Showing posts from June, 2020

God Help Us

I don’t talk much about spirituality, particularly my own. Not in public, not in private and not on this blog. But this morning I took part in a unique event that had me very visibly praying on a busy, six-lane suburban street corner with almost 900 others, everyone standing, sitting or kneeling six feet apart and wearing face coverings per a new state law. We stretched for blocks in every direction. We were grateful for the annual weather phenomenon known as June gloom that kept things cool.   We were part of a much larger group of thousands throughout San Diego County participating in We Pray San Diego, a special event created and coordinated by a Maranatha Chapel pastor and Miles McPherson, the former-NFL-player-turned-megachurch-minister. We peacefully assembled and took our places and at 9 a.m. began listening through headphones and earbuds to McPherson lead a recorded online prayer vigil that included biblical scripture to connect with our own reflections, confessions, petitions

‘OK, Let’s Do This!’

  For more than two years, I’ve lamented leaving Les Mills’ BodyPump, a group exercise class I took consistently every Tuesday and Friday early morning at a local 24-Hour Fitness. Then I abruptly  left both the class and the gym . When I finally returned to San Diego, I started back at my original gym on a nearby military base, having finally gotten over the issues that forced me to flee there.   Now it’s time to move on again. Due to the ongoing pandemic (and maybe well beyond it), all local military gyms are open only to active duty and their dependents, plus DoD civilians who work on base. I do not fit any of those categories. And returning to 24-Hour Fitness isn’t an option, being as they are in Chapter 11 bankruptcy and do not appear eager to reopen in my suburb.   I started looking into online exercise programs, especially free ones that a friend recommended from YouTube. But I just couldn’t connect with the format or instructors. My older daughter told me she’d signed up for a p

Coming from a Position of Privilege

I no sooner publicly acknowledged bright sides of pandemic living when we were again thrust into turmoil due to recent incidents showcasing racial inequality. First, there was Ahmaud Arbery,  killed while on a neighborhood jog . It took local law enforcement more than two months to charge two gun-wielding vigilantes with murder despite clear evidence they went well beyond whatever bounds they believed they were entitled to have. I thought back to an early morning jog I took in the mid 1990s in Elizabeth City, North Carolina. I lived in a typical middle-class, mostly white neighborhood bordered by a lower-income, mostly black one. A house I'd run by earlier had been burglarized, and police stopped me a couple of blocks over upon arriving at the scene. And rightly so. Who expects to find someone running for pleasure at 4 in the morning? All I had to do, though, was explain that I was training for a marathon and where I lived and they let me go. Would they have done the same