and strength,
The spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
And He will delight in the fear of the Lord,
And He will not judge by what His eyes see,
Nor make a decision by what His ears hear;
But with righteousness He will judge the poor,
And decide with fairness for the afflicted of the earth;
And He will strike the earth with the rod of His mouth,
And with the breath of His lips He will slay the wicked.
Also righteousness will be the belt about His loins,
And faithfulness the belt about His waist.
And the wolf will dwell with the lamb,
And the leopard will lie down with the young goat,
And the calf and the young lion and the fatling together;
And a little child will lead them.
Also the cow and the bear will graze,
Their young will lie down together,
And the lion will eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child will play by the hole of the cobra,
And the weaned child will put his hand on the viper's den.
They will not hurt or destroy in all My holy mountain,
For the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
As the waters cover the sea.
Then in that day
The nations will resort to the root of Jesse,
Who will stand as a signal for the peoples;
And His resting place will be glorious.


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O God, you are my God, I wait for you from the dawn.
My soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you.
I came to your sanctuary,
as one in a parched and waterless land,
so that I could see your might and your glory.
My lips will praise you, for your mercy is better than life itself.

Thus I will bless you throughout my life,
and raise my hands in prayer to your name;
my soul will be filled as if by rich food,
and my mouth will sing your praises and rejoice.
I will remember you as I lie in bed,
I will think of you in the morning,
for you have been my helper,
and I will take joy in the protection of your wings.

My soul clings to you; your right hand raises me up.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Out of the depths I have cried to you, Lord: Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears listen out for the voice of my pleading.

If you took notice of our transgressions, Lord – Lord, who would be left?
But with you is forgiveness, and for this we revere you.
I rely on you, Lord, my spirit relies on your promise;
my soul hopes in the Lord, more than the watchman for daybreak.

More than the watchman for daybreak, let Israel hope in the Lord:
for with the Lord there is kindness and abundant redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel from all its transgressions.


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In the beginning was the Word,
and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God.
He was in the beginning with God.
All things came to be through him,
and without him nothing came to be.
What came to be through him was life,
and this life was the light of the human race;
the light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness has not overcome it.
A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He was not the light,
but came to testify to the light.
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
He was in the world,
and the world came to be through him,
but the world did not know him.
He came to what was his own,
but his own people did not accept him.

But to those who did accept him
he gave power to become children of God,
to those who believe in his name,
who were born not by natural generation
nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision
but of God.
And the Word became flesh
and made his dwelling among us,
and we saw his glory,
the glory as of the Father’s only Son,
full of grace and truth.
John testified to him and cried out, saying,
“This was he of whom I said,
‘The one who is coming after me ranks ahead of me
because he existed before me.’”
From his fullness we have all received, and grace upon grace.

A penny for your thoughts, your books for a penny.

It's an unmatchable winter day here. The sky is that soul-stretching blue that lets in all the vitamin D and lifts you about a half inch from the ground whenever you look up at it. I always this of one of the few of Frost's poems that had always "found" me:

Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)--
Though some savants make earth include the sky;
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.


Yep. It's my favourite colour, apologies to my greying pink teddy bear.

I feel funny today, not bad, just funny. It's such an odd time. I've been wearing myself thin with the silly Nutcracker costumes and work and the same old no-money thing. I feel like I could use a day or so of sleeping before I head out to North Carolina. When I get back to Cambridge, I'll be moving to the meetinghouse. I've met the roomates and picked out my room. (I think I'll be painting it blue, it's a dreadful yellow at the moment) The money panic will cease, for the first time in my life. I've learned to live a lot more simply but I still dribble money wherever I go. I've been reading old Quaker biographies where much is made of the account-books of Quakers, and also old Disciplines where the queries on money and money-handling go on for pages and pages. This is one little respect where I have a lot of room for Quakerly improvement.

I think there's some strange sort of rebellion in the bleeding of small amounts of money. I can scratch and howl for rent, and be within an inch of having the phone turned off, and still go buy a burrito when I've got rice and ramen and mac-and-cheese waiting for me in my cupboard. Or buy the pretty book in the window when I have hundreds at home and millions in the library. I think it's a dishonest way of tricking yourself into thinking you don't have to think about it. But you do have to think about it.

I sold some books today. I do not think I have ever, ever parted with a book before, unless I was giving it to a dear friend. But I am moving and need the room, and it's Christmas and I need the money. This morning I went through my bookshelf. Anything I would not read again, anything I'd put off reading for more than a year, anything that was not a classic or a reference or a sentimental treasure went into a pile. I made myself go over them several times, each time getting a little stricter. I loaded the 40 pounds of book into bags and staggered off to the subway, swaying under all the words hanging from my back. When I got to the bookstore, I felt hot and pale as the clerk looked at my little stacks and chose the ones he wanted. I felt vaugely guilty as I redeemed my little slip for $31.80, but it was good. It's always good to part with stuff. It was surprising. He took many of the books I didn't think he'd take, like a chewed up old terrible terrible Woody Allen book, yet another copy of Chocolat, my mildly ratty Brecht for Beginners, a creepy and haunting Japanese novel that kept me awake for weeks, and some bad science fiction, and didn't take any of the ones I thought he'd jump on...a mint copy of Memoirs of a Geisha and well-kept hardbacks of all the terrible Oprah's Book Club selectios I regularly rescue from boxes on sidewalks. I still have about 25 lbs of book here.

But at the end, I had $31.80 to add to my $1.79 balance in the bank. I was struck by how very relative money is. When I was five, a dollar was a nearly unimaginable treasure. When I was ten, it took five to make me feel rich. At fifteen, fifty dollars was a kingly sum. These days, when I'm feeling flush, I'll spend forty in a day on dinner, some beer, and a movie. When I am fishing for the quarters in the couch, $31.80 seems like a fortune.

It struck me that the early Quakers would be very displeased with this attitude. A dollar is a dollar is a dollar, and I shouldn't discriminate between them just because of the size of the group they're hanging out in.

I don't make very much money at all working my 20 hours a week, but when I am trading my time for rent, I'll have more at my immediate disposal than I ever have. I'm planning to pay off a few small older debts, finally catch up with the student loan, and save, and all that good stuff, but I also feel like this will be the time of all times to start handling my money like an adult--now that 95% won't automatically go into that old staying-alive game. The Quaker ladies of old kept a little notebook where they recorded all transactions down to a penny. These days, we've got budgeting systems and computer programs and all that stuff, and I'm going to get that started with that in the New Year. But I think I will start with a notebook. I think it's very interesting that I'm so squeamish about this...

Anyway, I hate money, but I love books. The homeless books I didn't sell will be "released into the wild" via the bookcrossing project. (urging you to commit random acts of literacy!)

A book is not only a friend, it makes friends for you. When you have possessed a book with mind and spirit, you are enriched. But when you pass it on you are enriched threefold.

Henry Miller
The Books In My Life (1969)

Well, well, well.

23 years ago today, I was born.

1 year ago today, while I was living in Brooklyn, pouring coffee for strangers in the East Village, I got an adorable e-mail from an adorable boy and the first flutter of a hopeless crush was born.

Today, I am 23, and I share a city with that boy. And he even likes me. :)

Many thanks to everyone who sent me their wishes and prayers today. I had a good day. And it's been a very good year.

"Too many are willing to die for war and too few are willing to die for peace." - Tom Fox, CPT hostage in Iraq

Tomorrow is the deadline for the lives of the CPT workers, including Quaker Tom Fox, being held in Iraq. They've been close in our hearts in these last few days.

There is a wonderful article on Salon called Love your Enemies. You don't need to suscribe to Salon to read it, you just have to watch a short ad, usually for Law and Order or something. The article excerpts a statement drafted by Tom Fox and others before their capture about what they would do in the face of a hypothetical kidnapping:

"CPT will attempt to communicate with the hostage takers or their sponsors, and work against journalists' inclinations to vilify and demonize the offenders. We will try to understand the motives for these actions and to articulate them while maintaining a firm stance that such actions are wrong ... We reject the use of violent force to save our lives, should we be kidnapped, held hostage, or caught in the middle of a violent conflict situation. We also reject violence to punish anyone who harms us ... We forgive those who consider us their enemies, therefore any penalty should be in the spirit of restorative justice rather than violent retribution."

The sheer humanity and strength of true Christianity in this statement blinds me with tears of hope and with tears of shame. Hope and inspiration in the fact that there are people who are living out Jesus' radical message of love and forgiveness, and shame that I rarely act with that much forgiveness and peace in my little daily trials.

There was another quote in the article that I found especially sane and moving:

Kindy knows pacifism isn't a shield in a war zone. But dying in pursuit of nonviolence is a worthy sacrifice to Christian Peacemakers. Kindy says he suspects and hopes that, whatever happens, Christian Peacemakers will maintain its presence in Iraq. "One of the things we need to learn from the military is that there are risks that are important to take -- risks worth putting our lives on the line for," he says. "If, in our peacemaking, we can't have that same level of commitment, that would be sad."

I was also moved in another way, reading this:

The litany of horrors Fox kept hearing -- coupled with all the other torments visited on Iraq -- clearly got to him. On his blog, he wrote about trying not to simply shut down in the face of so much anguish. "The ability to feel the pain of another human being is central to any kind of peace making work," he wrote. "But this compassion is fraught with peril. A person can experience a feeling of being overwhelmed. Or a feeling of rage and desire for revenge. Or a desire to move away from the pain. Or a sense of numbness that can deaden the ability to feel anything at all."

He continued. "How do I stay with the pain and suffering and not be overwhelmed? How do I resist the welling up of rage towards the perpetrators of violence? How do I keep from disconnecting from or becoming numb to the pain? After eight months with CPT, I am no clearer than I [was] when I began. In fact I have to struggle harder and harder each day against my desire to move away or become numb. Simply staying with the pain of others doesn't seem to create any healing or transformation. Yet there seems to be no other first step into the realm of compassion than to not step away."

Fox didn't step away. The day before he was taken, he wrote a brief missive, posted on the Web site Electronic Iraq, titled "Why Are We Here?" He concluded, "We are here to root out all aspects of dehumanization that exists within us. We are here to stand with those being dehumanized by oppressors and stand firm against that dehumanization. We are here to stop people, including ourselves, from dehumanizing any of God's children, no matter how much they dehumanize their own souls."

To outsiders, such faith can seem naive or even foolishly reckless. Rush Limbaugh, for one, was pleased by the Christian Peacemakers' kidnapping, saying, "Well, here's why I like it. I like any time a bunch of leftist feel-good hand-wringers are shown reality."

I was very sad to read Limbaugh's quote, and as I felt a tide of anger rise up in me at his callousness and flippancy in the face of pain, I was called back to centeredness by Tom's words:

We are here to stop people, including ourselves, from dehumanizing any of God's children, no matter how much they dehumanize their own souls.

I wish there was some way I could give some of that loving spirit to Rush Limbaugh, to keep him from dehumanizing "lefties", to keep him from dehumanizing himself. I realized that I must not dehumanize him in my own heart, no matter how good a job he seems to be doing on his own soul. May I not step away or turn my face from the ugliness, so that I may step into the realm of true compassion. I pray for peace for Rush Limbaugh, for the kidnappers, and for our friends who are so surely being held up in the Light as they suffer for all that is good, all that is beautiful, true and holy. They are suffering for the truth that war and hatred and pain are not the ultimate reality, that there is something greater, a Divine that yearns and broods over us, longing to have us restored to peace and harmony and love, longing for our salvation, teaching us the way to peace, the way to pull ourselves up out of the hells that we have built. These four men have refused to be blinded by the false "reality" that the world would have us see and despair at, and instead have turned their eyes to the deeper hidden truth of the triumph of Love, and have offered their lives in witness to that truth. All the differences of religion and ideology and language stripped away, this Divine principle of Love is what remains, and is what must be guarded and cared for by the Children of God, even to the point of laying down our lives. Like many of us watching this witness from afar, I am thrown into deep reflection about how seriously I myself take this responsibility in my safe and quiet life.

I take up John Woolman's prayer:
“There is balm; there is a physician! and oh, what longings do I feel that we may embrace the means appointed for our healing; may know that removed which now ministers cause for the cries of many to ascend to Heaven against their oppressors; and that thus we may see the true harmony restored!”

Some things

Thing 1.) My blog is 1 year and two days old today! Wow, time flies.

Thing 2.) I donated blood today! I was very scared after the great Drain-and-Faint debacle of 2001, but after a few chicken-outs, I made it all the way in this morning. This time it didn't hurt at all. (I mean, the needle stick stuck but last time it hurt the whole time.) I weigh a good 20 lbs more than I did in 2001, so now I feel I've discovered the secret of painless bloodletting - get chubby! Anyway, I'm very proud. I'm drinking non-diet coke. And I have a sticker that says "Hug me, I donated blood today!" So if you see me, do.

Thing 3.) I finally lurned how to purl (thanks Sol for the kre8tive spelling suggestion!) and I'm thrilled. Knitting is so much fun now, I think I'm becoming an addict. (For amazing knittingness see my friend Pauline's blog in the sidebar, she's my hero) I am making an awesome hat in a pretty shade of green. (not so fancy as the one on the site). I had to unravel it all once due to a bizarre mistake, which was sad, but take 2 is going strong. Circular needles are fun! Pictures to follow.

Any Soldier

I had a bit of an opening the other day. I was feeling really emotional, imagining the terror, suffering and hope that must be in the brave hearts of the CPT hostages, if, God willing, they are still alive. Because one of them is Quaker and two of them Canadian, I was able to identify with them instantly. They became "us", our own.

And somewhere in questioning myself about that, about my heightened grief over a few of the thousands of people suffering in Iraq every day, just because they have identifiers that make me feel I somehow know, and therefore love them, I thought about soldiers.

For all my talk of furthering the cause of love in the world, it struck me that I have not been very loving to soldiers. I live in fear that the military might get my "little" brother, who's 18, handsome, incredibly fit, with a testosterone streak a mile wide. Recruiters are salivating over him. In my anger and fear over my brother's possible not-too-distant fate as a pair of boots in the Eyes Wide Open exhibit, I've been channelling a lot of negative feelings towards every representation of the military I see. I shudder at the sight of servicemen in the airport. I gag at recruitment commercials and sneer at posters. I want to spit whenever I see some dignitary in a pristine suit gingerly patting dusty soldiers on the back and telling them what a good job they are doing. Aside from some vauge anger and sadness on behalf of all the members of the poverty draft, a few tears when 60 Minutes shows me a weeping family mourning their lost son, and a certain twinge when I see the faces of soldiers that should still be playing Dungeons and Dragons or cheerleading, I haven't had a lot of sympathy for the kids out there. There's been a lot of judgement in my heart. Somewhere deep inside it seems I want to believe that they are all a little bit twisted, or just plain stupid. "They must like it," I thought. "They must like being pawns of a capitalist power- and vengance-mad administration. They must like being used to help continue to tear apart the lives of people that have been strife-ravaged for so long." Aside from giving lip-service to "Support our Troops - Bring them Home" there has not been a lot of love in my heart for soldiers.

Suddenly, in some combination of thinking about the Christian Peacemakers and my brother, I was able to to open my heart to the humanity of each of the soldiers out there, and to long for their happiness, safety, and healing. I was convicted of my anger and hatred and found that God had no use for those emotions in me. My heart was made tender.

There are thousands of reasons a child might enlist in the military. When I think of some of my own wounds that brought me to my own terrible choices in the past, I recognize them in the faces of soldiers I see. A need to be needed. A need to be respected. A need to prove to myself that I was grown-up. A need to prove to others that I was grown-up. A terrible need for acceptance and belonging. A powerful desire to make my life matter somehow, anyhow.

I found a website called anysoldier.com. A lot of kids without families, or with terrible family situations, turn to the military as a way of gaining a family. That means a whole lot of kids out there with no loving support behind them. The harsh arms of the armed forces are the only comfort they've got, and the armed forces aren't very good about sending some TLC. I read stories of soldiers, 18, 19 years old, who watch the mail clerk pass them by every mail call. They see cards and packages carrying love and prayers and warmth from home cherished by their fellow soldiers, but go to bed empty handed. They are forced to see and do terrible things every day, and they are alone. Anysoldier.com takes requests from soldiers over in Iraq. The #1 request is for letters and prayers. #2 is for food (many of them are in mobile units far away from mess halls). They also ask for everything ranging from babywipes to shampoo to socks to bibles to videogames and CDs. One soldier said "I never knew it got this cold in the desert, we only get one pair of long underware and we never know when were going to get to wash it if you get my drift...."(sic)

One letter that really brought home the humanity of the soldiers out there was this, a letter from a soldier named Miguel, coincidentally the same name as my beloved brother:

Hello everyone;

I am sending this letter to as many of you as I possibly can to explain what I am doing and am involved with here in Afghanistan.

In the last month or so I have adopted some 12-16 kids that gather every day at the front gate of our base. They come to beg for the garbage that our soldiers leave behind, and I literlly mean "The Garbage". They empty the garbage cans and take the garbage to their houses. They use the garbage to rumage through for something eatable, to burn for cooking fuel and to burn for heat. You may think that this is unusual or once in a while, they come each and every day and they will fight amoung themselves for the garbage.

They come with no shoes ragedy clothes and filthy as can be. One day I found out that the cook threw away all the food that was left over from our breakfast every morning at our own military dinning facility. I went and ask him if he would give me the food so that I could give it to the children rather than throw it away. He not only said yes, he went the extra and porvided me with the plates, utencils drinks and anything I needed for the kids. I asked him the same thing the next day and he said yes. This has now been going on for 3-4 weeks. Every day I take our left over breakfast (still eatable for any one) and feed the children. In feeding them, I have taught them some English words. They have to wash their hands and face every morning with baby wipes that we provide for them. At first I would wash everyone's hands and faces, even feet, now I just hand them the wipes, mention the word "face, hands " and they repeat the words with me and clean themselves. The older ones (8-10 years old) help out and clean the little ones (11/2- 2). I have used the words "the little ones" so often that now they are "the little ones" even to the locals.

Some how things are coming up and are multiplying daily. Just 2 days ago, someone told me to go to a certain container and see what was in there. I found a container full of cases and cases of fortified cookies, clothing, cooking oil, and blankets. I have sence moved everything into a container that was provided to me by the Camp Comander. He has been absolutly wonderful and gracious with me. Anything I want and need for the children, I get from him.

For months while I attended my duties at the front gate, I would walk from my tent to the front gate along with my dog to take care of clearing the vehicles coming in to the compound. About 4 weeks ago when some friends of mine left, they left me their pick-up. It has been invaluable and a great blessing for all the activities. Without it I could not do what I am doing. Thank God for little favors. Unfortunately the clothing is for adults but the rest is adaquate for the children.

I would like to see if you are interested in adopting one of these children and while I am still here you can take a part in reaching out to the Hearts of these children. I know that we will not winn the Hearts of the adult population for so many reasons, but I feel that America still has a chance in the future generations of this country starting with this small "little ones" generation...

I would like to provide for everyone of them the following;

1.) a small childs backpack.

2.) a pair of shoes (preferably tennyshoes) the appropriate size.

3.) a tooth brush and a tube of tooth paste

4.) a bottle of shampoo (no tears preferably)

5.) a hair brush

6.) a set of appropriate clothing for the individual

7,) some kind of lunch pale or tupperware for them to carry home some extra food. There are days that even after feeding them all they want I still have to throw away food which I would rather not.

8.) a small childs thermos for drinks

This Saturday, I am bringing all the children into the camp and we are going to bath each one of them. A female soldier will assist me in bathing the little girls. I have purchased some new clothing and new shoes for all of them which we will provide for them. We have no underware so feel free to add some to the list. After the shower, we will cloth them and take them to the first aid station, the medical staff will check them out and attend to them. After that we will take them to our dinning facility, sit them down and feed them breadfast as much as they want. We have blankets, toys, beeny babies, candy, fruits, and other items that we want to give them before they go home looking like a million bucks. Their own family won't recognize them when they arrive.

He even specified "no tears" shampoo so it won't sting the little ones' eyes! It's something my Miguel would do.

I've felt very funny about this. It isn't sexy for a liberal 20-something to send care-packages to random soldiers. A friend who writes letters to marines says she cringes everytime she gets one back that says "We're glad you support the war" because she really, really doesn't. But she says she feels like the people come first. Last night I thumbed through motorcycle magazines and racks of beef-jerky, and for the first time in my life I tried to think like a soldier. It was a bizarre and strangely moving experience. This anonymous boy I was making up a present for became fleshed out and human in my eyes. I hoped he like peanut butter. I fussed between Sports Illustrated and Popular Mechanics. I wondered if cherry chapstick was too girly, and worried that he might hate sour candy. I picked out some paperback mystery novels about boxers and gangsters, and wondered if I was stereotyping this guy. A stranger and I in the stationary store struggled to find a holiday card that wasn't too religion specific or covered in fluffy animals and glitter. I wondered if a card that said "Peace on Earth" was laying it on a little thick.

And I wrote a little letter, saying in essence "I was thinking about the war, and how we can get you guys back safe and sound. At the moment all I can do to help you guys is do my best to increase the amount of love in the world. So here's some love and candy. I'm praying that you are happy and healthy, and that you can come home soon. I hope these things help keep you smiling until you do. Hope you don't mind getting mail from a tree-hugging Quaker like me."

Like most things I tend to find myself called to, it seems somehow homely and completely random. But I think it is important that these well-meaning kids who are not monsters, but doing their very best to be heros of some sort, know that those of us who oppose the war and decry the policies of our nation also have great love in our hearts for them, and that as individuals, and especially as individuals with that of God in them, they are precious to us. If you'd like to send a package to a soldier, you can find a recipient on the anysoldier.com lists, and send a "flat rate box" available at the post office, as heavy as you like, for just $7.70. The website also has important information about customs, packaging, military addresses and what you must not send.

And if you do send something, write to them with tenderness, without being patronizing or preachy. You don't have to disclose your politics, but if you are a Quaker, don't be afraid to tell them so.