Peacemaker Ponderings

Gathering in Peace — Part One

How many times have you met someone only to find out that you were connected through mutual friends or distant relatives? Such a ‘small world’ encounter recently occurred with my cousin-in-law Jim and a co-worker, Annie.

Annie sent me a notice about a patient. My attention was caught — Annie had recently taken her husband’s name, Messersmith, which is the same name as my Cousin-in-Law Jim’s, whose family came from this area. I asked, tentatively, “Do you know of Jim?” Annie knew immediately how Jim was connected to their family. Coincidentally, they were about to have a Family reunion celebrating their recent award for 2026 Centennial Farm. We were invited. Jim and his daughter came from Connecticut, My brother, Tom, from Canton. We feasted, laughed, and discovered more connections. We soon understood it wasn’t simply the blood relationships that were fascinating — we were all connected in odd and wonderful ways.

The afternoon passed in questions and stories. The focus remained on our families’ values and our delight in a summer picnic. We basked in the beauty of a Pennsylvania Valley, keeping company with folk who reminded me of my growing up years. No strangers here! This gathering was a sweet gift of the Peace of Home.

In daily life, many of us fret about our world’s fragmentation. We miss so much when we do that, which often causes us to further fragment by staying in our insular communities. We could have turned down the invitation because we didn’t know people. Or stayed aloof. Instead, This Peace of this gathering allowed us to explore our shared connections, and to do so over a feast. Giving ourselves this opportunity to connect and reconnect made the macaroni salad tastier and the desserts a little sweeter.

While my family were not farmers, Bloomsburg is a country town where blue collar and professionals, town and country folk work side by side. Work continues connections started in grade school. Those schools are a mixture of town and farm kids. We met at town gatherings, faith communities, and sporting events. In the 1950s and ‘60s, a lot of people participated on municipal boards, library boards, and religious boards. We hunted the same fields and forests, swam at the same municipal pool, picnicked at the town park. It wasn’t Utopia, but it was less polarized than it is now. So much of my growing up was done with people from all walks of life gathering in Peace.

As for Annie’s and my families’ connections, we’re busily bumping into one another. I received a note from Annie: “Your Brother Says Hi!” She and Dave had bumped into Tom and his Sweetheart at the Sullivan County Fair. They chatted, discovering more connections. In these Valleys, we braid Peace with laughter, service, and food. Our families have committed to building community — and family!

If such haphazard encounters can lead to gathering in Peace, what might deliberate encounters bring? We can all celebrate over shared meals and devote time to serving the common good. Let’s explore gathering in Peace — and allow our willing hands, good hearts, and strong backs to rise above politics.

I recently officiated at a committal of ashes for a dear friend who was deeply community–minded throughout her 98 years of life. We ended her service singing the words she had posted on her refrigerator, “Let there be Peace on earth and let it begin with me.”

What shared interests and community projects can you help to support. Whether it’s with new friends, relatives, established relationships or total strangers, where and with whom will you Gather in Peace?

Salaam, Shalom, Shanti, Peace, and Blessed, Blessed Be.

Wild Hares #5: To Have or Have Not — My Wild Hair

I was never interested in coloring my hair.

I was never interested in coloring my hair. At first, I received numerous compliments for having hair that was essentially one beautiful dark brown shade. But then as styles changed, stylists offered to put streaks in my (to them, very boring) dark brown hair. “No thank you,” said I.

Then my hair started to go grey. As with my family — and I suspect most people — it started at my temples and spread. Immediately, stylists began with the “Oh, my goodness, let’s color this hair, so it’s not grey.” “Why,” I wondered. “You were tired of its being one-colored, so now my temples are a beautiful feathery grey turning white.”

“Humph!” was the stylists’ reply.

But somewhere around 65, I began to think I might like to dye my hair cherry red — or at least a couple locks. Unsurprisingly, I procrastinated, because… it was easier to leave things the way they are. It had taken me 65 years to perfect the art of doing nothing but cuts, ignoring the latest color fashions.

After I retired from ministry, I thought, huh… maybe I’d like my hair to be purple. Cherry red is a favorite color, but for me, Purple connotes Peace. It took about a year to get the right color, but now my hair is a dark purple and I get it done every month. Not because it’s grey — simply because! It’s short and perky and fun. And I like my hairdresser.

As an added bonus, when they look for me in the Trauma Bay, it’s easy to find me.

Nonetheless, it does require tending. And while I love being a styling kinda woman… mostly I’d rather spend my time on decisions on Life and Poetry…

So I’ve been thinking… since my hair is short, it would only take a time or two and I’d be back to a much greyer self. I even told the stylist, this is the last time. After that, I didn’t give it a second thought, because… why? A couple bad months of multicolored purple and grey, which are swimming months anyway… and I’ll be back to my natural hair.

My 19-year-old great nephew was up from New Orleans for the Family Funeral in Maine last week. He was hanging out, chatting with me — all right, I offered to buy him ice cream, and we bonded over the mango sorbetto — but he says, “hey, love your hair.” “yeah, I’m thinking of going back to my natural color.” “what??? No, bad idea, this is great.” Huh. Well, that was something to consider. If a 19yo music producer thinks your purple hair is cool… I mean… as a friend used to say in seminary, “shallow can be nice!”

So I was then on the fence about it. And then I got on the train to go home after the Memorial. Finding a seat was horrible as two trains had been cancelled due to the heat. Having taken whatever seat was available, I fortunately settled down next to this fabulous gay guy from NY. He produces dance and music events for the queer community in NYC.

We had a fascinating conversation about arts as community building. I explained my work as Peacemaker and how music, dance, and lights could be Peacemaking! Couldn’t stop blabbing. It was so fun to engage with him.

Somewhere a bit down the line, he looks at me and says, “you know you’re really rocking it with that plum (PURPLE!) hair and those red glasses. It’s fabulous.” (!!!Wow!!!) I told him I’d been thinking about letting it go back to grey. “Gurl! NO! … Oh, I’m sorry, you should have your hair however you want it. Why on earth would you ever do such a thing?”

It fostered a great conversation. I admitted that I knew it made me easy to pick out in the Trauma Bay, so the Team could know I was doing what I needed to be doing. And there is something about my age, that doesn’t have people challenging me quite as much as they might about my appearance.

So, guess who’s not letting her hair go grey. I’ll giving my stylist a call. If two hip, kinda with it young men suggest that you’re the bees knees… why make changes?

Purple it is.

It seems purple hair suits Investigative Poets— or at least this one! What suits you and your Peacemaking? It’s fun to consider!

Wishing you all Purple-haired Peace!

P.S. when i went to say good night to a young woman who had been in an awful accident that afternoon, she grabbed my arm and said, “Wait: I LOVE your purple hair!” Keepin’ it!

Wild Hares #4: A Time to Become, A Time to Simply Be

I was never interested in coloring my hair.

Alas, my wild hare was feeling shy and wouldn’t show up. It’s the thing about wild creatures of prey — sometimes they’re shy. I call her, Dasher, a gift from a Google search. Sadly, I don’t know who drew her. She’s a long eared, shaggy hare, who is wildly curious… This article is another I my series of watching with no fair bit of amazement at what I’m getting up to now!

A goodly portion of my life has been spent ‘becoming’ a Poet. I have been diligent about putting my observations, feelings, and thoughts about this planet and its creatures into prose and poetry. Exactly when that shift from becoming a poet to being one occurred, I’m not certain. Clearly something about truly owning that title had a lot to do with my recent travels across this country. At the outset of the trip, I dubbed myself an ‘Investigative Poet.’ That was a recognition of the kind of poetry I write. This was bigger, as personal as it gets. This was Ann, claiming her soul’s Journey. Perhaps it was the death of a beloved cousin, only nine years older than I, that helped me understand there is no time to waste “becoming.” These poems are no longer going to be an accidental sideline of a trip. These poems will emerge intentionally from the awe-inspiring beauty of this land and its inhabitants, born of a pilgrimage that was carefully and deliberately planned. Other poems have been patiently biding their time as well. I have no regrets that when the family called with news of Nancy’s death, that I organized and wrote her Memorial, planned my trip to see the relatives, and treasured honoring Nancy and enjoying my visit with the extended family.

Confident in my Poetry, clear about my goals, I applied for a grant to create more possibilities for poetry. I was emboldened to complete and submit the application, after carefully considering how my work aligned with the terms of the grant. Now, don’t be misled, I panicked a bit. But then, I thought why? A Poet is who I am. This is what I do. Whether or not I receive this grant is based on their decision-making metrics. It is a measure neither of my worth or my calling. 200+ people are applying for the same 30 spots. So, we’ll see. One way or another, my musical collaborator Andy and I will apply for other grants. I will write Poetry. He will make music. We will join our forces and talents. Life will be more meaningful, richer, and infinitely more fun.

In the meantime, I can take some time to write my poems from this trip and catch up on Life. It would be good to clean off the dining room table and settle in! To spend a few mornings running in the town Pool. Even to eat ice cream at the local establishments.

The Land I drove through encouraged me. It doesn’t ask for permission to inspire. It is what it is. It is so profoundly itself, that even humans’ greed and disdain for the Earth haven’t touched its Sacredness. So elemental is it, that this Land will continue to evolve as the Earth does — not as humans will it.

This deep recognition of my calling is a step farther into Poetry — in my case Investigative Poetry. It’s the difference between thinking of myself as a Poet and carrying that deep in my core. My cousin Nancy’s death, a cousin who was the same age as my sister Deb (who died 13 years ago), has awakened me to Time’s reality. The nine years between 74 and 83 are a lot of years in elder-speak, but then not really. I work in a hospital Trauma Bay. Every day patients come in with serious traumas and life-challenging conditions. I see people far younger than I with “elderly” conditions. I’m in pretty good shape. But trouble is a fall or an accident away. As Cat Steven sings, “I might Die tonight.” Chance of that is just a bit larger in my mind with Nancy’s death than it has been. If I’m going to take being a Poet seriously, I can’t dither.

It delights me that people like my poetry. But for me, right now, that’s not really the Point. I write because a quiet, but quite insistent voice within me fills my head with precious words to remind us of the Beauty of this Earth, its Land, Waters, and Starry Sky along with the Possibilities of Peace between all the Astonishing People who live here. If I don’t honor this now, when will I? If I don’t honor this now, who else will See with my eyes? Who else will Speak with my voice?

I am grateful for whatever Revelation had to happen to allow me to move past my sense of becoming a poet to a deep knowing – at my core – to simply being a Poet. I will honor this inner truth.

As I do, I remember the importance of you and your Gifts. Who are you? Who are you becoming? Who have you accepted to be and how are you honoring your Life’s role? We are all aging. Every day, we all have fewer days to speak the Truth that only we have been invited to witness. We all have Dreams and Callings to pursue. And Death is not, by far, the only reason to be who you are. It is Life’s Abundance which calls us into our Truth. If we’re willing to listen, we will respond.

So, let me turn to an astonishing Poet, Mary Oliver, as she asks us all: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I really want to know. Me? I’m an Investigative Poet, in the Service of Peace.

Good Neighbors Make Good Peace

Many people believe Peace begins within us. In my practice, Peacemaking — both public and private — is also about living what we believe and making it real in the world. Peace grows outward. It ripples in a Pond, spreading ever outward to include the world.

My inner Peace ripples out from my actions in the world, beginning with my neighborhood and my community. Building good neighbors and strong, inclusive neighborhoods are huge steps toward Peacemaking. My town has about 4,000 people, which makes some of this easy. We can greet the people next door and notice who might need a hand. Recently, a friend and I were out to dinner when a woman we knew from public life came in alone. It took only a moment to invite her to join us. She was preparing for a meeting and needed to focus, but the invitation mattered. It was an opportunity to practice Peace, to be deliberately kind, to tend the relationships of our daily lives. This is Peace at its most intimate scale — the Peace we make with our own hands, hearts, words, and actions.

This summer, I was privileged to travel far and wide across the country. The Land taught me so much. After weeks on the plains, I wondered how I would feel returning to the hilly, green forests of home. The moment I crossed the border into Pennsylvania, I felt the familiar deep exhale, followed by the equally deep inhale. It happened again when we finished at a favorite ice cream stand at the end of the trip. At home, after a month and a half absence, my garden had exploded into shades of green — some planted, some volunteers. I could feel the roots enfold me, steady me. Being a good neighbor comes naturally to me in this place. Living in Peace means embracing the Land, the River, and the community of Home — and tending them.

An older couple who were part of this neighborhood’s bedrock for decades have just sold their house. Who knows who will move in? Because this is my home, I am responsible for welcoming. After nearly 25 years here, I know where things are and which organizations do what. A welcome includes more than “glad you’re here.” It includes an invitation to become part of this community. Invitations matter, but they only bloom when the people receiving them are able to receive them and ready to act on them. Civic Peace strengthens as more people are welcomed to participate. There are so many ways to engage and become treasured members of a community. How are you involved? In what ways have you invited others to join the community?

As we strengthen our community bonds, it becomes easier to recognize other communities as they prosper and struggle. Watching other towns succeed, we can wonder whether their accomplishments have lessons for us. When we see them struggling, connection makes generosity easier. Support can come through official channels, but it also grows from shared experience and understanding. Peace has no shortage of ways to make itself known. We need imagination — and the will to be Peacemakers. How are you a Peacemaker in your community? What other styles of Peacemaking do you see around you? Experiment. Find your Peacemaker strength and generosity. Taylor Lightman, formerly head of Lewisburg Neighborhoods, once asked, “How do we lead the world from our small town?” Curiosity and Generosity are great ways to start.

As citizens of one country, we can ask how we might be good International Neighbors and Peacemakers. Canada has supported our wildfire struggles for decades. Now American firefighters are supporting Canada in their terrible fires, and Canadian firefighters are helping Minnesota. Smoke crosses borders — and so does compassion. It took time before many of us heard about the loss of the Canadian Namaygoosisagagun First Nation’s homeland and historical archives. Even longer before we learned about 13yearold Chase Paavola, son of the Fire Chief, who turned back in his little aluminum boat to ferry people to safety. Let us honor and emulate that young Peacemaker and all those whose first question is “How can I help?” Peacemaking manifests in so many ways.

Peace ripples out through small, gentle actions as well as bold, daring ones. What kind of Peacemaker are you? What kind would you like to be? I observe generosity happening everywhere — often without any conversation about politics or affiliations. We are made to be helpful to one another. Peacemaking isn’t another burden to assume; it is generosity and support you are already offering. You may not have named it as Peacemaking — but isn’t it? Are there other ways you’d like to explore Peacemaking? I’d love to hear about them. In the meantime, thank you. As you count your Blessings, consider the ways you hold yourself responsible to be a Blessing in this world… and what is that if not Peacemaking? Your neighborhood, your community, your state, your nation are all your ponds. How will you help Peace ripple more widely?

The Peace of My Pilgrimage

As I prepared for my Pilgrimage across the country, all the old patriotic songs rose up within me — the ones that praise America’s beauty and its people. I’ve always loved this country. But somewhere along the miles, something shifted. I realized I am not simply proud of it.

I am part of it.

I cherish this country. Most importantly, I realized I belong to it. To paraphrase the song from ‘Oklahoma’, “I know I belong to the land, and the land I belong to is grand!” It is a safe relationship to which I entrust myself. The Land endures. The Peoples and their Politics come and go. The Land continues in balance, harmony, and order. It adapts, re-balances, and restores itself. Its Peace prevails. We who are receptive are renewed and re-balanced.

This Land’s Beauty captivates me, and I work to be worthy of that belonging — worthy of the Peoples, Lands, Waters, Skies, and Stories that make this Country Sacred. Its Peace demands my participation and an obligation to care for it.

Driving across the vast expanses has transformed me. The National Parks and Monuments gifted us with bison, grizzlies, prairie dogs, burrowing owls, eagles upon eagles, foxes, chippies, and — in the cold northern waters — a Minke whale and three orca. My traveling companion added double digits to her life list of birds she’s spotted. Everywhere we turned, Awe and Wonder rose up like prayer.

One bison met my eyes for a heartbeat. Quickly, I looked away. Wonder is not challenge — and I had no desire to test his patience. But oh, those eyelashes. Even the smallest details of this Land and its inhabitants are extravagant.

The terrain itself informed us. Plains gave way to mountains; mountains softened into basins; forests unfurled. Mt. Rainier appeared and disappeared like a snowy blessing. Then came the Puget Sound, and finally the Pacific — our bed perched above the waves at the town of Moclips, the ocean breathing beneath us, calm and blue.

There wasn’t simply one beautiful place; it was place after place, each one heartachingly beautiful, each one insisting that Beauty is not a luxury — it is a sage teacher.

After our idyll in Moclips, we returned to Tacoma and boarded the “American Spirit.” Day after day, the ship carried us through glaciercarved waters and tiny islands with their small, sturdy villages. At each stop, Peace lingered in the quiet nooks, crannies, full skies; it lapped on the edges of the quiet depths we visited.

On the return trip East, we nourished our Spirits with Sacredness — Ancient Lands, Indigenous Cultures and Communities reclaiming language, ceremony, and story. Everywhere we went, we were welcomed. Every site caused our hearts to open wider. There should be a hymn that sings, “Surely Peace is in this Place”— and we should sing it everywhere. Sing it to ourselves, steadying our hearts. Sing it out loud, letting it echo. Sing it together, heads thrown back, hands clasped, filling the skies with the music of Peace. This is hymnody the world yearns for.

My Soul is certain. Peace is a web woven across this Land. Everywhere we looked:

Peace was there. And so were we.
Peace is here. And so are we.
Peace is wherever we turn, wherever we are willing to notice, and Peace is constantly calling us home.

This Pilgrimage changed me, reinforcing my calling as Peacemaker. There are many more stories waiting to burst forth to share with you: stories of what we saw when we went over the mountain like the bear, stories of how the rugged, vast Peace of this Country invites us to belong more deeply.

This is my affirmation: I, Ann Keeler Evans – American, Peacemaker – am privileged to belong to this Sacred Land. May every person who lives here, visits here, or makes their home here feel that same belonging… the Wonder-filled, Awesome, Inspiring, heart-aching Beauty of this Land that we call home, this Land that reminds us where and to whom we belong.

This was not the first time I traveled across this Country. The Love and Astonishment that wells up in me is familiar. My heart warms and softens as I open to this Beloved Land one more time. I allow myself to be reclaimed. Sweet Peace, I am renewed. I am grateful. Both the Grandeur and the Intimacy of this Land invites me to renew my solemn vow. I am a Peacemaker.

Salaam, Shalom, Shanti, Peace, and Blessed Be.

With Love, <br>Ann