Sabbath on Monday

Hello Friends,

We're following our own schedule this week, and letting Sabbath fall on Monday.  We knocked ourselves out in the yard yesterday weeding, planting, and mulching, so are taking a break today.  Time has become an odd commodity in these days of pandemic.  I wake up and have to think what day it is and what I had planned to do.  The usual rhythm of the week is set by outside commitments that are suspended.  And we can tune in to online church any time.

What does Sabbath mean in today's world?  For us, in normal times, it begins with worship.  Then, for me, Sunday afternoon is time to gather and ride with friends unless the weather interferes.  That's where the name of this blog originated:  the Episcopal cowgirl attends church, then goes out in the woods on a horse.  I can't count the times those 2 passions have fueled each other.  Singing, hearing scripture and a sermon, and sharing Eucharist primes me to be aware of the holy presence all around us.  Then I go out on big Flash, and although I'm with friends, there are profound moments of solitude where the veil between worlds is lifted for a moment.  I usually ride along singing a hymn from the service, then look up to see the sun shining through the trees or hear water falling over the rocks and am simply transported to a different, luminous reality.  I'm tired after the day's activities, but satiated with feelings of abundance and providence.  What more could a sabbath offer?

How are you managing your time during quarantine? Are you struggling, as I am, to set aside time to be productive, time to rest, time to grow your knowledge, time for self-care?  I read an article yesterday about how hard this is for people with OCD - what is normal, healthy cleaning in the time of a virulent threat and what goes over the line into pathology? My problem is more along the lines of how lazy can I be about cleaning and still be healthy and safe?  We are probably unique in our struggle, but I suspect we each face challenges.  

I'm very curious how I will experience time, one of our greatest gifts from the creator, once we pass through this scare.  I have learned some things during isolation.  I plan to continue to limit my time spent (wasted?) in stores and in activities that don't feed me.  What will I go back to when sanctions are lifted and what will I find is no longer worth my precious time?  Do you have these thoughts and dilemmas?  May the Spirit that feeds our souls guide us into this uncertain future full of possibility.

Well, Duh!

Hello Friends,

I had an 'Aha!' moment getting ready for bed last night.  I knew instantly why I was depressed yesterday: it was my father's birthday.  He was born in the deep south on June 19, "Juneteenth". Although he's been gone now for 57 years, I remember with total clarity how he was my North Star.  As a very young heart patient (he died at 38), he knew his life would be cut short.  He was ill, unable to rid his body of the killer cholesterol, in the years that just preceded effective medicines and bypass surgery.  He spent as much of his precious, limited time with me as possible - wherever you found him, you found me. 

Have you had that experience where your mood for the day seems determined by some unseen force, then you realize there's a powerful memory attached to the date?  I carry my dad's DNA.  The milestones of his life are part of me at a cellular level.  What if it's like that with the imprint of our heavenly father?  It intrigues me to think we have an innate connection to our creator that draws us throughout our earthly life into the luminous presence of the holy.  I was unaware until bedtime that I was directed yesterday by the mystical memory of my dad.  There are probably numerous times when I've been led that way by the Holy Spirit, but may never know on this side when it was happening. 

I'm aware of a couple of examples.  I met my true love during college, had no doubt whatsoever that he was the one, and married him against my family's wishes.  We celebrate our 40th anniversary in August. That was that first time, on a big decision, that I didn't take my cues from my elders. When they leaned on me to change my plans, I had always deferred to their wishes.  But there was no waffling about my Stephen. I was clearly strengthened by a force I hadn't acknowledged before.  And my 2 beautiful daughters are both adopted.  I sometimes catch my breath in wonder that I had the wherewithal to sign on for life with these helpless, totally dependent, completely enchanting little beings that I didn't even know about until after their birth.  The three greatest blessings of my life came with a great deal of surprise and unfolding mystery.  But I'm ever more convinced it was no 'accident' that this family was created as it was. 

So, I'd like to have the doors of my soul opened as much as possible to the movement of the spirit in my life.  Prayer helps. As does quiet meditation.  I get all babbly and talk too much most of the time.  There are a lot of people I know and love who need to be lifted up at any given time.  And it is my pleasure to have them along in my prayers.  But what do I need to do, or perhaps not do, to increase my attention to things unseen and unspoken?  I know You're there.  Lord, can you help me tune in to the subconscious channel on my radio?

Zzzzzzz

Hello Friends,

Scattered showers in my area drove us inside today.  We've been busy beavers in the yard, and I've been riding almost every day.  I thought I'd use the opportunity to tear through some housework, but have felt more like dozing the day away. We're having a spike in covid-19 in our corner of Arkansas, which has me a bit worried and unlikely to go out much.  Our local Target, where we shopped early in the week, has had 6 employees test positive.

How does one go about finding the direction of the spirit during a time of the doldrums?  While I feel like taking my cues from the basset hound and laying around, it doesn't leave me rested or rejuvenated. And my best prayer time comes when my hands are busy.  I pull weeds and ask God to prune from me what is not part of his holy plan.  I wash and fold laundry and ask God to wash sin from me and make me fresh for renewed service.  I prepare meals and pray for those who don't have enough of life's necessities.  But I lose my creativity and my lifeline when my energy flags like this.

Maybe the spirit can hear this prayer:  Lord of all life, I am weary with the fallout of quarantine.  I know my family and friends are as well. Strengthen us all to bear this time of isolation with grace.  I miss my far away daughter.  And I miss the summer activities of my local daughter's family.  I miss my church family and the weekly rhythm that keeps me tied to you.  Lead me to sources of your wisdom and guidance, like Scripture and other spiritual reading.  Bring peace to my heart that only you can give. Amen

No Going Back

Hello Friends,

I read a very good article this morning in The Atlantic magazine.  It's by Ekemini Uwan, and is called "There's No Going Back to 'Normal'".  Uwan posits that with the pandemic, global economic meltdown, racial unrest, and political polarization we're experiencing, there will be no resumption of life as we knew it.  But, perhaps a better future can be forged the other side of this upheaval.  A critical piece of moving forward is grieving what we can no longer sustain. She employs the term 'radical acceptance', originated by psychologist Marsha Linehan, to describe the kind of unvarnished truth we must see with open eyes and hearts.  I love that term.  

At first it reminded me of a term we use in my tradition to describe widespread inclusion, 'radical hospitality'.  Sure enough, Uwan is a theologian and earns her living speaking at conferences, universities, and churches.  She knows how to be careful and precise with words.  'Radical acceptance' involves distinguishing between things we cannot change and those we can.  She's best understood in her own words, so I'm writing today to commend this article to you.  Happy reading. 

Oops, I Goofed

Hello friends,

I'd like to share a couple of things that happened last night very close together.  I realized in the shower that I had dropped the ball on a task I took on for my church.  Our services are online right now, so most of the Sunday lay ministries are on hold during the pandemic.  One thing we can continue, however, is the altar flower ministry.  Several years back, we decided to do the flowers ourselves, as commercial arrangements were beyond many of our budgets and the church was on a tight string as well.  It has been a surprisingly popular ministry, with parishioners claiming the Sundays of the year in honor or in memory of loved ones and special events. We enjoy a bounty of simple arrangements from peoples' yards or from our local stores. Since we're not seeing the bulletin board outside the office right now, I agreed to schedule flowers, probably for the remainder of 2020.  I forgot to take care of this week.

My go-to response is to beat up on myself for being so forgetful and disorganized.  So I naturally headed down that path.  Later, clean me was sitting in my recliner reading a chapter in Henri Nouwen's Spiritual Direction.  It was the chapter on God's love for each of us.  I had already read Life of the Beloved several years ago, but I need frequent reminders.  Nouwen, in many of his writings, finds a way to emphasize the point that we are each God's very special beloved - even when we forget to take care of the altar flowers.  

Can I come to feel, deep in my being, that I am loved no matter what?  That is a quest at the core of my spiritual journey.  The people who raised me were good people doing their best.  But I'm a baby boomer.  I grew up at a time, in a place, in a family where my treatment depended on my behavior.  I was rewarded or punished for doing, not being.  When I lost my dad at age 8, I lost the person who simply delighted in my company.  I've spent most of my life consciously or unconsciously trying to please and earn favor.  I'm retirement age, and am finally expressing some facets of my personality that I've either been unaware of or kept under wraps for many years.  I wish you could see my Bonnie Raitt hair color!  My husband is liking the experimental me.  He's another blessing in my life who encourages me to be my true self. 

Is there a way you can put some of your corona virus boredom to good use exploring your innate belovedness?  What do you embrace about who you are today?  Is there anything you might delete or add during this major opportunity to reset?  May you be wrapped in God's abiding love while you ponder these eternal questions.

Ordinary Time

Hello friends,

I'm over my rant. Back to thinking about a spiritual path through these unusual days.  Yesterday was the first Sunday after Pentecost, the beginning of our longest liturgical season.  We will have green hangings on the altar until the first Sunday of Advent, sometime next November.  The season of Pentecost is called 'Ordinary Time' in our tradition.  The scripture readings for this season focus on the life and the words of Jesus, so we get an extended opportunity to sit with the lessons and parables he gave us to teach us the ways of God's kingdom.

I can't remember a time when the days have been so ordinary.  We are retired, so are not struggling with the competing demands of children, jobs, household tasks, and summer entertainment.  We are as content as a couple can be to honor our ages and stay at home most of the time.  We spend our days reading, playing games, working crossword puzzles, eating well, working in the yard, and, of course, walking the dog. I've enjoyed some horse time when it isn't too hot.   I am also making my way through a pile of household projects that I've started and not finished, 😜, an unfortunate habit of mine.  I hope to come out of isolation with things in better order around here. Our lives are unexciting and slow now, each day melting into the next.

As a sort of undisciplined spirit in most ways, I always have several books going at once.  Sometimes they converge on a theme to the point where I detect a message from my buddy, the HS.  Three books on my side table right now are: The Quotidian Mysteries by Kathleen Norris, Spiritual Direction by Henri Nouwen, and The Mystic in You by Bruce Epperly.  Norris's book is about how the everyday tasks of keeping house can become holy time if done with intention.  This particular Nouwen book is about how to engage in deliberate spiritual direction, as an individual or in a group.  The Epperly book, which I just started, describes the life and theology of twelve mystics from a variety of faith traditions, along with suggestions for connecting with their spiritual practices.   The common theme that opens each of these rich books is that we have to be still and make room in our minds and hearts if we want a closer relationship with God.  This fits well with our summer of home time.

While I'm intrigued by making expansive room in my life for all things holy, my dearest hope is that I will be permanently altered by this unprecedented time of quarantine. I can already feel the ground shifting in my purchasing habits.  I have long 'wanted' to stop participating in the consumerism so central to our culture. Fear of the corona virus has kept me out of stores, and cleaning our closets and drawers has reminded me how we truly have a great plenty.  It takes time to break or form a habit, and I plan to keep the habit of simply buying what we need when we need it.  Bye, bye marketing schemes.

My three authors also include plenty of reminders to live in gratitude.  I live an enviable life.  At the moment, our health is good.  We have access to healthy habits and medical care.  We have enough income that we can live simply without worry.  I have a lovely family; we care deeply for each other.  I have plenty of the world's goods, an abundance actually.  So this is my 'ordinary'.

What is 'ordinary' life for those who are underprivileged?  For people who are unemployed. For those who go without, especially children who go to bed hungry.  For all who lack access to housing, medical care, good education.  For the addicted.  For the sick.  For those whose lives occur in the path of violence.  For those whose 'ordinary' is dirty, abusive, traumatic, destitute.  

How can life in our country be improved to the point that everyone has a respectable 'ordinary'?  The questions that need to be asked and addressed are complex.  There will be disagreement about solutions. The privileged, including me, will have to buy in to any substantial change in our economic structure. Age old biases and discrimination must be unraveled. We must learn to see the 'other' as a beloved child of God in order to even have the conversations.  The path forward is not easy or comfortable, but it is at the heart of our baptismal covenant.  It seems like the height of hypocrisy to ask that my heart be opened to God without asking for the wisdom and courage to act on what I may learn.  Open my eyes and ears, Lord, and make use of my hands and feet in humble service that "thy will" may be done "on earth as in heaven".

I Can't Breathe

It has taken me awhile to formulate a response to George Floyd's tragic and senseless murder in Minneapolis.  The country has erupted in protests, some of them violent.  My internet news sources have posted interviews, editorials, and photos of the incident and the subsequent world-wide response.  I am riveted by a particular photo.  It is of the President of the US, Donald Trump, holding up a Bible in front of St. John's Episcopal Church in the nation's capital.  Rubber bullets were used on protesters to clear his way to this staged photo op.  This image enrages me to the point of nausea.  My hands are shaking so hard I can hardly type.  Everything this man is, does, and says flies in the face of Episcopal theology, and I hope the push back from the church and the public causes him to hesitate to use our resources for his hate-filled agenda in the future.  He and his administration spew racism, division, and threats of violence in every news cycle to stir up their cowardly, paranoid base that is desperate to find a scapegoat for their misery. 

Let me explain.  As I have pointed out, we are a liturgical church, with Holy Baptism and Holy Eucharist being the most central rites of our common life.  In normal times, we celebrate the Eucharist (Holy Communion) every week, as contrasted with the occasional use of Communion in many denominations.  We do this primarily to make the trip to the altar a regular event of the week.  We engage there in the most holy exchange available: we take in the mystical body and blood of the Savior to be transformed and strengthened for the work we are called to do in a broken and suffering world.  At the same time, we offer to serve as God's hands and hearts in the coming week.  One could not possibly live in this manner in good faith and be filled to overflowing with selfishness, vindictiveness, small-mindedness and all-consuming narcissism.

Even more to the point is the rite of Baptism.  We celebrate Holy Baptism on feast days, such as the Easter Vigil and Pentecost, the bestowing of the Holy Spirit, which fell on this past Sunday.  It is a joyous day when we have someone wanting Baptism for themselves or a child.  When there are no candidates, we repeat the Baptismal covenant anyway.  The questions asked form the core of our theology. Here are a few that are burning in my heart this week:  Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God? Do you reaffirm your renunciation of evil? Do you renew your commitment to Jesus Christ? Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?  Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? (Book of Common Prayer, pp. 302-305)

Another image was provided by my priest.  We noticed in our recorded service for Pentecost Sunday that her voice cracked as she ended her sermon.  In a conversation yesterday, she said, "I couldn't stop seeing that officer's knee on the neck of Jesus."  That's how you respect the dignity of every human being - search for the face of Jesus.

So, Mr. President, kindly do not use my beloved church as a backdrop for your photo ops.  We pray for you regularly, but have yet to see the kind of transformation we hope for all of God's children.  When you attended the memorial service for a true American hero, Sen. John McCain, whom you continue to drag up as a focus of your ire, it appeared that you do not even know the words to The Lord's Prayer. Take your campaign to places where your way of thinking and speaking are considered acceptable.