"An essay on grunions, written entirely in octameter." Or, "sometimes Google sucks."

I went to see the grunions run, but naught a grunion ran tonight. The chase was staged with company – a friend I’d met at camp, and Ro, the guy she’d met through me albeit by accident, I’ll have you know. At half past twelve we three joined up at Champs, a seedy local bar, and Jo and Ro and me, of course, piled in my car and drove to shore. We landed at an empty beach, I parked my car in a red zone. We all piled out, cameras in tow, to watch the frenzied mating start. A thousand fishes, more or less, would come on shore to dig and spawn, and pickings would be plentiful, we’d heard, but all the fish were GONE! I scoured the sand both high and low, but gulls and terns were all I found. NO fish were present, I’ll be darned! The internet was wrong this time! It turns out Google’s full of dung, and grunions had the final laugh!!

Mirrors and Smoke

The stage is set with a door separating two rooms. One is dark, with barred windows and one tiny fan. It is lined with electrical cords and bobbins, and there are two women seated there. The other room is open, breezy, and fashionably decorated. It contains a rack of expensive clothes, and there are two women shopping there.

Characters:
Emily
Jen
Graciela
Lupe

Scene one: (Lights fade on amidst background chatter)

Emily: I told you, Jen, it’s totally worth the drive up here from San Diego. I saw this shirt for $70 at Fashion Valley, and here it’s only $30!

Jen: I would NEVER spend 70 bucks on a shirt - 30 seems bad enough! Clothes are so expensive these days – Especially like this one, “Made in the USA.” (shows Emily the label) I really try to buy stuff made in America so I’m supporting the U.S. economy, but you know U.S. workers have to make minimum wage, which of course makes the price go up.

Emily: Minimum wage, ha. Minimum for what? I make minimum wage at school, and I can barely afford to eat out 3 times a week. I have to drive all the way up here to shop for anything cute, because if I try to buy it in San Diego it costs an arm and a leg! I wish they would pay us enough to actually live on. I could work 40 hours a week and still not make enough to rent a shack in OB. Good thing I get to live on campus for two more years!

Scene two: (Silence, other than the humming of machines)

Graciela: Hand me another “made in the USA” label, Lupe.
Lupe: Did Raul say whether or not we were going to get paid tomorrow?
Graciela: I asked him three times yesterday and twice today, but he still won’t answer me. I can’t wait another week, though. I ran out of rice two days ago, and you know the kids can’t get free lunch on the weekends.
Lupe: (coughing) Ha, I remember I always looked forward to Mondays when I was little, because the school had chimichangas for lunch. (Coughing harder) I wish Raul hadn’t welded the windows shut –I need some air – my face is so hot!
Graciela: Are you getting sick, Lupe?
Lupe: I hope to God no – it makes the days go by so slowly when my head hurts as well as my back. Last time I got sick it stayed for two months before Raul finally gave me an afternoon to go to the doctor.
Graciela: It’s not me I’m worried about so much as my kids: if I get them sick and they can’t go to school, they’ll have to come to the factory with me since my mom can’t take care of them anymore.
Lupe: So? When I was Maria’s age, I was already working in the factory. You should bring her here after school, at least, and have her help you with some pieces.
Graciela: No, I want her to have at least a few more years of childhood. It’s hard enough living with so many people in one place on $150 a week – I want her to be able to have some space at school.
Lupe: Hey, you know as well as I do that 10 cents per shirt doesn’t go a long way, and from what I hear about the rent going up in your neighborhood, you are going to need as much help as you can get, Graciela.
Graciela: These shirts need to go down, but Raul is going to kill me if he sees me down there.
Lupe: I’ll bring them down. You have your mom and the baby to think of. (picks up a pile of shirts, walks quickly to the door, looking around, and opens it. Lupe looks around to make sure no one sees her, and hurries to set down the shirts. She turns around to leave, when she bumps into Jen. Lupe casts her eyes down in humiliation, Jen’s eyes widen with shock. Freeze... Lights fade.)

Lenten Reflections

Every Monday morning I leave my home in Point Loma at 7:45 to drive to my church in Mira Mesa for a staff meeting that starts at 8:30. It ends at 8:50. Then I drive back to school. It’s absurd...spending 45 minutes driving to a meeting that lasts 20 minutes long is ludicrous! It used to get my goat like no other, but I realized one day that having one's goat gotten first thing every Monday morning is not a good way to start the week, so I decided to surrender that time to God. And I tell you the truth, I look forward to that commute now, because God shows up every time, without fail. On more than one occasion, I have driven home with tears of gratitude streaming down my face, and the prayers I offer during that time are some of the most heartfelt and holy words I've ever spoken. Making space for God is a good thing.

Consider The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, found in Luke 18:9-14:

"To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other men—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.'

"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, 'God, have mercy on me, a sinner.' "I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted."

The prayer of the tax collector, which is the same one the desert monastics used to repeat over and over again in their desire to "pray without ceasing," is the perfect example of making space for God. I don't think the crux of this passage is the breast beating and utter misery of the tax collector - rather I think it is the space his prayer makes for God's grace to have its way in his life.

We are in the season of Lent right now, which has a lot to do with space-making. This is such a spiritually rich and poignant time of year for me: taking steps to replace my Pharisaiacal self-confidence with humble awareness of the gaping sins in my own life. In Lent, I acknowledge the pits and potholes that I fall into over and over and over again, and wait in humble anticipation and reverence for the deluge of grace that flows from Christ's hands and feet on Good Friday...the grace that is completed in the glory of the resurrection on Easter Sunday. This grace, like rain, falls from heaven and pools in our deepest pits, those we have uncovered in our search for sacred space.

"Lord, as we search for you may we indeed find you, and may the world find you as well, in the love that flows from the cross, and that binds us together as family. I pray for these my brothers and sisters - may the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing in your sight, oh Lord our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen."