Chisomo.



We're busy packing for our move to California this week.
Pardon the radio silence for the next several days.
Grace and all good things.
GG

p.s. Merci mille fois to Chuck Osgood for the beautiful picture.

Farewell, Chicago: A Playlist

This is our last weekend in Chicago before we pack up the wagons and head west for the promised land of Laguna Beach, California.

We're having folks over for a Fourth of July cook out tonite (please, please don't rain!), and we made a goodbye mix for the occasion. It's been 21 years (GG) and 40 years (Crime Boy) in the City of Big Shoulders (and environs), so you'll forgive us if the playlist is 162 tracks long.

We'll miss you, Chicago.

And So It Goes Billy Joel
Brokedown Palace (Remastered LP Version) Grateful Dead
Bad Moon Rising Creedence Clearwater Revival
Glory Hallelujah The Swan Silvertones
Over the Hills and Far Away Led Zeppelin
We Will Rock You KRS-One
Every Day I Have the Blues Buddy Guy & Junior Wells
Darkness On the Edge of Town Bruce Springsteen
Something Lehbanchleh
Fix You Coldplay
California Joni Mitchell
Save a Seat for Me B.B. King
Shower The People James Taylor
It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) Bob Dylan
Don't Give Up (Africa) Alicia Keys & Bono
Essence Lucinda Williams
Re: Stacks Bon Iver
Vienna Billy Joel
Will the Circle Be Unbroken The Staple Singers
Rebel Rebel Seu Jorge
With a Little Help from My Friends Ellis Island
Come Together Edi Fitzroy Featuring Bigga Star
Norwegian Wood Wayne Armond
Her New Church Paul Cebar
Not While I'm Around Kurt Elling
Fisherman's Blues The Waterboys
A Place Like That The Caravans
My Favourite Thing Ambre McLean
One U2
Please Be Patient With Me Wilco
A Little Less Conversation Elvis vs. JXL
If God Will Send His Angels (Single) U2
Lady (You Bring Me Up) The Commodores
Sugar Magnolia (Remastered Version) Grateful Dead
Soul Rebel Bob Marley
Give a Man a Fish Arrested Development
Lift Me Up Moby
Wake Up Everybody Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes
Proud Mary Creedence Clearwater Revival
Anticipation Carly Simon
Soul Man Sam & Dave
Precious Lord B.B. King
Proud Mary Ike & Tina Turner
Crazy Love, Vol. II (Remastered Version) Paul Simon
Ain’t No Mountain High Enough Marvin Gaye
Feeling That Way Journey
Golden Blunders The Posies
Nick of Time Bonnie Raitt
Love Will Keep Us Together Bridgette Romanek
Lion's Mane Iron & Wine
Talk About the Passion R.E.M.
I Will Survive Gloria Gaynor
You Can Get It If You Really Want Jimmy Cliff
We Can Work It Out Steel Pulse
When Love Comes to Town U2 & B.B. King
Junebug The B-52's
You’ll Never Walk Alone The Five Blind Boys Of Alabama
Kneel and Pray The Cross Jordan Singers
Is This Love (Album Version) Bob Marley
Get Up On the Good Foot James Brown
The Song Remains the Same Led Zeppelin
Sweet Thing The Waterboys
By Your Side Sade
I Left My Wallet In El Segundo (Vampire Mix) Fatboy Slim
Chicago Sufjan Stevens
When It Sings Elvis Costello
Good Night Sunshine Jason Harrod
A Thousand Beautiful Things Annie Lennox
Hard Headed Woman Cat Stevens
I'd Run Away The Jayhawks
In the Sky The Pilgrim Travelers
That Unhinged Thing Paul Cebar And The Milwaukeeans
I Saw A Stranger With Your Hair John Gorka
Box of Rain Grateful Dead
The Past And Pending The Shins
Imagine Chalice
Absinthe Beth Orton
Goin' to Chicago Count Basie and His Orchestra
What's Going On Marvin Gaye
The Long Way Around Dixie Chicks
Overjoyed Stevie Wonder
Here Comes Your Man Pixies
Love That Boy The Innocence Mission
Trouble Ray LaMontagne
Katmandu Cat Stevens
Just a Closer Walk With Thee Little Richard
I’ve Been Saved The Argo Singers
Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It) Beyoncé
Stand By Me Ben E. King
You're So Vain Carly Simon
God’s Wonderful Love The Staple Singers
Silver Springs Fleetwood Mac
Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters Elton John
Coming Up Close 'Til Tuesday
Wondering Where The Lions Are Bruce Cockburn
Ice Cream Sarah McLachlan
The Boy In the Bubble (Remastered Version)Paul Simon
The Things I've Gone and Done Carrie Newcomer
Graceland (Remastered Version) Paul Simon
Yesterday Mankind
Turn Me On Norah Jones
Something In the Night Bruce Springsteen
The Promised Land Bruce Springsteen
Pilgrimage R.E.M.
Didn't Leave Me No Ladder Paul Cebar
Hang on St. Christopher Tom Waits
Real Love David Gray
I'm Still in Love With You Al Green
Blame It On My Youth Kurt Elling
Here Comes the Sun The Burning Souls
Mojo Hand Lightnin' Hopkins
Juliet of the Spirits The B-52's
Holding Back The Years Simply Red
One Johnny Cash
I Heard It Through the Grapevine Creedence Clearwater Revival
People Make the World Go Round The Stylistics
Frank's Song Tom Waits
Highway to Heaven Mahalia Jackson
The Ghost of Tom Joad Bruce Springsteen
Paper Bag Fiona Apple
Leave Me (Like You Found Me) Wilco
Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien Edith Piaf
Chicago Rufus Wainwright
Maybe Alison Krauss & Union Station
In My Life Mello
Hey Tonight Creedence Clearwater Revival
One Love / People Get Ready (Album Version) Bob Marley
Life On Mars? David Bowie
In A Lifetime Clannad
Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough Michael Jackson
Not Ready to Make Nice Dixie Chicks
Love Shack The B-52's
Change Is Hard She & Him
Shanti / Ashtangi Madonna
Fergalicious Fergie
D'yer Mak'er Led Zeppelin
Across The Universe Rufus Wainwright
One of These Things First Nick Drake
Racing In the Street Bruce Springsteen
Somebody Bigger Than You & I Mahalia Jackson
Trench Town Rock Bob Marley & The Wailers
Lord Don’t Move the Mountain Mahalia Jackson
She Loves You Hugh J.
Hey Jude Toots & The Maytals
Natural Mystic Bob Marley & The Wailers
Love Is Teasin' The Chieftains & Marianne Faithful
Prove It All Night Bruce Springsteen
One of These Days The Caravans
Thank You World World Party
Little Earthquakes Carrie Newcomer
She's the One World Party
I Get A Kick Out Of You Ethel Merman
Messed Up Everywhere Blues Jason Harrod
My Sweet Lord George Harrison
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (Live) U2
Give More Power to the People (For Gods' Sake) The Chi-Lites
United We Stand Sunny (from Brotherhood Of Man) & Tony Burrows
Blackbird Sarah McLachlan
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right Bob Dylan
Stir It Up Bob Marley & The Wailers
Someday Soon David Wilcox
Something to Talk About Bonnie Raitt

GODSTUFF

IN THE BEGINNING:
HAROLD RAMIS TAKES ON GENESIS IN 'YEAR ONE'



Last month, Harold Ramis, the writer, director and actor of comedy classics such as "Caddyshack," and "Groundhog Day," released "Year One," a raucous comedy starring Jack Black as Z, a caveman who gets thrown out of his tribe and village for breaking its one rule, only to stumble upon a civilization populated by characters from the Bible, beginning with Adam and Eve.

"Year One," which Ramis describes as a "high-minded, low comedy," has received a decidedly mixed reception, both commercially and critically. But I think it's one of those slow burners -- a film so silly on the surface that the big ideas lying underneath take time to take hold.

Ramis' latest film reminds me a lot of Kevin Smith's "Dogma," a sometimes gross, ribald, obscene comedy that has some of the most articulate and powerful things to say about faith, religion and the grace of God in film.

At a special screening of the film for Aitz Hayim Center for Jewish Living, the Highland Park, IL synagogue that he joined with his family not long after 9/11, Ramis talked about the spiritual ideas behind "Year One."

On Sept. 11, 2001, Ramis was in New York City. "We were on our way to LaGuardia when the first plane hit," he recalled. "I started thinking a lot about the fundamentalisms and orthodoxies that have driven world conflict for a very long time and drive a deep-seated internal conflict we all have. Is life meaningful? Is it purposeful? Is there a creator and a God who watches over us and actually cares about what we do. Or have we generated all of that as a response to uncertainty in the world."

Not long after the terrorist attacks, Ramis, who has described himself spiritually as "Buddhish" -- culturally Jewish but more Buddhist in practice and beliefs -- attended Rosh Hashana services at Aitz Hayim.

The rabbi "told stories of people who either were at the World Trade Center or might have been but chose not to be for whatever reason. I think he said . . . 'uncertainty is the condition of life and randomness is its expression.' I kind of believe that orthodoxy and fundamentalism is an effort to blot out that uncertainty. It's just too painful for a lot of people and too frightening to live in a world where they are responsible. But I think that's the essence of being Jewish, to take personal responsibility."

Ramis, who was raised in a Jewish home in Chicago and even attended an Orthodox yeshiva for six months, turned to the Torah.



"I thought I would track through Genesis and see how we got where we are . . . When the studio said, 'What's the movie about?' I said I want to track the psychosocial development of civilization through the Old Testament,' and they said, 'We can't really put that on a poster,' " Ramis said. "Who are Adam and Eve, really, in the Bible? Obviously they are primitive man. They live in a garden. They are hunter-gatherers. Everything is given to them. There's no moral authority because they don't even have any concept of ethics yet because it's not required. So they live in a state of innocence, and then they're driven from the garden because they broke the one rule.

"Our main characters, of course, eat the fruit. The consequence is an awakening into the existential dilemma, because that's what God lays out. 'Now you're going to be mortal.' That's the first premise in existentialism. Life is finite. We're all going to die. . . . They venture out into the world, a world of moral chaos. The first person they meet is Cain [David Cross] who is already in this deep sibling rivalry with Abel [Paul Rudd]. So I wanted to look at that. We kind of play Cain as the first sociopath. He's a narcissist [who] sees the world entirely from his point of view."

It would be easy to dismiss "Year One" for its fart, poop and pee jokes (it has all three). But there is a soul beneath the sight gags.

"Jack Black's character believes that he's been chosen, that he has a special destiny," Ramis said. "It's the only way to explain how he screws up so often. It's not his fault. Something is guiding him. He won't take personal responsibility for what's happening. It's externally derived. God wants him to do it. 'Why did I eat that fruit? Maybe God wanted me to eat the fruit.' He thinks he's chosen. His young partner, Michael Cera [as the character Oh], believes that life is totally random and accidental, and therefore terrifying to him. When they encounter Abraham [Hank Azaria], who also believes he's chosen, we begin to see what the effects of an external God who speaks to you is, who tells Abraham to sacrifice his son."

One of the main characters from the Book of Genesis is missing from "Year One": The Almighty.

"Our characters keep debating, God/no God. Philosophically what it says is, whether you believe in God or not makes no difference. You still have the obligation to act responsibly in the world," Ramis said.

"God does not make an appearance in the film. That's up to you," he said, chuckling. "But I do play Adam."

GODSTUFF

2009 SPIRITUAL SUMMER READING LIST

For many of us, summer sets a more leisurely pace when we can get around to the things we love to do but often don’t have time for the rest of the year.
Like reading. And reflection.
My summer will be a busy one as I’m moving house and settling into a new community while finishing a new book manuscript on deadline. Still, I have a stack of books I hope to make room for while the nights are long and the living is easier.
For those of you inclined toward contemplating the Spirit (or your navel), here is my Top 10 Spiritual Summer Reading List for 2009.


Angry Conversations with God: A Snarky but Authentic Spiritual Memoir
By Susan Isaacs
This is one of the funniest, most inspiring books I’ve read in many a summer. Call it a middle-class-white-girl’s Dark Night of the Soul. Isaacs — an actor, writer and comedian — takes God to couples counseling and finds out that her troubled “marriage” is mostly her own, hilarious fault. Donald Miller, author of Blue Like Jazz, put it this way: “If King David were a woman, and were funny, he'd be Susan Isaacs.”

The Help
By Kathryn Stockett
A friend who lives in rural Mississippi recommended this debut novel to me. “The Help,” she said, “go get it right now!” Set in 1960s Jackson, Miss., during the early days of the Civil Rights Movement, Stockett tells the story of an unlikely counter-cultural heroine and young would-be writer named Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan, who takes on the racist mores of the “cake-eating, Tab-swilling, cigarette-smoking” white women of Jackson society who enlist the help of black women to raise their children, but don’t trust them to polish the silver. It’s a heavy subject, but Stockett tells the story with wit and compassion.

God Says No
By James Hannaham
Like The Help, Hannaham’s novel navigates the dangerous world where faith and culture clash. In this case, it’s the intersection of religion and sexuality that provides the drama as Gary Gray, a young black man, struggles to reconcile his homosexuality and his Christian faith. Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin) calls God Says No, “A tender, funny tour of a mind struggling to do the right thing. A revelatory and sympathetic guide to a misunderstood world.”

Jesus Was a Liberal: Reclaiming Christianity for All
By Scotty McLennan
The author, McLennan, is dean of religious life at Stanford University and the real-life inspiration for the Rev. Scott Sloan of the comic strip Doonesbury fame. His book is a manifesto of sorts for those who are both unapologetically Christian and liberal. He takes readers through the major concerns of liberal Christianity, both theological and social, and draws conclusions that are sure to both enrage and amuse those who don’t share them.

The Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Discovered the Hidden Gospels
By Janet Soskice
Set for release on Aug. 20, this book tells the little-known, fascinating story of Agnes and Margaret Smith, identical twins from Scotland who, in the late 19th century, travel to the Holy Lands and discover what were at the time the earliest known copies of the Gospels.

Between Wyomings: My God and an iPod on the Open Road
By Ken Mansfield
Grammy award-winning country music producer Mansfield takes readers on a trip through his own soul via stories from his heady days in the music biz, from the Hollywood Hills to London’s Saville Row to Nashville Honky Tonks. His own journey might inspire you to take your own.

Home Tonight: Further Reflections on the Parable of the Prodigal Son
By Henri Nouwen
This slim paperback by the late theologian and author Nouwen is a gem. Long a favorite of mine, Nouwen tells the story of his own spiritual homecoming in this book that expands on his original classic The Return of the Prodigal Son. This volume is taken from a series of workshops Nouwen led about his encounter with Rembrandt’s 17th-century painting also called The Return of the Prodigal son. If you’re about to take a summer road trip, you might consider snapping up the audio version of this book, due to be released later this month.

Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate: A Trip Through Death, Sex, Divorce and Spiritual Celebrity in Search of the True Dharma
By Brad Warner
Warner, author of Hardcore Zen and Sit Down and Shut Up, is a Zen monk and a punk rock musician who spent years working for a Japanese monster-movie company. His short bio alone makes this memoir intriguing. Add the story line of losing his mother, his grandmother, his job and his wife; with equal parts Zen-infused spiritual insight and bold truth-telling and you’ve got a page-turner.

The New Jew: An Unexpected Conversion
By Sally Srok Friedes
This breezy memoir recounts how Friedes, a nice Catholic girl from Milwaukee, became a nice New York City Jewish wife, in a decade-long adventure that takes her through marriage, motherhood, and spiritual transformation.

Tales of Wonder: Adventures Chasing the Divine
By Huston Smith with Jeffrey Payne
At age 90, Smith, the spiritual adventurer and author of the religious classic The World’s Religions, tells tales from a lifetime on the front lines of religious exploration in search of God and authentic spiritual experience. From spinning with Sufi dervishes to dropping acid with Timothy Leary, Smith’s stories of, as he calls it, “whoring after the Infinite” are infinitely fascinating.

GODSTUFF

'I WAS A STRANGER, AND YOU TOOK ME IN'



The ancient Greeks believed that hospitality was sacred. They called it xenia, the word from which we get “genial” in English.

Showing hospitality to strangers and those far from home was a form of worship to the god Zeus, who was the Greek god of, among other things, travelers.

In the religiosity of xenia, the host was obliged to care for the guests, the guests were required to respect the host, and when the guests left, the host gave them a gift as an expression of what an honor it had been to host them.

Hospitality is a spiritual discipline. In India, for instance, there is a saying: atithi devo bhava, meaning, “the guest is God.” Likewise, in his great Rule, St. Benedict emphasized the importance of hospitality in a life of faith, saying, “Let everyone that comes be received as Christ.”

While the Ronald McDonald House in Oak Lawn, across the street from Hope Children’s Hospital, is not a house of worship, nor does it align itself with any spiritual tradition, it is very much a sacred space, extending hospitality in a powerful and tangible way to the weary families of sick children.

When my husband and I brought Vasco to Hope for heart surgery June 10, the thought of staying steps away at the McDonald house had never crossed our mind. We figured we’d take turns sleeping on a chair in Vasco’s hospital room while the other one drove home to Oak Park for the night.

But at the end of a marathon couple of days at the hospital with Vasco, the 10-year-old AIDS orphan from Malawi we’ve been hosting since April while he undergoes life-saving treatment at Hope, one of his nurses asked us, “Why don’t you stay at the McDonald house?”

A quick call to Kelly Evans, the McDonald house manager, and we had a room. A private room, with two beds and its own bathroom, for as long as we needed it. It was hard to step away from Vasco’s bedside, but walking across the street for a quick nap or a shower was much easier than driving 45 minutes in traffic each way.

I had no expectations when I walked in to the McDonald house late one afternoon, exhausted and carrying only my cell phone. Kevin Kramer, an assistant house manager, met me at the door, shook my hand, asked me if I wanted a cool bottle of water, and guided me to a wood-paneled room with comfy green velvet chairs while he went to get our paperwork.

The McDonald house in Oak Lawn is the fourth McDonald house built in the Chicago area. It opened on Dec. 15, 2008, and is very much a house — not an antiseptic institution or an impersonal hotel. It’s beautiful, well-appointed, and inviting.

Kramer gave me a tour of the 16-bedroom house set back from 93rd Street by a circular driveway and a stand of old-growth trees. There are two wings of the house facing the street, which the architect designed to look like arms reaching out, welcoming families in, he said. I started to get teary.

When he walked me into the kitchen — a fully stocked, enormous kitchen with wood floors and expansive counters, pantries lining the walls and several stainless steel refrigerators with “community” written on them — I began to cry.

The McDonald house people had thought of everything a stressed-out family far from home might need or want. All the house asks is a $10 donation per night, if you can afford it.

I could not have felt more welcome. I could not have been more relieved and blessed to be there, in the company of other families who were going through similar trials, although ours was short by comparison.

One night, my husband walked back to the house from the hospital — a walk Vasco could watch from the window of his intensive care room — around midnight and ran into another father in the kitchen, both of them eating home-cooked leftovers from the community fridge that is stocked daily with meals from volunteer groups. This night it was taco salad. They got to talking and the other man explained that his family had been living at the house for six months. His son, an infant, was born with a heart defect, not unlike Vasco, and has undergone numerous surgeries.

There were other families who were repeat visitors, coming to stay for a few days or a week or a month at a time every few months while their child endured surgery or chemotherapy or testing or rehabilitation.

I didn’t know most of their stories, but I recognized that look in their eyes. The weariness, the fear, the hope and the love.

When Vasco was released from the hospital on Wednesday, we took him to see the house for himself. “Oh . . . beautiful!” he squealed, pointing at the fireplace and the tall spiral staircase that form the hearth and the heart of the house.

Before we left the house, Evans invited Vasco to choose a gift from their immense toy closet. He chose a Tonka helicopter.

The McDonald houses will forever be my charity of choice for donations large and small. A visit to www.rmhccni.org lists all sorts of opportunities to help, from collecting pop tabs to a wish list of things the house needs — plastic to-go containers, gallon jugs of vinegar, portable DVD players, boxes of cereal.

They are doing God’s work. We — and so many others — were strangers and they took us in.

GODSTUFF

WEE MAN'S HEART IS WHOLE AGAIN

Thank you, Lord, for what you've done for me.
Thank you, Lord, for what you're doing now.
Thank you, Lord, for ev'ry little thing.
Thank you, Lord, for you made me sing.

— Bob Marley, "Thank You Lord"

The hole in Vasco Sylvester's heart isn't there anymore. On Wednesday, in a three-hour operation, surgeons at Hope Children's Hospital in Oak Lawn, using a piece of white Gore-Tex, patched the quarter-size hole that had been there since Vasco was born.

The doctors also removed an extra membrane between the top and bottom chambers of his heart and stitched closed another tiny hole at the top of his aorta. Now, thanks to the miraculous handiwork of his surgical team -- Dr. Michel Ilbawi, Dr. Chawki El Zein and Dr. Anastasios Polimenakos -- his heart is working as God intended.

In the last few days since surgery, each time I've looked at Vasco, the 10-year-old Malawian AIDS orphan my husband and I met nearly two years ago while traveling in Africa, a line from Woody Allen's "Hannah and Her Sisters" has echoed in my mind:

"The heart is a resilient little muscle."

By the time Vasco was wheeled in to pediatric intensive care at Hope an hour after surgeons closed the four-inch-long incision they'd made in his chest, that resilient little muscle, which had been enlarged from 10 years of working overtime to pump blood despite the huge leak, already had begun to shrink to a normal size.

As Vasco lay in bed, tubes attached to nearly every appendage, I put my hand on his chest. Gone was the violent thunk-thunking of his wounded heart, the rabbit-like beat that violently shook his body even at rest. In its place was the normal butterfly fluttering heartbeat of a child at rest. And at peace.

Vasco has a fierce spirit, like a lion. He's small, but he's amazingly strong. A day after surgery, doctors at Hope, where Wee Man is being treated free of charge, removed the breathing tube in his throat and took him off the ventilator so he could breathe on his own. Friday, he got out of bed, sat in a chair and was well enough that doctors removed the drainage tube from his chest.

Forty-eight hours after surgery, Vasco was sitting up in bed, eating french fries and chicken, laughing at a Jackie Chan movie he has seen at least half a dozen times and joking with Mac, the caregiver who traveled with him from their hometown of Blantyre, Malawi, to Chicago six weeks ago.

His doctors are expecting Vasco to move from ICU to a regular room at Hope over the weekend and to be able to send him home with us to Oak Park to recuperate sometime this week.

A few years back, Mac found Vasco living alone on the streets of Blantyre -- a fate all too common in sub-Saharan countries wracked by AIDS. In Malawi, an estimated 1 million children have been orphaned by AIDS, and more than 60,000 of those children, like Vasco, end up living on the streets.

After his mother and father died several years ago, someone put Vasco out on the street to fend for himself, telling the tiny child he'd been cursed by a witch doctor, that ants were eating his heart and that soon he would die.

Vasco knows that was an awful lie and that, far from being cursed, he is so very blessed. He knows his heart has been repaired and that he's going to live a long, healthy life.

Having him in our home these last six weeks, getting to know him -- his sense of humor, quick wit, slow temper and tendency to boss everyone around; his taste in music, food, clothes and friends; his fears and hopes and dreams -- has been the most magical and transformative experience of my life.

Vasco is a blessing. His love and loving spirit have fixed my heart, too.

He has taught me so much. About living and dying. About love and family. About what matters and what doesn't.

I see the world differently for having known him. It's as if the moment he put his hand in mine as we walked to the car on the curb outside O'Hare the day he arrived, my soul was recalibrated.

Everything looks different to me now. And I love it.

It was a long, sometimes tumultuous adventure getting Vasco's heart repaired. There were many times over the nearly two years since we first met the child we call "Wee Man" in a mud-and-wattle hut by the side of the road in Malawi that I thought it might not happen, or that he would die before we could get him here for treatment.

So many people -- family, friends and total strangers -- have walked with us on this journey, supporting us, praying for us, carrying us when we felt as if we couldn't keep going. And to all of you, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

To the folks at United Airlines who went out of their way to bring Vasco and Mac here for free, even though the airline doesn't even fly from Africa: Zikomo kwambiri -- thank you so very much for being his traveling mercies.

To Dr. Andrew Griffin, head of the Heart Institute for Children, who arranged for all of Vasco's treatment at Hope, and to all of the doctors and nurses and orderlies who have shown him (and us) such beautiful compassion and tender care, bless you. You have been God's healing hands for Vasco.

We're not sure what will happen next in Vasco's remarkable life. But today, he has a new lease on it.

Vasco will live, and I believe he will live boldly, paying it forward, his unbroken heart full of love, laughter, grace and promise.

Thank you.

VASCO!

For more regular updates on the Wee Man or to read about his journey - beginning in November 2007 - of healing, please visit his blog, VASCO'S HEART.

A quick word from Pediatric ICU at Hope Children's Hospital here outside Chicago:

Vasco's recovery is nothing short of miraculous. He's out of bed, about to have his chest tube removed, talking, eating, laughing again. His little lion's heart is working as God intended now. And we are so very grateful - for all the love and prayer and support you've given this child.

Thank you.

To listen to Vasco's story on NPR's "The Story," CLICK HERE.

To read more about how Cathleen met Vasco in Malawi, check out Sin Boldly: A Field Guide for Grace.

God Girl on NPR's "The Story" on Friday

Last week, I had the great pleasure of being interviewed by Dick Gordon, host of "The Story" on NPR, to tell Vasco's story. That conversation will air on radio stations across the nation tomorrow, Friday June 12.


HOW TO LISTEN....
** Live Stream: www.wunc.org 1:00 p.m. & 8:00 p.m. (EST)

In the top right corner, under the red LISTEN NOW
category and choose a live stream program to play the
interview from your desktop.

**In Chicago:
Chicago, IL
WBEQ-FM 90.7 02:00 PM (CST)

WBEZ-FM 91.5 02:00 PM (CST)

Kankakee, IL WKCC-FM 91.1 01:00 PM (CST)

** Online Archive: After 4:00 p.m. (ET) http://thestory.org/archive/

** Podcast: http://thestoryonline.org/archive/podcast.xml

** Other radio stations http://thestory.org/Stations

** XM Satellite Radio: Wednesday-Saturday Channel 133 at 2:00 a.m.(EST)

Prayer Request

VASCO HAS SURGERY WEDNESDAY MORNING




Dear friends and family,

Vasco is scheduled for open-heart surgery at 11 a.m. (CST) Wednesday, June 10 at Hope Children's Hospital in Oak Lawn, Illinois.

Surgery should take about six hours.

Please watch this space for updates.

And thank you for bathing our sweet little guy in prayer.

Blessings and amazing grace,
Cathleen and Maury


FOR UPDATES WEDNESDAY, PLEASE VISIT VASCO'S HEART

GODSTUFF

WATER OF LIFE: WEE MAN DOESN'T TAKE IT FOR GRANTED (AND NEITHER SHOULD YOU)



One of the everyday things Vasco has enjoyed most since arriving in Chicago from Malawi five weeks ago is being able to go into the kitchen and pour a cool glass of crystal clear water, from the sink or the refrigerator door.

As much as he wants. Whenever he wants.

That's a new experience for this 10-year-old child from sub-Saharan Africa who, when he had access to water at all, had to walk to the community borehole with a plastic bucket and haul it back to his hut in small amounts.

And even then, the water wasn't clean. The parasite in Vasco's bladder is a testament to that.

Madzi is the Chichewa word for water. For the first few weeks he was living with us in Oak Park, that was always his answer when we asked what he'd like to drink with a meal. Milk? Juice? Coke? Fanta?

"No, thank you," he'd say. "Madzi, chonde. Water, please."

More than 894 million people worldwide -- that's one of every six people on Earth -- don't have access to the 20-50 liters of safe freshwater required each day to meet the most basic drinking, cooking and cleaning needs, according to the World Health Organization and the United Nations.

Globally, diarrhea is the leading cause of illness and death. And 88 percent of all diarrhea deaths are due to the lack of access to adequate sanitation and unsafe drinking water, according to the Water Supply and Sanitation Collaborative Council.

Vasco, an orphan who has a large, congenital heart defect, has known thirst. He's suffered through life-threatening bouts of diarrhea and malaria without being able to slake his thirst with as much clean water as he needed, anytime he needed it.

When Vasco lived alone on the street for several years before Mac, a kind caseworker from a charity for street children in Blantyre, Malawi, found him and took him to shelter, the tiny boy had to search for clean water on his own.

Vasco, or "Wee Man," as we call him, is scheduled to undergo life-saving open-heart surgery at Hope Children's Hospital next week.

Wee Man rarely talks about his life on the street or any of his struggles in Malawi. But around the dinner table earlier this week, when he got up to get himself another glass of water, we asked him about how he got water back home.

He told us about the borehole, and about having to cross a river at a low point -- the river was too polluted to drink from or even bathe in -- to get to it. He talked about the bucket he used to carry and how he boiled the water for tea.

Wee Man was among the lucky ones in his native land. The Shire River (pronounced "shee-ray") is the longest river in Malawi, flowing about 250 miles from Lake Malawi in the north to the Zambezi River in the south. For many Malawians, the Shire is the most convenient source of freshwater. But the chore of fetching water, which traditionally falls to women and children, can be deadly.



The Shire is home to killer crocodiles. In one area of Malawi alone, three deaths by crocodile attack on the river are reported every month, according to a 2006 United Nations report.

A few weeks back, we asked Vasco if he'd like to go for a boat ride on the Chicago River. When he said absolutely not because of the crocodiles (and because the only boat he'd seen before arriving in Chicago was a canoe), we thought he was kidding. He wasn't.

In March, Sen. Dick Durbin (D-IL)introduced the Sen. Paul Simon Water for the World Act of 2009, legislation that calls for our government to help provide access to clean drinking water for an additional 100 million people worldwide, including in places such as Malawi. It is the continuation of the work begun by the late Sen. Simon, who in 1998 published a book titled Tapped Out: The Coming World Crisis in Water and What We Can Do About It.

Durbin's water bill is languishing in committee. Thursday morning, I received an e-mail alert from the ONE Campaign, the nonprofit organization whose goal, in part, is to urge U.S. government funding for international aid programs, asking me to write my senator to support the bill.

My senior senator, bless him, already does. But maybe yours doesn't. You might want to find out.

One of our first outings with Wee Man was to the garden at the Morton Arboretum in Lisle with one of my closest friends and her children. Wee Man had a ball on the jungle gyms, obstacle courses and rope bridges. At one point, Wee Man and Greta, both age 10, arrived at a display that featured a metal hand pump and a wooden shoot that guided water down a slope.

Greta's mother, Shayne, remarked aloud at the irony of our little guy from Malawi "playing" with the same kind of hand pump that he used in Malawi to collect water from the borehole.

"It's a toy for our kids, but for him it's life," she said.

Water is life, literally and figuratively.

It is a key element in the rituals of nearly every religious tradition.

As a purifier and a blessing. In baptism. Before burial.

As a symbol of redemption, grace and life itself.

"If in thirst you drink water from a cup," the great Sufi poet Rumi said, "you see God in it."

Take a moment today and visit the ONE campaign web site to sign an online petition urging your senator to support the Simon Water for the World Act of 2009.

Thursday's Media Blitz:
USA Today and Moody Radio



God Girl will be a guest on the morning show on WMBI-Moody Radio (90.1 FM, 1100 AM in Chicago) for about a half hour beginning at 7:10 a.m. CST Thursday to talk about Sin Boldly. To listen online, click HERE.

Also check out GG and Sin Boldly featured in a story by crack religion scribe Cathy Lynn Grossman in USA Today in Thursday's editions nationwide (click HERE to read it online).

And as an added bonus (a lagniappe, if you will) Cathy G. also features GG and Vasco in her super popular USA Today blog, "Faith & Reason" Thursday. Click HERE to read the blog entry about Wee Man.

God Girl with Good Will Hinton

To hear GG's interview on Will Hinton's Podcast, click HERE.

GODSTUFF

WEE MAN SHARES A SLICE OF HISTORY



In his 1995 autobiography, Dreams from My Father, Barack Obama writes about the first time he walked into a barbershop in Hyde Park for a trim.

"The door was propped open and when I walked in, the barbershop smells of hair cream and antiseptic mingling with the sound of men's laughter and the hum of slow fans," Obama wrote of the hair salon he called "Smitty's" in his memoir.

On Thursday morning, when we parked outside the Hyde Park Hair Salon near the corner of Blackstone and 52nd streets, laughter from the handful of men inside wafted through the open front door, beckoning us.

"These two gentlemen would like a haircut," I told the bearded man who greeted us, motioning to our two visitors from Africa -- Vasco, 10, an orphan from Malawi who is in Chicago for lifesaving heart surgery, and his Malawian caregiver, 32-year-old Mac.

"Have a seat," the barber said. "We'll be right with you."

Vasco climbed onto a leather couch in the back of the salon and we flipped through some magazines while we waited.

"Who's this?" I asked the boy we've come to call "Wee Man," pointing to a magazine with first lady Michelle Obama on the cover.

"Meessayz Obama," he said, grinning.

Flipping through the pages, we came to a photo spread of the first family. Wee Man, as is his habit, took great delight in pointing to each picture of the president and shouting, "Obama!"

My husband and I brought our houseguests to the venerable Hyde Park barbershop for two reasons. First, after a month away from home, both Wee Man and Mac's hair needed a trim. And second, we wanted to show our Malawian friends the place where President Obama gets his hair cut (or at least did for nearly 15 years, before moving to Washington, D.C.).

The first thing you spot when you walk into the Hyde Park Hair Salon is Obama's black barber chair, encased in plexiglass, affixed with plaques quoting passages about the salon from Dreams from My Father. The walls are adorned with photographs of some of the barbershop's other famous clientele, including Muhammad Ali and the late Chicago Mayor Harold Washington.



In his memoir, Obama recalls a conversation he had in the barbershop about Washington, Chicago's first black mayor.

"The night Harold won, let me tell you, people just ran the streets," Obama quotes his barber as saying. "It was like the day Joe Louis knocked out Schmeling. Same feeling. People weren't just proud of Harold. They were proud of themselves. . . . When I woke up the next morning, it seemed like the most beautiful day of my life."

This reminds me of the stories we've told Wee Man about Election night 2008.

We felt proud and grateful. For and of Obama and the progress our nation has made toward outliving the ghosts of racism and inequality.

Obama has become part of Vasco's story. The day we met Vasco in a small mud-and-wattle hut on the outskirts of Blantyre, Malawi, in October 2007, we had spent several hours with a group of about 40 other street children who were fascinated by Obama -- the son of an African man who might one day be president.

The street kids couldn't believe such a thing was possible. But it was.

That kind of a story -- Obama's story -- is a tale of faith and hope that enlivens our Wee Man, who probably shouldn't still be alive, never mind having his hair trimmed at the president's barbershop in Chicago.

Vasco was born with a large ventricular septal defect -- a hole in his heart -- and every day that he's still here is a gift. He has scant few memories of his father, who died from AIDS several years ago, not long after the virus also claimed the life of Vasco's mother.

I don't know what dreams Wee Man may have from his father. So we're helping him make some memories and, perhaps, dreams of his own.

As I watched Marcus, one of the salon's barbers, artfully wield the clippers to give Wee Man his "Obama Cut," I was struck by how tiny he looked under the black vinyl smock that covered him almost to his feet, which dangled about six inches north of the chrome footrest.

At 10, Wee Man is just that -- four feet tall and 49 pounds, about the size of an average American kindergartner. But he is growing in so many ways.

He is almost 10 pounds heavier than when he arrived in Chicago last month, his sunken cheeks are beginning to plump, and his chicken legs have a lot more meat and muscle on them then just a few weeks ago.

Wee Man has learned many new things, like how to swing a baseball bat and the names of some of the White Sox players. Last week he caught 103 fish in less than three hours at a suburban fishing hole. He's learning to ride a bike and each day has more English than the day before.

While we're still waiting for his doctors at Hope Children's Hospital (who are graciously treating him pro bono) to schedule the open-heart heart surgery -- hopefully sometime next week -- Wee Man is flourishing and happy.

Only God knows what the future holds for him after his heart is mended and his health restored. We're praying for wisdom, discernment, strength and joy.

But spending a few minutes in the place where some great men have had their hair cut and beards shaved is one more piece of history, and of a dream, for this Wee Man to remember.

Become a fan on Facebook



With the new book about to come out, we thought it time for an author fan page at Facebook.

You can join GG's fan page by clicking HERE.

Today, we remember ...



Watch Mark Metherell Memories in Family Videos  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com


We miss you, Mr. Mark.

Thanks for this beautiful tribute, Dave.

GODSTUFF

GOING TO GRACELAND:
'MY TRAVELING COMPANION IS 10 YEARS OLD...'

The morning we drove to O'Hare to meet Vasco after his 30-plus-hour journey from Malawi to Chicago, my husband and I turned on the car stereo and hit play on the CD in the six-disc changer. What came up was Paul Simon's album, "Graceland."

These are the days of miracle and wonder,

This is the long-distance call,

The way the camera follows us in slow-mo

The way we look to us all

Those are the words from "The Boy in the Bubble," the first track on Simon's 1986 album, long a favorite of mine. It seemed appropriate -- prophetic, even -- traveling music for the short trip to the airport that ended a 20-month effort to bring Vasco Sylvester, the 10-year-old AIDS orphan we had met in Blantyre, Malawi, to Chicago for life-saving heart surgery.

On our way home from O'Hare, while Vasco rode in the back seat, watching wide-eyed as this strange, new land passed by, the words of the album's eponymous song, "Graceland," took on a new meaning for me.

Poor boys and Pilgrims with families

And we are going to Graceland . . .

In those first days with Vasco in our home, we had very little common language, but we did have music. When Vasco arrived, he knew two "American" stars and asked about them: Barack Obama and Bob Marley. (He sometimes confused the two, pointing to the late dreadlocked Jamaican musician and asking, "Obama?")

One night at dinner a few weeks ago, apropos of nothing and clear out of the blue, Vasco pounded a little fist to his narrow chest and said, "Jah Rastafari!" saluting the air. "Where did that come from, little man?" I asked.

Mac, Vasco's caregiver from Malawi, explained that many of the street children in Malawi idolized Marley and Rastafarian culture in general. Vasco, who lived on the streets when he was 6 or 7, after his mother and father died from AIDS, picked it up there.

He knows Marley's music, that's for sure. Whenever Vasco hears the strains of "One Love," "Buffalo Soldier," or "Natural Mystic," he nods and bops around, and, when he's got it slung over his shoulder, strums his three-quarter-size acoustic guitar and sings along. Music is pure joy for this magical little boy. It's the language we both know by heart, even if we can't find the right words to say so in English or Chichewa.

When he cried inconsolably, coming out of a haze of general anesthesia after a cardiac catheterization last week, I quietly sang a few lines of Marley's "No Woman, No Cry" into his ear, and when he went back into the hospital three days later, feverish and listless, I played a recording of Marley's "No More Trouble" from my laptop next to his hospital bed. The music is comfort. A salve. For Vasco and for us.

Vasco's cardiac catheterization nearly two weeks ago showed, blessedly, that his damaged heart still has structures well enough to rearrange into working order. His doctors had worried that his heart, battered by years of compensating for the large ventricular septal defect with which he was born, might not be strong enough to handle the open-heart surgery they hoped to do. But what they found showed that his heart is as strong and fierce physically as it is spiritually.

A few days later, though, when he spiked a fever and became violently sick, we rushed Vasco back to Hope Children's Hospital, where his team of incredible physicians (who are treating him for free), discovered that the wee man has a bad case of malaria. He also has two different parasites in his digestive system and bladder, and has been exposed to tuberculosis, though thankfully his lungs are clear and he's not contagious.

Vasco's on a number of medications to treat the various infections and is feeling much better, dancing and singing and strumming on his guitar. These infections, however, have pushed back his open-heart surgery a few weeks. If all goes well, he should undergo the surgery to repair his broken heart, once and for all, in about a week.

Meanwhile we're passing the time playing soccer and T-ball in the back yard, watching movies, going fishing and listening to music.

Just last week we discovered a marvelous new CD and DVD set of music called, "Playing for Change: Songs Around the World." Released at the end of April, the set contains video and audio recordings of songs performed -- simultaneously -- by musicians from around the world. The songs include the popular standard "Stand By Me," Peter Gabriel's "Biko" and Marley's "One Love."

From buskers in Santa Monica, Calif., sitar players in India and a mass teen choir from Omagh, Northern Ireland, to a traditional singing group in South Africa, street musicians in France, Congo, Nepal and Cuba, Bono in his studio in Dublin, and a Native American drum circle, they all perform the same song, which producer Mark Johnson then mixes into a seamless global collaboration.

Some of the proceeds from "Playing for Change" are helping to build music schools in Africa for children much like Vasco. He has watched the DVD of the performances dozens of times (you can find them on YouTube or at www.playingforchange.com), and we listen to the music daily.

On bad days, it makes us all feel better.

On good days, it reminds us of how much we share, even when our language, culture, religion and skin color are different.

One love, One heart

Let's get together and feel all right!

'We don't need no more trouble.'



As we wait for Vasco to get out of his cardiac catheterization procedure, I'm keeping myself occupied watching the brilliant videos from the Playing for Change project.

The one below particularly touches my heart as it touched V's - he loves Marley and the Dub rhythms and this song takes us from Africa to Ireland (with Uncle Bono) and back!

Beautiful. Have a listen. Have a dance. Join us in giving thanks for this amazing little boy and his fierce, glorious spirit.

Amen.




Happy Mother's Day.

GODSTUFF

VASCO TAKES CHICAGO: 'IT'S GREAT TO BE ALIVE!'



In Swahili, there is a saying: Asiyefunzwa na mamae hufunzwa na ulimwengu.

It means, essentially, that a child who is not taught by his mother will be taught by the world.

In the Kijita language spoken in parts of Tanzania they say Omwana ni wa bhone, meaning no matter who a child's biological parents are, its upbringing belongs to the community.

And in Chichewa, the language Vasco Sylvester speaks, they say Mwana wa mzako ndi wako yemwe -- your child is my child.

Hillary Clinton borrowed from these African proverbs in naming her book It Takes a Village. In the week since Vasco arrived in Chicago from his native Malawi, the truth of those proverbs has come to life in front of his eyes.

Ten-year-old Vasco's mother and father both died of AIDS several years ago. He wound up living alone on the streets of Blantyre, one of Malawi's major cities.

Little is known about how he ended up homeless and fending for himself at the tender age of 6 or 7, but we do know he was told he had been cursed by a witch doctor and that ants were eating his heart and he would die.

Blessedly, Vasco now knows that's a lie.

He also knows that, although his biological parents are no longer with him, he has scores of men and women who love him and are dedicated to raising him in every way.

As a community. As a village --even if they live on the other side of the world.

Vasco has a major congenital heart defect -- a large ventricular septal defect, to be exact. He's in Chicago to have it repaired by the kind doctors at the Heart Institute for Children at Advocate Hope Children's Hospital and the University of Illinois at Chicago Hospitals.

Over the last week, Vasco has spent a lot of time with his doctors undergoing a battery of tests to determine his overall health and precisely what kind of open-heart surgery doctors will perform.

He has also had the chance to explore this wondrous village of ours. Watching him discover the sights, sounds and generous souls that enrich our city has been one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. Whether climbing on the jungle gyms of the Morton Arboretum's children's garden, peering over the edge of the Sears Tower observation deck at the massive city below, riding on a Wendella boat down the Chicago River or running from exhibit to exhibit at the Shedd Aquarium, squealing with delight and snapping pictures of the fish, turtles and seahorses, he was filled with a kind of palpable joy that brought smiles to the faces of the strangers around him.

Generous offers of assistance have continued to pour in, and so have the presents: a Razor scooter he uses to zip around our backyard in Oak Park; a Nintendo hand-held game that he totes around everywhere, tapping away at the screen even though he doesn't quite know how to work it yet (and neither do the grown-ups he lives with); a compass given to him by a young friend (so he'll always know where he is); an iPod loaded with some of his favorites: Akon, Bob Marley, Bruce Springsteen and the popular Malawi musician Lucius Banda; a child-size guitar that he strums blissfully, singing to himself when he thinks nobody's looking; a free dentist visit; T-shirts, hats, CDs, underwear, socks, coloring books, a football, a soccer ball.

For a child who had only a handful of possessions before he arrived in Chicago, it has been like Christmas morning every day. When he hears the postal carrier climb the front steps, he bolts to the door to see what new delights might be waiting for him.

Are we spoiling him? Probably. But I can't think of a child more worthy of being spoiled a little.

One of the many beautiful things that we've learned about Vasco in recent days is how generous and kind he is. Whether it's a stack of Pokemon cards or a banana, he always offers to share what he has with someone else. He says thank you. He takes care of his things, carefully putting them back in their boxes and tucking them away neatly in his room.

Vasco has had very little formal education. But he is quick-witted, naturally musical, inquisitive and so very bright. He has learned three times as many English words as I have Chichewa. He wakes up each morning wide-eyed and soaks in whatever the day holds like a thirsty sponge.

On Thursday morning, we went to the studios of WXRT-FM (93.1) to visit the morning host Lin Brehmer and his sidekick Mary Dixon, so Vasco, our young music lover, could see how a radio station works. His eyes lit up when he saw stack after stack of CDs and LP records. (Brehmer put an LP on the turntable and played it -- the first time Vasco had ever seen such a thing.)

If you were listening during the 9 o'clock hour, you might have enjoyed some of Vasco's handiwork. Brehmer let Vasco hit the broadcast button that sent tunes by the Doors and the Shins out over the airwaves. Vasco was obviously pleased to be able to share music with the urban village that has welcomed him with open arms and hearts.

In the car on the way there, we taught Vasco how to say Brehmer's catchphrase: "It's great to be alive!"

When he shyly pronounced it for Brehmer in the studio, the radio host let loose a belly laugh.

It's great to be alive, indeed.



UPDATE: Lin played Vasco's aircheck this morning on WXRT. Here is the sound set to a few pictures of V rocking out with his friend Ian last week.

The Vasco report: Two thumbs up!



Vasco's having a ball in Chicago, putting on weight, learning English quickly and generally being a source of joy and laughter to all around him.

For a more detailed update (along with some new photos and video) please pay a visit to Vasco's Heart

GODSTUFF

VASCO IN CHICAGO:
'HIS LAUGHTER IS MUSIC. HIS JOY IS INFECTIOUS.'



Even bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Eisenhower Expressway at rush hour can be a blessing -- when you see it through the eyes of a child who has never seen it before.

Thursday afternoon, on our way back to Oak Park from Navy Pier, where he had his first piece of pizza and saw a Ferris wheel for the first time, Vasco squealed with delight every time a Blue Line L train roared past our car, down the middle of the expressway.

When he spotted an African-American man waiting on the L platform, he rolled down the window, waved and shouted in his native Chichewa, "Hey brother!"

His giggling is music. His joy is infectious.

Vasco Sylvester, a 10-year-old AIDS orphan from Blantyre, Malawi, arrived in Chicago a few minutes after 10 a.m. Wednesday after more than two days of travel on three international flights -- his first trip on a plane.

For 20 months, we have been working to bring this sweet boy from the poorest country in the world to Chicago so he can undergo life-saving heart surgery.





My husband and I met Vasco in the fall of 2007 while traveling in Africa. He is an extraordinary child with a spirit as kind as it is fierce. We fell in love with him and so did many of you when you read his story in the pages of the Sun-Times.

So many of you have graciously donated money to help bring him to the United States for treatment. Many more of you have supported our efforts to help Vasco with your prayers, notes of concern and gifts of kindness.

There have been too many ups and downs along the roller coaster journey to bring him to Chicago to recount. But, frankly, when he walked out of immigration and into the arrivals area of the International Terminal at O'Hare on Wednesday, all of them faded from memory.

"Moni bambo!" we cried, welcoming him in his native Chichewa. Our "wee man," as we have come to call Vasco, walked into view tugging a small rolling suitcase behind him and flanked by his 32-year-old traveling companion and caretaker, Macdonald "Mac" Nkhutabasa, and staffers from United -- the airline that graciously flew Vasco and Mac from Africa to Chicago.

"Hello auntie, how are you?" Vasco said, grinning and putting his hand in mine.

"Zikomo," he added quietly, meaning "Thank you."

Words fail me when it comes to explaining how that felt.

When we first met Vasco, he was terribly sick, his heart thunk-thunking like a jack rabbit even when he was resting. He was short of breath, would sweat in the shade, and his beautiful, dark eyes were rheumy and sunken.

Because of the donations readers have made to the Sun-Times charitable trust established in his name, we've been able to send funds to help house, feed and provide him with better medical care in Malawi.





He's no longer as fragile as he once was, but because of the hole in his heart, every day he's alive is a gift. When a team of doctors -- led by Dr. Andrew Griffin of the Heart Institute for Children, who offered to treat Vasco if we could just get him here --completes its miraculous work, we expect Vasco to live a long, healthy life.

Vasco knows this. And he is grateful. He's not afraid of what lies ahead in the coming weeks: tests and needles, surgery and a hospital stay in a country where he doesn't speak the language. He's a terribly bright, sentient child, and he is brave.

And he is loved. By us. By Mac. By friends and family and strangers he has never met and never will.

He knows this, too.

Every moment we've spent with Vasco in our home so far has been pure joy. Everything is new to him. Everything is exciting.

The smallest things seem to bring him such epic pleasure. Among a small collection of toy cars and stuffed animals, the item he has become most attached to is a plastic red-white-and-blue pen with the words "Yes we can" on one side and "Obama" on the other. When you press the top of the pen, an audio recording of President Obama giving his election night acceptance speech at Grant Park plays impressively loudly for such a small speaker.

Vasco carries it in the pocket of his too-big jeans and presses the button repeatedly.

We know he doesn't understand what Obama is saying and simply enjoys the toy that talks. But as we drove with him into Chicago to show him "downtown" (one of the few words of English he knows well), we got to hear Obama's speech over and over and over again.

I didn't cry when Vasco arrived at O'Hare. And I didn't cry after I tucked him into bed the first night, or when he took my hand crossing the street, or when he walked into the living room carrying our long-suffering cat, Mousie.

But as Vasco erupted into joyous giggles as the Blue Line train passed our gridlocked car on the Ike for the umpteenth time, I heard Obama say, "While we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can."

And the tears came.

Vasco has arrived!



A little after 10 a.m. today, Vasco and Mac arrived at O'Hare from Malawi after a 30-hour journey.

God is so good.

Thank you - ALL of you - for your prayers, support and love.

Vasco's giggle is the best thing I've ever heard. Period.

We'll be updating your regularly in this space and at Vasco's Heart as Vasco moves through his treatment for a congenital heart defect in the coming weeks.

And then there WAS Maude: RIP Bea Arthur























I loved her so.
From Yente the Matchmaker to Mame's Vera to Maude to Dorothy on the Golden Girls.
She was THE queen.





From CNN.com:

Bea Arthur, the actress best known for her roles as television's "Maude" and the sardonic Dorothy on "The Golden Girls," has died of cancer, a family spokesman said Saturday.

She was 86.

Spokesman Dan Watt said that Arthur died Saturday morning at her home in Los Angeles, her family by her side.

She is survived by her sons Matthew and Daniel and grandchildren Kyra and Violet, he said.

No funeral services are currently planned, Watt said, adding that the family asked that donations be made to either the Art Attack Foundation or PETA in lieu of flowers.

Arthur's opinionated Maude first appeared on Norman Lear's "All in the Family" as Edith Bunker's cousin, and was so popular that Lear created a spin-off series.

In the '70s, "Maude" was ahead of the social curve, tackling hot topics not usually mentioned on situation comedies -- pornography, race relations and, in an episode titled "Maude's Dilemma," abortion.

That episode spawned demonstrations and generated hate mail for Arthur -- when Maude and husband Walter (Bill Macy) decided on that episode they were too old to raise a child.

But many saw Maude as an enduring icon for women's liberation -- a big deal for the shy, Jewish girl born Bernice Frankel in New York City.

During the Depression, Arthur's family left the Big Apple and opened a clothing store in Cambridge, Maryland. By the time she was 12, Arthur was nearly 5 feet, 10 inches tall, and self-conscious about her height.

But she masked her insecurity with comedy and eventually returned to New York to study acting. Along the way, she had a short-lived marriage she never spoke about, but she kept the last name -- Arthur.

The young Bea Arthur earned a living singing and doing stage work on Broadway and off-Broadway. Critics delighted in her haughty, serpent-tongued deliveries.

Her first television appearance came in 1951 in a long-forgotten series called "Once Upon a Tune," but she quickly made a name for herself with appearances on "Studio One," "Kraft Television Theatre" and "The Sid Caesar Show."

Arthur drew attention in "Threepenny Opera" on Broadway with Lotte Lenya, but she really turned heads in 1964 originating the role of Yente the Matchmaker in "Fiddler on the Roof."

In 1966, Arthur won a Tony Award for the caustic Vera Charles in the play "Mame," playing opposite Angela Lansbury in the title role. Eight years later, she reprised the role in the film version opposite Lucille Ball, but by then she was already well-established as Maude.

Arthur left "Maude" in 1978, making television and some film appearances afterward. She starred in a short-lived series, "Amanda's," in 1983 and then joined the cast of "The Golden Girls" in 1985 with Betty White, Rue McClanahan and Estelle Getty.

Her role as Dorothy Zbornak gave Arthur her other major television success as one of four older women living together in Florida. (Getty, the youngest of the four, played Arthur's mother). The role earned Arthur a second Emmy -- the first was for "Maude."

Arthur left the show after Dorothy remarried at the end of the 1991-92 season. White, McClanahan and Getty continued for another season on the show, renamed "The Golden Palace," but the show lasted only one season without Arthur.

Arthur entered semi-retirement after the show ended in 1992, returning to television in sporadic guest appearances and appearing at several celebrity roasts. In the early part of this decade, Arthur appeared in several one-woman shows.

Her last stage appearance was in 2006. Her last television appearance was on "The View" in 2007.

GODSTUFF

TRAVELS WITH BRUCE:
INTO THE SOUL OF THIS WORLD OF WONDERS

There's roads and there's roads

And they call, can't you hear it?

Roads of the earth

And roads of the spirit . . .

— Bruce Cockburn's "Child of the Wind"



Mali. Mozambique. Central America. The Himalayas. Kosovo.

I've never been to any of these exotic locales, but I feel as if I have because of the more than 30 years of music made by Canadian singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn.

He is, in a very real way, a citizen of the world. Apart from being one of the most accomplished and innovative contemporary guitar masters, Cockburn is a consummate storyteller, and for as long as I can remember, his musical stories have taken this kid from the suburbs to the far reaches of our world of wonders.

I last caught up with Cockburn 18 months ago in Bozeman, Mont., when he was at the tail end of a lengthy tour. Not long after, the singer left for a long holiday, first to Argentina (where he planned to learn Spanish and how to tango) and then to Nepal.

More than 20 years ago, Cockburn traveled to Nepal on a fact-finding mission with the Unitarian Service Committee of Canada, an international development organization that helps communities in the developing world create ecologically sustainable agricultural projects among the desperately poor. Cockburn has been involved with USC Canada’s work since 1970, the year I was born.

In late November 2007, Cockburn, now in his 60s, returned with the USC Canada team to see what progress has been made in the generation since he’d first visited Nepal, a longtime monarchy that is now the world’s youngest republic, snuggled in the Himalayas between China, Tibet and India.

This time, Cockburn took a film crew on a two-week journey where he traveled far beyond thriving Katmandu to the remote, largely Buddhist Humla district to visit some of the organic farming and micro-investment programs begun with the committee's help.

The result is a beautiful and moving documentary film called, "Return to Nepal," which was released late last year. (Click HERE to watch clips or order a DVD.)

Nepal is one of those magical places of my imagination that conjures images of flapping Buddhist prayer flags, smiling women and children swathed in colorful layers of wool, silk and cotton; prayer bells ringing in the background as herds of sheep wend their way through the foothills of the Himalayas.

But Nepal has not been as peaceful as my imagination would have it be. Throughout my lifetime it has been rocked by political and military turmoil, unrest that I first learned about as a teenager, in the lyrics of Cockburn’s music. In “Return to Nepal,” which Cockburn narrates, the hardships of Nepal aren’t ignored, but they never eclipse the beauty of the spirit of the Nepalese people and their mystical land.

“Step off the tourist path, and you find a different land altogether. It is to this hidden Nepal that I am traveling,” Cockburn says. On his 1987 journey he “discovered a country that is beautiful, complex and desperately poor. Wherever we went, I was moved by the Nepalese resilience and by their efforts to improve their lives. So now the winds have blown me back here to see how things have changed.”

The film opens with a close-up of Cockburn’s hands strumming his guitar. His music — some familiar tunes from his 22 albums, such as my favorite, “Child of the Wind,” and new tunes he wrote as journeyed through his return trip to Nepal that he calls, “Humla Meditations."



Cockburn's music, informed by his travels as well as his deep spirituality, has shaped my sense of the world. His words continue to inspire my wonder and wanderlust.

There's something heartening about watching images of this gray-headed troubadour tromping up skinny mountain paths or sitting blissfully in the shop of a Nepalese musician with a brass singing bowl on his head -- just listening.

As we get older, some of us grow jaded and turn inward. But not Cockburn. His curiosity and sense of connection with the world around him — even on the other side of the globe — seem only to have intensified over the years.

How Cockburn takes what he has seen, heard and experienced and turns it into ageless music — music of the heart really — is a blessing that will live on long after his travels are over.

Last month, Cockburn released a double album of live, acoustic music called "Slice O Life" and it is just that: sound pictures painted by a master observer, in love with the beauty and the grief of our global village.

A longtime Chicago favorite, Cockburn has played venues large and small in our city scores of times in the last 30 years. If you've ever had the chance to see him play live, you know what a transcendent experience that can be. If you've never heard him play live, "Slice O Life" is the next best thing.

As I listened to the double album, I felt as if I was a traveling companion walking with the great Canadian bard, from his backyard in Ontario to the killing fields of Central America, to the bush of Africa, the sacred mountains of Nepal and beyond.

In these uncertain times, it's easy to get caught up in the troubles in our own backyards. Cockburn's music and storytelling are a welcome escape and powerful reminders of our place in this world — and the next.



. . . The best roads of all

Are the ones that aren't certain

One of those is where you'll find me

Till they drop the big curtain.

Christos Anesti!






















“He rose.
A few saw him briefly and talked to him.
If it is true, there is nothing left to say.
If it’s not true, there is nothing left to say.
For believers and unbelievers both,
life has never been the same again.
For some, neither has death."

— Frederick Buechner
Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith

Good Friday.




The boys of Chisomo in Blantyre, Malawi.
Music by Elvis Perkins.

For us, He died.
Grace. Unqualified. For all.

GODSTUFF

NEW DOCUMENTARY WITCH HUNT:
"I WAS IN PRISON AND YOU VISITED ME"






Twenty-seven years ago this month, Brenda and Scott Kniffen, a homemaker and an inventory manager of a diesel shop, were arrested and charged with sexually abusing their two young sons, Brian and Brandon, ages 6 and 8.

Under intense questioning by police and social welfare workers, the boys claimed to have been not only molested by their parents, but also ritually abused in a satanic cult. The youngsters said they had been hung from the ceiling by hooks, forced to engage in sex acts and photographed for child pornography.

The Kniffens were only two of more than three dozen defendants -- many of them parents of the alleged victims -- in Bakersfield, Calif., who were accused of subjecting children to horrors in elaborate molestation and satanic ritual abuse rings in the 1980s.

The accusations were shocking. Outrageous. Unbelievable.

And, the years would reveal, wholly untrue.

After serving 12 years of 240-year sentences, the Kniffens were exonerated and released from prison. Many of the other adults convicted in the Bakersfield abuse cases also were freed after their convictions were appealed and overturned.

The Bakersfield molestation cases were tainted by coercive interrogation of impressionable young children and flagrant prosecutorial misconduct -- including the suppression of exculpatory evidence.

The Kniffens' story, and that of a half-dozen other Bakersfield parents convicted of abusing their own children before their eventual exonerations, is told in unblinking, heart-wrenching detail in the new documentary, "Witch Hunt," which airs nationally at 9 p.m. Sunday on MSNBC.

"Witch Hunt" is narrated and executive-produced by Oscar winner Sean Penn, who told TV Guide magazine in a recent interview: "There are all too many examples of the way in which public opinion is swayed by tainted evidence and emotional and irrational decision-making.

"The public hysteria that surrounded this case is every bit as essential to discuss as the public corruption. These lightning-rod crimes tend to challenge our lawful assumption of innocence until proof of guilt," Penn said. "The devastation that occurred during those investigations and trials continues. It continues in the heroic efforts of the victims -- by that I mean the convicted -- to rebuild lives that were shattered for the personal and political gain of the district attorney's office and the sheriff's department."

As is often the case with wrongfully accused and exonerated folks, many of the Bakersfield parents harbor little bitterness toward those who helped put them in prison -- including their own children.

And it is the children, now grown men and women, who remain the victims of a justice system run amok. I cannot fathom the guilt I would bear if by lying -- even as an innocent child coerced by adults into confessing to things that simply didn't happen -- I had caused my parents such hardship.

All of the stories in "Witch Hunt" are wrenching. But it is the Kniffens whose faces and story stays with me most indelibly. When they were arrested and sentenced to unthinkably long prison terms, they were a simple, working-class young couple. They were in love. They loved their sons. The accusations were mind-boggling, and they had faith that they would be cleared of the horrendous charges.

When they weren't, their sons went to live in foster homes, and they went to separate prisons. But the Kniffens held on to faith and to the love they had for each other and their children. During their more than a dozen years in prison, the Kniffens wrote to each other daily. Love letters. Spiritual letters. Letters full of hope and blind faith.

That faith paid off. The Kniffens are free, they've reunited with their sons, and they're still married. Amazing.

Illinois is all too familiar with cases of the wrongfully convicted. Since 1977, the state has seen more than 75 wrongful convictions, including 19 exonerations from Death Row, according to the Center for Wrongful Convictions at Northwestern University.

"Witch Hunt" begins with a dedication in white on a plain, black screen. There are more than 2 million people serving time in U.S. prisons. "This film is dedicated to the thousands of them who are actually innocent," the film says.

The U.S. justice system is, arguably, the best in the world. But it is not perfect.

On this Good Friday, when many Christians remember the trial, torture and execution of Jesus Christ -- a wrongfully accused and convicted innocent man -- may we take a moment to consider the spiritual implications of the failures of our justice system.

"Witch Hunt" is a cautionary tale. Fear makes people do crazy things, and hysteria can be deadly. If it could happen in Bakersfield, it could happen anywhere. "It's essential that we not be too prone to respond in packs or herds," Penn says, "like sheep."

Jesus, the Good Shepherd, spoke of prison when he described God's final judgment on humanity. It's the passage where he talks about "the least of these."

When we feed the poor, help the sick, clothe the naked, he says, we are doing that for him.

"I was in prison," Jesus says, "and you visited me."

May this documentary of a modern experience with truth, mob mentality and injustice give us pause while we recall the frightening power of a witch-hunting crowd that cried, "Give us Barabas."

Jesus was a prisoner. So were St. Peter and St. Paul.

Clearly, God holds a special concern for those in trouble with the law -- whether they are innocent or guilty.

Vasco's coming!



The last piece of the puzzle came together early this morning when the US embassy in Malawi approved Vasco's visa.

He'll be here in 16 days.

Thank you so much for all your prayers and support.

GODSTUFF

WHITEFOOT: THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS



Walking in botanical gardens one recent, perfect, early spring day, a quick burst of movement in the thicket of a yellow Carolina jasmine hedge caught my eye.

It was a mouse. A Peromyscus leucopus to be precise — a white-footed mouse with big black eyes — staring back at me. Neither one of us moved for a few moments, but as soon as I gingerly raised my iPhone to take a picture of the adorable, frightened creature, it disappeared in a flash into the shelter of the jasmine's branches.

Later that same day, while perusing the bookshelves of a local independent bookstore, another mouse caught my eye. This one on the cover of a small, gray book set back deep on a shelf in the warren of the new fiction section.

On the cover was a detailed pencil drawing of a mouse, one that looked just like the one I'd encountered in the jasmine hedge. Whitefoot: A story from the center of the world was the book's name, and though it was shelved in the adult section, it appeared to be a children's book. Until I noticed the name of the author: Wendell Berry.

I snatched the last copy of Whitefoot, took it to the register and paid for it without even cracking open the cover, certain that Berry, the great American writer and defender of agrarian values, would have something extraordinary to say.

Whitefoot is a beautiful, subtle little book. Perfect for these lean times. It would be easy to dismiss it as a simple children's book, but that would be a mistake. Berry's first foray into “children's literature,” is in fact a spiritual fable with lessons every adult should take to heart in these nervous times.

At 60 pages in a compact 7-by-6-inch cover, Berry tells Whitefoot's story with the aid of more than 20 stunningly detailed pencil drawings by Davis Te Selle. The entire story of Whitefoot the mouse takes place an inch off the ground (from a real mouse's perspective.) The year-old mouse, who lives alone having not yet had a litter, is swept into an epic adventure when the jar where she's made her nest is swept into the river during a heavy rain, transporting her to strange, and fraught, new worlds.

“She lived at the center of the world,” Berry writes. “This is one of the things every mouse knows. Wherever she was, she was at the center of the world. That one lives at the center of the world is the world's profoundest thought. So firmly was this thought set in Whitefoot's mind that she did not need to think it.

“Like humans, she lived in the little world of what she knew, for there was no other world for her to live in. But she lived at the center of the world always, and of this she had no doubt.”

Whitefoot lived simply, by her instincts, values that the prolific Berry has heralded in his fiction, nonfiction, essays and poems for half a century. Accordingly, Berry doesn't anthropomorphize his mouse. She doesn't think human thoughts or act in human ways. She's compelled by an internal voice that tells her “Look out!” or “Hurry,” “Nest!” “Up!” or “Seeds! Seeds!” Whitefoot lives, while busily, without much care.

“She worked and lived without extravagance and without waste. Her nest was a neat small cup the size of herself asleep,” Berry writes. “When she went into it for her daytime sleep, she slept drawn into a ball, her eyes shut, her tail curved around so that its outer end lay under her nose. Her sleep was an act of faith and a giving of thanks.”

Whitefoot lives peacefully, but nearby, unbeknownst to her, there is a river on the verge of flooding, threatening to destroy all she knows and cut her already short life even shorter. When it does, she kicks into survival mode, doing what needs to be done —as Berry puts it, “her unfinished task of staying alive.”

One critic compared Whitefoot to the biblical story of Noah's Ark: surviving a flood, doing what needed to be done to survive — in faith — and not knowing what the outcome would be when the catastrophe was over (if it ever would be.)

As I read and re-read Whitefoot, I was reminded of Berry's famous poem, “The Peace of Wild Things.” In this moment when the foundations of our world economy are trembling (along with our souls), it bears repeating:

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

HEAR GG AT DUKE DIV

If you'd like to hear my Media Fellows address from yesterday at Duke Divinity School, the savvy Duke folks have posted it online, via iTunes University.

Click here to HEAR it.

THE DUDE COMETH ...




The Dude Abides: The Gospel According to the Coen Brothers is now available for pre-order at Amazon.com.

Click HERE to check it out!

A rainy afternoon in Durham ...



I spent part of this afternoon wandering through Duke Gardens. Spectacular, even in the rain.

Spring is emerging, bud by bud, leaf by leaf.

On my drive over to the gardens, I was listening to Bruce Cockburn's new, just simply gorgeous new live album, Slice O Life.

I highly recommend it. If you're a Bruce fan, drop what you're doing and go buy it. If you're not a Bruce fan, you should be. And if you're never heard him live and acoustic, this is as close as you'll get to the real thing.

The first song on the double-album is Bruce's 1985 tune,"World of Wonders." You can hear it accompanying some of my photographs from today at the Duke Gardens.

The lyrics stop me in my tracks each time, drawing my attention to all that surrounds me. The wonder. The whimsy. The Hand of grace.

Here's how Bruce puts it:

stand on a bridge before the cavern of night
darkness alive with possibility
nose to this wind full of twinkling lights
trying to catch the scent of what's coming to be (in this...)
world of wonders...
somewhere a saxophone slides through changes
like a wet pipe dripping down my neck
gives me a chill--sounds like danger
but i can't stop moving till i cross this sector (of this...)
world of wonders...
there's a rainbow shining in a bead of spittle
falling diamonds in rattling rain
light flexed on moving muscle
i stand here dazzled with my heart in flames (at this...)
world of wonders...
moment of peace like brief arctic bloom
red/gold ripple of the sun going down
line of black hills makes my bed
sky full of love pulled over my head
world of wonders...
-- Toronto, 6/1985


If you'd like to see the still photographs from my rainy afternoon, click HERE.