Poor Camp

My Just 10 walk was dominated by two opposing ideas this morning.   The things for which I desparately need money and the things that money can never buy.

I started my walk ranting and raving about some of the evil hijinx of the financial institutions.  Those of us facing foreclosure or suffering from job loss and underemployment, alright,  anyone who is living below the federal poverty level, for any reason, knows all too well. Insanity, incompetence, dishonesty run rampant among many of the institutions we've been told to turn to for assistance.  For, example, we get several Federal Express letters from our mortgage holders collection agency asking for documentation.   We send it it and receive several more Fed Ex letters (duplicate and expensive mailings) asking for the same documents.   One family, so close to our home, played this exact game for a year to suddenly receive the dread letter stating they've been foreclosed.   This hits hard.  We know it's only a matter of time.  We have no plan, no safety net. There are few options.  Options require money.  I feel like I'm hanging on to a gnarled branch, dangling over Hell's Canyon.  My fingers are starting to slip.

Evil seems to rage unfettered by morality, ethics, justice.  We, the American people, are caught up in a rabid polarization that pits right against left in a useless struggle while the evil plays on.  We are distracted by a slight of hand, unable to address and effectively solve problems.  We are becoming a divided people, of little hope, who see evil every where yet miss it as it slithers among us.  It divides us.  We relinquish our power in endless fighting among ourselves.

Ironically, I also find the greatest comfort from others.  Friends, who are there to laugh and sometimes cry with me.  Friends, who provide the port in the storm, friends who encourage, friends who care.  Yesterday,  I spent the best part of my day with friends.  We met my dear friend, Donita, for lunch.  There was no time for deep conversations or verbal exchanges of trust but just being with her was enough.  We've known each other since we were both thirteen.  We have grown older together.  We understand each other with few words needed.  We couldn't look more opposite on the outside but inside we are kindred spirits.

The evening was a time for new friends.  The women of the book group shared themselves.    We laughed much.  It was a healing laughter.  The effect of these experiences of friendship lingered and floated around me today in a wonderful aura of communion.  I am not alone.  I felt gratitude for the people in my life who have a value far beyond any price. 

I began to dream of a union that rises above poverty.  A union that is bound together in positive and healing ways.    My inner idealist, saw a great camp out.  I began to envision people like me, those in foreclosure, the homeless, those without adequate health care, camping out on the grounds of every state capital, in a peaceful rally.  The poor are often invisible.  We need to make our faces known.  We need to put aside our differences and come together for the greater good.    We could conquer much with the good that could result. 

It's a nice dream.  For a time, I experience some of the fervor of youth.  I believe we have a common enemy.  It lives within us.  Sometimes, it's ourselves.  We also have a great capacity for good.  We must remain vigilant and open.  The most important things in life can not be purchased.  We must make sure that money doesn't divide us.    I'm ever grateful for good friends, who lighten the load in ways they can not imagine.  Thank you.   You make it all worthwhile.  Maybe we can change the world, one friend at a time.