Well, heck fire! My ancient Toshiba laptop died a peaceful death this morning. It may have contracted covid-19, but I think it just died of natural causes. The screen was very dim yesterday although the brightness was turned up. I'm going to have to become an Apple convert for awhile and use my husband's I-Mac. We'll see if it sticks. He's been trying for months to get me to switch, since Apple has fewer problems with hackers.
Anyway, I noticed a fellow blogger (ksrgmck.wordpress.com) keeps her favorite Bible verse in front of her readers. That triggered me to recall my own favorite, which, I realized, is a good fit for our current conditions. From Paul's letter to the Philippians (4:6-7): "Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."
Last night was one of my toss and turn nights. The owner of the stable where I board my horse has quarantined the farm. The wife of one of her husband's coworkers has tested positive for the coronavirus, and Susan is opting to be cautious. I'm grateful. She's an excellent farm manager, and keeps a good supply of hay on hand. She maintains good relationships with her suppliers, and has the flatbed trailer needed for transport. She will be able to remove the horses' shoes and let them go barefoot if the farrier can't come out. She is able to do a good deal of vet work, such as wound treatment if, horses being horses, someone gets hurt.
On my good days, I think about the other side of this pandemic being a continuation of our previous lives. But it won't be. That's where I need to cling to my Bible verse. The virus could inflict its devastation on my own family, my barn friends, or my church family. We simply don't know where this is going or what a 'new normal' might look like. The only thing I can grab ahold of is my faith in God's providence. I need God's peace in my heart and mind more than ever.
May your hearts be comforted by prayer. May you and those dear to you be safe. May our faith be strengthened, and may we be held in God's almighty hand as our uncertain future unfolds.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Sunday, March 29, 2020
You Ain't Nuthin' but a Hound Dog!
Someone at our house is enjoying social distancing entirely too much! Luke the Basset is in heaven. Don't you wish we could be this free of anxiety? We went out in the yard for awhile this afternoon to pull weeds and install fencing around my husband's blueberries. The hound likes to dig them up. A couple of days back, he chewed up the bleach tray for my top teeth. 😠I spend half my time vacuuming dog hair and cleaning up after him. He's a big, slobbery pain in the .... But here's the thing about love - our lives would not be as rich without him. And he models grace for us in so many unexpected ways. His innocence and trust are breathtaking.
My church streamed services this morning, and a fellow choir member sang one of my top 3 favorite hymns:
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
fill me with life anew,
that I may love what thou dost love,
and do what thou wouldst do.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
until my heart is pure,
until with thee I will one will,
to do or to endure.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
till I am wholly thine,
till all this earthly part of me
glows with thy fire divine.
Breathe on me, Breath of God,
so shall I never die,
but live with thee the perfect life
of thine eternity. Hymn #508
Saturday, March 28, 2020
I Need Music
I tried to write yesterday, but the words just were't there. I was going to tell you I had "the blah's", but who doesn't? That sounded too close to a whine. I thought I'd pick up the pace today, so I'm wearing a little make-up, my hair is clean and styled, and I'm wearing a cute top. I does help me feel more like myself than like the slug of yesterday.
Last night before turning out my light, I read a book review by Atul Gawande in the March 23 edition of The New Yorker. My husband reads the magazine religiously and passes on to me the items I might enjoy. Gawande is a favorite. He's a surgeon who writes beautifully on medical issues. You may have read one of his best-selling books. He reviewed a book by Anne Case and her husband, Nobel laureate in economics, Angus Deaton called The Blight. The crux of the book is that the American economy and the structure of work have changed in ways that have created a climate of despair among white working-class men without college degrees. This population is experiencing a public health crisis from "deaths of despair" - alcohol and drug abuse and suicide.
One statistic in the article that resonated with me is that only one-third of the general population
attends religious services today. I was already aware that attendance has fallen off considerably in most of the mainline denominations to varying degrees. Many survey respondents indicate that they are "spiritual but not religious". If you want to rile up my priest, just quote this data point!
As she so rightly points out, even Jesus gathered a group of disciples as his companions. Whether or not it was exactly twelve exactly males is beside the point. Even the God in human form needed community. The National Cathedral and my own church, St. Thomas, Springdale, are streaming worship services on YouTube as we observe social distancing. I greatly appreciate the effort that goes into these services, and they are keeping me as connected as possible in this unique time.
Even so, it doesn't feel like Lent to me. I'm reading and hearing the Lenten scriptures. I'm informed by excellent sermons on the texts. Can I put my finger on anything in particular? I realized that I'm strongly dependent on the hymns of each church season to draw me into its essence. I can pick out hymn tunes on the piano, but there is something about the entire congregation plus choir singing together that touches a deep place in my soul. Singing resonates within our bodies, and the effect of many voices filling the nave ushers me out into the world with a refreshed heart. I will miss that until we can meet again.
I sang in a choir in high school that often featured an anthem with this text. It soothes my heart today:
God be with you 'til we meet again;
by His counsel's guide uphold you,
with His sheep securely fold you;
God be with you 'til we meet again.
Last night before turning out my light, I read a book review by Atul Gawande in the March 23 edition of The New Yorker. My husband reads the magazine religiously and passes on to me the items I might enjoy. Gawande is a favorite. He's a surgeon who writes beautifully on medical issues. You may have read one of his best-selling books. He reviewed a book by Anne Case and her husband, Nobel laureate in economics, Angus Deaton called The Blight. The crux of the book is that the American economy and the structure of work have changed in ways that have created a climate of despair among white working-class men without college degrees. This population is experiencing a public health crisis from "deaths of despair" - alcohol and drug abuse and suicide.
One statistic in the article that resonated with me is that only one-third of the general population
attends religious services today. I was already aware that attendance has fallen off considerably in most of the mainline denominations to varying degrees. Many survey respondents indicate that they are "spiritual but not religious". If you want to rile up my priest, just quote this data point!
As she so rightly points out, even Jesus gathered a group of disciples as his companions. Whether or not it was exactly twelve exactly males is beside the point. Even the God in human form needed community. The National Cathedral and my own church, St. Thomas, Springdale, are streaming worship services on YouTube as we observe social distancing. I greatly appreciate the effort that goes into these services, and they are keeping me as connected as possible in this unique time.
Even so, it doesn't feel like Lent to me. I'm reading and hearing the Lenten scriptures. I'm informed by excellent sermons on the texts. Can I put my finger on anything in particular? I realized that I'm strongly dependent on the hymns of each church season to draw me into its essence. I can pick out hymn tunes on the piano, but there is something about the entire congregation plus choir singing together that touches a deep place in my soul. Singing resonates within our bodies, and the effect of many voices filling the nave ushers me out into the world with a refreshed heart. I will miss that until we can meet again.
I sang in a choir in high school that often featured an anthem with this text. It soothes my heart today:
God be with you 'til we meet again;
by His counsel's guide uphold you,
with His sheep securely fold you;
God be with you 'til we meet again.
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
Contemplative Prayer
Well, dang it! Today's local paper included an article that hand-made face masks will not be accepted at the large hospitals in our area. I can see the potential for contamination. I hope the makers of effective masks can ramp up production and that the needed protective gear can be transported to where it's most needed. We listened to an excellent broadcast of 'Fresh Air' last night on NPR. Terry Gross interviewed Max Brooks, son of Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft, who has studied contagion extensively in order to write both fiction and non-fiction on the subject. In his latest novel, a virus infects people and turns them into zombies. Yikes! But, in the course of the interview, he gave a wonderful description of what could happen if the Federal Government (well, The President) activated the defense production capabilities. Companies would be compelled and enabled to share raw materials to respond to a disaster. For example, to address the need for ventilators, a firm that has tubing would be linked with a firm that has motors would be linked to a firm that has housings would be linked .... Sounds like a good idea.
Are you familiar with the Center for Action and Contemplation (CAC) directed by Richard Rohr? The Center publishes a daily email (Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation) which I commend to you. Today's meditation addressed the topic of contemplative prayer, with input from CAC faculty member Brian McLaren. I first learned about McLaren when my spiritual companions group read and discussed his book, The Great Spiritual Migration. He is an activist and an expert on contemplative prayer. I found his suggestions inspiring.
First, to calm the monkey brain we're all fighting at this time of high anxiety, simply hold the word Help up to God. Let that plain, strong word bring focus to your mind. Allow the anxiety to dissipate somewhat. Once that vague sense of dread begins to drop, choose a more specific word that captures your need, such as Guidance, Patience, Compassion or Stamina. Try a practice of allowing your petition to God to expand in this manner. The Help step is the gateway; the expansion, practiced over time, strengthens our sacred connection to God.
I'm motivated to try this prayer practice, as my mind has been cluttered of late and my usual ties to my church family and my horse friends are, of necessity, tenuous right now. Fr. Richard suggests asking ourselves: What word or phrase resonates with or challenges me? What sensations do I notice in my body? What is mine to do?
References:
Brian D. McLaren, Naked Spirituality (HarperOne: 2011)
Center for Action and Contemplation, Fr. Richard Rohr, cac.org, Wednesday, 3/25/20
Are you familiar with the Center for Action and Contemplation (CAC) directed by Richard Rohr? The Center publishes a daily email (Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation) which I commend to you. Today's meditation addressed the topic of contemplative prayer, with input from CAC faculty member Brian McLaren. I first learned about McLaren when my spiritual companions group read and discussed his book, The Great Spiritual Migration. He is an activist and an expert on contemplative prayer. I found his suggestions inspiring.
First, to calm the monkey brain we're all fighting at this time of high anxiety, simply hold the word Help up to God. Let that plain, strong word bring focus to your mind. Allow the anxiety to dissipate somewhat. Once that vague sense of dread begins to drop, choose a more specific word that captures your need, such as Guidance, Patience, Compassion or Stamina. Try a practice of allowing your petition to God to expand in this manner. The Help step is the gateway; the expansion, practiced over time, strengthens our sacred connection to God.
I'm motivated to try this prayer practice, as my mind has been cluttered of late and my usual ties to my church family and my horse friends are, of necessity, tenuous right now. Fr. Richard suggests asking ourselves: What word or phrase resonates with or challenges me? What sensations do I notice in my body? What is mine to do?
References:
Brian D. McLaren, Naked Spirituality (HarperOne: 2011)
Center for Action and Contemplation, Fr. Richard Rohr, cac.org, Wednesday, 3/25/20
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Praying as a Pandemic Unfolds
I've been self isolated for almost two weeks at this point. Having grown up an only child with a heart patient father, entertaining myself quietly is one of my superpowers. I'm not nearly as distressed as my more extroverted friends by social distancing. But I have noticed that I miss the chance to "see the light" in other people face-to-face. When I'm out in the world, attempting to "honor the dignity of every human being" as charged in our baptismal covenant, I'm often surprised and spiritually educated by other people. So, my prayer life has evolved as my isolation has increased. I find myself praying a very simple prayer for all of humanity: Lord, hold your children in the palm of your hand as we weather this crisis. Then I lift up those in my own orbit that I know need a special prayer partner right now from my family and friends, my St. Thomas family, and my Daughters of the King prayer lists.
I had a couple of insights yesterday. I haven't posted in awhile because I've been sewing face masks to donate to my local hospital. It came to me as I measured and stitched that my little ministry constitutes prayer; I can pray through my hands. I can ask God to bless each person that will use one of the masks and protect him or her from harm. Amen.
An insight that just blindsided me as I was struggling to fall asleep last night was this: This stinking little virus infects people indiscriminately. It doesn't care if you're rich or poor, attractive or homely, Asian or Italian, young or old, important or insignificant in the earthly realm. That must be the way God sees the human family! What more evidence do we need that we're all in this together? None of us are OK unless all of us are OK. Would that the leaders of the world could see through those lenses. How much more effective could we be in fighting this unseen menace if all human life was embraced as valuable? Instead of profiteering and fighting to maintain an old worn-out hierarchy of wealth and influence, world leaders would unite to preserve life. That must be closer to "God's reign". It just has to be.
A hymn I learned in children's choir ages ago has played in my head all morning:
In Christ there is no East or West,
in Him no South or North,
but one great fellowship of love
throughout the whole wide earth. Hymn #529
I had a couple of insights yesterday. I haven't posted in awhile because I've been sewing face masks to donate to my local hospital. It came to me as I measured and stitched that my little ministry constitutes prayer; I can pray through my hands. I can ask God to bless each person that will use one of the masks and protect him or her from harm. Amen.
An insight that just blindsided me as I was struggling to fall asleep last night was this: This stinking little virus infects people indiscriminately. It doesn't care if you're rich or poor, attractive or homely, Asian or Italian, young or old, important or insignificant in the earthly realm. That must be the way God sees the human family! What more evidence do we need that we're all in this together? None of us are OK unless all of us are OK. Would that the leaders of the world could see through those lenses. How much more effective could we be in fighting this unseen menace if all human life was embraced as valuable? Instead of profiteering and fighting to maintain an old worn-out hierarchy of wealth and influence, world leaders would unite to preserve life. That must be closer to "God's reign". It just has to be.
A hymn I learned in children's choir ages ago has played in my head all morning:
In Christ there is no East or West,
in Him no South or North,
but one great fellowship of love
throughout the whole wide earth. Hymn #529
Saturday, March 21, 2020
It's Nice to be Sew Useful!
I went along on the dog walk today with my husband and almost 2-year-old basset, Luke. They've gone alone most days this week because I'm trying not to get all stuffed up with my usual spring allergies, which seems to invite lung illness. But it was nice today and I'm a bit stir crazy, so I put on a sweater with a hood and donned a face mask and joined them. It really did feel good to get out of these 4 walls for a few minutes, and I know the exercise did me good.
I stopped and rang the doorbell at my neighbor's house across the street. She's a nurse in the local ER, and I had a question. My sewing websites and blogs are lit up with requests for anyone who can sew to join in the effort to make masks. There are lots of free patterns available online. I wondered if that was relevant in my community. "Absolutely!!", she said, "and thank you so much." We are facing a shortage of masks, like everyone else, and apparently a cloth mask over a hospital mask can extend its life. Suzy worked her shift this morning. She saw two patients that required her to dress out in full gear. One technically had ketoacidosis, a complication of diabetes - but the prominent symptoms were dry cough and fever. Lord Jesus, put a veil of protection over the self-less professionals who are working through this crisis on behalf of others.
My chapter of the Daughters of the King meets once a month, and we open with the motto of the order:
For His Sake...
I am but one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything, but I can do something.
What I can do, I ought to do.
What I ought to do, by the grace of God I will do.
Lord, what will you have me do?
I'm off to make some masks. Thanks be to God for a task I can do to help.
I stopped and rang the doorbell at my neighbor's house across the street. She's a nurse in the local ER, and I had a question. My sewing websites and blogs are lit up with requests for anyone who can sew to join in the effort to make masks. There are lots of free patterns available online. I wondered if that was relevant in my community. "Absolutely!!", she said, "and thank you so much." We are facing a shortage of masks, like everyone else, and apparently a cloth mask over a hospital mask can extend its life. Suzy worked her shift this morning. She saw two patients that required her to dress out in full gear. One technically had ketoacidosis, a complication of diabetes - but the prominent symptoms were dry cough and fever. Lord Jesus, put a veil of protection over the self-less professionals who are working through this crisis on behalf of others.
My chapter of the Daughters of the King meets once a month, and we open with the motto of the order:
For His Sake...
I am but one, but I am one.
I cannot do everything, but I can do something.
What I can do, I ought to do.
What I ought to do, by the grace of God I will do.
Lord, what will you have me do?
I'm off to make some masks. Thanks be to God for a task I can do to help.
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Psalm 23
There was a time several years back that I met with a group of women once a week to write prayers. We were guided much of that time by a book by Rachel G. Hackenberg called Writing to God: 40 Days of Praying with my Pen. I highly recommend the book, along with the discipline of writing prayers, if you're so inclined. Ms. Hackenberg's book is designed for use during Lent, although we stretched it out over a much longer period of time. Staying home during the COVID-19 outbreak has left me a bit barren in the spiritual realm, so I looked up today's writing prompt in the book. Hmmm. The Holy Spirit had a surprise for me - today is the 23rd day of Lent 2020, and the title for that day in Writing to God is "Experiencing Psalm 23". How perfect is that for the times we're living through!
This has to be one of the most reassuring passages in all of scripture. By inference, the author must have known times of fear and despair; times when the only thing to do was cast his cares upon God. No one chooses to go into the desert; it is thrust upon us by circumstance. I know my first reaction is to see if there is a way to avoid the pain. But life has taught me that the only way to arrive at a place of peace is to go through it. Psalm 23 promises us company and providence. I needed this today, as I had trouble falling asleep last night with worrying tapes playing over and over in my head. What if I was exposed to the corona virus before I stopped going out? If I get it, will I be one of the complicated cases? Would there be an ICU bed if I needed it? What if I lose people I love to this pandemic?
If you're bored with your usual distractions, why not try writing a prayer? There's no wrong way to do it. There are as many prayers as there are believers. Quoting Ms. Hackenberg in today's prompt: "...we cannot always see God's goodness through the shadows. In your written prayer, do not be afraid to be fully honest with God about a source of pain or despair." This is one of the beauties of writing prayers: it's just between you and God. When I was young and naive, I was afraid that God would be offended if I was angry/scared/clumsy/sad in my prayers. What a typical novice mistake! Prayer wasn't about me trying to be perfect before God. Prayer, according to my priest, is a gift God gives to us. Not the reverse. It is an invitation into relationship. Honest relationship. God is big enough to hear anything we might have to say. He will still show up with anointing oil.
This has to be one of the most reassuring passages in all of scripture. By inference, the author must have known times of fear and despair; times when the only thing to do was cast his cares upon God. No one chooses to go into the desert; it is thrust upon us by circumstance. I know my first reaction is to see if there is a way to avoid the pain. But life has taught me that the only way to arrive at a place of peace is to go through it. Psalm 23 promises us company and providence. I needed this today, as I had trouble falling asleep last night with worrying tapes playing over and over in my head. What if I was exposed to the corona virus before I stopped going out? If I get it, will I be one of the complicated cases? Would there be an ICU bed if I needed it? What if I lose people I love to this pandemic?
If you're bored with your usual distractions, why not try writing a prayer? There's no wrong way to do it. There are as many prayers as there are believers. Quoting Ms. Hackenberg in today's prompt: "...we cannot always see God's goodness through the shadows. In your written prayer, do not be afraid to be fully honest with God about a source of pain or despair." This is one of the beauties of writing prayers: it's just between you and God. When I was young and naive, I was afraid that God would be offended if I was angry/scared/clumsy/sad in my prayers. What a typical novice mistake! Prayer wasn't about me trying to be perfect before God. Prayer, according to my priest, is a gift God gives to us. Not the reverse. It is an invitation into relationship. Honest relationship. God is big enough to hear anything we might have to say. He will still show up with anointing oil.
Psalm 23 King James Version (KJV)
23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Searching for a New Normal
I can't be alone in trying to settle into some kind of routine in this time of upheaval. As I mentioned earlier, I'm sticking close to home due to chronic conditions and age. At first, I did the teenager thing - stayed up really late (reading), slept in, hung out in pj's. After about 24 hours, that felt awful. I've mentioned to my husband that I could tear through some of the projects around my house if only I was home-bound for awhile. I was thinking a medium-sized snow storm. Be careful what you wish for.
So I'm trying to tackle some things that take more concentration than I can normally muster. Today's adventure was setting up the Wii. My gym (the local Sr. center - gym for old farts) is closed until further notice. No Kristen yoga classes for awhile, and no treadmill for walking. I'm happy to report I did get the contraption attached to the TV. We also moved the entertainment center out from the wall, cleaned behind it, sorted books before returning them to the shelves, and vacuumed the room. That feels like a good day's work. And I'm really good at Wii Resort table tennis. I did get irked at the fitness disc for telling me I'm overweight and weak - grrrr. You try throwing a saddle up on a tall horse! Can't argue with it about needing to shed a few pounds. Maybe that will also come out of our exile. We've been cooking up a storm and eating healthfully.
As I try to think about the spiritual side of this unprecedented isolation for most of us, I'm oddly reminded of the lengthy season of Pentecost, known to Episcopalians as "ordinary time." We begin the church year with the season of Advent, four Sundays before Christmas. It 'should' be a contemplative season to prepare our hearts for the arrival of the Christ child. That rarely happens, as Advent falls during the frantic weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then, in short order, we're hurled through Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost. The majority of feast days fall during this first half of the church year. Around mid-year we arrive, breathless, tongues hanging out, at ordinary time. There is nothing ordinary about the calamity brought on by COVID-19, but the individual days feel totally bland. I know what day of the week it is because of the labels on my pill sorter. To fill these days with some level of purposeful activity is a personal decision for each of us.
What are you doing to keep your minds alive and your hands busy (you know what they say about idle hands!)? I hope to work a jigsaw puzzle, fit a dress pattern and sew it up, refashion and rehang the curtains in my den, and continue to build on healthy habits while I'm stuck at home with fewer temptations. That's in addition to my usual reading and prayer time. And I'm checking in on friends by phone, e-mail, and IM. The fates have smiled on us, as my daughter's wedding has been successfully moved from May to August.
I hope all are well and are able to endure this period with minimal worry and risk. I offer the following as we settle in for what may be a long siege:
Lord Jesus, shield us under the shadow of your wings. Give us patience in our isolation and boredom. Provide for those whose livelihoods are threatened by our need for social distance during the threat from the corona virus. Inspire creative minds to come up with solutions for feeding people and insuring basic services for all. Empower us to treat each other with kindness and generosity, though we are stressed and scared. Protect the sick and those who care for them. Help those who chafe against rules and restrictions to follow protocols that serve the greater good. In Your Holy Name we pray. Amen
So I'm trying to tackle some things that take more concentration than I can normally muster. Today's adventure was setting up the Wii. My gym (the local Sr. center - gym for old farts) is closed until further notice. No Kristen yoga classes for awhile, and no treadmill for walking. I'm happy to report I did get the contraption attached to the TV. We also moved the entertainment center out from the wall, cleaned behind it, sorted books before returning them to the shelves, and vacuumed the room. That feels like a good day's work. And I'm really good at Wii Resort table tennis. I did get irked at the fitness disc for telling me I'm overweight and weak - grrrr. You try throwing a saddle up on a tall horse! Can't argue with it about needing to shed a few pounds. Maybe that will also come out of our exile. We've been cooking up a storm and eating healthfully.
As I try to think about the spiritual side of this unprecedented isolation for most of us, I'm oddly reminded of the lengthy season of Pentecost, known to Episcopalians as "ordinary time." We begin the church year with the season of Advent, four Sundays before Christmas. It 'should' be a contemplative season to prepare our hearts for the arrival of the Christ child. That rarely happens, as Advent falls during the frantic weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then, in short order, we're hurled through Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost. The majority of feast days fall during this first half of the church year. Around mid-year we arrive, breathless, tongues hanging out, at ordinary time. There is nothing ordinary about the calamity brought on by COVID-19, but the individual days feel totally bland. I know what day of the week it is because of the labels on my pill sorter. To fill these days with some level of purposeful activity is a personal decision for each of us.
What are you doing to keep your minds alive and your hands busy (you know what they say about idle hands!)? I hope to work a jigsaw puzzle, fit a dress pattern and sew it up, refashion and rehang the curtains in my den, and continue to build on healthy habits while I'm stuck at home with fewer temptations. That's in addition to my usual reading and prayer time. And I'm checking in on friends by phone, e-mail, and IM. The fates have smiled on us, as my daughter's wedding has been successfully moved from May to August.
I hope all are well and are able to endure this period with minimal worry and risk. I offer the following as we settle in for what may be a long siege:
Lord Jesus, shield us under the shadow of your wings. Give us patience in our isolation and boredom. Provide for those whose livelihoods are threatened by our need for social distance during the threat from the corona virus. Inspire creative minds to come up with solutions for feeding people and insuring basic services for all. Empower us to treat each other with kindness and generosity, though we are stressed and scared. Protect the sick and those who care for them. Help those who chafe against rules and restrictions to follow protocols that serve the greater good. In Your Holy Name we pray. Amen
Sunday, March 15, 2020
Sabbath in the Time of a Pandemic
By the time we got to today, Sunday, our bishop had asked churches to suspend services. That was a heartache for our dear priest, who knows we need each other more than ever when we're scared. She went to the church and opened it for anyone who wanted to go there to pray, as long as they used hand sanitizer and maintained the recommended 6-foot personal space. She sent us all an e-mail with details about the live-streamed service at the National Cathedral in D.C. Thus began the first Sabbath in the age of COVID-19.
We settled in to join the nation in worshiping remotely. The Dean of the Cathedral presided at the Eucharist, making sure we understood that we could participate in spirit in this radically new reality. The Presiding Bishop, The Rev. Michael Curry, preached the sermon from a remote location. The man must have a totally one-track mind. Do you remember his homily from the wedding of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry? He talked to them about love. He did it again today. What a wonderful topic to speak about at every opportunity. He reminded us we're loved by God and that, even when our lives are upended, especially when our lives are upended, we can show love to each other. He even had the courage to end his remarks by singing Jesus Loves Me, This I Know. One way we're showing love right now is to stay home, and offer each other possible protection from exposure to the corona virus.
My phone pinged in the middle of the YouTube broadcast. One of my fellow parishioners had suggested to Mother Pam that she send out the Peace by instant message: The Peace of the Lord be always with you! In no time, my phone was alive with answers from my church family: And also with you! What a brilliant way to connect us to one another. We're still here, we're still community, we're still loving each other.
After the service, I called a dear friend whose husband has been through a series of medical crises beginning before Thanksgiving. It was so good to reconnect, and to hear the story directly from her rather than second-hand. I was surprised to learn he's actually doing better, gaining some weight, using a walker instead of a wheelchair. Thanks be to God, for their good news and for old friendships.
In the afternoon, I composed a note to my 95-year-old Godmother. Her husband, my Godfather, died last week. It wouldn't be safe, or probably even allowed, for us to visit right now. But I could let her know I'm thinking about her and about good times we all shared, and tell her I love her. She taught me to cook. What a delightful legacy to have from her.
All in all, a pretty good Sabbath. If we hadn't been cocooned at home, worshiping via YouTube, we never would have heard the stunningly gorgeous voice of the soprano who sang during the service. There are blessings to be found, even in harsh, scary times. As Bishop Curry said, may the Lord hold each of you in His Almighty hands.
We settled in to join the nation in worshiping remotely. The Dean of the Cathedral presided at the Eucharist, making sure we understood that we could participate in spirit in this radically new reality. The Presiding Bishop, The Rev. Michael Curry, preached the sermon from a remote location. The man must have a totally one-track mind. Do you remember his homily from the wedding of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry? He talked to them about love. He did it again today. What a wonderful topic to speak about at every opportunity. He reminded us we're loved by God and that, even when our lives are upended, especially when our lives are upended, we can show love to each other. He even had the courage to end his remarks by singing Jesus Loves Me, This I Know. One way we're showing love right now is to stay home, and offer each other possible protection from exposure to the corona virus.
My phone pinged in the middle of the YouTube broadcast. One of my fellow parishioners had suggested to Mother Pam that she send out the Peace by instant message: The Peace of the Lord be always with you! In no time, my phone was alive with answers from my church family: And also with you! What a brilliant way to connect us to one another. We're still here, we're still community, we're still loving each other.
After the service, I called a dear friend whose husband has been through a series of medical crises beginning before Thanksgiving. It was so good to reconnect, and to hear the story directly from her rather than second-hand. I was surprised to learn he's actually doing better, gaining some weight, using a walker instead of a wheelchair. Thanks be to God, for their good news and for old friendships.
In the afternoon, I composed a note to my 95-year-old Godmother. Her husband, my Godfather, died last week. It wouldn't be safe, or probably even allowed, for us to visit right now. But I could let her know I'm thinking about her and about good times we all shared, and tell her I love her. She taught me to cook. What a delightful legacy to have from her.
All in all, a pretty good Sabbath. If we hadn't been cocooned at home, worshiping via YouTube, we never would have heard the stunningly gorgeous voice of the soprano who sang during the service. There are blessings to be found, even in harsh, scary times. As Bishop Curry said, may the Lord hold each of you in His Almighty hands.
Friday, March 13, 2020
Holy Hands
Yesterday was massage day - ahhhhh! My massage therapist works hard to un-kink the muscles in my neck and upper back so I can turn my head. I'm "stressing", as one of our babysitters used to say. There's the corona virus scare, my daughter's upcoming wedding, the uncertainty of how the next few days will unfold, the nation's and the world's response to threat, the wild financial markets.... So I had some muscle knots that were a challenge. Kellie's hands are muscular and strong. For a petite lady, she packs surprising strength in those hands. As I lay face-down in my "zone", drifting in and out of lucidity, my mind went to the Cursillo song, "Holy Ground". One verse is about hands: Holy hands, He's given us Holy hands. God works through these hands, and so these hands are holy.
People started coming to my mind that bring benefit to my life through their holy hands. There's the competent, friendly young dermatologist who performed a biopsy on my cheek on Tuesday. Her hands are efficient and confident. She can insert a needle with no apparent hesitation or wobble. There's the farrier who put new shoes on my horse last week. His hands are stunningly strong, with short, compact fingers that help shape each shoe on his anvil. I asked him once how often he hits a finger with his hammer, and he held up a purple thumb for inspection. The organist at my church has hands that glide to the right keys as if controlled by an other-worldly force. He's been playing for 50 years, since he was a teenager, and his comfort at a keyboard is remarkable, as if the keys are old friends. There are others - the dental hygienist, the hairdresser, the barista, the pharmacist, the nurse at the allergy clinic, my grandchildren - you get the picture. I'm sure each of you can call to mind a number of holy hands that serve your needs.
Two pairs of hands in my life are particularly precious to me. One of the first things I noticed when I visited the church that is now my home was the priest's hands. She is tiny, barely five feet tall. And she has very delicate, expressive hands. As I've gotten to know her over these ten years, I'm aware that her function of blessing us is one of the highlights of her ministry. She signs the cross with her right hand as she ends the Eucharist service and sends us out with a blessing. Her lovely hands break the bread, pour the wine, baptize the faithful (we baptize babies, her favorites), and commend the dead to God. As she came to understand in adulthood, she was made for blessing others. Holy hands.
The other pair of hands most dear to me is my husband's. He's a cellist, now 5 years retired as a music professor. I was driving along the other day when the Beethoven triple concerto, which features violin, cello, and piano as the soloists, came on the radio. He played that piece with his favorite collaborators years ago with a symphony in southern Arkansas. I got teary reflecting on how much beauty his talent and hard work and creativity have brought to me as his life partner. I have been thoroughly blessed to be in his audience these many years. His fingers are now bent with arthritis. That makes it hard to play in tune, as the location of the notes has shifted. He now limits his playing to church - "Only slow pieces!". It is still an ethereal experience. And he's become a skilled bread baker. No machines. Just flour, yeast, and water. And holy hands. So his hands, exact replicas of his father's, have bathed me in beauty and now literally feed me.
My hands are not special. They become weak in the presence of cold or nerves as the result of an inherited muscle disorder. These past couple of years, they have developed a slight tremor that can make my handwriting look like my grandmother's. My nails are short and unremarkable. But these hands have rubbed the backs of children fighting sleep, they cook up a mean pot of soup or chili, they fold laundry and pull weeds, and they have brushed many a horse into fine shape as an itchy winter coat is shed. Having ridden for most of my life, I can feel the slightest tension from my hands, down the reins, to the bit in my horse's mouth. I'll be gentle, sweet girl. Your tender mouth is safe with me. Holy hands, He's given us holy hands. God works through these hands, and so these hands are holy.
People started coming to my mind that bring benefit to my life through their holy hands. There's the competent, friendly young dermatologist who performed a biopsy on my cheek on Tuesday. Her hands are efficient and confident. She can insert a needle with no apparent hesitation or wobble. There's the farrier who put new shoes on my horse last week. His hands are stunningly strong, with short, compact fingers that help shape each shoe on his anvil. I asked him once how often he hits a finger with his hammer, and he held up a purple thumb for inspection. The organist at my church has hands that glide to the right keys as if controlled by an other-worldly force. He's been playing for 50 years, since he was a teenager, and his comfort at a keyboard is remarkable, as if the keys are old friends. There are others - the dental hygienist, the hairdresser, the barista, the pharmacist, the nurse at the allergy clinic, my grandchildren - you get the picture. I'm sure each of you can call to mind a number of holy hands that serve your needs.
Two pairs of hands in my life are particularly precious to me. One of the first things I noticed when I visited the church that is now my home was the priest's hands. She is tiny, barely five feet tall. And she has very delicate, expressive hands. As I've gotten to know her over these ten years, I'm aware that her function of blessing us is one of the highlights of her ministry. She signs the cross with her right hand as she ends the Eucharist service and sends us out with a blessing. Her lovely hands break the bread, pour the wine, baptize the faithful (we baptize babies, her favorites), and commend the dead to God. As she came to understand in adulthood, she was made for blessing others. Holy hands.
The other pair of hands most dear to me is my husband's. He's a cellist, now 5 years retired as a music professor. I was driving along the other day when the Beethoven triple concerto, which features violin, cello, and piano as the soloists, came on the radio. He played that piece with his favorite collaborators years ago with a symphony in southern Arkansas. I got teary reflecting on how much beauty his talent and hard work and creativity have brought to me as his life partner. I have been thoroughly blessed to be in his audience these many years. His fingers are now bent with arthritis. That makes it hard to play in tune, as the location of the notes has shifted. He now limits his playing to church - "Only slow pieces!". It is still an ethereal experience. And he's become a skilled bread baker. No machines. Just flour, yeast, and water. And holy hands. So his hands, exact replicas of his father's, have bathed me in beauty and now literally feed me.
My hands are not special. They become weak in the presence of cold or nerves as the result of an inherited muscle disorder. These past couple of years, they have developed a slight tremor that can make my handwriting look like my grandmother's. My nails are short and unremarkable. But these hands have rubbed the backs of children fighting sleep, they cook up a mean pot of soup or chili, they fold laundry and pull weeds, and they have brushed many a horse into fine shape as an itchy winter coat is shed. Having ridden for most of my life, I can feel the slightest tension from my hands, down the reins, to the bit in my horse's mouth. I'll be gentle, sweet girl. Your tender mouth is safe with me. Holy hands, He's given us holy hands. God works through these hands, and so these hands are holy.
Wednesday, March 11, 2020
Viral Post
Today, the coronavirus, COVID-19, was declared a pandemic by the WHO. Are we living the predictions from the days of SARS, that one of these animal-borne viruses would mutate to infect humans in massive numbers? Experts in the field have long warned that the US, along with many other countries, is ill-prepared for such an outbreak. Funding for research, medications, trained professionals, and supplies has been dwindling for years, with the current administration wreaking havoc on the pursuit of scientific advancement at an unprecedented level. Something broke through for me today - I'm scared.
I am 65 years old and have asthma, two of the known risk factors for becoming severely ill from this virus. People are contagious before they know they're carrying and spreading the virus. At first, testing was limited to people with the identifying respiratory symptoms who had traveled to certain foreign countries. Now we have cases in the US where exposure is unexplained by travel or known contamination. UGH! I've decided to take myself out of circulation for at least a few days to see if they can tell us more about how this nasty illness behaves and disperses. I contract pneumonia when no one else is sick, so what would exposure to COVID-19 do to my lungs?
Fear and faith go hand in hand. Are the faithful spared the emotion of fear? I don't think so. I believe Jesus, in his time on Earth, experienced the full array of human feelings, so He would have been afraid in the face of his unavoidable execution. His friends even abandoned Him, unable to stomach the painful path He had to walk. So what are we to do with our fear?
For one thing, we have been given the capacity to think. In my tradition, a provocative poster has circulated among college centers and the halls of education wings. A backlit Jesus has his hands folded in prayer under a text that says, "He came to take away your sins, not your minds." Today is the first day the Governor of Arkansas has announced a probable case of the virus. It is not yet widespread where I live. My husband and I, as members of the age cohort of concern, did a thorough grocery shopping yesterday. We're good to go for awhile if self-isolation becomes prudent. I even wore medical gloves in the store. We both have established relationships with our primary care doctors, and a young cousin of mine is a pulmonologist/acute care physician in our town. We're up to date on vaccines, and employ the routine healthy habits of hand-washing and thoughtful self-care. I can think my way down from panic. I have helpful choices available.
What else might we do in the face of this or another calamity? I'm a strong believer in prayer, so would like to offer the following:
Merciful Savior, protect us from threats we cannot see or avoid. Wrap us in your healing light to keep us safe. Strengthen the patients who are fighting COVID-19 and other serious illness, and comfort them and their loved ones. Be present to the bereaved. Take care of the first responders and medical personnel who are on the front lines. Shield them from harm and keep burnout at bay. Keep us mindful of all who live at the margins of society, who lack access to basic hygiene and medical care. Help us respond to their needs as we are able. Put far from us our human inclination to hoard more than we need out of our fear. Only You can supply the healing we seek for our bodies and souls. Come, Lord Jesus, in our time of need. Amen
I am 65 years old and have asthma, two of the known risk factors for becoming severely ill from this virus. People are contagious before they know they're carrying and spreading the virus. At first, testing was limited to people with the identifying respiratory symptoms who had traveled to certain foreign countries. Now we have cases in the US where exposure is unexplained by travel or known contamination. UGH! I've decided to take myself out of circulation for at least a few days to see if they can tell us more about how this nasty illness behaves and disperses. I contract pneumonia when no one else is sick, so what would exposure to COVID-19 do to my lungs?
Fear and faith go hand in hand. Are the faithful spared the emotion of fear? I don't think so. I believe Jesus, in his time on Earth, experienced the full array of human feelings, so He would have been afraid in the face of his unavoidable execution. His friends even abandoned Him, unable to stomach the painful path He had to walk. So what are we to do with our fear?
For one thing, we have been given the capacity to think. In my tradition, a provocative poster has circulated among college centers and the halls of education wings. A backlit Jesus has his hands folded in prayer under a text that says, "He came to take away your sins, not your minds." Today is the first day the Governor of Arkansas has announced a probable case of the virus. It is not yet widespread where I live. My husband and I, as members of the age cohort of concern, did a thorough grocery shopping yesterday. We're good to go for awhile if self-isolation becomes prudent. I even wore medical gloves in the store. We both have established relationships with our primary care doctors, and a young cousin of mine is a pulmonologist/acute care physician in our town. We're up to date on vaccines, and employ the routine healthy habits of hand-washing and thoughtful self-care. I can think my way down from panic. I have helpful choices available.
What else might we do in the face of this or another calamity? I'm a strong believer in prayer, so would like to offer the following:
Merciful Savior, protect us from threats we cannot see or avoid. Wrap us in your healing light to keep us safe. Strengthen the patients who are fighting COVID-19 and other serious illness, and comfort them and their loved ones. Be present to the bereaved. Take care of the first responders and medical personnel who are on the front lines. Shield them from harm and keep burnout at bay. Keep us mindful of all who live at the margins of society, who lack access to basic hygiene and medical care. Help us respond to their needs as we are able. Put far from us our human inclination to hoard more than we need out of our fear. Only You can supply the healing we seek for our bodies and souls. Come, Lord Jesus, in our time of need. Amen
Monday, March 9, 2020
Monday at the Library
After our whirlwind weekend, my Sweetie and I were ready to start the week with our favorite date - the local library. It is an award winning library, beautifully designed and outfitted with a very nice coffee shop on the main level. It seems new to me, but is already undergoing a renovation and expansion that will almost double its size. Most of the new area will accommodate the offerings for children and teens. Several of the current employees, including the husband of a riding buddy who manages IT for the library, went to Europe and toured libraries before ground was broken on our addition. One thing I'm looking forward to is that the book-sorting apparatus will be enlarged and surrounded by glass so patrons can watch the process! Maybe I'm easily amused, but that sounds awesome. I'll take my grandchildren for the grand opening in the fall. What a blessing to live in an area where people of means choose to underwrite projects for the common good - libraries, a center for senior health, accessible playgrounds, public spaces, art centers.
I can spend a happy morning browsing the stacks. I have a route to check out the new offerings featured in two sections. I have a habit of checking out books about downsizing and de-cluttering. I'm always inspired by the books. The reasons for clearing clutter and organizing one's space are compelling. I would especially like to make it easier to volunteer at my church and to expand my sewing hobby. The streamlined spaces in the books are beautiful and calming. There's only one problem - I'm messy. I start with enthusiasm and determination, but I simply cannot part with some things the books would classify as clutter. If my mother's or grandmother's hands made it, it stays. If it was part of our family celebrations, it stays (I have a lot of dishes, y'all). If it was special to one of my daughters, well, come on back Pooh and Eyeore! And, of course, I have to hold onto toys for my grandchildren to enjoy here. This actually amazes me: my granddaughter plays with the tiny animal families exactly as her mother did. I'm so glad I kept them.
So, true to form, I checked out a book about minimalism. I'll enjoy it, but at least I didn't spend actual money on it. Maybe one of these days I'll get my life in order. But, it's become a family joke that I never get very far in that endeavor. I'm gonna have to run - I can't wait to start "Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady".
I can spend a happy morning browsing the stacks. I have a route to check out the new offerings featured in two sections. I have a habit of checking out books about downsizing and de-cluttering. I'm always inspired by the books. The reasons for clearing clutter and organizing one's space are compelling. I would especially like to make it easier to volunteer at my church and to expand my sewing hobby. The streamlined spaces in the books are beautiful and calming. There's only one problem - I'm messy. I start with enthusiasm and determination, but I simply cannot part with some things the books would classify as clutter. If my mother's or grandmother's hands made it, it stays. If it was part of our family celebrations, it stays (I have a lot of dishes, y'all). If it was special to one of my daughters, well, come on back Pooh and Eyeore! And, of course, I have to hold onto toys for my grandchildren to enjoy here. This actually amazes me: my granddaughter plays with the tiny animal families exactly as her mother did. I'm so glad I kept them.
So, true to form, I checked out a book about minimalism. I'll enjoy it, but at least I didn't spend actual money on it. Maybe one of these days I'll get my life in order. But, it's become a family joke that I never get very far in that endeavor. I'm gonna have to run - I can't wait to start "Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady".
Sunday, March 8, 2020
I'mmmmm Back!
Howdy folks. Glad to be back today. I took a few days off while my Ohio daughter and her soon-to-be MIL were in town. The event of her visit was a bridal shower honoring her upcoming wedding in May, but this was also her last trip to Arkansas before the big day. There are lots of moving parts to this wedding, so we were on the go all day each day Thursday-Saturday.
She truly embodies the Barbra Streisand song: "...people who need people are the luckiest people in the world". She draws friends like a magnet, and cares for her close connections with great attention and generosity. She is energized by gatherings of her friends, anywhere, any time. At her shower on Saturday, I looked around the room and counted friends from kindergarten all the way through high school, as well as those from her more recent college years. I've had to share her with "other mothers" who came into her life through her friends. They showed up to hug her and share in her special season. And her lovely future mother-in-law tells me at every opportunity how thrilled they are to have her join the Mason family. My heart swells when I'm reminded how many people love her. Her biggest excitement, aside from marrying her true love, is this unique opportunity to gather all her close people in one spot to share her most significant celebration. This is a joyful time for all the main characters - the joining of two people, their families, and all the ripples that will occur because of their love.
A most precious piece of the weekend for me was that two of my closest college friends drove from their home towns hours away to join the festivities. We went out to dinner Friday night, just the three of us. We all marveled at the resilience of our friendship. Over the course of 40+ years we have shared marriages, the deaths of parents and friends, the playing out of careers, the arrival of children, and, now, the launching of those children into their own adult lives. What an amazing gift. We are never without words; our comfort level is unparalleled. It is an unspoken pact that we would show up for one another for any of life's challenges.
We went out together, along with our fourth compatriot who couldn't make it this weekend, just before we graduated from college. We sat at IHOP eating ice cream sundaes and predicted our futures. I can't even remember our guesses, but I think back on that time with fondness. Now we play "What would you have done differently if today's opportunities had been available." No one traverses the adult years without regrets. With the advantage of hindsight, we can see paths we might have enjoyed that would have showcased our gifts.
But I can see that life has unfolded with its own grace for each of us. Prayers have been answered, even if not in the way we might have wanted at the time. Deep growth and maturity have happened for each of us. Areas of competence have emerged and been honored. Dark, scary times have strengthened our backbones, our faith, and our mutual friendship. I will love and cherish you ladies all my days.
She truly embodies the Barbra Streisand song: "...people who need people are the luckiest people in the world". She draws friends like a magnet, and cares for her close connections with great attention and generosity. She is energized by gatherings of her friends, anywhere, any time. At her shower on Saturday, I looked around the room and counted friends from kindergarten all the way through high school, as well as those from her more recent college years. I've had to share her with "other mothers" who came into her life through her friends. They showed up to hug her and share in her special season. And her lovely future mother-in-law tells me at every opportunity how thrilled they are to have her join the Mason family. My heart swells when I'm reminded how many people love her. Her biggest excitement, aside from marrying her true love, is this unique opportunity to gather all her close people in one spot to share her most significant celebration. This is a joyful time for all the main characters - the joining of two people, their families, and all the ripples that will occur because of their love.
A most precious piece of the weekend for me was that two of my closest college friends drove from their home towns hours away to join the festivities. We went out to dinner Friday night, just the three of us. We all marveled at the resilience of our friendship. Over the course of 40+ years we have shared marriages, the deaths of parents and friends, the playing out of careers, the arrival of children, and, now, the launching of those children into their own adult lives. What an amazing gift. We are never without words; our comfort level is unparalleled. It is an unspoken pact that we would show up for one another for any of life's challenges.
We went out together, along with our fourth compatriot who couldn't make it this weekend, just before we graduated from college. We sat at IHOP eating ice cream sundaes and predicted our futures. I can't even remember our guesses, but I think back on that time with fondness. Now we play "What would you have done differently if today's opportunities had been available." No one traverses the adult years without regrets. With the advantage of hindsight, we can see paths we might have enjoyed that would have showcased our gifts.
But I can see that life has unfolded with its own grace for each of us. Prayers have been answered, even if not in the way we might have wanted at the time. Deep growth and maturity have happened for each of us. Areas of competence have emerged and been honored. Dark, scary times have strengthened our backbones, our faith, and our mutual friendship. I will love and cherish you ladies all my days.
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
Holy Ground
Today was a busy day. The farrier arrived at the farm at noon with a roster of horses to shoe. He tends to my big girl every six weeks. I'm quick to offer to hold horses while the farm owner and other helpers do other things, because I love to watch Daniel work. A good horseshoer is a tradesman, but he's also an artisan. Someone who has learned the motions can get shoes on a horse, but a true partner, the kind you trust and are willing to pay well, is attuned to the needs of each animal. Daniel is careful to let Flash rest her arthritic back legs every few minutes, even though it slows him down compared to the younger horses. I really appreciate that. I had today's post forming in my head while I held ropes and brushed out winter coats.
But my co-author, that sneaky Holy Spirit, had another plan. I stopped at the nursery to buy mulch on my way home from the farm. Ho hum. I went to the register inside, placed my order, and paid my bill. I drove around to the back to pick up my mulch. Standing ready to help me load up was my favorite nursery employee. She has made so many good suggestions for plants that will grow in our climate and that can tolerate the lousy clay soil in my yard. I always enjoy our visits.
But today, she was exasperated. As the two of us stood alone in the sunshine, she shared her deep worries about the younger of her teenage sons. She has been a single mother for much of their lives, having just re-married last year. The story is all too familiar: as soon as he's out of her sight, her son begins blowing off school and experimenting with drugs. He's smart, but his grades are in the gutter. She gets startled awake in the middle of the night and lies in bed fretting. Her thoughts go to the bad decisions he's making and the trust she can't imagine ever having again.
This is one of the true jewels of being my age. This ain't my first rodeo, as we cowgirls are fond of saying. I, too, had an out-of-control teen. I have been that mom, tossing and turning, unable to quiet the "what ifs". I can't fix my friend's situation any more than I could fix my own back in the day, but I can be truly, deeply present to her distress. My family has made it to the other shore. My wild child is a marvelous, competent, responsible adult, with children of her own. She is an outstanding mother/wife/employee/friend/daughter. I can share a success story that might offer a glimmer of hope to my friend.
At moments like this, when I'm trusted with someone's struggle, I know I'm standing on holy ground. Time slows down. I get a clear message to let the conversation unfold without trying to rush it or cut it short. There is almost nothing more precious to me than to somehow, without my participation, send out a vibe that I am trustworthy. I will hold your sharing gently, with deep gratitude. Isn't that what I've been asking for - to be shown how to carry out Your will? I'm sure I've missed the mark many times, but today I was there. That's all we're asked to do. Be there for one another. Thanks be to God.
But my co-author, that sneaky Holy Spirit, had another plan. I stopped at the nursery to buy mulch on my way home from the farm. Ho hum. I went to the register inside, placed my order, and paid my bill. I drove around to the back to pick up my mulch. Standing ready to help me load up was my favorite nursery employee. She has made so many good suggestions for plants that will grow in our climate and that can tolerate the lousy clay soil in my yard. I always enjoy our visits.
But today, she was exasperated. As the two of us stood alone in the sunshine, she shared her deep worries about the younger of her teenage sons. She has been a single mother for much of their lives, having just re-married last year. The story is all too familiar: as soon as he's out of her sight, her son begins blowing off school and experimenting with drugs. He's smart, but his grades are in the gutter. She gets startled awake in the middle of the night and lies in bed fretting. Her thoughts go to the bad decisions he's making and the trust she can't imagine ever having again.
This is one of the true jewels of being my age. This ain't my first rodeo, as we cowgirls are fond of saying. I, too, had an out-of-control teen. I have been that mom, tossing and turning, unable to quiet the "what ifs". I can't fix my friend's situation any more than I could fix my own back in the day, but I can be truly, deeply present to her distress. My family has made it to the other shore. My wild child is a marvelous, competent, responsible adult, with children of her own. She is an outstanding mother/wife/employee/friend/daughter. I can share a success story that might offer a glimmer of hope to my friend.
At moments like this, when I'm trusted with someone's struggle, I know I'm standing on holy ground. Time slows down. I get a clear message to let the conversation unfold without trying to rush it or cut it short. There is almost nothing more precious to me than to somehow, without my participation, send out a vibe that I am trustworthy. I will hold your sharing gently, with deep gratitude. Isn't that what I've been asking for - to be shown how to carry out Your will? I'm sure I've missed the mark many times, but today I was there. That's all we're asked to do. Be there for one another. Thanks be to God.
Monday, March 2, 2020
Monday, Monday...
I have house guests arriving this Thursday. Well, it's my daughter and her soon-to-be mother-in-law coming from Ohio, so family and almost family. I want our house presentable, but it doesn't need to be 'company' clean. Monday is usually a housework day anyway, and there's always a pile of laundry from the weekend. I'm bad about procrastinating, but don't really hate the routine once I'm underway.
Are you familiar with The Quotidian Mysteries by Kathleen Norris? It's about how the tasks of homemaking can serve to ground us, no matter whether we dread them or embrace them. Norris discusses how approaching a task mindfully, with our full attention, can take us into a spiritual dimension. You can start by picking one job that must be done regularly, like making the bed, and treating it like a sacred ritual, aiming to perform it with intention and a quiet mind. It can become prayer time once that focus becomes habit. Folding the laundry takes me into that centered calm for a moment.
I'm usually carried to a place of gratitude and my thoughts unfold in a flow. As I pick up clutter, dust the surfaces, and do dishes, I'm aware of being grateful for my home. We have lived in this house for 35 years, so this is where the promises of so long ago have been embodied - for better/for worse, for richer/for poorer, in sickness and in health... This is where we brought our babies home. These walls have contained my family's common life - the Christmases, the birthday celebrations, the sick days, the morning fights in the bathroom while my daughters were teens, the new puppies brought in to enrich our days. We have laughed, cried, yelled, embraced - lived here. I think we could have managed a more mobile life if that had been our path, but it's nice to have so many memories tied to a place. I've left the pencil marks on the door frame where we measured our girls' heights as they grew. There's even a mark for Abby, the cabbage patch doll, near the floor.
I move outward in my song of gratitude. Our neighborhood is peaceful, and we have friends here, for no reason other than proximity. We live in a lovely college town with a quirky vibe, and it is situated at the southern end of a highway that spans Northwest Arkansas. You can find everything from hippies to bikers to world-class art within a 30-mile stretch. I'm partial to the food - coffee shops, fantastic BBQ, a wonderful Italian settlement to our north with great family cooks. We have an award-winning library, a boon for a bookworm like me. Our climate is moderate; we get all 4 seasons. Thank you, God, for plunking me down in such a nice place.
My heart aches for those without homes. My home is dear to me, a place of safety and respite. What a raw existence to be without a home. Perhaps to live in a place where war or famine or oppression or simple severity makes life an ordeal. Or to live in a home marked by violence or neglect of the helpless. We have services in our area for women who escape with their children and nothing else. God, help us. Empower me to give generously out of my abundance. Let me not turn away from the destitute. Open my heart and mind to ways I can be of service to those you hold so dear.
Yes, this ordinary Monday has been rich indeed.
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