jamie's wanderings

 This Monday, my grandfather, Eddie Bayuszik would have turned 100 years old. Just 29 years ago, before his 71st birthday, he had a massive heartattack while taking a deposition at the courthouse he still freelanced for, and died. I wasn't yet 19 years old, our birthdays are seperated by just 10 days, and I'm the oldest of the grandkids. We were devasted as he was a, as my Spanish friends say, personaje, or a character. I won't talk about everything here, but he was a WW2 Navy vet that had impeccable handwriting and became a court reporter or stenographer.  He was tall, loud, funny, adored chocolate and tomatoes even though he was allergic later in life. He laughed hard, played hard, had a brilliant mind and memory and was the first real feminist to send all 5 of his daughters to college and wave his big red hankerchief when they walked down the graduation aisle. I know I owe my brains to him (and of course my mother!) my ability to talk to to anyone from anywhere at anytim...

      When I was a child, I was told the stories of my grandparents conversion to Protestantism from Catholicism. They later told me how the Catholic church had been dead, with no life, and no hope. Seventy Five years later, the world has changed, and many things for the worse, and others for the better. Since 2013 I have followed and read Pope Francis's thoughts and words as well as even more, his actions to show the world that there is another way. His massive empahsis on mercy and compassion, caring for the least of these in Jesus' name impacted me greatly. Partially, this all touched me more, as in a moment of walking through what my own faith means and what it means to daily practice it, has been in complete upheaval. Those in my past that I thought believed, I have seen through their lives and actions that power was more important that service. That control meant more than compassion and mercy. And that the Gospel to them was correct theology believed, held and prea...

 Last night, we sat at our table and had food, wine and a long talk with an old friend. He's one of the few that have stayed with us for the last 15 years or so. Partly because Granada is such a transitory town, we have had so many come and go, but some still live here and have come and gone as well We laughed, cried, told stories, got all shocked, and sat together late into the night. At one point my friend says, can I have a glass and water, and as they drank, they said, OMGosh why is this so good? I, for my kidney, double filter my water, and it does make it taste good, but I'm so used to it, I had forgotten. As I sipped again, I thought, wow, it is good. And I remember the old words that Jesus stood and said about being the bread of life and the water that makes us never thirst again. Last week I went to a local wine festival, and sat with another old friend and drank and laughed and cried together. For the last taste of wine, we went to one of the stands, and after having ...

 At 1pm this past Monday, after showing a lovely countryside home and property, I popped into the local Lidl to buy one of their cold protein coffees. It was almost lunchtime but I still had at least 35 minutes home in the car. A man waved at me and said Nop, no power. We are trying to get generators up and running but not yet. I stepped outside puzzled. My phone buzzed, Sofi, anxious that there was no power in her flat, thought her bill was unpaid. Michelle buzzed me too, asking if our power was out. The panic started to rise. I called Andrew, once, twice, three times straight to voicemail. I sent messages to Sofi to see if she could talk to him. He did eventually send me messages as I hurried to my car, started it and sped off back home. While listening to my car radio, I realized that this, was not just Granada province, but all of Spain. My mind went where everyones did at one point during the day, was this an attack? Cyber? Nuclear? And later, Andrew mumbled at one point about...

This blog has woven past experiences with current ones of my life here in Spain. However, today's reflection is more of what is going on right now, right here, and how in the midst of it, I am looking to make sense of it with the lens of the Ancient Prayer, The Lord's Prayer. Many of you who read this have confessed to me that you do not believe as I do, and that's ok, but I find the need to express these thoughts below and I invite you to reflect on them with me.  One of the most powerful pieces of Scripture for me is when Jesus responds to the question how do we pray? The ancient words go something like this Our Father, who lives in heaven, holy is your name. May your kingdom come, and your will be done, here on earth as it is in heaven. Give us our daily bread. Help us to forgive others as you have forgiven us. Don't let us fall into temptation,  but! Deliver us from Evil. For yours is the kingdom, all the power, and all the glory are yours. Amen Praise, petition for...

 Last week, the little family from the East and I looked at an apartment, and for 6 days the owners hemmed and hawed about if they were going to help a family in distress or not. The answer finally came, no. I put out feelers, distress SOS, someone I've only spoken to on the phone in smooth Granada Spanish in a deep voice sent me a voice message, Jamie, call Maria Angeles, she's got a place. The little family of four, and myself found ourselves yesterday on the sidewalk outside a tall building. Good location, lots of shops, cafes, bars, parks, buses and metro. 15 minutes walk to the cafe they are running. And before the family joined us, I knew the owner was open to having immigrants. We saw the flat, 2 baths, 4 bedrooms, big living room and a little balcony/terrace to stretch out in after a long day of running the cafe. Heat to keep them warm, aircon to cool, not as much light as would be nice, but everything was well kept. I knew it was theirs when Maria Angeles said, do you ...

 One of the amazing things of growing up as an adult here in Spain, is the two points of view that I'm granted. I'm from one world, but since I was 26 years old, I have lived in another. I live with two Jamies, one that speaks Spanish a little accented one way and another depending on my feelings, sometimes all day long, and another one that speaks clipped Chicago English, especially after I've been on the phone with my brother. I have two points of view and sometimes they don't always live happily together. But one thing that remains steadfast, is that I believe. I believe in God, what we call the mystery that we can only view as a mound that is covered by by a large blanket. I believe He loves us so much, He sent His son to make things simple to us stupid people. But we are also created in His image and to love Him is to love those around us. The immigrant, for one. I've been one, and technically I still am a long term resident of a country I pay taxes and social ...

 The last two weeks have been like seeing a car accident every morning and not being able to look away. Andrew and I have a new house rule, no speaking of current political events until we both have coffee in our hands in the morning. We find ourselves reading, talking, disecting and wondering at what is going to happen next. Someone wrote on their wall on Facebook that they had interacted with AI about the teachings of Jesus and if they were compatible with Christian Nationalism. AI said no. I have always been deeply facinated with politics. My Juinor year of high school, we did video school (before online stuff existed) and my civics class was fascinating as we learned about how the US government worked. The teacher was passionate about the subject and we who watched it became intrigued as well. But the longer I live, and live away from the US, the less I understand. I told a client yesterday that it used to be a law that the Brits weren't permitted to vote after living 15 years ...

 Someone confessed to me last night, I used to be a youth pastor. I responded with, Me too. And we swapped a few details and didn't really need to say much, even though as I do, I probably said too much, because it wasn't needed and we saw each other. Something to the effect of, how could the church have so many empty rooms 99% of the time while the homeless underneath the very sign went without love and help? After the conversation I cried. Yet again. As Uncle Peter says, the plot sickens. I could go on and on about former classmates who went out guns ablazing into the mision field. And got kicked out, run out, burnt out. Or like I heard last week, yet another pastor friend of mine quit. Nothing immoral, nothing really wrong, but no one could agree and he said, this isn't the Gospel I was taught and preach, and left. So many of us have gone, left, faded into the wordwork, pivoted, changed, reinvented ourselves. Walked away. The current lingo is, deconstructed. Some merely ...