let us pray

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. (Psalm 90:1-2)

Once again, we are reminded about the meaning of this bleak midwinter we call Advent. For God did not come to create a greeting card industry, nor so we could string lights on houses and trees. God did not become one of us so we might have office parties and give people things they don't really need. God was not born so songs could be written and sermons preached.

God came for such mornings as this, after the long night of anguished tossing and turning, with visions of horror dancing in our heads. God came to walk with us as we wander the streets of our hearts asking, 'how? why? when?'

God came to huddle with terrified children in closets where school supplies are stored, and to give teachers the strength not to show their worst fears. God came to cradle the wounded and the dying, so they would know they were not abandoned in that loneliest of moments.

God came to give the first responders the courage to walk into the unspeakable, willing to put themselves between danger and little children. God came to gather the parents and grandparents up into the divine lap of comfort and hope, even as their arms would no longer be able to embrace their child. God came to have that most compassionate heart broken as many times as ours are, to weep with us even when we have run out of tears, to stand next to us with the same look of horror and disbelief.

God came for mornings such as this, with the same haggard face, with the same questions, with the same anger, with the same sense of loss and hopelessness, but with deep wells of grace from which we can drink, with compassion which will never end, with comforting arms which will not grow weary, with hope which stretches from everlasting to everlasting.

God came, and is still with us.

© 2012 Thom M. Shuman, Occasional Sightings of the Gospel

in the shadow of friday

This morning as I read various reports and reactions about what happened in Newtown my thoughts slide past the grief and sadness. For better or worse my life is a bit saturated with those emotions and I don't have much room for more right now. The sign on the door of my heart directs me to my head, so that is where I go.That explains the irritation that arises when I see the graphic-gone-viral that misspells Newtown, omitting the second w.

For most people Newtown is a now-familiar dot on the map, but to me it is a place I  know. I've spent time in Newtown. My best friend in divinity school lived there with her family, and I was a regular guest in their home. I ate at restaurants in town, visited the library, the local video store and other businesses. Getting ready to graduate I interviewed at the Episcopal Church whose stone spire is visible from the road after you get off the highway and head up the hill to an intersection anchored by a flagpole boasting the American flag. The person through whom my spiritual journey was forever altered, the trajectory of which led me to the Episcopal Church and all that followed was once rector of that church. Newtown is not a dot on the map to me, it is part of my story.

I listened to an interview with one of the teachers from Sandy Hook Elementary about how she protected the children in her care. Locking the door. Keeping them quiet. Insisting when the police arrived that they prove who they were by pushing their badges under the door and demanding that if they were "the good guys" then they would access to the keys to unlock the door. Hearing the details of her experience gave me fresh ears when the usual "the tragedy could have been minimized if the teachers were allowed to carry guns" argument came out of the brush. I don't think so. In a case like this one can protect or one can defend, but not both. You cannot soothe the fears of children and draw them into a huddle when you're busy pulling your piece out of your coat pocket to confront a maniac armed with multiple weapons and wearing protective gear. Chances are better than good that an armed response by a teacher or staff member might distract an assailant for a moment, but would likely end up a casualty. Worse, that posture would leave children unsupervised, and very much to their own devices. One young student noted, "I know karate, I can go..." You can imagine how that would turn out.


To all those people who are posting that this action is somehow connected to constitutional restrictions on prayer in school, that God isn't there because God isn't allowed to be there, stop it.  Such a suggestion diminishes God at every level.

Yet again the call has gone forth to do something to end this kind of violence through gun control. Many have pointed to statistics about gun-related violence and death. I'm in your corner. I'm not a fan of guns. I have, however, been listening over the years since marrying a man who grew up hunting, spent a career in the military, and as an avocation is a student of human behavior (at least in certain quarters). Our constitution ties our hands considerably when it comes to matters of gun control. It seems to me that the solution lies less in controlling weaponry and more in nurturing human beings. We are a violent society because we encourage and stoke the primal part of our being that seeks power and control. Yes, we are "free" to do so, but that freedom runs roughshod over any attempt to encourage the responsibility that is the flip-side of that privilege. Being bullied is a normative experience for many because the ethos of our culture, especially for boys, cheers the "top dog" who uses any means necessary to reach that pinnacle. Intimidation and physical prowess find reward where the values of compromise and consensus are left in the dust. When our  nation's leaders look to point fingers rather than take responsibility how can we expect our citizens to act differently? When we demonstrate a value for decency and respect, perhaps that behavior will begin to emerge as prevalent.

In his facebook post this morning Tom Ryan (of Following Atticus) shared a reflection to yesterday's events, and offered a quote from Victor Frankl's book Man's Search for Meaning. The quote reads, “everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.” I second that. If we are not already doing so it is time to make some different choices. Honor one another. Learn from differences. Value diversity. Love everyone. Bless the world with so much love that we almost burst from the light. Put prayer into action. Do one thing to add beauty to the world today as a way to honor the lives that were lost, not just in Newtown but in every corner of our broken world. We have to do this together. We must.

making the list

I woke up this morning thinking about today's Christmas lunch for our diocesan women clergy. Organized by two of my colleagues, it is an event I have been anticipating with some gladness, eager to be with my sisters of the cloth who I rarely see any more. The more I imagined that time together, however, the more tender I felt. Chances are that our canon to the ordinary will be there, and her presence would pretty much stifle any freedom to share honestly what life has been like for me as a priest in the eighteen months since leaving my last parish. The tears pricked and the sobs began to emerge, and in a few minutes I was out of bed and making my way to the coffee pot. Far removed from the bedroom, I let the tears flow without ceasing and the sobs shook my body as I huddled against the kitchen counter in the cold.

It's all so complicated. Monday was the anniversary of my ordination to the deaconate 18 years ago. Last night a friend was sharing on facebook the joy of her ordination to the same. It was bittersweet to read her posts and see the pictures. I remember the joy, the hope and the promise. Now I am still trying to come to terms with the call whose embers continue to burn within me and the shattered reality of what life can be like in the Church. Or out of the Church, as the case is for me these days. 

It is a threadbare life, spiritually. Holiness still permeates my soul, which longs like a deer for refreshment from the stream. I am grateful for the ability to imagine the glow of God's light within, and relieved that I experience a sense of divine companionship as a result. This is an exceedingly lonely time, isolated by geography from the people who matter most to me, and lacking connection with a community that "gets" the pothole-filled road I travel. I am weary of cheery platitudes that trivialize my pain and disregard my experience, and efforts to steer me onto a broad and level path carved out by popular devotion. I wonder if, when I will find my place again among the mediators of grace and sacrament, a place that provides a plumb line of purpose and fulfillment. 

Into this hollow place of longing a ray of light fell this morning. A "list" of Christian women bloggers has been compiled and shared, and its existence is being made known across the internet. A friend and colleague who I have come to know and value through the blog world posted a link to the list, and there, tucked into the r's was my very own blog title. It is a glimmer of light, one among 1001, but it is there. Recognized. Appreciated. Not invisible. My favorite line from Antoine de St. Exupery's The Little Prince comes to mind. "If you love a flower that lives on a star, when you look at the sky at night all the stars are abloom with flowers." I don't equate appearing on a list with being loved, but the recognition does serve to refresh my bloom, and I am humbled to be in the company of some amazing women who share and reflect upon what it means to be a Christian woman. To be included is a small thing of huge significance. I may feel alone, but I am in the good company of other seekers who yearn, hope, love, give, weep and pray as part of the larger community of the faithful. Together we bloom, and together our light shines across the universe. I am held up by that light even as I contribute to it in my own way, on my own journey. 

Today I am grateful for so much light from sources known and unknown. I will put one foot in front of the other, the tears that flow will water the flower that lives on the star, and I will strive through it all to bloom.

My friend The Bug has given me a reader appreciation award! And since I appreciate being appreciated I’m answering the questions & passing it on. Thanks Buggles!!
Where do you do most of your writing/blogging?

I write at my desk, in front of a computer. Sometimes I actually journal in long hand in a notebook or journal. It's really been a while since I did that, though.

What books were your childhood favorites? 

I loved The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Pippy Longstocking, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Encyclopaedia Brown, and just about anything else I could get my hands on. I read a lot when I was a young'un. 

Who is your favorite fictional character? 

Wow, that question caught me off guard. In terms of books I reached into the Mitford series to name my most beloved dog, Dooley. He was named for a impish kid named Dooley Barlow. How impish? Well, how can you not love a kid who emerges from the parish bathroom and announces, "There's corn in my poop!" Kind of endeared me to him forever.  The entire ensemble cast of The West Wing is right up there, too.

What is your favorite time of day and why? 

I have two favorites. One is first thing in the morning when I get up and get my coffee and surf the net (as in facebook, Pinterest, news and a daily dose of sudoku). The other is a more "physical" time of day, which is late afternoon when the shadows are long and the sun kisses everything with a lovely golden yellow. Love. That. Time. of. Day.

Have you ever Googled yourself and been surprised at what you’ve found? 

Yes, and no.

Who would play you in a movie of your life?

That would be Allison Janney, who became known to me when she played the indefatigable Director of Communications for Jed Bartlett on The West Wing. She's tall, like me, and I used to be thin. You see the resemblance, don't you?

Wanna play? There aren't many people who follow this blog any more, so I am going to let you self-select, if you don't mind. I know I always find it helpful to have prompts offered to me. Have at it, friends!

first light

image by Werner Schnell, from Flickr

I've always wondered exactly when it was that Advent started. Calendars and such begin on the first of the month because, I suppose, the month starts with 1, not 2 or 3. But liturgically, I realize, the last Sunday after Pentecost runs its course through the whole of the week, including the Saturday that follows it. So Advent does, personal observances notwithstanding, begin on Sunday. This was confirmed for me this morning when I went to Pinterest with great anticipation of following Advent there on a particular board only to learn that I would have to wait until tomorrow. 

I have decided, however, to begin my own Advent observance today on the first of the month. 

Historically, personally, Advent is a season with deep, nurturing roots in my childhood. They are warm and fuzzy, and bask in the glow of Advent Candle light--among other things. In adulthood I draw on the nostalgia of Advent to launch me into a season that theologically and spiritually doesn't always line up for me. I ride its wave, so to speak, but rely fully on where the wave takes me, rather than using any sort of motivation to help me make the most of that ride.

It's different this year. There's been a lot of spiritual angst and honing, and for the first time I am living with an acknowledged hardness in my heart. It's not my whole heart, just a piece of it. But the fact that any hardness exists is unacceptable. So I am catching the wave at the onset, digging deep into the apocalyptic foundations of darkness to appreciate as fully as possible the gift that is on its way to us. 

I am struck, as well, that as that uncomfortable tide carries us forward a parallel journey is underway for an oddly matched couple expecting an untimely birth. Theirs is a journey over dusty roads and inhospitable strangers, but they go faithfully. They do their part as citizens following clear instructions on the one hand, while on the other they have entrusted themselves fully to a mystery that will shatter all mysteries. 

My earthly road is long and dusty, too. The spiritual one? Full of trepidation. Not because I worry about the outcome, but because of what life is like waiting on the outcome. How appropriate for Advent. 

Today I attend that wait, releasing the care of it to God while holding hands with Mary, and doing whatever I can to shake loose that bit of hardness so that I may soar with the angels that come to announce good tidings. 

Blessings, dear ones.

friday five: corners that thrive

Here's an intriguing ff from RevGals. I wish I had the means to shop more often and be better acquainted with what's out there! Nevertheless...

1) If you suddenly received a ton of money and could open up some kind of store or service just for the pleasure of having it (assume it wouldn’t have to be too financially successful!), what would it be?

I want to have an artisan's gallery that would incorporate: 1) a gathering space for knitters or others doing hand work (a beverage counter would, of course, be available), 2) pet-friendliness, 3) the proceeds of which would benefit animal rescue groups. 

2) What service or store that no longer exists do you miss most?

The fabric store and greeting card/gift shop in the center of the town where I grew up

3) What local business do you think you could make better if you were to take it over? And if you don’t mind sharing, what changes would you make?

No particular business comes to mind, but efficiency and poor customer service bug me like crazy. I would want to help improve those aspects of any business.

4) What spot nearby seems to be impossible for businesses to survive in?

Oddly enough, locations near Walmart. Restaurants, in particular, have trouble.

5) We’ve all seen stores that combined books and records, beer and laundry, or coffee and whatever. One of my favorite places to get coffee in Honolulu is a cafe and florist, and there is a car garage that’s also a diner in a town nearby. What would be a cool hybrid of two disparate ideas for somewhere you’d like to hang out?

Fabric store and coffee/tea shop! I don't see these as disparate, necessarily, and I understand why it would be a challenge to put them together. That said, bring it on!

Unsolicited Bonus--some of my favorite names for food places: Play with your Food (at a theater), Food for Thought (at a museum), and The Readers Feast (book store).

thankful thursday

Dusting off this weekly opportunity to reflect on gratitude, although that won't become obvious until deep into this post...

Yesterday was Ken's birthday (as most readers here know, since we also keep up on facebook). It was a pretty rockin' day, if I do say so as the unbirthday girl. A little background, first... 

Sunday we went to worship at St. Augustine's Chapel, the Episcopal presence at Vanderbilt University. The chaplain at St. A's is one Becca Stevens, about whom I wrote a couple of posts ago. For a variety of reasons St. Augustine's is one happening place. In recent years the chapel membership has outgrown its designated physical space on campus, so they now meet for their principal service at the university chapel. On this particular Sunday the music was a combination of traditional--from The Hymnal 1982--and offered by local musical artists. Remember that this is in the heart of Music City, so when I refer to local musical artists I'm not talking about people who can simply carry a tune. The congregation includes a modest sample of greys (you know, retired folks), families with young children, and everything in between. The pulse is palpable, and I felt very much at home. On this particular day I had the honor of being asked by Becca while I was receiving communion if I would come to the altar at the conclusion of the service to give the blessing. 

The reason for our presence at St. Augustine's that day was two-fold. One, we had never been, and we are looking for a place to worship (now that I don't cry through worship this effort has taken on a higher priority). Yes, it's a little bit of a drive to get there, but that is true of any Episcopal Church for us. Two, Ken wanted to connect with Becca about arranging for a work project by the Templars to lend a hand at  Thistle Farms. On our way out the door at the end of the service we made arrangements with Becca to be there yesterday at 9 am. 

When we arrived at Thistle Farms that community was engaged in a meditation circle, a regular event there. Those present identified themselves, a practice that incorporated us as visitors. I do not exaggerate when I say there were probably 70 people overflowing the space, including students from an area high school, first-time volunteers, regular volunteers, board members, staff, Magdalene House residents and graduates, and who knows who else. I felt the gift of blessing being folded into that experience. 

I won't detail our time there, but will say that it is an impressive operation of thoughtful, visionary, grace-filled ministry that touches many, many lives, and inspires many more. We now consider ourselves part of the Thistle Farms family (and have a bumper sticker to claim it)!

Having skipped breakfast by default to get on the road earlier, we were starving when we left TF at 10:45. We thought we'd find a place close by, but ended up back in town near Vanderbilt, and headed to Pancake Pantry. PP is a Nashville institution, boasting pancake options that puts IHOP to shame. On weekends the line extends outside the door and down the sidewalk for a very long way, that is how popular this place is. Even at the hour we arrived the restaurant was full. We had a great meal (pastrami for me!), and felt the continuing touch of blessing's outstretched hand. 

Our next stop was to pick up our flooring before coming home, and while we were driving Ken shared some reflection on the day's scripture reading from the morning during his prayer time. The psalm made reference to "a blessed man," and we got to talking about how one could be blessed even when one's life didn't feel blessed. As you know, these are challenging times for us, and we feel the weight and stress of a multitude of what might be considered burdens. We are careful and grateful to acknowledge our blessings. We are also aware that our days feel like breathing while an elephant sits on our chest. In such circumstances I am especially grateful that I experience hope almost without ceasing, trust with conviction that better times lie ahead, and have faith that many factors are at work on our behalf--beyond our comprehension or our anticipation. God is good all the time, as the saying goes, not just when life feels good. Both realities coexist, and it's okay to say so. 

So my thankfulness today comes from a deep place forged through surviving trials that have littered my path in earlier years. That I can laugh, smile, muster energy and continue to seek purpose for my life bears witness to my journey through the refiner's fire. The dross is not all gone and the work is not yet done, but the core is stronger than ever to withstand the heat. It is exceedingly uncomfortable to be in the fire, but today I give thanks for being upright, on my own two feet. I give thanks for fortitude that makes it possible to put one foot in front of the other. And I give thanks that when the tears of grief, desperation and sadness overflow they give way to renewal and perseverance. Though bruised, I am not beaten. One day this chrysalis will have served its purpose and release the new life being transformed within. I may not be having fun, but the taste of gratitude is a regular guest.

mia

see below for details

 

I haven't been here much. Truth: life is hard these days. I stay busy with a variety of activity like looking for work, cleaning the house, errands, volunteer work, and other assorted projects. None of it feels particularly share-worthy, though, you know? I'm not a big fan of blogs that simply catalog the day like a diary. I mean, who cares, really?

I do feel that some catching up is in order, however, so disclaiming the previous sentence, here goes (in no particular order).

We had Thanksgiving at home. Our plans to go to Melrose for the week and share the holiday with the kids got derailed by a little reality. We're not in as tip-top shape as we might like, and our aging bodies don't respond well to the toll of travel. When you add dogs to the mix in an environment that requires more care than what they need at home the work level gets ramped up. Then there's the fact that this is the time of year that requires making and maintaining two fireplaces to generate heat in a house that isn't insulated. We love Melrose, but when so much effort is expended to be comfortable over a period of days, the phrase "diminishing returns" enters in. We also would have had limited time with the kids. We are beyond eager to see Kenneth and Trisha, whom we rarely see and haven't seen for a real visit in more than two years. It appeared that we would see Ashley and the boys for a handful of hours. The scale tipped clearly toward remaining home. We did ache not being with our family over the weekend. Just because we made the right decision for us doesn't mean that it didn't come with a cost.

Since we were home we were able to participate in the regular monthly Templar "sweat equity" opportunity of helping to distribute food to elderly poor in a neighboring community.  We are always grateful for chances to be useful. With the time at home we are also now busy ripping up carpet in the living room and hallway to replace it with laminate flooring, thanks to a sale that couldn't be refused at Liquid Lumberdators Lumber Liquidators along with a good financing program. A gift card for Home Depot also allows us to seize this opportunity of moving furniture all over the place to update the look in said living space with some fresh paint. We are too embarrassed by the state of the carpets to document the timely "before" look, but pictures will be forthcoming with longer-ago images and the new "after" look once we reach that point. As I write, most of the living room carpet, padding, and 1001 staples are gone from the living room and half the hallway. Emptying bookcases stands between us and getting the rest of the carpet up, but that task is on today's to do list. 

Sadly, the sub-floor is not pretty thanks to Miss McKinlee's bladder habits (and yes, some of our habits, too). We will be applying sealer and some patching to prepare the floor for the new flooring. It's a big job, but we are highly motivated (I mean, the Christmas tree can't go up until the job is done!), and we are trying to pace ourselves physically so that we make daily progress without needing to over-medicate Ken with pain management. And if I may brag here for just a moment--I've gotten quite good at staple removal!

Last week a colleague died, and in reviewing his life and accomplishments in his obit I was taken with the closing line that was clearly written by him: in lieu of memorials please show a kindness to someone in need.  Amen to that! This week I'll be giving some time to help rescue efforts for 65 dogs that were retrieved from what looks like a dog fighting and breeding environment. The dogs are being housed about a mile from where we live, which makes it very easy to show up and be put to work. This opportunity appears to be an answer to a prayer, about which I may write tomorrow (if I remember). 

In the meantime, I hope your holiday was satisfying. We're enjoying leftovers and soup, and are thankful for what we were, and are, able to do. Here's a prayer to more of the same, all around.

what happens when some of becca's light spills on you

This has been the weekend of the autumnal convent and investiture for the Priory of St. Andrew, our "local" arm of the Grand Priory of the United States of America, Sovereign Military Order of the Temple of Jerusalem, also known as the Knights Templar. It was the first "C&I" for Ken and me since our investiture in April when he became a knight and I, a Dame, and also an assisting chaplain.

This was a big weekend for us as newly minted knights and dames, and also because since my investiture at the last convent I experienced a quick elevation to acting chaplain for our priory (the existing chaplain needing to step away for a period of time to take a sabbatical). I had a role in the service, a homily to present, prayers and blessings throughout the weekend, and a part in the postulants' vigil Friday evening. The experience, without having any real training or cheat sheet to follow, felt a bit like being thrown into the deep end, but I survived with only a minor scratch of embarrassment when I blanked giving the final blessing at the close of last evening.

We were honored last night to have as our guest speaker Becca Stevens. I know Becca as a colleague in this diocese. We cross paths in that capacity and have had a few occasions to get acquainted under other circumstances. The rest of the world knows Becca as the driving and inspiring force behind Magdalene House and Thistle Farms. The two are distinct but intricately connected outcomes of Becca's ministry to women of the street recovering from prostitution, trafficking, addiction and abuse. Magdalene House is the residential arm of the program, and Thistle Farms the business portion that makes high-end personal products like body lotions, healing oils, candles, room and bug sprays and more. Thistle Farms provides jobs, training, confidence and then some to these women as they do the tremendous work of leaving behind a life that resembles nothing of the kind. Becca began this ministry 15 years ago with six women, and over those years her efforts have grown exponentially, touching and healing not only the lives of the women served but those who get to know this story and are moved by it.

Each year the Priory of St. Andrew chooses a charity to which it makes a fairly significant donation. This year's choice was Magdalene House/Thistle Farms, and as a result of that choice Becca was invited to be our guest at dinner last night, speak for a few minutes, and receive a check for $5000.

Becca's resume doesn't prepare you for the person you meet. In addition to the incredible results that bear witness to her work and the recognition she has received locally, she was honored last year at the White House by President Obama as one of 15 "champions of change," she has raised more than $14 million dollars since Magdalene's founding in 1997, Thistle Farms products are sold in more than 200 retail outlets around the world, a new commercial undertaking--the Thistle Stop Cafe--will open in January, and she oversees what are known as "infusion" weekends so that others can come to learn about the Magdalene Model to replicate its efforts in other communities. Oh, and she serves as chaplain to the Episcopal community at Vanderbilt University in Nashville. Clearly this is a woman who has the capacity to run a billion-dollar empire. I don't know when she sleeps. I do know that Becca is probably the most humble person I know. She doesn't wear shoes when she leads worship. Her dress is modest (she prefers jeans) and her hair long. She has a razor-sharp sense of humor.

I refer to the local nature of our priory in quotes because our geographic spread covers northern Alabama, all of Tennessee, western North Carolina, north Georgia, western Virginia and parts of West Virginia. As well-heeled and -everything else represented by this group it wasn't a surprise that a significant number of our members weren't familiar with Magdalene and Thistle Farms last night. But after Becca spoke and received a spontaneous standing ovation, one of our knights conducted an auction of three Thistle Farms products and two other items donated by members of the priory. Those five items raised an additional $516 to send home with Becca, and Ken witnessed a number of people essentially thrusting cash into her hands that included several hundred-dollar bills. As our prior noted when confirming that the group's intention was to direct the money raised by the auction to Becca's ministry, "we can't leave a waiting list of 100 women out there."

What I think makes Becca so compelling, besides her down-to-earth, no-holds-barred honesty, is that she makes it clear that the ministry to which she gave birth is about two things: love and healing. As she shares stories of Magdalene House and Thistle Farms her anecdotes reveal every day challenges that are encountered and the ordinary but grace-infused and organic response that she brings to them from her heart. Start with love, healing will follow. She recognizes the deep need for both in our world, whether in a room of women working to claw their way from a damaging past or a village where industrialization has robbed a community of its capacity to make its own choices. The recognition that all of us need love and healing and never failing to offer the hope that we may experience both is, I think, Becca's greatest gift to the world.

Today as I reflect on the impact her message had on me and on my heart, I can't help but want to reflect that hope myself in the world. There is consistency in that desire. Perhaps my prayer needs to focus on how that might come to be.

friday five: happies!

At RevGals Karla invites us to share our happies! A good thing to think about in the midst of "stuff" so that we all keep tilting toward the positive.

Without further ado, my happies today are:

1) After being down for the count on Wednesday with a full-on cold I am feeling MUCH better and ready to take on the weekend. A good thing, since we have a very full weekend of Knights Templar (good) stuff.

2) My claim for unemployment was approved. Yay! A full-fledged member of the 47%. Except maybe not, I actually pay taxes on that.

3) Election results. Relieved and grateful.

4) My beloved four-leggeds. A smile is never far when they are near.

Two out of three. Don't pay any attention to that strange color on the door.

5) Anticipating being with family at Thanksgiving and spending time with my grandsons. The adults, too!

Number 3 grandson, Jude, at his first birthday.

What's making YOU happy?

prelude of, and to, thanks

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's going around. November is thankful month, and the challenge is to post (somewhere) each day one thing for which I'm thankful. Here goes, Day One.

Lotsa stuff. I don't mean that to sound flip. I've had a rough week, feeling a bit knocked down and dragged around by life and circumstances and bad timing and age and human frailty and all that stuff. One of the strategies for coping with depression is to do one thing in the day to which one can point as an accomplishment. It can be something as mundane as making the bed. It can be emptying the dishwasher. It can be taking a shower. It can be anything. Accomplishing anything when one is depressed is a triumph.

Today I did more than make the bed. I worked on a web site for my genealogy business. Though the host site came highly recommended by a friend I am not finding it very user-friendly. That is frustrating to me because I want results, but I have plugged away at it for several hours today and made a little bit of headway. Check!
I cleaned up some of the kitchen. Check!
I made marinade for the salmon for dinner, and will cook it. Check!
I finished the daily sudoku. Check!
The sun is shining, and that makes me smile. Check!
I got some Pampered Chef stuff done. Check!

Heck, I'm on a roll!

I'm thankful for every little bit of it, and more. Like the fact that Ken is building a fire in the fireplace as I write. Mmmmmm..... Like the fact that my dogs are happy. Like the fact that we have heat, weren't in the path of a hurricane or tornado, have power and light, and access to the internet and a world beyond our walls. I'm thankful for Melrose every single day of my life, but especially on those days when I am there, sitting on the porch enjoying the view (above--click on the picture for a larger view and take it in).

I'm grateful today to be above the morass that is depression, and that is a fine place to be.

We'll see what sort of thankfulness I can unearth tomorrow. See you then.

anchored deep

 (Don Emert/AFP/Getty Images)

It's been quite a few years ago that I read a chapter in a book by Max Lucado (can't remember which one... Six Hours one Friday, maybe?) that has stuck with me. In that chapter he shares the advice given to boat owners on how to secure their vessels for a storm as an analogy to weathering personal storms (spiritual or otherwise). The counsel? Anchor the boat well and deep. That doesn't mean bury the anchor deeply in sand, but to anchor in water so deep that the storm raging above won't disturb the hold the anchor has on the ocean floor. Assuming the anchor line is sturdy, whatever tossing and thrashing the vessel takes on the surface in the storm, the anchor will hold and the vessel will remain intact, ready to sail another day.

I was reminded of that wisdom when I saw the above photo taken during Hurricane Sandy. Alas, this boat was not anchored deep, and it is likely to be beyond repair by the time the ravages of Sandy have left it in tatters among the rocks, with its remnant-debris swept who-knows-where.

It is a timely reminder. I am finding these to be tough, stormy days as I work to sort out what direction my life might take. Earlier chapters of my life where vocational challenges have been front, center and demanding caution me against taking known and safe routes toward securing a paycheck. I have reached a point of feeling comfortable with relying on that hard-won lesson. I am also reminded of the journey of Parker Palmer, another seeker who learned from a vocational turning point when a mentor pointed out to him that even though way may not open, way closing was also helpful.

The aforementioned comfort can sometimes lure me toward the complacency of inaction, but rude awakenings jolt me toward taking the steps necessary to move forward, onward (quoting Tom Ryan again). Going through the mail that accumulated while we were away at Melrose last week was a long-overdue statement from my 401(k). When I moved from Sewanee the paperwork somehow didn't keep up with me, and that has finally been rectified. This morning I stared in disbelief at the balance in the account, now one tenth of its value several years ago. This retirement "nest egg" was to have softened the blow of a life of limited financial gains when the "R" era came calling. I am crushed to discover the value so diminished, so insufficient. The burden to earn during the remaining ten (ish) years of my work life now weighs heavier than ever and I feel overwhelmed.

Breathe, I remind myself. Remember the source of my strength, deep below the surface of this pressing and present storm. I am weary of being tossed during too many years of upheaval and transition, and long for calm and wind filling my sail rather than battering the vessel of my being. I know God is good. I know I will be okay because I am anchored deep. I know, too, that I am tired. I strain for the words of Julian, that all will be well.

Prayers, as ever, are appreciated and cherished.

friday five: gettin' my random on!

Coming a little late to the game today, but it's Friday, and that means a Friday Five from RevGals! Here's today's edition lead-in:

I don't know about you, but this fall has been incredibly FULL, and time is flying faster than I can keep track of it!

So, first things first. 
Take a moment, and take 5 deep slow breaths...
One....
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five....

Well, I feel more centered now.
So, let's get on with a Random Friday Five.

1. Tell us a moment of blessing that you have experienced in the past week.

Hands down, my blessing this week was was a Dunkin' Donuts meeting with a mom-of-three nursing student at a local university.  She has an autistic son who I learned about last year when the family was raising money to get a service dog for Barrett. Zach the dog joined the family last December, but then died unexpectedly in April from a muscular disease no one saw coming. My heart broke when I learned about this recently, and since service dogs and people who benefit from their presence is something close to my heart I wanted to do something to help. A mutual friend set up the meeting with Tammy (the mom), and we brainstormed ideas for raising money for a new dog. Tammy and her husband also want to pay forward the blessing they have already experienced through Zach, and collect money to contribute to another family who would benefit from a service dog for an autistic child. We talked about the potential for setting up a charity to do this on an ongoing basis, and different ways that their family's experience could return the blessing ten-fold (and more) to others.  To allow Tammy and her family to focus on the family's more immediate needs I offered to put together the fundraiser and do some legwork on setting up the charity.  I feel blessed to have the opportunity to help a family in a way that warms my heart and allows me to put my time toward making a difference in someone's life. And, hopefully, multiple someones.

2. Share the first thing/story that comes to mind when you read "When I was a child..."

 (the real thing)

Besides the verse from Corinthians (didn't we all think of that?)... I thought of a collection of little things that I cherish: my Dad cutting up our grilled cheese sandwiches like a puzzle and then mixing up the pieces so that we could put the sandwich back together; summer suppers at the picnic table on the brick patio in our back yard; setting up jumps by laying brooms across bushes and pretending we were on horseback as we cantered around the back yard; licking the beaters when mom made birthday cakes; the list goes on...

3, 4, and 5. If you were the host of a t.v. talk show, what three people would you like to interview on your first show, and what would you ask them.

Seriously, I'm pretty good at dissing interviewers who ask really lame questions of their guests ("How did it feel?" -- really?), but I'm drawing blanks on this at the moment.

How about this. I would try to find a child, a teenager, and an older person, and ask them questions about their dreams, their happy place, their special memories, and whatever else would make them feel like they were the most important, most treasured, most valued person in the world.

the path of change

Yesterday's post about change afforded an opportunity to refer to the fact that I see a career change in the offing. There is a lot that I could say about what got me to this point of recognition, but rather than look back, let's look forward. Unlike true, magnetic north, there is no distinct destination point on which to set my compass. There are signposts, yes. But as my mother might venture to say about a trip we took together in Scotland many moons ago, just because there are an abundance of signs to Fort William doesn't mean you will ever get there. (On our travels Fort William was never the destination, but there were plenty of opportunities for it to become so!) Contemporary wisdom is that the destination isn't what is important, but the journey. While there is truth in that wisdom, a destination can be critical to being on a journey at all. Anyway...

I have been recognizing the consistency of some signposts for several weeks, and as I listen to my soul's response to them what I hear is the steady heartbeat of inner life and connection. I decided to pay close attention and explore what the signposts were telling me. Before sharing further, let me disclaim that what I am sharing here is what I have learned so far. As I noted yesterday, this is a process of listening and discerning, and it has already taken a couple of twists. Who knows how many more lie ahead?

Let me toss out the first bone to temper your curiosity. Even that is a clue! It has to do with dogs. "Ah..." I hear you say to yourself, and you're probably nodding. Yes? If you've been with me for any length of time then you know I have a big ol' heart for dogs. 

You will also know that I have a tender place for veterans and our men and women serving in the military. I am indebted to a facebook page called Dog Bless You for making me aware of programs that provide, or pair, service dogs to disabled vets, many of whom suffer from PTSD. I've been following Dog Bless You for a while, and love the pictures they post showing the bond between these service dogs and their companions (two pictures accompanying this post come from DBY's stash). In recent months they've been sharing pictures and snippets from various other facebook groups around the country that do the actual training and pairing for these canine-vet duos. As a result of those posts I've begun following several of them, an act that is apparent to friends with whom I connect on facebook since I ultimately end up sharing photos or stories that move or humor me.

The combination of these two interests of mine are providing a very natural signpost for me to follow in terms of investing myself in finding answers to the question, "what now, or next?" I've been exploring, researching, networking and learning about service dogs and training, and programs that support providing these dogs to vets. It is a vehicle for a vocation that makes a lot of sense for me. It also carries some challenges, not the least of which is that I have no significant experience training dogs, and none training service dogs. As I see it, however, that isn't an obstacle, just information with which to work.

At this point in this process that really sums up where I am at the moment. I don't necessarily have answers, but I do have information. Every day I uncover an additional piece of information, either about a training/pairing program, or about myself. Ideas pop up and I spend some time considering them. Some have potential, some provide information that help me hone the process and make some choices. As the saying goes, it's all good. 

I'll spare you the details of my cogitation, but at least now you have a glimpse of this first chapter of the story of where I believe I am headed. To borrow from the author of Following Atticus, Tom Ryan likes to say, "Onward, by all means." I'll keep you posted.

friday five: how do you spell "change?"

At RevGals Martha invites us to "answer these five questions about change."

1) Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and seen yourself with surprise? Why?

Sure. I think we carry images of ourselves in our head that don't necessarily jibe with reality. For instance, I think of myself as thinner than I actually am--so those mirror reality checks? Yikes! I am generally a realistic person, but hope also springs eternal in my soul, so I take this as a good sign that I have a healthier self-image than the physical match-up actually suggests. I suppose this could be denial, but I don't think so. This also prompts some inspiration to do something about the weight, although taking action is another matter entirely! 

2) Have you ever witnessed a change in routine at church that upset people? (Hahahahaha!!!! I know you have!)

How much time do you have? You name it--resistance ensues.

3) Have you ever been surprised or inconvenienced by a change in a public setting (not church)?

Change is constant. The Latest inconvenience is the addition of traffic lights at busy intersections in town.  Next week it will be something else.  The change that frustrated me most was when a local store changed its Saturday hours to being open every other Saturday, and would close at noon. What? I worked out of town and during the week they closed at 4 pm, so Saturday was the only day I could shop there.  I understand that privately owned businesses are free to make decisions to suit the lives of their owner and staff, but this one really seemed to set the business up for failure.  That sound you hear is me, banging my head against the wall.

4) Has the passage of time changed your understanding of something you used to think you knew for sure?

I'm not sure that I have held that I knew anything for sure, although the thing about which I was most confident was knowledge of myself. What I have learned in a new way is that who we are evolves and shifts through life. Before you say, "duh!" let me put it this way. Some years ago I overheard two recently retired men catching up with one another, and one of them said, "when I had the interest (in whatever the subject was) I didn't have time for it. Now I have the time and I no longer have the interest." I have discovered that this kind of change does, in fact, happen, and I didn't expect it. It's a bit sobering.

5) Is there something you're trying to change, or want to change, in your life right now?

It looks like I am changing careers.  The loss of my job, crappy as that is, also creates the opportunity to switch gears. I am listening to my heart first, and it is steering me in a new direction.  It is proving to be a really fascinating process and experience, both exhilarating and frightening. All I can really say at this point is, "stay tuned!"

seven things

My friend Dana has invited fellow bloggers to list seven random things about ourselves. I did this a while ago, but that was then, and this is Thursday!

So without further ado...

1) Mere moments ago I burned my finger using a glue gun. Ken and I are making a crown for a dear friend who has a birthday on Saturday. She has spent the last 4+ months in the hospital or a rehab facility, and we want her to feel special. We glued little bead trim around the crown points, etc., which was an exercise in painstakingness and tedium. It looks cool, though!

2) It's a sacrifice to type with a burned finger. Just sayin'.

3) We have made some really amazing recipes from Pampered Chef's "Great Grilling Recipes" cookbook in the past week. I mean, really, really good eats. Just $15 and you won't regret the purchase! I believe you know how to make contact with a consultant to order one.

4) I made dog biscuits for the first time the other day! I don't know why I resisted making them for so long--they're not hard to make, use ingredients on hand, and are edible! For heaven's sake, there's peanut butter in the recipe! The dogs even like them, which is sort of the whole point, so I'm chalking this one up in the victory column! Yay, rah! And, yes, that is the dog biscuit bowl.

5) When I was in high school I was such a zealous Montreal Canadiens fan (NHL) that I dated my papers by the players names. For instance, Yvan Cournoyer wore #12, and Guy LaFleur #10, so on December 10 my notes would be dated: Cournoyer/LaFleur. 

6) We're trying to make changes to our eating habits to get healthier, and among those changes is doing our own popcorn. Paper bag in the microwave, yessiree! A little tweaking is in order, but so far we are pretty darn happy with the results. Save money, eat healthier, that's the name of the game!

7) I woke up this morning filled with anxiety. My last paycheck will get us through this month, but then? I am trying hard to focus on the day to day, and what I can do to move my life forward to find a job that is a good fit. It is a frustrating quest since there aren't natural job niches out there for my particular interests (and sets of skills--that's for you, Michael and Dana!).  I swing between feeling hope and feeling the outlying twinges of despair.  This morning the latter had its grip on me, and the day has been dreadful. A nap didn't help.  Looking at sheep and puppy pictures didn't help! Cuddling my own dogs isn't helping.  My prayers feel old and tired, but I offer them up anyway.  We're trying yet another recipe from the above cookbook tonight, so at least I am anticipating some great food! And betting on tomorrow. A new day, a fresh start, maybe take Juliet for a walk first thing in the morning.  I don't like this feeling and I want it to Go. Away!

Here's to tomorrow, y'all!

friday five: randomness abounds!

As part of the RevGals Friday Five, today's adventure is full of randomness. Jump in!

1. What is one of the best things that happened to you this week?
Reconnecting with someone with whom I recently suffered a damaged relationship (my fault). I am so thankful to be on the road to restoration and healing.

2. If you were in a Ms., Miss, Mr. (name your country) Pageant, what would your talent be?
When I was in grade school this was actually a perpetual conversation at the lunch table. As I recall, most of us denied having any talent and concluded that we would wiggle our toes.  All grown up (chronologically speaking, of course), I don't lay claim to pageant-worthy talent. But in the spirit of the question I'll don the "Miss North Pole" sash and wrap gifts without using scotch tape and tying bows that don't have knots. That is something I do with all my gifts south of the North Pole.

3.  You were just given a YACHT!!! What would you name it, and why?
I love this question! I really enjoy coming up with names for things, whether it's my dogs, the name of a program, title of a blog post... This one, however, has caught me off guard. Off the cuff I would want to play on the notion of my "ship coming in," so today the name of my yacht is "Arrived." That could change by tomorrow after I've had time to think about this some more! I'm a moderation kind of girl, so this smaller version would suit me just fine. I guess the Cabana Boy is off fetching our lunch while my companion and I are taking a dip.

4.  If you were to perform in a circus, what would you do?  
Invite all the kids to come love all over the animals. Behind the scenes I would make sure they were properly cared for. 

5.  What do you have in your bag/wallet/backpack that best describes your personality?
A book of sudoku puzzles. Gotta keep those little grey cells firing on all cylinders!  

 

friday five: help!

At RevGals Martha writes: This time last Friday I was on my way to the airport to pick up your usual host for first Friday Five. We had a mighty to-do list for the Labor Day weekend, and her accomplishments were so far beyond impressive as to be heroic. A dumpster is now full of water-damaged junk from my basement.

This was not a job I could have accomplished by myself. I had to ask for help.

I hate to ask for help. I love to give it. You may identify with these feelings.

So, for this Friday Five, please list four ways you have been helped when you didn't want to ask for it and one way you had a chance to help that meant a lot to you.

1) Speaking of wet basements, years ago I moved from Indiana (land of my alma mater and first real adult job) back to Connecticut, the land of my birth. I moved in with my father, who had room in his house and a fenced yard for my dog. During my tenure there an early season hurricane swept through, dumping torrential rain and flooding the basement of dad's house. Oh, and while this was happening dad was in the hospital after suffering a heart attack. The water in the basement would recede, but in the meantime there was wet and damaged stuff submerged there that needed retrieval and disposal. Enter my beau, who without having to be asked rolled up his sleeves, donned the requisite waterproof boots and slogged through the mess to empty the basement debris. Hero status, henceforth and forever more!

2) When I moved to St. Louis to accept a call as associate rector I arrived with all my belongings, two dogs, and no place to live. A staff member at the church opened her home to me and my entourage, where we stored my things in her basement (dry!), and lived for three months until I bought and closed on my own home. Did I mention that one of those dogs was six months old at the time and chewing everything in sight? I could never repay the kindness and tolerance of that hospitality and am eternally grateful for it.

3) While at that same call in St. Louis I suffered a shattered heel one Thanksgiving weekend. After surgery I was non weight-bearing for four months, and for the first several weeks was confined to the couch with "toes above the nose." An army of parishioners brought meals, did my laundry, brought catalogs from which to shop for Christmas, mailed packages, delivered a Christmas tree and decked it out with my ornaments, took my dog to the vet (he was undergoing treatment for cancer), and in general saved my sanity. It was humbling (and necessary!) to receive the help, but I also learned from that experience how much people want to and are glad to be helpful.

4) When the last church I was serving could no longer afford to pay me and my bishop was less than enthusiastic about my priestly vocation, he offered to pay for several sessions with a noted career coach in my area. There are a lot of things that could be said about that entire episode of transition out of the Church, but the focus of this post is the help he offered. It was life-changing, and as I am in yet another period of transition in life the work I did with the coach is proving exceedingly beneficial and liberating. 

5) It's always meaningful to help someone in need, but oddly those occasions aren't logged in a quickly retrievable part of my brain. The occasion that does come to mind happened a few years ago while driving from Tennessee to St. Louis to visit friends. I was on the interstate in Kentucky, and spotted ahead of me what appeared to be a huge lump in the middle of the road. As I got nearer it looked like a dog, alive because it was holding its head up. I pulled off the road, ventured to the dog to check its status, kept an eye on approaching traffic and then carried the dog to the other side of the road. There wasn't any blood, but I didn't know how to check for injury or damage. Shortly another car pulled over, the driver a K9 handler with the Knoxville police department. I was willing to take the dog with me to St. Louis (one of my best friends there is a veterinarian), but Dan was covering a shorter distance to his destination and he offered to see to the dog's care. It turned out that the dog had dislocated his shoulder, and Dan's mother adopted him and named him Spencer. Dan and I were in touch for several years, and we even had lunch when I was driving through Knoxville once upon a time. It's time to look him up again.