in which a single word generates a stream of unusual consciousness

Confession. There is a group of bloggers who have committed to resuming the art of writing a blog. For myself, facebook is one of the culprits responsible for my slack, but other factors contributed to my absence from these pages. To help us renew the habit, one of our group offers a prompt on Saturday morning to help get thoughts and writing juices flowing.

Today's prompt is one word: falling. I'm going to go for the free"fall" and do a little word association with this, like a round of "fast money" on Family Feud. It might go something like this: "Name a word or phrase that begins with the word 'Falling.'"

There's 
falling in love
falling fast
falling in line
falling apart
falling together
falling short
falling through
falling asleep
falling behind
falling down
falling silent
falling temperatures
falling snow
falling rain

...and I'm sure there are more. Here's the thing. It took me reading down this list a few times before it struck me like a head slap that falling is an active verb. When I first read the word in the prompt my initial thought was of falling down, like a toddler who is working to master the upright position on all twos. Said child might lose his or her balance and teeter a bit before taking a big ol' plop onto the floor. Like the children's song claims, "we all fall down!"

Most of the time, we all get up, too. Sometimes we jump right up and brush off the ol' behunkus and carry on. Other times it may take several moments to consider how we ended up in the down position before getting reoriented and back on our feet. At still other times we are laid out, unable to move for fear that what knocked us down is ready and waiting for another opportunity for an instant replay. And perhaps most debilitating of all are those times when we are so exhausted that when we find ourselves down we have no energy to get ourselves up again. This falling down and getting back up stuff can definitely wear you out. Heck, Brené Brown wrote an entire book on the subject, Rising Strong. Highly recommended.

I don't want to dwell on the falling down action, however. I really like some of the other pairings with the word, like falling together, falling asleep, and falling snow. There are implications of unity, rest, and quiet beauty held in those words, and collectively they suggest a kind of peacefulness that stands in contrast to the more disruptive action of falling down. Can't you just see the gentle swirling of stardust and the hint of harp strings reverberating just a wee bit away? I'll take some of that kind of falling any day.

And then, of course, there is falling in love. Explosive action, that! Gobsmacked, grab your heart by the seat of its luxurious palpitations, take your breath away, transforming love. It can happen so slowly as to tip the scale of your existence when you least expect it, or pull the rug out from under your carefully planned five-year plan. However it comes for you, there's no escaping the life-altering shebang that is love of the falling variety. No siree-bob. Whew!

Which way are you falling today? In? Out? Here? There? Gently? Cataclysmically? 

Tell us all!

a father's gift

It was worse than a slap in the face.

After some intensive one-on-one vocational and personal counseling as part of the process toward ordination, I made the commitment to work on the problematic relationship I experienced with my father. I attributed issues with self-esteem as stemming from the passive-aggressive criticism he leveled my direction, as well as the lack of affirmation that characterized his apparent view of me. Over dinner a few nights after returning from the combined counseling session, I told my dad that I felt there were issues interfering with a healthy relationship between us, and I wanted to work to address them together. He paused briefly as his fork pushed some food around on his plate. Then he looked at me and said calmly, "I'm not interested in doing that."

I don't remember the rest of that evening, but I do recall that the "dead end" sign planted by my father's words catalyzed a journey of new awareness for me. Though disappointed, and not terribly surprised,  that the hoped-for, tandem effort of father-daughter transformation was not in the offing, I knew that I could undertake my side of the work without his participation. 

In short, what was required of me was to step back from what I needed and wanted from my father and to consider him as an individual. When I did that I was able to consider what I knew of his life and experiences, and his own hopes and heartbreaks.  In doing so, what I saw was a wounded man who embraced blaming others as a way to come to terms with mistakes and poor choices.  No one helped him in his formative years to develop healthy coping skills, and in spite of spending several years in therapy to deal with a divorce, he grabbed onto the idea of the tools and techniques toward healthy relationships to which he was exposed rather than actually integrate them into his being.  

When I stepped back, I saw a man limited in terms of what he could, and would, bring into his relationship with me.  Once I recognized this reality, it freed me from the expectations of who he could be to me as a father. It was a sad realization, but accepting it opened the door to enjoy my father for who he was, rather than be disappointed that he was not who I wanted him to be.  It altered our relationship, at least for me, and probably for him. It also provided for me the tool of learning to step back and take a second look at other relationships in my life. My father's refusal to engage with me at that critical period of growth opened a pathway of compassion and empathy that has made it possible to love and embrace others when their words, actions, or choices made it otherwise difficult to do so. What began as a stinging setback became, instead, a gift that has served me well in ministry, and in my own life. The depth of my gratitude for that cannot be measured.

One of the wisdoms of the world is not to take things personally. Adopting this new paradigm of relating with my father hugged the learning curve of that wisdom. What he did or did not do, said or did not say, was a reflection of him and his world, and not about me. This applies to all of us and to the ways that we interact with and react to the world. 

When my father died, others in his life spoke of him as a kind of hero. I accept, gladly, that he could be that person to them, and that his impact on the world was a positive force that helped shape lives in helpful ways. We never know the fullness of who a person is, even when we share some of the most intimate and battle-tested episodes of their lives. It is part of the joy, frustration, and mystery of life that we are given glimpses into the beauty that is another human being. The challenge to each of us is to work to believe that there is goodness and value in every person, even when the image we see reflects less than that reality. 

My father gave me this gift. It is with a deeply loving heart that I share it every day with others, with gratitude.

beginning again

Early in the year, with a blank slate of expansive possibility ahead of me, I declared that I would blog more frequently. I haven't. 

I don't think that there is any particular reason for this, but two stand out as contenders. 1) I had fallen out of the habit. During an extended period of recovery from an assortment of difficult, awkward, and painful situations, what yearned for expression from my inner world wasn't really suitable for these pages. That isn't to say that I can't, don't, or won't do such sharing here, but the awkward part of it all just made revelations here unwise. 2) Too much of the rest of what was happening in my life might well have come across as whining. I wanted to spare those who took the time to come here and catch up any sort of litany of woes, no matter how significant. Shit happens, and it was happening at my place. 'Nuff said.

What has changed? Why return now in an effort to reconnect with that dormant writer who succumbed to the temptation to believe that she had nothing to say? Because it's time to reclaim that there is lots to say. It doesn't hurt that there is plenty of activity in my life right now that serves to turn over the earth of my being. You never know what will appear and catch the rays of life's light, causing one to pause and consider--or reconsider--a particular piece of who I am, or some signpost to where I might be headed. But even if my days were following a pattern of familiar comings and goings, the world is full of shenanigans and surprises that evoke all kinds of responses. That alone, makes being here regularly worth the effort of showing up.

So here's to showing up, and having something to say.

respite

I took a road trip last week. My 15-year old Akita-mix, Juliet, had a tumor on her upper gum, and a good friend is very generous to offer free vet care to my pooches when I bring them to her. So off to St. Louis we went.

When we got there Juliet was the first priority. After x-rays, consultation with a radiologist, and a dental cleaning, surgery began. Three front teeth were extracted, the tumor (which encased one of those teeth) was excised, two additional teeth that had cavities and had the potential to cause trouble down the road were extracted, and her nails received a long-overdue trim. I am grateful that Caroline lets me be present during such things. I got to lay a gentle, energy-affirming hand on Juliet's shoulder and hip while I watched and learned.

Once Juliet was awake and sufficiently alert, she got to spend the evening recovering gently while the adults shifted gears to more fun stuff. I didn't realize how badly I needed this road trip.

For dinner we visited a trendy section of St. Louis where ethnic restaurants abound, settling on Ethiopian cuisine. No silverware, just a thin, spongy bread for grabbing hold of food and getting it to your mouth. I managed not to spill a single thing! A flavorful avocado salad started my meal, and an even more delicious lamb entree filled me up. Having pulled out of the driveway shortly before 5 earlier in the day, however, I was toast. Once back at the ranch I was off to bed.

Thursday was play day. Caroline and I went riding, which was pure joy. Her dog, Wendy, ran and ran and ran through the fields with such delightful abandon while we directed the horses across open meadows and through old woods. It was such fun to watch Wendy romp, roll, splash and play. In one area an old, log cabin outbuilding hinted at the rows of forgotten daffodils that had just bloomed further in the woods. It was like listening to the whispers of a former life, and I hope my smiles of homage were felt by the spirits of those who had gone before.

After riding and a break for lunch we headed to the Missouri Botanical Garden, a favorite haunt from my days living there. Varieties of daffodils displayed themselves as either sentinels of what had already bloomed, or showy heads of the days best offering. It's a spectacular garden, well designed with pleasing walks and niches for respite. I wish we'd had more time to wander through the Japanese Garden and catch the flutter of falling petals from the blooming cherry trees.

Next stop: Ted Drewes, home of its famous frozen custard "concrete." It's a St. Louis staple, not overly sweet, and a perfect afternoon snack. Then--off to Caroline's Mom's to meet and pick up three of Caroline's nephews for an outing at a local go-cart establishment. Confession: I had never gotten behind the wheel of a go-cart. There's a first time for everything! Although I didn't win any races my performance behind the wheel was more than respectable. And let me just say that these were three very fine young men with whom I shared this adventure.

Having talked earlier about Grant's Farm, we popped a few blocks over from the racing venue when we were done to see the Budweiser Clydesdales enjoying the beautiful spring day. Of course I had to get out and take a picture! 

Our full day wasn't quite over. Back home over wine and cheese Caroline shared with me a slideshow of photos from the recent trip to New Zealand that she took with her husband, and then we enjoyed a late dinner at a local eatery. In all it was a perfect day, filled with activity outside of my usual range of offerings and opportunities, and nourishing languishing parts of my being. 

On our way out of town the next morning Juliet and I stopped to visit the daughter of my late and dear friend Kathy. It had been far too long since we had any time together, and the time flew but, as Carrie herself says, it filled my tank. Blessing. It was all blessing.

I'm not generally a fan of using a blog to write a "what I did on my day off" kind of post, and I'm sorry if this reads that way. This post was written for my own sake, for sharing a time that was uplifting, affirming, and life-giving, filled as it was with more or less ordinary activity. I am so grateful for Caroline--for her care for Juliet, for taking time out of her busy life to spend with  me, for being someone with whom I can just be--and for opportunities to dip into an experience outside my usual habitat that help remind me to revisit dormant joys and dreams. It was all good.

friday five: blank slate edition

So here it is, the first day of a brand new year. I'm trying a less conventional lens to think about the blank slate of 2016 using these five categories as prompts.

Food: I enjoyed some success losing weight last year with the help of a fitness app. I'd like to build on that success--and the things that I learned help to fuel it--by incorporating some different food groups into the mix. More quinoa, for instance, as well as some recipes that incorporate fruit. I've still got 25-30 pounds left to reach my goal weight. Raising a stalk of celery to getting there!

Reading, writing, and ‘rithmetic: One casualty of facebook is the decline in the use of blogs. Fewer posts are being written, as well as being read. It's nice to have even a modest following, and to know that others care enough about what I share that they read what I have taken the time to write. But although I started blogging to share news and photos with family and friends, I kept at it because it fed a part of me to express myself through the written word. I'd like to reclaim that expression. It would also be fun to try some creative writing, as well. Just 'cuz. I'm starting by doing today's Friday five!

Relating: I live with the double-edged sword of introversion. The tendency to remain "within" doesn't nourish relationships, and hence they suffer. At the same time, it isn't helpful to beat myself up because a part of my nature contributes to that affliction. It's past time to explore ways to honor the nature while nurturing those affected by its less-than-comfy edge.

Mother Earth: A few years ago Ken and I made the decision to try to visit the national parks that are within easy reach of us (2 hour drive, or so). This was inspired by a visit to Mammoth Cave National Park in KY.  We plotted out the parks that fell within that category, and... it's time to revive that plan. It's also time to get to some of our state parks.

Creating: I've rediscovered knitting (that's Eli in his Christmas hat). I didn't think it was really a viable activity with a dog that likes to plunge into my lap without a moment's notice, but it turns out I was just making that up. There are a host of knitting projects I would like to tackle, and with six grandchildren (and one on the way), I've got a rich target audience for this expression. I may just have to revive some other craft pleasures, too.

A different kind of bonus: Parker Palmer has an excellent blog post about five new year’s revolutions that I found inspiring, challenging, and thought-provoking. Consider it an eighth day of Christmas gift! And may the year ahead bless you in all your endeavors and pathways in life.

friday five: tell me something good!

(you're singing it now, aren't you...)

At RevGals today Marie writes this:

I’ve recently gone back to daily journaling as a spiritual practice and I am astounded at how it’s changing my outlook on life. In my work as a justice activist, I’m often fixated on what’s going wrong. But my journal is helping me to notice so many more things that are good, like my relationship with my spouse, my friends, and even the weather. So for today’s Friday Five, join me in pondering what is good in our lives.

This comes at a good time, as there is too much discouraging me at present.
 
What’s one good thing happening in your personal (but not TOO personal) life?

I am losing weight! After gaining, gaining, gaining during the last several years, a step on the scale at a doctor's office in February brought my inertia to a screeching halt. I am using an app that tracks my intake and my output (exercise), and helps me stay focused and accountable. A great benefit is that it draws attention to my food choices, and as a result I am eating differently. It also inspires more exercise than I would ordinarily take on. I didn't really take a "before" picture, but when I reach my goal I'll offer some sort of "reveal." Something to which I look forward! (The app is MyFitnessPal, for those who might be interested).

What’s one good thing happening in your work life?

I'm presently seeking a work life. I do have a Sunday gig, which is great, but it's not enough to sustain our household, nor does it adequately feed my desire to serve. But those are negatives. I suppose the positive is that I am seeking. I am about to submit my resume for a prospective job, and I feel good about an above average fit for it. Whatever transpires as a result of this application, the positive practice of offering my gifts and experience to the world is a good thing.

What’s one good thing happening in the area where you live?

Nashville is about to elect a new mayor, and it is likely it will be a woman with progressive ideas and viewpoints. She stands a good chance of winning, and the energy around her candidacy and the campaign is dynamic. 

What’s one good thing happening in the life of someone you love?

Our son and daughter-in-law (above, probably obvious!) are on the verge of welcoming their second son, Eli, into the world. We can't wait! My brother (below) has also just invested some time and focus into promoting his business online (facebook, pinterest, web and blog), and has done a fabulous job.  He refers to himself as a design evangelist (home building design). I'm so proud of him and happy for him. Check it out!

 
What’s one good thing happening in the world? (I'm going to mention at least 2)

The Iran Nuclear Agreement is a very good thing. Blogging about my participation in a Lobby Day related to this last fall is still on my "git 'r done" list. Maybe now I'll actually write it! I'm also regularly inspired by the oustanding work that some of my colleagues are doing related to human trafficking and racism (respectively). Becca Stevens, of Thistle Farms, is one. The Very Rev. Mike Kinman, dean of the cathedral of the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri, is another. They each bring different gifts to these significant movements, and impact me in different ways. I am grateful for that.

friday five: family traditions

In spite of hosting the Friday Five once a month at RevGals, I haven't played for a while! Let's change that, starting with today. Deb writes:

During a recent family reunion in Lexington, Virginia, I went with some members of my family to see Foamhenge. the creation of Mark Cline that “mysteriously” appeared one April Fools’ Day. It’s a life-sized styrofoam replica of the real deal. (I kid you not.) If you are in to off-the beaten-path, unique family bonding moments, this will do it.

Every family has their own traditions, quirks and follies. So for this week’s Friday Five, tell us about your family/tribe/clan for these 5 distinctive traits:

Favorite Game 

We weren't much of a game family, at least not when we were at home. But take us on the road and we new rituals emerge.

I grew up with a card game called "Flinch," which has its own unique deck of cards that include sets that go from 1 to 15. The idea was to build on common piles going up from 1 and down from 15. A flinch pile was also involved. We also played multi-hand solitaire, as demonstrated below (seven hands).

Favorite Sports Team

We weren't much of a sports family. Afflicted with polio when he was seven, my dad didn't play sports, and this probably colored our preferences. Neither of my brothers played team sports, although my older brother was on swim and tennis teams. In junior high I was highly influenced by my best friend's family, who were devotees of the Montreal Canadiens, a National Hockey League team. They were then, and continue to be, my team, although my attention waned in college when I lived in a non-hockey area.

Birthday tradition

I'm sure we're not unique in honoring the birthday girl or boy with a choice of meal or flavor cake, but nothing else stands out as a tradition. My own favorite meal was beef fondue. I remember that my brother always had chocolate cake with coffee-flavored icing (below--birthday boy on the right).

The place that you collectively call “Home” (even if none of you live there any more.)

I'm the only one who has left the geographic nest, but Connecticut is still home to me, and always will be.

Family Vacation Spot

In the summer we were fortunate that a cousin had a home in Hyannisport, on Cape Cod, and that was our go-to spot until I was in college. The house had beachfront, which was great, and we had a distinctive view of Marine One coming in for a landing at the Kennedy Compound there. Summers at the Cape hold a vast store of cherished memories (below).

 

Our other place is a family-owned tree farm in South Carolina (above). Once a peach farm run by my great-grandfather, it now yields timber from loblolly pines. With rare exceptions I have gone there every year of my life. It shares the distinction, with Scotland, of being my spiritual home.

BONUS: Family Dessert: Every family has one. That yummy, calorie-laden delight that frequents your table at parties or holidays. Share the recipe, or (if it’s a family secret) share a photo.

Hands down, Mom's brownies. They were a staple of family gatherings, but also a symbol of hospitality to others. She made them to welcome new neighbors, to take to committee meetings, and to say thank you for a kindness shown. She and I recently made a batch to take to the nursing unit where she spent a couple of weeks in rehab after a recent fall, as a way to say thank you for their care. I have even used them as a sermon illustration on All Saints Day to talk about the idea of legacies (the recipe came from my grandmother), and the communion of saints. Mom happened to be in town that weekend, so we made several batches that were packaged individually to give to the kids, along with a copy of the recipe.

this just in...

Justice has been delivered for Shelby. I have just learned that her husband has been found guilty of first degree murder, and has been sentenced to a mandatory life sentence, with no parole. Amen, and amen.

for Shelby

Within reach of where I sit at my desk is a candle. I keep it nearby for those occasions when I want to keep a prayer concern going for longer than I can remain focused on it consciously, and where the flame (and sometimes the fragrance) will catch my attention over the course of its lighting to bring me back to the reason I lit it in the first place. It's my version of Paul's admonishment to pray without ceasing. Well, it's one version. 

This morning I lit the candle for Shelby Wilkie, the niece of a friend and colleague. Shelby was killed by her husband two years ago, and this week he goes on trial for her murder. She was in the process of leaving him as his physical abuse toward her not only jeopardized her life, but that of their infant daughter.

It has been agonizing to witness the impact of this tragedy from afar (my friend lives in Michigan, her niece was in in North Carolina), but distance does not lessen the importance of being present to and for my friend in whatever way I can, nor does it prevent me from adding my voice to those who seek a world where anger doesn't translate as violence, and every human being is empowered to feel significant and worthy.

As the court seeks justice for Shelby, I invite each of us to do at least one thing today to affirm a person whose confidence may be low, to extend a hand to someone who is isolated, to embrace someone who has withdrawn, to speak for someone who can't find his or her voice, and to love, by whatever means available, those we hold dear, and those we keep at a distance. 

Connect, smile, hug, reach. For the Shelbys of this world, and for us all.

19 december

It's been a long, long time since I posted anything here of substance. Not that some of the prompts of the Friday Fives don't elicit meaningful bits of sharing, but I started this blog as a way to share news and pictures about my world and the things that make me stop and take a look at it more closely.

In the last few years the view from where I sit hasn't been particularly compelling. A lack of work, direction, community, and a sense of purpose have all led to a fairly insular existence. I have a limited tolerance for sharing the shallowness of those kind of days, and I suspect there's even less interest in reading about it. These pages have been silent as a result. Even when I did have something to share the habit of turning to this space was dusty with neglect, and I am not known for my housekeeping.

Still, the desire to communicate and connect burns like a pilot light, so I am going to endeavor to be here more frequently than Friday Five memes.

With less than a week to go before Christmas we are in good shape here. The tree has been up for a couple of weeks, the lights finally got sorted out and strung, and ornaments decorate the branches. The mantel is seasonal (that kind of decorating is not my strong suit), the Nativity set is on the piano, and most of the daily clutter has been removed. The first round of baking has been mailed or delivered, and the second round is underway (note to self: smaller containers next year will make the baking go farther!). The first batch of cards went into the mail yesterday, and today I will endeavor to address the remainder of the list. Nothing more will go out until next week, since we can't buy stamps until Monday. The letter is written, but will only go to people with whom we haven't been in touch. We are still pinching pennies.

A couple of pictures! The above photo, already shared on facebook, is this year's ornament for the grand kids. The idea came from Pinterest, and with some pine cones already on hand, along with felt and a glue gun, this was my choice of what to make. I think they're adorable! Colors were chosen according to favorites of the three oldest. I wish there was an easier way to cut out small pieces of felt--I'd be inclined to make more of these!

The picture below was taken last week at our county Election Commission's reception for poll workers. I joined the ranks this year to work the elections (Ken has been doing it for several years), and am grateful for the opportunity to be involved. Ken is decked out in his veteran attire because the reception also honored veterans.

 

That's a wrap for now. Stay tuned, I'll be back. Promise.

friday five: the eve of Advent

At RevGals, MaryBeth writes: This time of year can be so busy with planning for Advent and Christmas, for those who work in churches and we who live close to them. Today, I invite you to sit quietly…as Mary sits in this phot…and consider five things about Advent. They might be images, practices, hymns, anything you like. Just let the thoughts wash over you. Be peaceful with them. Be blessed with them.

My love for Advent is steeped in the family traditions of my youth. Annual outings, rituals, the inner warmth of our home protected from the growing darkness and cold of winter all gave a glow to the season.  Church rituals have been less meaningful for me, perhaps because I inherited practices already in place at churches I served, and where those communities didn't feel inclined to revisit those choices. (Let me say that there wasn't anything wrong with them, but shaping them to add meaning for me wasn't an option).

So, five things... 

1) Sharing. Whether it was the creation of the family Christmas card, writing the family letter, helping mom with her homemade goodies of toffee and spiced tea, or singing Christmas carols outside the homes of friends, we spent family time engaged in activities that connected us to other people. 

2) As an maturing Christian who shifted from Quaker to Episcopalian in my late twenties, Advent hymns became precious to me. I especially loved hearing them played from the carillon of the chapel at the college just up the hill from my first home.

3) The Advent calendar. I don't remember the practice of using a calendar being a spiritual one, but it nonetheless instilled an awareness that we were in a season of marking a journey, and waiting with anticipation. This annual ritual made it so much easier to live into the spiritual practice of waiting when my faith began to bloom.

4) Purple.

5) Decorations. My mother chose a seasonal theme each year as a way to focus the decorations of our home.  The ones that stand out in my memory are the Magi, Peace, Joy, music, and the Twelve Days of Christmas.  Except, perhaps, for the "12 days," these themes emphasized the spirit of the season, instilling in me an abiding appreciation in my bones for the depth and meaning of what I would come to know as the Incarnation.  Little did she know that she was planting seeds...

friday five: jury duty!

My friend Jan, at RevGals, invites us to share jury experiences today.

1. Have you been called to jury duty? How many times? Did you excuse yourself or show up at the courthouse?

I have been called to jury duty several times. I would like the experience of serving, so have been disappointed to have had legitimate conflicts on the occasions called. I was finally able to say "yes!" 20 years ago, and reported the day after graduating from seminary.

2. What were the results of your call to jury duty?

There were two juries being selected the day I went. The first was for a negligence case: a woman slipped on ice and fell on some steps of a condo complex. She suffered a compound fracture to a leg, if I recall, and probably worse, since she was suing.

I don't remember what I answered to the questions posed to me by the attorneys, but I definitely do remember that I was pulled into a conference with the attorneys, the plaintiff, and the judge for an additional interview. I suppose they were on the fence about whether or not to seat me and needed to be swayed one way or the other. I remember being congratulated on my graduation, and in response to some related question I mentioned that one of the goals of the seminary was to impart critical thinking skills to their students. 

I did not get called to serve, and the timing of the second interview kept me from being questioned for the other jury, so home I went, disappointed.

Later that evening I was at my godparents' home for dinner and shared the experience with them. My godfather, who was a superior court judge, listened carefully to my tale. When I told them about the "critical thinking" part he piped up, "well, that was your mistake." It sounds funnier to hear that in my head, in his voice, but it was a humorous moment.

3. What does your state base its candidates’ list from?

In Connecticut, the voter registration list is used. Here in Tennessee I don't know what they use.

4. Have you ever served on a jury? What was that like?

Sadly, no.

5. Have you ever had a jury summons to a U. S. Court? What was it like?

Not there, either!

friday five: todayish

1. If you could sneak away anywhere this weekend, right now, all expenses paid, where would you go and what would you do?

I would have answered Scotland, but the weekend would be consumed with travel getting there and back.  I'll continue to hold that dream in my heart a little while longer. Instead I'll go with a favorite B&B in Gatlinburg, TN (far from the madding commercialism of the "downtown" area), the Buckhorn Inn.  There are lovely, restful views from the inn; a substantive walking trail on the property, complete with pond and a pair of swans; fabulous food; a labyrinth; easy access to a favorite walking trail near in the national park; beverages and treats available in a comfortable library, and nearby artisans to stoke the creative fire. 

2. What is for lunch today? (one of the very first FF I ever played asked this.)

A BLT, to enjoy the last of the our summer tomatoes.

3. Along that first-FF-I-ever-played theme, what are you wearing today?

There will be changes: right now I'm still in my pj's, but will upgrade to sweats to walk one of the dogs. Then I will shower and change for a doctor appointment (tasteful but comfortable), then back to uber comfy when I return home. 

4. Along the Today Theme, what are you doing today? 

Along with the above noted activity, I'm also doing some online work as part of a "work from home" obligation, tending to some details to help a local candidate campaign for office, and promoting my canine massage business.

5. Along the random theme, what is your favorite scent, and why?

I'm wondering if there's a distinctive difference between scent and smell... I love the smell of curry, but I don't know that I would call that a scent. I got a whiff of an evergreen the other day and was immediately transported to seaside holidays as a child (wonderful memories), so that certainly ranks up there. I guess I would say that any scent that transports me to a time/place/state that makes me smile is my favorite. There are really too many to choose just one.

friday five: new

At RevGals MaryBeth writes: Many folks I know say the beginning of school makes them feel like a new beginning, even if they are not in school themselves or have kids there. In fact, I did a little math at the beginning of the week and determined that, based on my career in higher education and when I entered first grade, I am entering the 44th Grade this year.
So, for beginnings: Tell us five things that are new in your life, or that you would LIKE to have be new in your life. If that doesn’t work, how about things that you are ready to shed….to make room for new things? Opening your hands to release, to see what God might put into them?

1) I am beginning to enjoy a new confidence with my canine massage practice, and look forward to a busy fall attending agility trials where I find the most work.

2) Related to # 1: at a trial last weekend I worked for the first time on a canine amputee. I was so moved by the privilege of working with this dog as she adjusts to life on three limbs, and have committed to learning more about how to help such dogs. This may prove to be an area of specialty that I can offer in the future. The thought of that is both humbling and exciting.

3) In September I will begin a twice-monthly relationship with a small, historic chapel in our diocese as their chosen Sunday officiant. I am grateful for the regular work, and the opportunity to establish new relationships with faithful people in a congregation.

4) To supplement our income I have begun a part-time, "work from home,"  Internet job. It deals with web user experiences, and is sufficiently mind-engaging that I think I will enjoy it. I am relieved to be able to ease our financial burdens.

5) I am beginning to resume some creative projects after a hiatus since last Christmas. This is a good sign, indicative of inner peace and an answer to an inner yearning to move away from the urgency of my own needs.

friday five: what's in a name?

Lately I’ve been a bit obsessed with tracking some genealogical mysteries in my family. I’m reaching back through generations into the past, but I’m also moving from the past toward the present in an effort to locate cousins descended from the same ancestor. Naming patterns prove to be useful clues in these endeavors, and in turn, lead me to today’s Friday Five theme.

Share with us:
1) Is there a story behind your name?

It just so happens that there is! I am the seventh in a line of women to be called Anne McKinne. The name zig-zags a bit through the generations to get from my 4th great-grandmother to me, but my mother and grandmother share the name. I'm sad that I don't have a daughter to pass the name to, but I'm honored to be the last to bear this name.

The first Anne McKinne (portrait), me (# 7) with my grandmother (#5)

2) If you have children, how did you choose his/her/their name(s)? If you don’t have children, how about a pet?

I don't have children, but I take seriously giving my pets names that have some sort of story or meaning. Except for the dogs of my youth, my Shelties and Border Collie carried Celtic names: Avalon, Rory, and Brenna. Dooley was named for a character in Jan Karon's "Mitford" series books. Rigel, our German short-haired pointer (pictured, right), is named for the brightest star in the constellation of Orion (the Hunter), due to the star-shaped blotch of white on his forehead. McKinlee is named to honor a dog-loving friend who took his own life the same week that McKinlee joined the family. The story behind Juliet's name is too complicated to go into, but officially she is "The Lady Juliet," and it suits her regal nature.

3) I named the stand mixer in my kitchen Ethel, and a friend of mine names her plants. Do you ever name household items, and what inspires the names behind them?

I don't name such items often, but when I do I try to choose a name that conjurs up a notion of fun and whimsy.

4) Do you daydream about what you might name a boat, a novel, a business, or something else that begs for a title?

I have a title for a novel that needs a plot! The title is "Polestar," referring to the constant guiding light of that entity. It's not meant to refer to God so much as to a constant desire to move forward toward finding one's purpose. Why, yes, it would be semi-autobiographical!

5) If you were to write under a pseudonym, what might that be, and is there a story behind that name?

There was a time when I needed to be in regular touch with someone who I could only contact while they were at work (let's just say that a kind of conspiracy was afoot related to a person we both knew). Occasionally I needed to leave a message that I had called, but leaving my name would begin to arouse suspicion. My friend and I knew each other through Scottish country dancing, so I used the name Jean Milligan as my "code name." Miss Milligan (as she was known) was the founder of the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society.

when pain is our guest

Something happened yesterday that I always prayed would never be something I would experience. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, heading home on the two-lane highway from the second day of the weekend agility trials. A group of about half a dozen young men and boys were clustered at the foot of a long, country driveway, holding and waving political signs. Their action did what it was intended to do--it attracted my attention--and in that brief moment of turning my head to take in their presence, a dog bolted from the other side of the road into the path of my car. 

I hit the brakes, too late, felt the thud of impact, and immediately negotiated a place to pull off the road to go back and check on the dog. As I opened the car door I caught a glimpse of the dog's tail being raised, one last salute to life, and then it was still. I ran the 100 feet or so to its body, knelt beside it, and the tears began to gush. She was gone. Across the street a car had pulled over. Some of the sign-wavers had disappeared up the driveway to report what had happened to others in their party. A woman called over to me, and I stood and made my way across the road. 

The dog was a stranger to this rural cluster of neighbors, following a few folks around for a handful of days up until now. She had likely been dumped recently, seeking companionship and hospitality where she could, and spying the frivolity of politics there on the roadside, decided a good time might be in the offing. Such was not to be the case. 

The woman who had called out to me made me her priority. Was I okay? I nodded between sobs. Did I have dogs? I nodded again. She smiled, knowingly. "There was nothing you could do. It isn't your fault," she repeated again and again as I wept. No one seemed to know what to do, and I was gently urged to go on home. I gathered what composure I could, went back into the road to retrieve some pieces of the car that had separated at the time of the collision, walked back to the dog with a final apology and my regret, and got back in the car to come home.

To say that I was distressed would be an understatement, and after arriving home twenty minutes later and sharing with Ken what had happened, I began to make the progression from reaction to assessment. I was hurting, deeply, but the grief that was spilling from my core was beginning to ebb, and I was able to assemble the pieces of what had happened into an understandable whole. I began to breathe again, and be still. There were practical realities to address (there was damage to the car), and I had been gone for two days. The rest of my small world had its own pace and was moving forward.

As so often happens when the ordinary of our days suffers a traumatic interruption, the divine insinuated itself on my behalf. This morning our plans included being in church where I was filling in as celebrant for absent clergy. Another colleague was preaching--my role was to make holy things happen at the appointed time--and I settled in to listen to his sermon on welcoming and hospitality. He referred to the variety of guests who make themselves at homes in our beings, and the necessity of making space for them and embracing their presence. He wasn't referring to the the kind of guests with whom we dine and offer bed linens, but visitors who come uninvited--the likes of anger and resentment, for instance. He stressed that hospitality was about creating and providing space for whatever guest was present with us, and to be open to the gift the guest brought into the abode of our heart and soul. And, most critically, when we offered our hospitality by creating that space of being, we also opened a space for God to be present as well. 

Ahhhh. I had already asked myself the agonizing question regarding what might be instructive for me in this incident on the road. I don't subscribe to the belief that "everything happens for a reason," which isn't to say that meaning can't be found buried within the crevices of the events and experiences that make up the lines of our lives. Now, however, as I sought to embrace the difficult reality of what had happened, I could rest in the knowledge that I was likewise embraced by the God whose love I cherish above all others. The devastating tear that had ripped through my soul was already beginning to heal, and this uncomfortable part of my story would now be laced with the graciousness of God's care. 

I had thought, initially, that I wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday. I wanted the pain of it dealt with privately, shut away from my efforts of building my life up. But now I know that what is instructive about it is that being hospitable to that which we would shun and turn away is the path toward healing, and the grace of redemption. And that, dear friends, is worth sharing.

friday five: trash and treasure

For this week's Friday Five at RevGals, Deb invites us to share some yard/garage/rummage/jumble sale adventures. I'm afraid I'm a bit boring as yard sale enthusiasts goes, but I'll give this a whirl!

1. TREASURE: What is the best thing you’ve ever found at a rummage sale? Was it a bargain or just something you’ve longed for but couldn’t afford?

I confess that although we have certainly held our share of yard sales to unload unwanted treasures and bring in a little cash, I don't often visit other yard sales unless I'm in need of something on the cheap that I think I can find there. Probably the most useful thing I have ever found is a small rack for the bathroom on which to keep makeup and other items used daily.

2. TRASH: What is an item you couldn’t WAIT to donate to a sale like this, and then were surprised that someone not only bought it, they were so excited to have?

It would have to be some incredibly tasteless item that was received as a gift (thus fulfilling the "trash and treasure" relationship), though I don't keep track of such farewells. Sorry!

3. BUDGET: How disciplined are you at these kinds of events? Can you stick to a budget, or do you empty your wallet?

As noted above, I rarely visit yard sales, and since I have come to the point in life where I rarely buy something unless I need it, temptation doesn't visit often. Budget isn't an issue because I simply don't buy much.

4. TAKE IT AWAY: What’s something you’d gladly donate right this minute if I would just come pick it up?

An old, crappy coffee table that my husband insists on keeping with the intention of cutting a new, acrylic top. Yeah, right.

5. TEA: Do you have a favorite tea? Or a special teapot? Tell us more!

Although I like tea, I don't drink a lot of it. I do have a favorite blend that employs two different flavors of teabags: almond dessert and honey chamomile. 

Found these on Pinterest a little while ago and think they're adorable!