Back to the 50s

The time machine...


The audience...

My children participated in a school play written by their grandmother, "Back to the 50s." The plot follows a group of present day high schoolers as they discover a time machine and travel back to the 1950s. Hip hop meets the sock hop as the kids interact through a series of exciting musical numbers. The highlight of the show was Dakota singing "Blue Suede Shoes," by Elvis Presley. The kids did a phenomenal job!

Year of the Butterfly

Just one day after seeing butterflies near Stanton's house, we received a visit on the flower bush in front of our own house.

When I was a kid, my father told me nature chooses one insect every year to dominate over all the others. I believe this may be the Year of the Butterfly.

The first time I remember observing this phenomenon for myself, I was about 9 years old. My father lived in a trailer house on the Spokane Reservation, near Catherine Andrew's place. My brother and I stayed with him in that house the summer after Mount Saint Helens erupted.

It happened like this. My father ran an errand and left the two of us alone in that house. It was a bright sunny day, and I remember I looked across the field and saw some kind of cloud moving toward us. "What is that?" I asked my brother, but he didn't know any more than I did. As it approached, we realized it wasn't a cloud at all, but a swarm of insects.

Now my brother and I had recently watched some B-rate movie about killer bees, so we believed we were about to fall victim to a deadly, stinging swarm. We ran home as fast as we could, but paused long enough to warn the neighbors. They just laughed, so we continued home and locked ourselves inside the trailer.

When the swarm arrived, we saw they were not bees at all, but ladybugs! Millions of ladybugs descended on our house. They were flying into the glass, thumping on the side of house, and crawling under the door. I wasn't sure if I should be afraid or filled with awe. Maybe I felt a little of both.

The rest of that summer we saw ladybugs everywhere, but never like that first day.

A year or two later, we returned to spend the summer with our dad, and this time there were no ladybugs. Instead, we found hundreds of praying mantids. I didn't even know such a thing existed in our part of the world, but they were everywhere. In fact, one time all us kids were riding in the back of my dad's pickup truck when one of the other kids screamed and pointed in my direction. A huge brown praying mantis had landed on the back of my shirt on my left shoulder. I screamed too and shook it from my body. Of course, I also wondered why they were all brown. We had always seen them as big green bugs in books and on the television.

One year all the treetops were filled with beautiful white moths, and another year there were swarms of flying termite looking things. Other years they were less pleasant, like the time we had thousands of yellow jackets. Two years ago there were thousands of blue dragonflies, and finally this year I've seen more yellow butterflies than I've ever seen before.

I'm not sure what it means. Are there any scientists out there who can explain this phenomenon? Has anyone else noticed this kind of occurrence? And what do you think it means on a spiritual level?

Friendship

Stanton playing the guitar...


Dakota jumping into Long Lake...


A butterfly we saw today...

Today was dedicated to friendship. We had lunch with Stanton and Elizabeth near Tum Tum, then went swimming in Long Lake. This evening, we attended a post-retreat dinner, dedicated to the women who attended Rhonda's last women's retreat. This was a day for building relationships.

Ordination

Just as expected, several people asked how I became an ordained minister. It's a rather long and complicated story, but I will keep it as brief and concise as possible.

In reality, the process of ordination began before I knew what happened. Before my father passed away, he created a way for me to inherit his spiritual responsibilities. I didn't fully understand the implications at the time it happened, but when he died, his 'ministry' essentially passed to me.

For several years, I practiced my father's rituals without understanding their deeper meaning. In time, I began to relate directly to the spirit within his ceremonies. I also began to awaken to a profound realization: my father was a spiritual leader in his own right, and had he belonged to a Christian church, he would have been a priest or minister. Seen from that perspective, I realized my father gave me a priesthood, a calling, and a lifelong ministry.

A combination of events eventually turned insight into action. First, I resigned my membership in the LDS Church and received a letter from Salt Lake City declaring my priesthood 'void.' As much as I trust my reasons for making that choice, I still grieved the loss of 'priesthood authority.' Second, my sister asked me to perform her wedding, but Washington State law only allows ordained ministers or judges to perform weddings. That's when a solution became obvious.

My father's religion is just as valid as Mormonism or the Roman Catholic Church, so why should he be prevented from performing weddings or any other 'ministerial' duties? Inspired by this knowledge, me and two other friends decided to incorporate our Native American spiritual system as a church, legally and lawfully organized under the laws of this state. We didn't create anything new; we simply defined ourselves in a way the government can recognize. After incorporating the church, we received 'ordination' in recognition of our spiritual callings.

We had some hesitation about subjecting our spirituality to the state, but the potential benefits outweigh the risks. Many Native Americans wish to celebrate marriage and find themselves in the awkward position of having to choose a ceremony devoid of their core spiritual traditions. Judges provide mainly secular weddings, and ministers often require people to profess non-Native religions or creeds. We also envision other benefits of incorporation, such as having Native American ministers as chaplains at hospitals and other institutions.

After careful consideration, I received further encouragement from a series of dreams allowing me to move forward with my ordination.

In any case, Native American spirituality is just as valid as any other religious system and deserves the same level of respect, dignity, and official recognition. I'm thankful the Creator gave me this calling and the ability to minister to Native people.

Thousand Steps

Part of the old section...


Rhonda on the "Thousand Steps."

My sister told me about an abandoned set of concrete stairs in Greenwood Cemetery called the "Thousand Steps." She said it was worth a visit, and several local websites called it the "most haunted place in Spokane." After some searching, we found the stairs, though I'm certain there are far less than one thousand steps, probably even less than a hundred. Having seen the place, I can't say if I felt any otherworldly presence, but it was fun to find it anyway.

After climbing the steps, we toured the cemetery to read some of the older headstones. I tried to imagine the personal stories connected to each stone. After a while, a somber mood fell over the both of us, and we began to discuss the nature of life and death. What arrangements will we make when we die? How will our children remember us? What will become of us at the end of life?

We could only tolerate the discussion for a short while. We finally left and discussed happier things.

Wedding Planner

After presiding over my most recent wedding, I'm already planning to officiate yet another wedding this summer. This evening, I met with the young couple and their parents to discuss specific plans. I'll be sure to post more information as the ceremony draws closer.

On the way home, I stopped by this meadow in Chattaroy to photograph the fog and the evening sky. What a beautiful sight.

Baptism

Our family celebrated Whitney's baptism today, performed by her grandfather. It was a beautiful ceremony.

Flags

We visited the cemetery in honor of Memorial Day (a little early), and in honor of our yearly tradition. In particular, we visited the graves of Rhonda's brother and grandfather. Of course, I had to also photograph the flags.

10 Mile Hike (Minus 3)

Once again, Dakota attempted the 10 mile hike with his scout group, but we only walked about 7 miles before the scout leaders came to our rescue. Dakota hates to hike, so I'm not even sure why he asked to go. Even so, we got some amazing views of the Spokane River. We walked from Spokane Falls Community College to 7 Mile Bridge. In the end, 7 miles is still quite an achievement.

Memory

Grandma Great brought her life history to share with my children. Amazingly, they sat with rapt attention for more than an hour as she told stories about her childhood in Joseph, Utah. They love to hear stories about the way things were years ago. I'm thankful they inherited our love of family history.

Generations

Grandma Great is visiting our home from Arizona. Of course, my children adore her and were thrilled to see her again. In these photographs, Whitney is 'reminding' grandma how to play the childhood game 'Say Say Oh Playmate.' It is wonderful to see the generations overlap with such simple enjoyment and love.

Guardians

(left to right) Inge, Me, Norma, and Dena.

Several years after my father died, I dreamed he returned with an important message from beyond the grave. In short, he said he would provide me with "spiritual guardians." He said he and my aunt Marlene would act as my guardians in the spirit world. On the other hand, Norma, Dena, and Inge would serve as my spiritual guardians in the world of the living. "You can trust them to be your spiritual teachers," he said. Since that dream, I've looked to these women for guidance, support, and inspiration.

When I realized all four of us would attend Marc and Randi's wedding, I asked them to pose for this photograph. I'll always be thankful for their influence in my life.

Merle

I recently officiated the wedding of Marc Andrew and Randi Wynne, and as it turns out, my old friend Merle Andrew is father of the groom.

Merle and I became friends back in the day at the Medicine Wheel Academy. I was a teacher and Merle came in to give lessons in the Salish language. The students loved Merle's gentle, non-judgmental way of presenting the material. He related to the students in a meaningful way and became a powerful ally for language and culture. He certainly earned my respect.

Now I'm excited to participate in the marriage of his son.

The Wedding

Congratulations to Marc Andrew and Randi Wynne; they were joined in marriage on Saturday May 19, 2007 on the floating bridge at Riverfront Park. I had the privilege of attending the wedding as a guest, and as it turns out, I got to perform the ceremony. We certainly didn't plan it that way, but if you read the following entry, you'll see why. We had absolutely zero time to prepare, but the ceremony turned out beautifully. It is a happy day I will long remember with fondness.

The Minister

Nearly 30 minutes late, with hundreds of guests already waiting, the judge was no where to be found. The wedding party was on the verge of panic, wondering how the ceremony would proceed without an officiant. At that point, I raised my and meekly said, "I can marry them."

Everyone stopped and just stared at me for a moment, when my aunt broke the silence, "Are you an ordained minister?"

"Yes."

No one waited for an explanation. They simply breathed a collective sigh of relief and refocused their energy into getting the bridesmaids lined up.

I went ahead and told the groom where to stand. He looked back at me nervously and said, "Where's the judge?"

"He's not here," I said, "I'll be performing the ceremony."

He got a momentary look of panic and said nervously, "Have you done this before?"

"Don't worry," I said, "I've done this a few times."

At that point, the bridesmaids and the groomsmen appeared at the top of the stairs and began their march toward the front of the stage. There was no more time for questions or objections.

I arrived a guest, and by the end of the ceremony, I had performed a public ministerial act in the presence of hundreds of witnesses. I hadn't wanted to go public with my ordination, but now half of Wellpinit knows. I'm just waiting for people to start asking how I became a minister. That's a story for another day.

By the River

I paid a visit this evening to my friend Stanton who teaches guitar at Holy Names Music Center. We visited only a minute in his office when he invited me for a hike through the rain along the Spokane River. He took me to a place where wild onions grow abundantly. The top photograph shows the purple onion flowers against the pink setting sun. The second photography shows the Spokane River under the rain and mist.

Green

Did I mention I like the color green? Well, I like green when it represents living things like grass or trees. This is a shot of Esmerelda Golf Course in northeast Spokane. I subbed this morning for a fellow teacher just across the way.

Lilac Parade

My family attended the annual Lilac Parade for the first time ever. I was a little hesitant at first, but after only a few minutes amid the festive atmosphere, I remembered how much I love parades. I mean, how often can I tell my kids to go play in the street and it's all okay? We had a blast and will likely attend next year.

Lilacs

I love lilacs, especially the fragrance.

Wonder

I had an interesting conversation this morning about life. A friend was telling me about a void he often feels, like a hole in his heart. He said he used to drink and party so people would accept him, but he realized that wasn't the way.

As I looked across at him, he seemed so young and earnest, as though I might suddenly tell him the secret to life. Unfortunately, I could only say I often feel the same, and like him, I know partying is not the answer.

I felt myself floundering for a moment, like perhaps I had disappointed him for not saying something more inspired. How had I allowed myself to forget my own values and beliefs? Yes, I often feel something missing, but then I remember simple things like gratitude. Just the other day, I remember digging roots and feeling overcome with emotion. For one brief second, I felt deeply connected to my father and his fathers, and all our grandmothers and grandfathers. For one brief second, I saw one small piece of all that's real and I stood with wonder and awe.

Life is beautiful and all the world a Garden of Eden. Somehow we've forgotten, and so we live daily with suffering.

As I heard myself speaking these words, I am so thankful for the opportunity to remember my own wisdom and to choose something brighter than despair.