Tables Turned

Hi friends!  I'm glad to be back with you.  I was at the lake (no wi-fi) for almost a week, then had minor surgery when I got home.  We're still isolating for the most part, though Arkansas is opening back up.  I'm curious what the landscape will look like 2 weeks from last weekend, Memorial Day.  There is a private, but well populated, dock in our lake neighborhood, but people were pretty cautious.  Maybe because most of us are old farts!

Two days back, I had an office procedure to remove a basal cell carcinoma from my cheek.  It's called a Mohs procedure, and it's used on faces for its good cosmetic outcome.  I'm a fair-skinned red head, and am lucky to have made it to 65 before needing this.  I had numerous bad sunburns as a child before good sun screens were developed while I was in college.  Apply your SPF people!!

I'd compare this procedure to about a crown prep in the dentist's office: local anesthetic, minimal pain once the lidocaine took effect, mostly icky sensations as the spot was worked on.  I had a very interesting spiritual insight as I reclined in the treatment chair.  As you've probably noticed from previous posts, I regularly practice several prayer disciplines and, at this point, do not separate "prayer life" from "life".  Breath prayer calms and centers me, intercessory prayer feeds me and provides a way to love my people, and the prayers in the Book of Common Prayer lift me into the holy presence with great reliability.  I also belong to an order, The Daughters of the King, and we make a promise to pray regularly as a rule of life.  One way we assist our priest is to divide up the parish roster and pray for the people in our church family.  So I'm experienced and devoted to praying for others.

My "Wow!" moment on Tuesday came from deeply feeling the prayers that were holding me up during my procedure.  I had informed my DOK sisters and asked for their prayers.  During the uncomfortable moments of my surgery, I actually smiled inwardly as I realized I was not alone. I would have tolerated the sensations anyway, but knowing I was thought about and cared for at that moment was incredibly empowering.  There is apparently deep spiritual insight to be gained in our times of vulnerability.  I resist vulnerability, as I expect many people do.  We prefer to feel 'in control' and will often go to great lengths to project that fallacy. My new understanding will inform my prayers for all who are sick, scared, imprisoned, suffering - all situations of vulnerability.

 

My face is swollen and sore, my eye nearly shut.  That will heal over the next few days. I had a good experience:  the one and only round of excision got the cancer cells (the patient next door had to have additional rounds).  I'd be happy not to have to do this again for awhile.  But, the feeling of simply surrendering to the prayer and good will sent my way, with gratitude, will remain.  Thank you, dear Holy Spirit for continuing to teach me in all kinds of circumstances.

I'll close with a DOK prayer, "For the Life of Prayer":

O God of peace, you have taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved and in quiet and confidence shall be our strength, we pray that by the might of your spirit you will lift us to your presence where we may be still and know that you are God.  Amen.

Gone Fishin'

We're heading out today to spend some quarantine at the lake.  We have a cabin on Beaver Lake, and you'd have trouble finding a more isolated place that was still close to civilization.  I'm looking forward to the quiet, to the undisturbed dark at night, and to the restorative quality of the water.  We're taking the hound with us.  Right now he's pacing around worrying about being left behind (as if that's ever happened!). but he'll go to sleep in his travel kennel.  I'm taking some sewing and a scrapbook project, but I mainly plan to read and lounge around.

I won't be able to blog for a few days.  We have no wireless out there.  I'll try to soak up some peace and commune with my co-author.  The Holy Spirit lives at the lake, so maybe I'll get home with some new thoughts and words.  I'd like to sign off for a few days with this prayer, sent from the chaplain of the Arkansas Daughters of the King:

We are not people of fear;

we are people of courage.

We are not people who protect our own safety;

we are people who protect our neighbors' safety.

We are not people of greed;

we are people of generosity.

We are your people God,

giving and loving,

wherever we are,

whatever it costs

For as long as it takes

wherever you call us.

Amen

by Barbara Glasson, President of the Methodist Conference

Department of Silver Linings

As I have mentioned, the pandemic threw a monkey wrench into my daughter's wedding plans.  This was their original big weekend.  When she left Arkansas March 8 after putting the final touches on the plans, she was expecting her next trip to be the actual celebration this weekend.  We "should" be winding up the rehearsal and heading for a wonderful Italian meal with toasts and (slightly embarrassing) stories about the special couple.  One little issue would have (literally) clouded their plans - it has been storming to beat the band all day and is forecast to do so tomorrow as well.  I don't mean a little rain.  I mean hard wind and flood warnings. They would be just as married if we all had droopy (in my case, frizzy) hair, but I know she would be disappointed that there were no outdoor pictures, and nasty weather would complicate every movement (and there are many) throughout the weekend.  That may be an effort to make lemonade out of lemons, but we will have another run at this - newest plan is June 26, 2021.  They will have an engagement that exceeds 2 years, but they have seemed like a married couple for awhile now, and we will celebrate them when it is safe to do so with their special people in attendance.

Could there be other surprising silver linings to this devastating  disease that has spread such misery and fear?  Let me be clear - in no way am I minimizing the suffering and loss of life and income that have befallen so many.  My heart breaks at the pictures on the news feed, and I believe God's heart breaks at human suffering.  But I see at least 2 things occurring that bring me hope.

For one, there appears to be some healing of Mother Earth as human movement has been brought to a virtual standstill.  It can be observed from the space station that pollution is remarkably reduced.  We have grown so accustomed to our cars and out ability to travel anywhere we wish, I doubt we could have achieved this result through policy or will power alone, especially since we disagree so heartily about whether trashing the environment poses a significant risk.

I also see signs that the systemic factors that separate the "haves" from the "have nots" have been shown in sharp relief by the covid-19 pandemic.  Enough data has been amassed, even at what the experts caution is an early stage, to show without doubt that the suffering wrought by the corona virus has fallen heavily on the disadvantaged.  Higher  rates of infection, higher death rates, greater food and housing insecurity, loss of hope - all have hit racial minorities and those on the margins of society with exceptional viciousness.  May we be forever shamed and moved beyond the present crisis that this can still happen in the world's richest country. 

Merciful Lord, keep before us your special affection for the needy, and let this lesson sink deeply into the collective psyche of the comfortable.  The virus does not distinguish between "worthy" and "unworthy" people, and neither should we.  My family is relatively safe and comfortable only by way of the circumstance of our birth. Remind us that You love the entire human family, and that we can show gratitude for our lives by serving as your hands and hearts in a harsh world.  Amen

Pandemic Trail ride

Yesterday, Mothers' Day, I got to commune with God on a trail ride!  5 friends, 5 horses, 2 trailers headed off to Hobbs State Park in Northwest Arkansas.  It was a glorious day, and the woods were beautiful.  We rode 7 miles in 4 hours.  Zero to 4 hours was probably a push, but Flash and I did not get tired until the last mile (Well, I didn't.  She's been packing around kids, so may have been tired from the trailhead carrying me!). As usual, the symphony of the woods carried me straight to my holy place.  The towering pines with the sun shining through makes me feel like a little speck in the universe, and that feels just fine in these days of worry and news overload.  You can't see me grinning ear-to-ear riding down the trail in my covid/pollen mask, but it was a joyful afternoon, and worth every single sore muscle.

National Day of Prayer

I was reminded by a friend's blog that today has been designated the National Day of Prayer in the U.S.  While I am not of the evangelical tradition of Christianity from whence this comes, a day set aside for prayer seems a fine idea.  It may be more on the average person's mind in this time of pandemic, so let's raise our collective voices to our risen Lord.

I belong to the liturgical Episcopal faith, and believe our Book of Common Prayer is full of wonderful prayers for most any occasion.  Since The Lord's Prayer is so familiar and has been discussed by many, I'm choosing another favorite for today's post.  I get chills during the Rite of Holy Baptism every time the prayer is said over the font of water:

We thank you, Almighty God, for the gift of water. Over it the Holy Spirit moved in the beginning of creation.  Through it you led the children of Israel out of their bondage in Egypt into the land of promise. In it your Son Jesus received the baptism of John and was anointed by the Holy Spirit as the Messiah, the Christ, to lead us, through his death and resurrection, from the bondage of sin into everlasting life.

We thank you, Father, for the water of Baptism.  In it we are buried with Christ in his death.  By it we share in his resurrection.  Through it we are reborn by the Holy Spirit.  Therefore in joyful obedience to your Son, we bring into his fellowship those who come to him in faith, baptizing them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Now sanctify this water, we pray you, by the power of your Holy Spirit, that those who here are cleansed from sin and born again may continue for ever in the risen life of Jesus Christ our Savior.

To him, to you, and to the Holy Spirit, be all honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.  BCP, p. 306

Isn't that just the most beautiful, complete prayer?  It harkens back to creation and to our heritage in Judaism at the same time that it moves us forward into a life in Christ Jesus.  In our tradition, there are seven recognized rites, but Baptism and Holy Eucharist (Holy Communion) are given special emphasis.  In the service of Baptism, we formally welcome new members into the household of the church.  They (we) go forth from that service changed forever, marked on the forehead as Christ's own.  No wonder my priest gets so excited when someone chooses to be baptized and we get to experience this astounding celebration.

You might wonder what this particular prayer has to do with the spiritual journey of pandemic.  To me, this is a prayer of salvation.  I was baptized as an infant.  There are faded pictures of that day in my scrapbooks.  My loving parents brought me into the church to be blessed and connected to the Holy Spirit for life.  It was a day of joy and celebration for my whole extended family.  Now, when feelings of despair threaten to swamp me, prayers like this remind me that it's all bigger than our present circumstances, whatever they are.

I've been struck over the past year or so with the notion that, maybe it's not death that is the big upheaval, but rather our time here on Earth.  What if we have been with God all along, we get sent here for a time, then go back to God?  While I have moments of fearing death, like any human, what if it is just a returning home?  Every once in a while, the veil between our world and the next becomes very thin, and I get inklings of a bigger existence.  It is times like this that convince me of the connectedness of every living thing.  Hasn't that been one of the main lessons of this unruly virus?  Experts across countries and disciplines have been quoted widely saying, "We're all in this together."

My rare moments of insight usually happen when I'm near water.  Thanks be to God.

Corona virus landscape

I've been using more brawn than brain lately. This is the view out our den door leading to the back yard.  We've had this paving project on the back burner for a couple of years, until we had the time and energy to get it done.  Well, at least we have the time!  We're going to have to retire from the rock-moving business, but, being a great lover of jigsaw puzzles, I really enjoy arranging these pavers into a pleasing pattern.  We have a new gas grill to complete the look and increase our cooking options as it gets hot.

What is so satisfying about turning off my brain and getting completely filthy?  Yesterday, I went to the farm for a beauty parlor session with my sweet mare.  The teen volunteers have helped her shed her winter coat, a spring ritual I normally enjoy.  And they're riding her some on the trails, which I appreciate.  She gets upset when the other horses go out without her.  When I came home, Stephen and I worked on the landscaping project.  Then, while he started supper, I pulled weeds in the front yard.

It used to frustrate my proper mother no end that I preferred horses and dirt to social events.  Maybe it's the subversive element that appeals to me.  But, I think the reality is that it's just who I am.  I would not get so much pleasure from yard work and horse chores if it was just rebellion against expectations.

I love the thought of the Creator fashioning each of us with great care and attention, choosing a special array of interests and strengths to impart to each new human. The epistles of Paul are littered with references to One body/Many parts.  As I reflect on my beloved church community, I can see with clarity and gratitude how we come together to function as the body of Christ.  Several are gifted with hospitality, and coordinate our celebrations and pot lucks.  Some are passionate about outreach and serving the needy.  Thus, we have feeding ministries, a school supply drive, and an angel tree at Christmas.  We have gifted teachers, singers with lovely voices (plus one excellent cellist!), and, of course, wonderful cooks.  And we have the simply reliable, those behind-the-scenes angels who can be counted on to show up for reverent holy work caring for the altar, the building, and the grounds (one of my venues!).  My gratitude is sparked each time I'm reminded that I'm not suited for many of the tasks of the church, but we've been blessed with others who are. Trying to engage with a ministry that doesn't fit is a recipe for burn-out and resentment.

Saint Paul put it very well in 1 Corinthians 12:

Just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body - Jews or Greeks, slaves or free - and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many.  If the foot would say, "Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body.  And if the ear would say, "Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body," that would not make it any less a part of the body.  If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose.  If all were a single member, where would the body be?  As it is, there are many members, yet one body.  The eye cannot say to the hand, "I have no need of you," nor again the head to the feet, "I have no need of you."

Do you have a firm grasp of your gifts?  If you're unsure, I suggest that you reflect on those activities that bring you great joy.  What engages you to the point you lose track of time?  I like to dig in the dirt.  What is your passion?  The world needs it, whatever it is.