A Hike with Eloise Butler

On Saturday I had an opportunity to go for a nice long hike. Nils was at a birthday party, Anders was at a friend's house, and Beth was getting some studying/work done.

I am grateful that right in the middle of the Twin Cities, we have some nice hiking opportunities. Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden and Bird Sanctuary in the middle of Theo Wirth Park (the largest park in Minneapolis) was my destination. I spent close to two hours hiking and didn't cover all the trails (including the ones outside of the sanctuary's fenced-in zone).

I never park at the pay meters by the Garden, but prefer to park down the road where it's free and you have to hike a little further through somewhat unmarked trails to find the Garden. It's a win-win if you ask me.

While most of the trees are still greenish, the off-beat trails took me past leaves of orange, red, yellow, and mundane brown. Acorns covered the path in places.

I entered into the Sanctuary's back gate. Several trails branch off from there and reconvene near the front gate. It's not a huge area, but the trails take you through woodland, wetland, and prairie.

From the Minneapolis Parks & Rec website:

The 15-acre garden is the oldest public wildflower garden in the nation. Its legacy dates back to 1907 when Minneapolis botanist Eloise Butler and botany teachers successfully petitioned the Minneapolis Park Board to create a natural botanic garden to preserve native flora as the city grew.

It started sprinkling a little during the hike, so I stuck to the woodland paths for a little longer. The canopy of trees kept me from getting very wet, but also provided a soundboard for the raindrops to splat against.

As the rain abated, I climbed up the hill to where the grassland sits. Somewhere in the nearby distance (if I may use that oxymoron), church bells tolled the coming of a new hour. Nature and church bells are two of the things that enable me to find some peace in the midst of the city. Together they were a brief moment of bliss.

After trodding most of the trails in the Garden, I left via the front gate and explored trails hoping to get back to my car. It was much easier to serendipitously wander across the Gardens while hiking than it was to keep myself headed in the right direction of the parking lot. I kept finding myself circling back along the Garden's perimeter, so I did pull out the compass app on my phone a few times.

At one point a young stag wandered out of the woods about 15 yards away from me. I stood and watched him for a while and he watched me. He let me follow him along a path for a while, but then he headed down a steep ravine which I decided against following on after the slippery conditions from the rain. So I continued on the noticeable trail--only to find myself back along the Garden's perimeter. I doubled back and got on a trail and after a few more minutes of walking came across the deer again. Maybe I should have just followed him...

I appreciate the work of Eloise Butler to preserve such an area with native flora (as well as habitats for the fauna), as well as the work of Theodore Wirth for whom the larger park surrounding the Garden is named. The "dean of the local parks movement in America," Wirth became the superintendent of parks for Minneapolis at the turn of the century. His goal was to have a playground within a quarter-mile of every child and a recreation center within a half-mile. He helped keep the land around the Mississippi River, Minnehaha Creek, and all the lakes within the city limits public. Most suburbs have homes surrounding their lakes, but ours have pathways, parks, and beaches. Everyone has access to them.

I'm a country boy. At heart, I always will be. I've learned to live in some rather large metropolitan areas, but I need time in wild, open places. I'm thankful there are opportunities for me to have that right in Minneapolis. And after starting back to school, I needed that hike.

Welcome to North Minneapolis, Mr. President

The President of the United States was in town today, speaking just 10 blocks from where I work, across the street from a colleague's home where I occasionally drive him and his children to after school. Now, it's not a big deal that the President was in Minnesota or even Minneapolis. This happens often enough, it seems. But it is a pretty big deal that he was in our neighborhood--in North Minneapolis.

North Minneapolis does not often get portrayed in a good way in the media--and often it seems like our racial socio-economic demographics are the cause. We do have our share of crime. In the almost three years since we've lived here I experienced and attempted robbery once, my wife got her bike stolen from our garage, and most recently our shovel was stolen from our back door. To be fair, I should point out that I had money from my wallet stolen at least two times in junior high and high school while my clothes were in a locker during away basketball games in small town Iowa.

President Obama was here to discuss gun control issues. We are in an area effected by gun violence. We've seen several families lose young children by getting shot, often as unintended victims. Minneapolis police average taking one illegal gun off the streets each day. I do think there should be more enforcement of existing laws as well as stricter regulations on assault weapons (while allowing freedoms for hunting and such), but I'm not writing this to get into the gun control debate. I just think it's pretty cool that the President would come to a neighborhood that much of the rest of the city looks down upon.

I was at school while it all happened (I only heard about it's location because my colleague had a hard time getting to school today because of the increased security around his house). I haven't seen the news coverage of the event yet. I've heard of a few friends who went to try and see a glimpse of the President. I haven't seen as much coverage overall as I would expect. The news just came on, and the event was largely pushed aside for local gun control debates. But it's a big deal here.

I am acutely aware of the division over approval of the President.  Regardless of how what you think of him, it's still pretty cool to have the President of the United States a few blocks away. I enjoyed being aware while outside at recess of how near our nation's leader was.

The picture to the right was posted on our local hardware store's facebook page. The officer sitting next to the President is one we see in our neighborhood occasionally. He, along with another colleague, started a Bike Cops for Kids program, bicycling through the neighborhood, handing out bike helmets to kids in need.

Like any neighborhood, there are good things going on here. There are also many things that can improve. What matters most is a willingness to move forward together and not to get stuck in the negative stereotypes that others impose.

Snowy Sunday

1. I believe our neighborhood must have the widest sidewalks of any city.

2. I'm not sure why I shovel them when everyone walks on the street anyway.

3. For some reason I had the song "How Deep the Father's Love for Us" in my head this morning while I was shoveling.

4. I should have written myself a note a month ago to take the snowblower in for a tune-up when I thought of it. Living on a corner lot is not fun with several inches of snow on two sidewalks (plus a driveway) without a snowblower.

5. Still, shoveling is good exercise.

6. I've had a sick 8-year old this weekend (just a fever and fatigue)--I'm sad we can't be outside playing.

7. If Monty Python taught me anything, it's to always look on the bright side of life...I love the beauty of a heavy snowfall.

Encouraging Words

I was working in the yard this morning while the boys were playing in the pool when a gentleman walked by on his way to church, and in the midst of commenting on how nice the yard looked he said, "Thanks for being a blessing in the hood."

I know I can sometimes needlessly seek affirmation, but for the most part I garden and work in the yard because I enjoy it. Still, it was very nice to hear him say that.

And he was a man walking the walk...on his way to church (I could tell by his dress and the Bible in hand) he stopped to encourage a neighbor. And I appreciated it. Sometimes all the hood needs is more neighborly interaction like that. Most of the time all humanity needs is an encouraging words once in a while.

And while I may be "blessing the hood" by keeping a nice yard, our neighbor also showed me today the importance of blessing others with a kind word once in a while. Saying "hello" to someone goes a long way. Saying a sentence of affirmation can make a world of difference in someone's day.

I'm hoping that by writing this down, I'll remember to do the same.

The Tornado: A Year Later

Today the Kindergarten/1st Grade class I work with in the afternoons at school took an impromptu "field trip" to deliver a thank you gift to Urban Homeworks, the organization that spearheaded clean-up efforts after the tornado that hit our neighborhood a year ago today. The children decorated little paper houses with words of gratitude and peace, cut them out, taped them together and placed them on cardboard which they decorated with streets, lawns and flowers. It was a simple act of gratitude for the efforts done by the people at Urban Homeworks (who renovated our house before we purchased it).

Our tornado wasn't the worst. It was overshadowed by much more sever tornado outbreaks that same day (Joplin, Missouri, namely), but it impacted our community and our city. Ours is about the poorest neighborhood in the Twin Cities. Foreclosures have hit hard here (I've heard various facts). According to MPR, 80% of the households affected by the tornado were on public assistance of some kind. 3700 homes were damaged or destroyed; all but a small handful haven't been touched (I was told today only 16 haven't been touched at all). FEMA denied any assistance to individuals, but the community moved forward (with the help of a lot of great volunteers). 

Many homes have been fixed. Some were just torn down. The city has replanted trees on the blocks that lost so many. But there is still a lot of work to do. There are still houses that are abandoned. Still tarps covering roofs. Business lots that stand empty. 

The pictures I took today were from the same street I took pictures from last year following the tornado. I could have shown worse pictures, I could have shown better; these were the scenes on those couple of blocks. The nakedness of the streets without trees is the most visual reminder of the tornado--Minneapolis has trees providing a canopy on almost all its streets. 

The economics of our neighborhood come into play, of course. Many people didn't have insurance. One-third of the residences affected were rentals. Landlords often live in the suburbs and don't care much about what happens in the inner city (maybe that's a bit cynical but I think it's fairly accurate). 

And it also reminds us that recovery takes time. Haiti is still recovering from its earthquake in 2010. Japan still shows much devastation and lack of progress from the tsunami that hit it almost a year-and-a-half ago. Recovery takes time. And fixing outward appearance doesn't mean that the deeper issues are taken care of yet. Many people still have traumatic responses when the emergency sirens go off. 

Recovery seems to have happened the quickest with those who were ready to stand fast and move forward. Some turned inward in anger ("why did this happen?") and others chose not to partake in recovery. Some reach out for help; others expected help to come to them. Some had the money for moving forward; others will continue to have to work hard to come up with the funds to restore their property. We needed to be ready to do the work ourselves, but we also needed help from outside. Maybe our neighborhood is a good analogy for people and how they choose to deal with the things that affect them (I'm feeling it is for me at least)...

(do a word search for "tornado" on this site to see pics from last summer)

The Hood: Love & Hate

I love the diversity in our neighborhood. Surrounding us is an Ecuadorian/Mexican family, a few Hmong families, a couple Somali families, a part-Cherokee family, a few African-American families, and (most recently) a couple other Euro-American families.

I hate that we have to keep everything locked up or it gets stolen or broken, that our yard becomes the neighborhood playground when we're not around and that things get broken or treated carelessly.

I love that we have so many parks nearby. Within a mile and a half in either direction I can bike in the Theodore Wirth Park with its woods, rivers and lakes, the Victory Memorial Parkway (which runs into Theo Wirth), or along the Mississippi River.

I hate that I get woken up in the middle of the night by flashing police lights as they do a drug bust on a neighboring house. Or that I can't fall asleep because of the noise of the neighbors next door.

I love meeting the people around here. Like the man down the block who picks up garbage in the street many mornings to keep the place clean. Or our Ecuadorian neighbor who is always willing to help with an automotive problem.

I hate that we can't have friends in our yard hanging out without the neighbor kids coming over to play with our toys or eat our food. I don't mind that they do that, but I don't like that it happens every time. I hate that my son dislikes they neighbor kids because they ruin his playdate with his best friend that he hasn't seen for a long time.

I love the opportunities around us: museums, concerts, nature centers, libraries, sculpture gardens, athletics, rivers and lakes, etc.

I hate all the broken glass, garbage and other unsavory things in the street and on the sidewalks. I wish I could walk outside barefoot.

I love that I can bike around easily--that there are many bike lanes and trails.

I hate that someday I'll have to explain the "n" word to my kids (and probably quite soon). I hate that it's said so flippantly by the inner city African Americans. I hate all the other language that's used on the street that my kids (and I) have to hear.

I love that many people in the community care. They rally together to make the place better. They stand up to violence. They look out for each other. They try to make the place better.

I hate that there is violence to have to stand up to. And drug abuse, and racism, and theft and too many other things.

I love that we don't have to keep up with the neighbors. There isn't the talk about going to the cabin on the weekend or trips to places my kids probably won't ever see. Many people are content with what they have.

I hate that too many kids in our neighborhood are basically on their own. Their parents have to work all the time so they're not around or they just aren't present. I hate to think what their future will be like without healthy formative influences and boundaries. I wish all kids could experience loving homes.

Anders was telling me the other night as we were having some "cuddle time" before bed that at times he wishes he lived somewhere else and at times he wants to live here forever. And I could honestly say that I feel the same way.

Living in "the hood" is not for everyone. Heck, at times it's not for me. But we felt this is where we were supposed to move to. There are ills in the suburbs as much as in the inner city--they just look different. Wherever we live, we want to leave a positive impact. We want to make the place a little better. Plenty of people do a lot more in that area than we do, but I know that ever little bit matters. Sometimes I wish it were a lot easier. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to deal with it all. Sometimes I long for the wide open spaces of the country. But this is where I am. This is my neighborhood. Love it and hate it. It's where I live.

The Parable of the Neighbor Kid

I had a talk to the neighbor boy tonight. I wasn't looking forward to it, but it needed to happen. I was hoping he'd come talk to me, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. So when I was in the yard taking dish towels off the clothesline and saw him walking toward the back door of his place, I knew I had to stop him so we could talk.

He's probably around 13 or so (though I'm a terrible judge of age). His younger brother and he were over yesterday playing with our kids after school. Before they left I had a sneaking suspicion that someone had stolen some money yesterday.

The boys live in the duplex next door. If you've been around our house at all, I only need to mention the duplex and you've probably already not surprised. The duplex along with one other rental across the street, tend to be the trouble houses on our block. They're the ones we've seen the police at; they're the ones we've called the police about. We try our best to love them, but we also aren't going to put up with some of the stuff that goes on.

The boys are fairly nice boys. I don't think their home life is overly stable, but they have been friendly.

But yesterday when I went upstairs to have everyone clean up before supper, I noticed some coin jars that were out on my dresser that I was fairly certain weren't out earlier. I also only saw two and believed we had three. I had been gone over the weekend, however and wasn't positive if Beth had done anything with them. So I brought it up (reminding everyone--including my boys--that our bedroom was off limits), and I said I'd check with Beth if my suspicions were true or not.

When Beth got home she confirmed that there were three coin bowls and one contained a decent amount of quarters (left over remnants from our rental days of having to do coin-operated laundry). Then I discovered a sack of coins (pennies and nickels mainly in the drawer in our bathroom that contains our toothbrushes. Then I saw the third bowl in our laundry basket in the bathroom. About the same spot where the oldest kid was when I came upstairs.

I had told them before all this was confirmed that I hoped they would be honest and truthful. That I would know if they were lying or not. That we wanted to be able to have them over to play but that we needed to trust them. I had hoped, after I discovered that they had lied and that they had stolen things, that his conscience would weigh him down and he'd come and confess.

Now, it wasn't much money--maybe $5 or so. But I no longer could trust him. He lied. He stole. I couldn't be sure that nothing else had been stolen before (we'd had packages taken off our porch just before Christmas, Anders has been missing his Lego watch, the kids always asks about our computers and digital camera). We felt violated.

So when I saw him coming tonight, I stopped him to talk. I tried to give him an opportunity to confess first. That didn't happen, so I told him what I knew to be true. He still didn't really come out and confess, but he also couldn't hide too much anymore. I'm not sure if he fully acknowledges that he did something wrong. I think he may feel guilty mainly because I confronted him. He gave me some of the quarters he had in his pocket and said he'd bring more over tomorrow.

I hope he does. It's not about the money. I feel for the kid. Growing up where we live, being a black teen, the statistics show that he has a good chance of having a run-in with the law as he gets older. I don't want that to happen. I want a better life for him than what he's got. So I hope that returning things would give an opportunity for him to change.

And even more than that, I want to be able to talk with him about forgiveness. I haven't been perfect, either. I've lied before. I've stolen (I don't think either of these sins is foreign to most of us--look around and see if you've taken anything home from the office for instance). But I've also received forgiveness--from others and from God.

The hard part will be trusting him again. I don't feel I can let him in the house for a while. I'm not sure what he'll need to do to regain our trust.

But I hope we can talk. I hope he'll take some responsibility. I hope...I hope.

It's also a good reminder that with repentance comes change. Simply saying, "I'm sorry," isn't true repentance. Repentance is a 180degree turn. It's turning from our wrong actions toward right ones. I don't always do that well, I confess. So I need the reminder for myself as well that with the grace of forgiveness comes the responsibility of repentance...of change. May it be so.

Of Houses and Souls

I love biking down the neighborhood streets around our home. On pretty much every block there is at least one old home that has been beautifully kept (often several). This isn't unusually. Many areas have beautiful old homes.

But I live in North Minneapolis. We're not known for our beauty. When the rest of the Twin Cities metro area thinks of North Minneapolis, they associate it with violence, crime, murder, poverty. We're "the hood." And yes, an occasional murder does happen here--just like they happen in other parts of the metro.

We may have more of a history in this area since this part of the city was originally designed to keep the "undesirables" out of the nicer parts of the city. But we also have the tenacity and hope to rise above how others view us.

Some may not be surprised to find nice houses in North Minneapolis. There are areas (along the parkway that boarders the suburbs to the west for example) that are lined with nice homes. But the houses in these pictures are on the blocks near our home--in the heart of North Minneapolis.

When you take the time to go slowly, to bike or walk, through a neighborhood, you can see the beauty in it. There are little architectural details on many of the homes that you don't see if you're driving by. There is stonework and masonry, woodwork and ornamental details that are easy to miss.

You also miss out on the people who live there. The hope they have. Their dreams. The fact that God loves them, that Christ died for them. It's easy to miss all that through the stereotypes of people in "the hood." The baggy pants, drooping so their boxers show way too much. The drug dealer. The welfare mom.

Those people exist. But they also have potential. They, too, can be redeemed and sanctified. Like many of the old houses that have taken work and effort to turn them around and maintain their beauty, a little attention and work can do the same for the people in the same neighborhoods. Yes, they need Jesus. They also need us--not to come be their savior, but to be an empathetic friend who can understand how hard it is to turn our right when your mom was a teenager who tried to raise you by herself without anyone to raise her. They need us to be a role model for their kids when their father hasn't been in their lives at all. They need us to give them a chance and look beyond the stereotypes and prejudices. They need us to not look at them as "theys" and "thems" but as people created in God's image with a soul that longs to be made whole.

We just need to bike down the side roads and pay attention to the details and the beauty therein.

The Tornado: A Month Later

I drove through the neighborhood where I took pictures after the tornado damage several weeks ago. A lot of clean up has been done. There aren't trees lying in most yards any more. Roofs are being worked on. But there is still a lot of damage and unlivable houses. It's easy to forget how long the clean up can last after a natural disaster (when was the last time you saw pictures from the tsunami in Japan or even the earthquake in Haiti?). Months (even years) later, lives are still effected. Sometimes we just need those reminders.

An Anniversary of Our Home

It was a year ago yesterday that we signed the papers and moved into our home. We extremely grateful for it. We have so much space to move around in compared to our apartment. And a yard! Urban Homeworks did a great job fixing the house up; we haven't had to worry about anything major. We're able to host people and open up our home (which we did some in the apartment, but this is a lot more comfortable)--hardly a week goes by where we don't have people in our house at least once. And if you count the neighbor kids playing with the boys, there's hardly a day where someone isn't over. And somehow, we're able to pay all the bills on what little income we have (seriously--if you knew what a miracle this is).

Still, sometimes it's rough in the hood. Tonight as I was biking home from church, some teenage boys threw a rock or two at me as I was going past the corner they were hanging out on. Beth's bike was stolen out of our garage shortly after we moved in. I dislike having to make sure every door is locked. I don't like not being able to have the windows open at night because of the noise. I wish we didn't have to deal with some of the seedy tenets in rental houses near us.

I don't like cleaning up the constant stream of litter and broken glass on the sidewalks and in our yard. I get tired of having to teach our neighbor kids boundaries at our house. I wish it wasn't uncomfortable being the only white guy in the neighborhood at times. And I probably miss out on some of the bad things that go on because I'm a bit naive in some of those areas.

Yet, it is a good place to live. We've got several nice parks close by--including wading pools, a splash pad and a water park if we so choose to buy the pass some day. We're near a couple nice bike trails through parks and along the Mississippi. We've got a nice library a few blocks away where some of the staff know us by name. There are a lot of fun and free activities around. We've got a great school just a couple blocks from our house. And we have some good neighbors.

I know that I probably won't be able to live in the city forever. I yearn for the country at times. But we're here for a few years. Beth is starting her grad school program in the fall. And we've got some loans that we don't have to pay off if we're in our home for at least five years.

We moved here intentionally. There were other areas we could have looked to live. But we wanted to be a part of bringing life into hurting neighborhoods. One of our friends were told when they moved into North Minneapolis years ago with their young kids that what they were doing was child abuse. There are times when we would feel the same with raising kids with suburban values.

If everyone runs when a neighborhood is "bad," you will end up with bad neighborhoods. And those "bad" values will keep creeping into the "good" neighborhoods, and people will move and the cycle will continue. At some point we need to be neighbors and help each other and look out for each other. We need to invest in the kids who have no one in their lives except other kids without people to give them the attention they need. We need more people like our neighbor James who goes up and down the block with his broom and dust pan. We need to work at bridging the gaps between the Hmong family and the Somali family and the African American family and the Euro-American family. We need to learn from one another. And care for each other and look out for one another.

And so we'll be in our house for a while longer (though I still have this vision for a church and community on a farm out in the country that I hope to bring to fruition one day). We still getting to know our neighbors (there are some language barriers with several houses--not to mention all the homes that are empty right now). But the people in the the side of the duplex closest to us told me recently they're still in the place because we're next door. Honestly, I don't know them that well, but we talk and help out when we can. I'm glad we can be an influence in our neighbor boys' lives (even though it gets tiring at times) because I don't think they have a lot of male adults who give them consistent attention otherwise. I'm thankful for all the people and organizations who are working to help get people back on their feet and give them respect and hope.

My wife has printed on a curtain by our door this prayer which I hope we may always live by:

Dear Lord,

Swing the doors of our hope wide so all people will feel welcome and loved. May the floor and the walls be strong enough to carry the burdens of those who come. We pray no one leaves feeling less than when they entered. May your love and peace cover and protect as each one departs. Amen.

On Processing a Tornado

Yesterday afternoon a tornado went through North Minneapolis. When it happened, I didn't give it much though. The sirens didn't go off until after it was on the ground. The local news stations weren't talking about it yet to know what part of the county it was going through. I was on the second floor of our home. It didn't look bad outside. I didn't go to the basement (I'm a country boy and used to being able to watch storms to know how close and bad they are). And then I heard it--I hadn't really heard one up close before. I does sound like a freight train like they tell you it does.

Beth was supposed to be driving home right through the area at the time it hit. I couldn't get through to her on the phone. It took her a lot longer to get home because she couldn't get through on most of the streets.

The boys were at a friend's birthday party at the time. Their house happened to be right in the path of the tornado. No trees were left on their street. Beth went to pick them up (I had to get to church because I was preaching) and had to park a few blocks away and climb over trees to get them. Thankfully, they were fine and handled it all fairly well.

When we got home from church I (and a friend who was staying with us last night) ran to some friends' house to bring their frozen goods back to our freezer since they were out of power. On our way back we went a few blocks over to see what we could see. Just four blocks away from us trees were uprooted. We, thankfully, had no damage. But it was close. Very close.

This morning Anders didn't have school. The boys and I biked down to the center where Urban Homeworks and the Sanctuary CDC were running volunteer opportunities out of. There wasn't much I could do with the kids along as far as clean-up went, but we were able to help get volunteer waivers and other forms to where they needed to go. We made a few trips on the bike. There was a huge turnout of volunteers--I've heard around 600. Which is great; there is a lot of work to do.

In the past 24 hours the helicopters have been flying overhead constantly. Police cars and fire trucks have been all over. Streets have been blocked off. Nearby streets and landmarks have been flashing across the news. It's been very surreal.

We're in an area that often gets a bad rap as being the bad part of town. But most people have been out there helping their neighbor as best they can. People coming from all over to help and seeing the heart of the people in this neighborhood.

And so we pray...for those who have lost much (including the families of two who lost their lives), for those without a place to stay, for those without electricity, for continued safety and cleanup. And we'll do whatever else we can.

*Top picture from Kare11.com, bottom picture from Jeremy & Sarah Scheller

The Good in The Hood

There's a lot of hurt in the hood. It doesn't take much to see that. Several times a day I can hear people yelling at each other.

But there's also a lot of good. Yesterday while I was working in the yard I got a chance to talk with James who lives down the street from us. He often can be seen outside in the mornings walking up and down the block picking up litter from the curb and sidewalks. James moved to North Minneapolis after living most of his life in the projects in Chicago. The way he talks, you'd think North Minneapolis was a paradise compared to the projects. And maybe it is. He shared how his kids couldn't really play at the playground because of the gunfire. They knew to drop to the ground if they heard shots.

James moved here a while back when some family members invited him up. Right away he found job opportunities. And though he could get his own place, his aunt appreciates the help he provides as well as peace of mind knowing he's around.

And he's here to make the neighborhood better--as shown by his selfless act of cleaning up the never-ending litter (though James admits some could likely be from his grandkids...). One of the axioms I was taught as a kids was to always leave a place better than when you found it. James is doing that; hopefully, we are too. That's what community does. Not just with the litter, but with each other.

Scenes from a Bike Ride

Nils and I took a bike ride and picnicked along the Mississippi River today. Here are some of the sites we saw:

Of Green Lanterns & the Hood

Earlier this year our family made our first visit to a comic book store (actually initiated by my wife!). I admit to buying a few and checking them out from the library--I'm enjoying the stories of superheroes. Just as the first installations of recent movies like Spiderman, X-Men and Batman have contained a lot of moral lessons, so do the graphic novels and comics that these stories originated from.

I recently checked out some stories about The Green Lantern from the library. Fear is a central theme in many of the story lines. In some stories, the Green Lanterns (there are more than one, I have learned--each patrols a different sector of the galaxy) battle those who wear yellow power rings (there are other colors, too). Yellow power rings feed on fear. Green power rings feed off the willpower of their user. Green Lanterns were usually chosen because fear was not present within them.

Fear is a presence I'm noticing more as we live in North Minneapolis. I'm learning that fear thrives in the "rougher" parts of the city. Even without experiencing violence, knowing the stories and knowing people who have experienced it makes us be more guarded. I occasionally look at cars that drive by suspiciously, wondering what their intent is. After having my wife's bike stolen from the garage shortly after we moved in, we found ourselves checking out the bicycles that would go by. One of our neighbors has told us things we need to do so we don't become victims. I'm sure she's being helpful, but it's spoken in fear. And fear becomes hard not to listen to, especially with the amount of it on the television.

There is healthy fear, true. It gets us out of harms way. It keeps us reverent of God. But generally fear is not the mark of a Christian. We are told in 1 John that "perfect love casts out fear." If I am walking in Christ's love, I have no fear within me. That doesn't mean I'm not precautious or naive about my actions, but that I don't let fear motivate me. Instead, I let love. Or at least, that's what I'm supposed to do. It'll come--if I keep focused on love instead of fear. And when that happens, I can figure out how to love my neighbor, instead of being fearful--whether or not there is reason to be.