They gathered in the parking lot thirty minutes ahead of time
a little tired from day of sightseeing the Port of Houston
and the San Jacinto Monument and battleground.
It was nearly two weeks into their stay in Houston as tourists.
These college students had come to experience Texas for the holidays.
It's a wonderful program.
They live with a family and tour the city at no cost to them
other than finding a way to get here.
Last night they came to my church for dinner and a program.
They were polite and fairly quiet.
They loved dinner!
Skinny little Marina from China ate four plates full of food.
After dinner I spoke of the word peace and how it means different things to different people.
I thought it might be nice
on the edge of this new year
to think about peace,
what it means to us,
and to share our insights.
I directed them to a table laden with supplies for collage -
magazines, glue sticks, scissors, and pie shaped wedges of paper two feet long.
Find a picture of yourself I told them - a person, bird, animal, whatever.
That's going to be the centerpiece of your picture.
Then look through the magazine and grab what grabs you when you think of the word peace.
They set to work in earnest, happily ripping out pages,
trimming the edges,
then gluing them down on their brown paper wedge.
An hour later they were mostly finished,
and so we began the sharing,
assembling eight wedges together to make a big four foot wheel.
Each one talked of his or her wedges - the young college students most of whom were from Asia
and two Anglican priests from Tanzania.
Nearly everyone pasted down clear, blue skies,
happy children,
lots of food.
There were symbols for music,
money
different cultures smiling together, sometimes arm in arm
lots of loving community.
As we gathered around tables together and each one explained his or her very own picture,
we began to form a loving community ourselves,
laughing easily with Joshua at his own self portrait "half dumb-half stupid"
"Oops! I meant half dumb-half smart."
and affirming the work that each one had done.
We were, in that fellowship hall of a little Presbyterian church,
a microcosm of peace and goodwill.
The walls that divided us when we began were down by the end of the evening.
there was laughter, joy and tenderness and hugs when it was all over.
They didn't want to leave,
and lingered for a while, savoring the moment
of the night we all experienced world peace for ourselves.
O God, may it be so!
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Sugars and Flours
It happens every time.
I'm rushed - have things to do
and no money in my purse.
Someone puts out a tray of sandwiches
and it's just so easy to pick up a couple and be done with lunch.
I think I'm a big girl now,
over my refined carbohydrate addiction
and able to handle such things.
After all, aren't we supposed to enjoy life?
Everyone else is doing it.
It's easy.
It's free.
There's an ambience to the experience -
I get to eat with people and be social
instead of going by myself to a restaurant
and carefully ordering the few things I can eat.
An hour later I start to feel bloated.
A little brain fog sets in.
Then the mucus starts flowing.
I feel lethargic.
I'm tired, exhausted tired and try to sleep.
It happens quickly
but then around 3 AM
I'm awake
for good.
still exhausted
still producing a ton of mucus
still bloated
and wondering how long it will be
before I finally learn the lesson.
Sugars and flours make me sick.
It doesn't do any good to beat myself up about it.
I know.
I've done that.
repeatedly.
Best to forgive myself and move on
and wait four days for the junk to exit my body.
O God,
I need you today
for all kinds of reasons.
I really cannot save myself.
I need some help.
Get me through this day.
I'm rushed - have things to do
and no money in my purse.
Someone puts out a tray of sandwiches
and it's just so easy to pick up a couple and be done with lunch.
I think I'm a big girl now,
over my refined carbohydrate addiction
and able to handle such things.
After all, aren't we supposed to enjoy life?
Everyone else is doing it.
It's easy.
It's free.
There's an ambience to the experience -
I get to eat with people and be social
instead of going by myself to a restaurant
and carefully ordering the few things I can eat.
An hour later I start to feel bloated.
A little brain fog sets in.
Then the mucus starts flowing.
I feel lethargic.
I'm tired, exhausted tired and try to sleep.
It happens quickly
but then around 3 AM
I'm awake
for good.
still exhausted
still producing a ton of mucus
still bloated
and wondering how long it will be
before I finally learn the lesson.
Sugars and flours make me sick.
It doesn't do any good to beat myself up about it.
I know.
I've done that.
repeatedly.
Best to forgive myself and move on
and wait four days for the junk to exit my body.
O God,
I need you today
for all kinds of reasons.
I really cannot save myself.
I need some help.
Get me through this day.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Sermons
I've been constipated a time or two in my life.
Not a fun experience.
You strain and strain to no avail
and the discomfort lingers for ages
until the log is finally birthed.
That's what it's like for me to write sermons every week.
Every blank week!
thirteen years plus funerals and memorial services
I've been at this.
I've preached hundreds of sermons now.
The pressure is relentless.
It never leaves me.
As soon as one is birthed,
the next one gets in line waiting for its turn.
The inner critic has a field day with me -
Not good enough!
Trite!
You'll put everyone to sleep with that!
You're not smart enough to do this
Quit.
You're killing your church!
Every blank week we battle.
It reaches a climax on Saturday when we duke it out.
Sometimes the battle continues through the night
and the next morning
until the thing is finally birthed.
O what a relief it is!
But then Sunday morning comes
and I awaken with anticipation
and stand to offer my tiny gift to the love of God
and sometimes I sense God smiling
and loving me all the way through it
and I feel blessed
to have had such a privilege.
It is a strange call to be a preacher,
a terrifying call in so many ways.
There are so many voices telling me how to do it
and my style doesn't always fit the mold.
I do it for the love of God
because I heard him call me to it.
I want so much to please Him
and to sense His love and power among us.
but I cannot control the outcome.
Only God can.
I do the best I can with the gifts I have
and wait
and hope
and pray
that Christ will stand among us once more
and feed His people with the bread of life.
Not a fun experience.
You strain and strain to no avail
and the discomfort lingers for ages
until the log is finally birthed.
That's what it's like for me to write sermons every week.
Every blank week!
thirteen years plus funerals and memorial services
I've been at this.
I've preached hundreds of sermons now.
The pressure is relentless.
It never leaves me.
As soon as one is birthed,
the next one gets in line waiting for its turn.
The inner critic has a field day with me -
Not good enough!
Trite!
You'll put everyone to sleep with that!
You're not smart enough to do this
Quit.
You're killing your church!
Every blank week we battle.
It reaches a climax on Saturday when we duke it out.
Sometimes the battle continues through the night
and the next morning
until the thing is finally birthed.
O what a relief it is!
But then Sunday morning comes
and I awaken with anticipation
and stand to offer my tiny gift to the love of God
and sometimes I sense God smiling
and loving me all the way through it
and I feel blessed
to have had such a privilege.
It is a strange call to be a preacher,
a terrifying call in so many ways.
There are so many voices telling me how to do it
and my style doesn't always fit the mold.
I do it for the love of God
because I heard him call me to it.
I want so much to please Him
and to sense His love and power among us.
but I cannot control the outcome.
Only God can.
I do the best I can with the gifts I have
and wait
and hope
and pray
that Christ will stand among us once more
and feed His people with the bread of life.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Advent Memories
Yesterday Emi and I shopped at Laurel Ridge in Gonzales
our tradition on the Friday after Thankisgiving.
They sell elegant, beautiful things there
especially at Christmas time.
On a table by itself without any fanfare or glitz
sat a small ornanment, shiny and golden.
It was a lion with a lamb beside it
and that triggered memories in me
of the year before last when Ron and I had been there together,
he in his wheelchair in the driveway
me inside and outside
and store clerks hovering around and bringing him selections
that would fit a small tree in his room.
He wanted a lion and a lamb ornament for Ginny.
She collects them
and he wanted to give her one.
He made his selection there in the driveway.
The clerks went inside and he burst into tears.
"What is it?" I asked him.
"I'm so alone," he said. "I have no family. They're all gone."
"You have me," I told him. "I'm not leaving."
"I couldn't bear it if something happened to you.
You're all I have."
"Don't worry," I said, "I won't leave you."
It is difficult to live without roots.
When your family is dead and you alone survive them
there is a gaping wound
like a large tree that has been uprooted
and exists forever with the shock of it
until it finally caves in and dies.
I suppose some trees go on to thrive
and others just live with the shock.
On some primal level
it was that enormous shock that welded Ron and me together.
It surfaced every year at Christmas time,
our longing for people long gone
our sadness over being left behind
and the weight of living this life.
We coped the best we could, he with alcohol and cigarettes
me with food and religion
to numb the silent suffering that never left our hearts
and bound us together,
and never more than Advent when the longings broke through the veil.
our tradition on the Friday after Thankisgiving.
They sell elegant, beautiful things there
especially at Christmas time.
On a table by itself without any fanfare or glitz
sat a small ornanment, shiny and golden.
It was a lion with a lamb beside it
and that triggered memories in me
of the year before last when Ron and I had been there together,
he in his wheelchair in the driveway
me inside and outside
and store clerks hovering around and bringing him selections
that would fit a small tree in his room.
He wanted a lion and a lamb ornament for Ginny.
She collects them
and he wanted to give her one.
He made his selection there in the driveway.
The clerks went inside and he burst into tears.
"What is it?" I asked him.
"I'm so alone," he said. "I have no family. They're all gone."
"You have me," I told him. "I'm not leaving."
"I couldn't bear it if something happened to you.
You're all I have."
"Don't worry," I said, "I won't leave you."
It is difficult to live without roots.
When your family is dead and you alone survive them
there is a gaping wound
like a large tree that has been uprooted
and exists forever with the shock of it
until it finally caves in and dies.
I suppose some trees go on to thrive
and others just live with the shock.
On some primal level
it was that enormous shock that welded Ron and me together.
It surfaced every year at Christmas time,
our longing for people long gone
our sadness over being left behind
and the weight of living this life.
We coped the best we could, he with alcohol and cigarettes
me with food and religion
to numb the silent suffering that never left our hearts
and bound us together,
and never more than Advent when the longings broke through the veil.
Advent
Advent dawned early this morning.
I was ready for it, welcomed it into my life
this birth of hope
that comes every year right after Thanksgiving.
There wasn't much fanfare in the pre-dawn hours -
just a re-checking of my meditation
where spell check found some glaring errors.
There was a sense of genuine anticipation in church.
People came with their poinsettas
and ornaments for the tree.
All the decorative elements were carefully laid out on the front pews
where no one ever sits.
Presbyterians tend to prefer the back seats.
It's easier to keep God at a distance there.
The pulpit hangings and the communion cloth were green.
There were flowers in fall colors on the plant stand.
From a distance we heard the gentle sounds of
O Come, O Come Emanuel
and so it began.
During the first hymn all the paraments changed from green to purple.
I went down the aisle and Carol Yeary helped me
change my green robe to a purple one.
(She had bought it for me as a gift
with some of her tax refund.)
We lit the Advent candle and prayed.
The poinsettas showed up during the children's sermon
when the children collected them and brought them forward
to decorate the chancel.
When it was time for the prayers of the people,
the ushers guided people by rows to the back of the church
where they hung their ornament on the tree
and prayed for whatever God prompted.
When the service was over the sanctuary was all decorated
dripping with the ancient symbolism
that reminds us of the light of Christ coming into our world.
I felt hope today, genuine hope,
that Christ dwells among us
and really will see us through.
I was ready for it, welcomed it into my life
this birth of hope
that comes every year right after Thanksgiving.
There wasn't much fanfare in the pre-dawn hours -
just a re-checking of my meditation
where spell check found some glaring errors.
There was a sense of genuine anticipation in church.
People came with their poinsettas
and ornaments for the tree.
All the decorative elements were carefully laid out on the front pews
where no one ever sits.
Presbyterians tend to prefer the back seats.
It's easier to keep God at a distance there.
The pulpit hangings and the communion cloth were green.
There were flowers in fall colors on the plant stand.
From a distance we heard the gentle sounds of
O Come, O Come Emanuel
and so it began.
During the first hymn all the paraments changed from green to purple.
I went down the aisle and Carol Yeary helped me
change my green robe to a purple one.
(She had bought it for me as a gift
with some of her tax refund.)
We lit the Advent candle and prayed.
The poinsettas showed up during the children's sermon
when the children collected them and brought them forward
to decorate the chancel.
When it was time for the prayers of the people,
the ushers guided people by rows to the back of the church
where they hung their ornament on the tree
and prayed for whatever God prompted.
When the service was over the sanctuary was all decorated
dripping with the ancient symbolism
that reminds us of the light of Christ coming into our world.
I felt hope today, genuine hope,
that Christ dwells among us
and really will see us through.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Unwanted Stone
My Forrest is laid up today
down at Methodist Hospital
full of pain medication
drinking lots of fluids
and trying to dislodge a 6 mm. kidney stone.
A hard place formed within him
and surfaced at eleven o'clock night before last.
He writhed in pain
all night long
and for most of the next day.
When he finally saw the doctor
there was only one thing to do -
head for the hospital
which he did.
I took him.
We waited patiently,
he in terrible pain,
me powerless to help much
except to get things rolling on getting him a room
and some medicine.
They put a "hat" in his toilet
designed to catch pieces of the stone
if it exited his body.
It has not.
So he'll come home now armed with meds
and wait.
and if the pain becomes uncontrollable
he'll go back in again.
I'm trying to write a sermon as I wait for his call
but it not easily birthed today.
It's on gratitude -
probably would be easier to write if it were about
my surly attitude.
Colds make me weary
and things going wrong with Forrest
make me anxious.
Every Saturday I don my Jonah suit
and want to run away from this.
It's too hard!
I'm not smart enough!
Please help!
No pearls of wisdom emerging today.
I can't think straight.
I guess I'll head for the hospital
and stew around there
until the muse decides to pay me a visit.
down at Methodist Hospital
full of pain medication
drinking lots of fluids
and trying to dislodge a 6 mm. kidney stone.
A hard place formed within him
and surfaced at eleven o'clock night before last.
He writhed in pain
all night long
and for most of the next day.
When he finally saw the doctor
there was only one thing to do -
head for the hospital
which he did.
I took him.
We waited patiently,
he in terrible pain,
me powerless to help much
except to get things rolling on getting him a room
and some medicine.
They put a "hat" in his toilet
designed to catch pieces of the stone
if it exited his body.
It has not.
So he'll come home now armed with meds
and wait.
and if the pain becomes uncontrollable
he'll go back in again.
I'm trying to write a sermon as I wait for his call
but it not easily birthed today.
It's on gratitude -
probably would be easier to write if it were about
my surly attitude.
Colds make me weary
and things going wrong with Forrest
make me anxious.
Every Saturday I don my Jonah suit
and want to run away from this.
It's too hard!
I'm not smart enough!
Please help!
No pearls of wisdom emerging today.
I can't think straight.
I guess I'll head for the hospital
and stew around there
until the muse decides to pay me a visit.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Illness
It came upon me gradually
a little scratch in the throat
some sneezing
lethargy.
I fought it,
refused to allow it to have its way with me.
Perhaps I should have given in
and gone to bed on time
instead of staying up late every night
and getting chilled
because the weather changed.
I didn't do that.
Now I have a full blown cold.
Not debilitating
I can walk around
The fever is low grade.
The starch is all gone however.
Now comes the dilemma.
With things piling up around me
and places that I need to be,
can I allow myself the luxury of rest?
I had a day off yesterday
but it was busy, very busy,
and I was so tired.
I have even less energy today.
What does it mean to care for oneself
when the world clamors at your door?
The to do list is endless.
The house is in squalor.
Only I can make that call.
The temptation is always great
to be super woman
taking charge
caring for the world
doing it all
meeting everyone's expectations
with a smile.
But I am tired, really tired.
It's too hard to be on the treadmill today.
Today will be a day of Sabbath rest
as I reflect on the meaning of Thanksgiving
and what I will share with my people
on Sunday.
I am grateful for the pause.
O God, come to me.
Pour your healing presence
into my parched soul
that I might become a vessel
that will glorify you.
a little scratch in the throat
some sneezing
lethargy.
I fought it,
refused to allow it to have its way with me.
Perhaps I should have given in
and gone to bed on time
instead of staying up late every night
and getting chilled
because the weather changed.
I didn't do that.
Now I have a full blown cold.
Not debilitating
I can walk around
The fever is low grade.
The starch is all gone however.
Now comes the dilemma.
With things piling up around me
and places that I need to be,
can I allow myself the luxury of rest?
I had a day off yesterday
but it was busy, very busy,
and I was so tired.
I have even less energy today.
What does it mean to care for oneself
when the world clamors at your door?
The to do list is endless.
The house is in squalor.
Only I can make that call.
The temptation is always great
to be super woman
taking charge
caring for the world
doing it all
meeting everyone's expectations
with a smile.
But I am tired, really tired.
It's too hard to be on the treadmill today.
Today will be a day of Sabbath rest
as I reflect on the meaning of Thanksgiving
and what I will share with my people
on Sunday.
I am grateful for the pause.
O God, come to me.
Pour your healing presence
into my parched soul
that I might become a vessel
that will glorify you.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Slacker
I'm beating myself up today big time.
The inner critic is having a field day with me.
Too fat
Too lazy
Too undisciplined
Too uninspired
Too nonspiritual
Shirking my responsibilities big time
when it comes to Presbytery.
Slacker!
Sigh.
I wonder sometimes if God doesn't sigh too.
How much non-function can I get by with
before God says enough is enough -
and deals with me
like the ancient Israelites who got hauled off to Babylon.
I don't know that God punishes us, really.
I think we punish ourselves.
We make our own bed.
I would like to lie down (or is it lay) in mine this morning,
but General Council looms on the horizon.
The problem so often in church work
especially Presbytery meetings
is that it has so little to do with anything of the soul.
I wometimes come away from meetings with my spirit parched.
The devotional is perfunctory
so that we can get on with what is really important.
The best that I can offer is that I show up.
I vote when it's called for
and ask questions on occasion.
I could speak up.
I could say I'm drowning
but I sit in silence.
What's that about?
There are some good things about being on General Council.
I marvel at others making sense
of complicated legal and financial matters.
I genuinely like the people.
I like to know what's going on.
I'm grateful for the work that's been accomplished
by others who are not put off by the head stuff.
I pray for this meeting
for all those who are dealing with these numbers
for those who are so willing to serve
and those who really aren't
but who show up because they are faithful.
Perhaps we are a glimmer of our faithful God
who shows up
and loves us
and beckons us on again
even when we are slacking.
The inner critic is having a field day with me.
Too fat
Too lazy
Too undisciplined
Too uninspired
Too nonspiritual
Shirking my responsibilities big time
when it comes to Presbytery.
Slacker!
Sigh.
I wonder sometimes if God doesn't sigh too.
How much non-function can I get by with
before God says enough is enough -
and deals with me
like the ancient Israelites who got hauled off to Babylon.
I don't know that God punishes us, really.
I think we punish ourselves.
We make our own bed.
I would like to lie down (or is it lay) in mine this morning,
but General Council looms on the horizon.
The problem so often in church work
especially Presbytery meetings
is that it has so little to do with anything of the soul.
I wometimes come away from meetings with my spirit parched.
The devotional is perfunctory
so that we can get on with what is really important.
The best that I can offer is that I show up.
I vote when it's called for
and ask questions on occasion.
I could speak up.
I could say I'm drowning
but I sit in silence.
What's that about?
There are some good things about being on General Council.
I marvel at others making sense
of complicated legal and financial matters.
I genuinely like the people.
I like to know what's going on.
I'm grateful for the work that's been accomplished
by others who are not put off by the head stuff.
I pray for this meeting
for all those who are dealing with these numbers
for those who are so willing to serve
and those who really aren't
but who show up because they are faithful.
Perhaps we are a glimmer of our faithful God
who shows up
and loves us
and beckons us on again
even when we are slacking.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
The Amazing Faiths Dialogue
The other night I went out to dinner with Forrest,
an amazing dinner party if I call it what it was billed.
Ten of us plus a moderator
sat in a living room,
then dined together
and spoke of our faith.
There was a woman from the Holy Land
who had grown up Muslim
but has now added some other things,
a woman who grew up Jewish
but has found peace in Yoga
and certain Buddhist teachings,
a Roman Catholic couple
who do not believe in an interventionist God;
a younger (or younger than me) Episcopalian woman
fresh from a silent retreat at the Villa d'Matel;
another woman whose faith is in every tradition
(I think)
The Episcopalians who hosted us
(liturgically Episcopalian but Unitarian in thought)
and Forrest and me.
Whew!
Around servings of "poor man's stew"
and Greek salad
we drew cards,
then responded to the questions on the cards.
Mine was on forgiveness.
I spoke of forgiving my stepfather
at an herb restaurant in Cleveland, Texas
and how I often ask my board of elders to forgive me
and I them.
Forrest spoke of how he had been led by God
all of his life.
When probed,
he talked about his entrance to law school.
We meandered around a while
then had "free discussion" in the living room
which seemed the most relaxed of all.
What I took away from the evening,
besides the recipe for poor man's stew,
was an image given to me by the Jewish woman.
She said it is like a boat in the water.
We are the boat.
We are not of the water but in the water.
We don't want to fill the boat with water
or we will go under.
Our task is to remain the boat
in whatever body of water we find ourselves.
I like that.
That nugget and the recipe made the evening worthwhile.
Help me, O God, to stay afloat,
in this, the dawning of the busiest season of the year.
an amazing dinner party if I call it what it was billed.
Ten of us plus a moderator
sat in a living room,
then dined together
and spoke of our faith.
There was a woman from the Holy Land
who had grown up Muslim
but has now added some other things,
a woman who grew up Jewish
but has found peace in Yoga
and certain Buddhist teachings,
a Roman Catholic couple
who do not believe in an interventionist God;
a younger (or younger than me) Episcopalian woman
fresh from a silent retreat at the Villa d'Matel;
another woman whose faith is in every tradition
(I think)
The Episcopalians who hosted us
(liturgically Episcopalian but Unitarian in thought)
and Forrest and me.
Whew!
Around servings of "poor man's stew"
and Greek salad
we drew cards,
then responded to the questions on the cards.
Mine was on forgiveness.
I spoke of forgiving my stepfather
at an herb restaurant in Cleveland, Texas
and how I often ask my board of elders to forgive me
and I them.
Forrest spoke of how he had been led by God
all of his life.
When probed,
he talked about his entrance to law school.
We meandered around a while
then had "free discussion" in the living room
which seemed the most relaxed of all.
What I took away from the evening,
besides the recipe for poor man's stew,
was an image given to me by the Jewish woman.
She said it is like a boat in the water.
We are the boat.
We are not of the water but in the water.
We don't want to fill the boat with water
or we will go under.
Our task is to remain the boat
in whatever body of water we find ourselves.
I like that.
That nugget and the recipe made the evening worthwhile.
Help me, O God, to stay afloat,
in this, the dawning of the busiest season of the year.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Welcome to America
I've been escorting Ugandans this week,
Hope and Julius,
their last names escape me.
I discovered they were home alone
after traveling long miles to get here
for Julius to speak at a conference
that turned out to be poorly attended.
Tuesday they spent the day with me,
and I saw America through their eyes.
I was proud of my country that day.
I took them with me to vote
and they were allowed into the room
and given a seat.
They waited patiently while I twisted and turned the rotary dial
to make my selections.
"We've been praying and fasting for this election for months,"
they told me.
"It is on the front page every day in Uganda."
"How many days before we know the winner?"
"We will know tonight," I told them.
"You will know before you go to sleep
and you will listen to two speeches - one from McCain
and one from Obama."
"Ohhhhh!!!" they said excitedly.
We headed for MD Anderson hospital and entered the parking garage.
"Oh!!" they exclaimed like children.
"We have never seen such a thing."
and when I parked on the roof they burst into laughter.
"Parking on a roof!!"
"I never heard of such a thing!!"
We visited Marcia Winkler Snyder
who was hospitalized for an infection
and getting the drugs via an IV.
She had a private room.
Again they were amazed:
"Twenty people would be in this room in Uganda!!
three children to a bed!!"
they prayed fervently for her
to the King of kings.
It was pure African, pure Pentecostal
Unusual for us Presbyterians,
but then they are not Presbyterian.
The cafeteria seemed overwhelming to them at lunchtime
so I took them to a Burger King
"American fast food" I told them
"very important for you to experience in America."
I ordered them a mustard whopper, fries and a drink.
They loved it.
then it was on to the Johnson Space Center.
"This is historical!! This is historical!!
Most people never come here!!"
Julius especially was wide eyed and childlike,
grinning from ear to ear and almost jumping with joy
when he saw the mock up moon rover,
the simulated stars in the sky,
the moon rocks,
the huge rockets.
He was impressed with the teamwork that it took
to put a man on the moon.
He loved the quotation from the plaque that the astronauts placed on the moon:
"We came in peace for all mankind."
Afterward I took them to Starbucks for lattes,
then home - a long trip because of the traffic.
Again, they laughed out loud when they experienced my GPS,
It was a great day.
So often we take things for granted in this country
"how disciplined we are" in Julius' words
"how orderly, kind and respectful."
"I have learned many things today to take home with me."
Every now and again
we make a difference in someone's life.
Tuesday was one of those days.
And it happened on another historic day,
the day we elected Barack Obama
the President of the United States.
I smiled when I went to sleep that night,
so very proud to be an American.
Hope and Julius,
their last names escape me.
I discovered they were home alone
after traveling long miles to get here
for Julius to speak at a conference
that turned out to be poorly attended.
Tuesday they spent the day with me,
and I saw America through their eyes.
I was proud of my country that day.
I took them with me to vote
and they were allowed into the room
and given a seat.
They waited patiently while I twisted and turned the rotary dial
to make my selections.
"We've been praying and fasting for this election for months,"
they told me.
"It is on the front page every day in Uganda."
"How many days before we know the winner?"
"We will know tonight," I told them.
"You will know before you go to sleep
and you will listen to two speeches - one from McCain
and one from Obama."
"Ohhhhh!!!" they said excitedly.
We headed for MD Anderson hospital and entered the parking garage.
"Oh!!" they exclaimed like children.
"We have never seen such a thing."
and when I parked on the roof they burst into laughter.
"Parking on a roof!!"
"I never heard of such a thing!!"
We visited Marcia Winkler Snyder
who was hospitalized for an infection
and getting the drugs via an IV.
She had a private room.
Again they were amazed:
"Twenty people would be in this room in Uganda!!
three children to a bed!!"
they prayed fervently for her
to the King of kings.
It was pure African, pure Pentecostal
Unusual for us Presbyterians,
but then they are not Presbyterian.
The cafeteria seemed overwhelming to them at lunchtime
so I took them to a Burger King
"American fast food" I told them
"very important for you to experience in America."
I ordered them a mustard whopper, fries and a drink.
They loved it.
then it was on to the Johnson Space Center.
"This is historical!! This is historical!!
Most people never come here!!"
Julius especially was wide eyed and childlike,
grinning from ear to ear and almost jumping with joy
when he saw the mock up moon rover,
the simulated stars in the sky,
the moon rocks,
the huge rockets.
He was impressed with the teamwork that it took
to put a man on the moon.
He loved the quotation from the plaque that the astronauts placed on the moon:
"We came in peace for all mankind."
Afterward I took them to Starbucks for lattes,
then home - a long trip because of the traffic.
Again, they laughed out loud when they experienced my GPS,
It was a great day.
So often we take things for granted in this country
"how disciplined we are" in Julius' words
"how orderly, kind and respectful."
"I have learned many things today to take home with me."
Every now and again
we make a difference in someone's life.
Tuesday was one of those days.
And it happened on another historic day,
the day we elected Barack Obama
the President of the United States.
I smiled when I went to sleep that night,
so very proud to be an American.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Home Safe
A 10 day stay is a long time
especially when one doesn't sleep at night.
I've felt like the walking dead for several days now
after tossing and turning
in my kingsized bed at the Hawthorne Suites
all night long,
then rising at five a.m.
Today my intensive ended
my fabulous intenseive with Lucia Capacchione
and I made the drive back home to Houston
from the Rio Grande Valley.
It took hours and hours and hours.
I stopped for diet coke
and again for cheetos,
then water,
then the police stopped me
for not having a front license plate.
I became sleepy
and veered to the other side of the highway.
A concerned truck driver awakened me
with a big blast of his horn.
Nothing kept me awake very long.
I finally stopped in Ganado
at a convenience store parking lot,
reclined my seat
and went to sleep briefly.
It was enough.
I coasted into town
around 8 PM.
especially when one doesn't sleep at night.
I've felt like the walking dead for several days now
after tossing and turning
in my kingsized bed at the Hawthorne Suites
all night long,
then rising at five a.m.
Today my intensive ended
my fabulous intenseive with Lucia Capacchione
and I made the drive back home to Houston
from the Rio Grande Valley.
It took hours and hours and hours.
I stopped for diet coke
and again for cheetos,
then water,
then the police stopped me
for not having a front license plate.
I became sleepy
and veered to the other side of the highway.
A concerned truck driver awakened me
with a big blast of his horn.
Nothing kept me awake very long.
I finally stopped in Ganado
at a convenience store parking lot,
reclined my seat
and went to sleep briefly.
It was enough.
I coasted into town
around 8 PM.
Monday, October 20, 2008
El Rocio
I'm at El Rocio this week
getting certifed in CJEA.
Whatever is that?
It's a method
originated by Lucia Capacchione
to bring healing to one's life
and th world.
It is learning to listen to th inner voice
and living and moving from that quiet, centered plac
in a busy and frantic world.
All manner of voices clamor for my attention.
CJEA helps me process them
and discern which one belongs to the Spirit of God.
The pace hre is relaxed
a little too relaxed to suit me.
It's hard gearing down to the gentle rhythm.
I keep thinking, "Pick up the pace!!"
Now!!
This is only the third day,
the third of ten.
May the Spirit help me turn loose and relax,
rest my weary body and soul
and listen for the voice of God.
getting certifed in CJEA.
Whatever is that?
It's a method
originated by Lucia Capacchione
to bring healing to one's life
and th world.
It is learning to listen to th inner voice
and living and moving from that quiet, centered plac
in a busy and frantic world.
All manner of voices clamor for my attention.
CJEA helps me process them
and discern which one belongs to the Spirit of God.
The pace hre is relaxed
a little too relaxed to suit me.
It's hard gearing down to the gentle rhythm.
I keep thinking, "Pick up the pace!!"
Now!!
This is only the third day,
the third of ten.
May the Spirit help me turn loose and relax,
rest my weary body and soul
and listen for the voice of God.
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Apostle's Creed - Max
Once upon a time...
Jesus died
and then he rose.
He ascended into heaven
and we will too.
That's what the Bible says.
But why do we say
the third day he rose again from the dead?
like he had been going up and down
any number of times.
Was he practicing?
Was it fun for him
and so he rose over and over?
Did he not get it right the first time?
Was heaven too full
or no one on duty to let him him?
Or maybe it was just fun to be part of the universe
like floating
up and float
then down again,
then up and float
and down
until the time had fully come.
One of my elders asked me once
why Jesus rose again from the dead.
How many times did he rise?
he said.
More than one
or it wouldn't say "again."
Was it forty?
and exactly what were the circumstances?
Who knows really?
We're Western - want to figure it all out like engineers
or people working a giant puzzle.
But most of faith is mystery
and the more we learn
the more we don't know.
Some questions have no answers
this side of the veil.
Jesus rising again may be one of them.
(Note: Forrest knew the answer - Jesus rose again is like saying Jesus was alive again - no difference. So that clears it all up. My fancy theological degrees didn't help one bit, but it was certainly fun to think about!)
Jesus died
and then he rose.
He ascended into heaven
and we will too.
That's what the Bible says.
But why do we say
the third day he rose again from the dead?
like he had been going up and down
any number of times.
Was he practicing?
Was it fun for him
and so he rose over and over?
Did he not get it right the first time?
Was heaven too full
or no one on duty to let him him?
Or maybe it was just fun to be part of the universe
like floating
up and float
then down again,
then up and float
and down
until the time had fully come.
One of my elders asked me once
why Jesus rose again from the dead.
How many times did he rise?
he said.
More than one
or it wouldn't say "again."
Was it forty?
and exactly what were the circumstances?
Who knows really?
We're Western - want to figure it all out like engineers
or people working a giant puzzle.
But most of faith is mystery
and the more we learn
the more we don't know.
Some questions have no answers
this side of the veil.
Jesus rising again may be one of them.
(Note: Forrest knew the answer - Jesus rose again is like saying Jesus was alive again - no difference. So that clears it all up. My fancy theological degrees didn't help one bit, but it was certainly fun to think about!)
Friday, October 10, 2008
Josephine
Aunt Josephine died last week.
They waited until today to have her memorial service.
She was one of the quiet people,
hidden
and invisible.
No one knew what to do with schizophrenia sixty years ago,
and so she stayed in her room
tended by her mother
until too many mini strokes did her in.
She had four children
and always wanted to be a good mother,
but it eluded her.
No one knows what happened to her three daughters.
They won't be here today.
In the end she was mostly forsaken
visited only by her nephew's wife Alba
who loved her
and talked to her
and fussed over her.
She lived in a nursing home
that smelled bad when you entered it.
It was full of other people like her,
too poor to go anywhere else
and crying out for someone to love them.
The great hunger in the world isn't for food,
said Mother Teresa.
It is for love,
for someone,
anyone to care whether we live or die.
Josephine, who never had a birthday cake
or a celebration in her honor
will have one today.
There will be music
and kindness
and food to eat.
Alba will speak of loving her
and I will give witness to Jesus
who loved Josephine her entire life
and loves her still.
May the angels rejoice in her homecoming
and may we all do a better job
of honoring
and loving
the invisible people who surround us.
They waited until today to have her memorial service.
She was one of the quiet people,
hidden
and invisible.
No one knew what to do with schizophrenia sixty years ago,
and so she stayed in her room
tended by her mother
until too many mini strokes did her in.
She had four children
and always wanted to be a good mother,
but it eluded her.
No one knows what happened to her three daughters.
They won't be here today.
In the end she was mostly forsaken
visited only by her nephew's wife Alba
who loved her
and talked to her
and fussed over her.
She lived in a nursing home
that smelled bad when you entered it.
It was full of other people like her,
too poor to go anywhere else
and crying out for someone to love them.
The great hunger in the world isn't for food,
said Mother Teresa.
It is for love,
for someone,
anyone to care whether we live or die.
Josephine, who never had a birthday cake
or a celebration in her honor
will have one today.
There will be music
and kindness
and food to eat.
Alba will speak of loving her
and I will give witness to Jesus
who loved Josephine her entire life
and loves her still.
May the angels rejoice in her homecoming
and may we all do a better job
of honoring
and loving
the invisible people who surround us.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Nights in Rodanthe
This is a spoiler, so don't read if you haven't seen the movie or want to.
Anyone who lives on the Gulf Coast
knows what a hurricane is like
and the kind of preparations we have to make.
They were clueless about all of that
in Nights in Rodanthe.
For one thing
you don't build your house in the water.
The storm surge will topple your home
in a New York minute
not to mention the winds!
Every business in Galveston over the water
crumpled like a recycled aluminum can during Hurricane Ike
except the Flagship Hotel.
I'm not sure what happened to it.
And the morning after
you don't get up and walk on a pristine beach.
There is debris
and clutter everywhere!
And it stinks.
In Galveston there were fish
stuck in the chain link fences.
Anyway, Nights in Rodanthe is
about two people going through personal storms.
They end up in a beach house bed and breakfast,
ride through the storm together,
and fall in love in the process.
He is a doctor who has become hardened and cold
and learns the power of confession and redemption.
She has lost herself in a troubled marriage
and finds it again because of his love and support.
The sub plot involves a simple woman
who held all the love and kindness in the world
within her heart.
We never meet her.
She died unexpectedly
during cosmetic surgery
performed by the doctor who is the star of the film.
I'm not sure that she's a Christ figure
because she died inadvertently,
not willingly.
Her sad death
and its profound impact on her family
remind us of Romans 8:28
"We know that all things work together for good
for those who love God,
who are called according to His purpose."
The doctor, his son and his artist lover
may never have found healing had she not died.
It's a little sappy,
but the movie ends with hope,
a reminder that we should look for
and expect wonderful surprises
from our loving and giving God.
Anyone who lives on the Gulf Coast
knows what a hurricane is like
and the kind of preparations we have to make.
They were clueless about all of that
in Nights in Rodanthe.
For one thing
you don't build your house in the water.
The storm surge will topple your home
in a New York minute
not to mention the winds!
Every business in Galveston over the water
crumpled like a recycled aluminum can during Hurricane Ike
except the Flagship Hotel.
I'm not sure what happened to it.
And the morning after
you don't get up and walk on a pristine beach.
There is debris
and clutter everywhere!
And it stinks.
In Galveston there were fish
stuck in the chain link fences.
Anyway, Nights in Rodanthe is
about two people going through personal storms.
They end up in a beach house bed and breakfast,
ride through the storm together,
and fall in love in the process.
He is a doctor who has become hardened and cold
and learns the power of confession and redemption.
She has lost herself in a troubled marriage
and finds it again because of his love and support.
The sub plot involves a simple woman
who held all the love and kindness in the world
within her heart.
We never meet her.
She died unexpectedly
during cosmetic surgery
performed by the doctor who is the star of the film.
I'm not sure that she's a Christ figure
because she died inadvertently,
not willingly.
Her sad death
and its profound impact on her family
remind us of Romans 8:28
"We know that all things work together for good
for those who love God,
who are called according to His purpose."
The doctor, his son and his artist lover
may never have found healing had she not died.
It's a little sappy,
but the movie ends with hope,
a reminder that we should look for
and expect wonderful surprises
from our loving and giving God.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Forgetfulness
Jenny's power went out in the hurricane.
No tv for her
or coffee in the afternoon.
She had a freezer full of food,
full and brimming over,
and she worried
alone in her hot house.
Someone loaned her a generator
or she bought it - I forget which.
She plugged it in
and the noisy thing
kept all her food cold
and frozen
safe for a later time.
For two weeks she lived in that hot house
sweating in the daytime,
leaving it at night for cooler quarters
and the loud machine
kept all her food cold.
One day out of the blue
electrical power came back on.
Just like that
in an instant
with no warning
all the machines
went humming in her house.
Joy to the world!
Happily she unplugged that squabbling generator
and went out and about on her merry way
sleeping at home again
watching all her favorite shows
sparkling and happy once more.
A few days later she noticed the smell.
All the food was bad.
The freezer was plugged into the surge protector
but the surge protector was not
plugged into an electrical outlet.
So she emptied her freezer of rotting food
and put it all in the trash.
It's the little things that trip you up in life
like forgetting to plug something in
or not remembering to turn the coffee pot on before bedtime
so the coffee will be waiting in the morning
or mailing the payment in the nick of time
without a stamp on the envelope.
Is it age that makes us forgetful
or are we inundated with too many things to remember?
Help us to be gentle with ourselves
as we struggle not to make stupid mistakes.
No tv for her
or coffee in the afternoon.
She had a freezer full of food,
full and brimming over,
and she worried
alone in her hot house.
Someone loaned her a generator
or she bought it - I forget which.
She plugged it in
and the noisy thing
kept all her food cold
and frozen
safe for a later time.
For two weeks she lived in that hot house
sweating in the daytime,
leaving it at night for cooler quarters
and the loud machine
kept all her food cold.
One day out of the blue
electrical power came back on.
Just like that
in an instant
with no warning
all the machines
went humming in her house.
Joy to the world!
Happily she unplugged that squabbling generator
and went out and about on her merry way
sleeping at home again
watching all her favorite shows
sparkling and happy once more.
A few days later she noticed the smell.
All the food was bad.
The freezer was plugged into the surge protector
but the surge protector was not
plugged into an electrical outlet.
So she emptied her freezer of rotting food
and put it all in the trash.
It's the little things that trip you up in life
like forgetting to plug something in
or not remembering to turn the coffee pot on before bedtime
so the coffee will be waiting in the morning
or mailing the payment in the nick of time
without a stamp on the envelope.
Is it age that makes us forgetful
or are we inundated with too many things to remember?
Help us to be gentle with ourselves
as we struggle not to make stupid mistakes.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Paul Newman
He had these fabulous, piercing blue eyes
and I swooned
again and again.
Although I never met him
I admired him
his faithfulness
his philanthropy
his ability to charm my heart with his acting
his oil and vinegar dressing which is the only commercial, mass produced salad dressing without sugar or all the "oses" -
dextrose, sucrose
etc.
I've always been grateful for that.
I'll miss him.
I never told him that he had touched my life
never sent him any cards.
I've never done that for a lot of people.
Maybe today,
remembering him,
I will make the effort
to let someone know I've been blessed
because of them.
and I swooned
again and again.
Although I never met him
I admired him
his faithfulness
his philanthropy
his ability to charm my heart with his acting
his oil and vinegar dressing which is the only commercial, mass produced salad dressing without sugar or all the "oses" -
dextrose, sucrose
etc.
I've always been grateful for that.
I'll miss him.
I never told him that he had touched my life
never sent him any cards.
I've never done that for a lot of people.
Maybe today,
remembering him,
I will make the effort
to let someone know I've been blessed
because of them.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Refused to Wear
I thought of her today,
a sunny afternoon much like this one.
I took her to the shoe store
to get a new pair
of doctor ordered shoes.
She dragged her foot a little
as we entered the shoe store.
She was quiet as the salesman fitted her foot
then brought her an assortment of lace up shoes
that would help her gait.
In all the years I had known her
she had NEVER worn lace up shoes.
She wore feminine shoes
spike heels in the early days
flats now that she was getting older.
she had small feet
graceful feet
and she liked shoes that reflected that
although we never talked about it.
I just noticed what she wore.
That afternoon she rejected most of the shoes quite easily,
then settled on a brown leather pair.
The man said they would install the brace
on the premises
and we could pick them up later.
She nodded and paid the bill,
something outrageous as I recall,
hundreds of dollars
a hefty sum fifteen years ago
for someone with meager resources.
She was silent on the way home.
She never did comment about the experience.
She never wore them.
She refused to.
Some things in life take away one's dignity
and are too painful to bear.
Those brown lace up shoes fall into that category.
They demeaned her
made her feel less than,
like an invalid,
defective
and so she hid them away in her closet
where they remained
until her belongings were discarded
in the weeks following her death.
Aging is not always a graceful process.
Care for those who are growing older isn't too great either.
There are losses that come with aging
too difficult to accept
and so we remain silent
but for the tears
that God stores in a bottle somewhere.
a sunny afternoon much like this one.
I took her to the shoe store
to get a new pair
of doctor ordered shoes.
She dragged her foot a little
as we entered the shoe store.
She was quiet as the salesman fitted her foot
then brought her an assortment of lace up shoes
that would help her gait.
In all the years I had known her
she had NEVER worn lace up shoes.
She wore feminine shoes
spike heels in the early days
flats now that she was getting older.
she had small feet
graceful feet
and she liked shoes that reflected that
although we never talked about it.
I just noticed what she wore.
That afternoon she rejected most of the shoes quite easily,
then settled on a brown leather pair.
The man said they would install the brace
on the premises
and we could pick them up later.
She nodded and paid the bill,
something outrageous as I recall,
hundreds of dollars
a hefty sum fifteen years ago
for someone with meager resources.
She was silent on the way home.
She never did comment about the experience.
She never wore them.
She refused to.
Some things in life take away one's dignity
and are too painful to bear.
Those brown lace up shoes fall into that category.
They demeaned her
made her feel less than,
like an invalid,
defective
and so she hid them away in her closet
where they remained
until her belongings were discarded
in the weeks following her death.
Aging is not always a graceful process.
Care for those who are growing older isn't too great either.
There are losses that come with aging
too difficult to accept
and so we remain silent
but for the tears
that God stores in a bottle somewhere.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Starry Night
I found it on an internet site
a velvet dark blue sky
exploding with twinkling stars.
They danced
and twirled
and all earth danced in response.
A tree burst into a living flame of praise to God!
It was the centerpiece of worship last night.
Have you ever seen a beautiful, starry night
I asked them.
Maybe in the mountains?
On the beach before it was ravaged and littered?
Or anywhere else in the world?
Did it lift you to praise?
Did you wonder if that's how it was
the night the angels sang?
Were you filled with awe and wonder and stillness
at the beauty of God dancing before you?
What if you could somehow capture that on canvas?
That's what Van Gogh did
and people have loved it
and related to it
for centuries now.
Van Gogh was in a dark place when he painted it,
held in the grip of a debilitating disease,
hopeless
in despair.
Mayube he looked out the window
and saw the sky
or he remembered when he had seen it before
and then he knew
that he was not alone in his suffering
that he was surrounded by God
who really is sovereign
and so much larger and bigger than he was
than we are.
The heavens are telling the glory of God
and all creation bows before God's presence.
Be still.
Turn loose.
Look up!
We are not alone
but invited to join
the dance of the swirling stars
in living praise
to the God who will carry us through.
Amen.
a velvet dark blue sky
exploding with twinkling stars.
They danced
and twirled
and all earth danced in response.
A tree burst into a living flame of praise to God!
It was the centerpiece of worship last night.
Have you ever seen a beautiful, starry night
I asked them.
Maybe in the mountains?
On the beach before it was ravaged and littered?
Or anywhere else in the world?
Did it lift you to praise?
Did you wonder if that's how it was
the night the angels sang?
Were you filled with awe and wonder and stillness
at the beauty of God dancing before you?
What if you could somehow capture that on canvas?
That's what Van Gogh did
and people have loved it
and related to it
for centuries now.
Van Gogh was in a dark place when he painted it,
held in the grip of a debilitating disease,
hopeless
in despair.
Mayube he looked out the window
and saw the sky
or he remembered when he had seen it before
and then he knew
that he was not alone in his suffering
that he was surrounded by God
who really is sovereign
and so much larger and bigger than he was
than we are.
The heavens are telling the glory of God
and all creation bows before God's presence.
Be still.
Turn loose.
Look up!
We are not alone
but invited to join
the dance of the swirling stars
in living praise
to the God who will carry us through.
Amen.
Too much
Numb today
flat
Laid out like a body in a coffin
Too much!
Too much sadness for people
who are suffering from Ike.
Pancho lost his home
and everything in it.
Where will he go?
What will he do?
Donnie and his wife lost their church.
The winds hoisted much of the roof
and sent it crashing all over Pasadena.
No more grand pipe organ
to call people to worship.
She cried
when she described the devastation.
And what about Galveston?
Little Emmanuel church?
five feet of water in their sanctuary
and few resources
to clean up the muck
or replace anything.
And Galveston First
the mother ship of churches?
buckling wooden floors,
stinky damp carpet
soggy wires
and a silent, wet organ
O my God!
Out of the depths we cry to you!!
Lord,
in your mercy,
hear our prayer.
flat
Laid out like a body in a coffin
Too much!
Too much sadness for people
who are suffering from Ike.
Pancho lost his home
and everything in it.
Where will he go?
What will he do?
Donnie and his wife lost their church.
The winds hoisted much of the roof
and sent it crashing all over Pasadena.
No more grand pipe organ
to call people to worship.
She cried
when she described the devastation.
And what about Galveston?
Little Emmanuel church?
five feet of water in their sanctuary
and few resources
to clean up the muck
or replace anything.
And Galveston First
the mother ship of churches?
buckling wooden floors,
stinky damp carpet
soggy wires
and a silent, wet organ
O my God!
Out of the depths we cry to you!!
Lord,
in your mercy,
hear our prayer.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Hope
I don’t usually care for computer generated calls.
Most often they’re a huge annoyance,
politicians courting my vote
or salesmen trying to sell me something.
A computer call last Wednesday was different.
It said, The water supply is no longer contaminated.
The water is safe to drink.
That meant I didn’t have to boil water
on the stove
for two minutes
at a full rolling boil
any more.
I could just turn on the faucet
and pour myself a glass of water,
Use ice from the refrigerator's ice maker.
In that moment I was awash in gratitude,
giddy with it!
This computer call brought genuine hope
that one day life would be normal again
with safe water
television
the internet
garbage pick up
and peace of mind and heart.
The Lord of hosts is with us.
Most often they’re a huge annoyance,
politicians courting my vote
or salesmen trying to sell me something.
A computer call last Wednesday was different.
It said, The water supply is no longer contaminated.
The water is safe to drink.
That meant I didn’t have to boil water
on the stove
for two minutes
at a full rolling boil
any more.
I could just turn on the faucet
and pour myself a glass of water,
Use ice from the refrigerator's ice maker.
In that moment I was awash in gratitude,
giddy with it!
This computer call brought genuine hope
that one day life would be normal again
with safe water
television
the internet
garbage pick up
and peace of mind and heart.
The Lord of hosts is with us.
Day 6 of the Recovery
Day 6 of the Recovery
I lose count.
Many people are in worse shape than we are.
Power came back to the church yesterday.
The rest of the world goes on.
I googled the national headlines
yesterday at a mailbox store.
There was no mention of Ike or Houston or Galveston
in the national news.
We were not even a blip.
How quickly fame disappears
and compassion and care move on
to another part of the world
another disaster
antoher war
another political argument.
But Ike is still big news in Houston
front page every day
dogging us still
with heart rendering stories of the aftermath
POD (points of distribution) squabbles
a ravaged Galveston and Bolivar
now looking like a third world country
hot tempers from people with no electricity
wanting the infrastructure of their lives to return.
Be with us in our waiting, Lord.
Calm our angry, fearful, despairing hearts
with the balm of your healing presence.
I lose count.
Many people are in worse shape than we are.
Power came back to the church yesterday.
The rest of the world goes on.
I googled the national headlines
yesterday at a mailbox store.
There was no mention of Ike or Houston or Galveston
in the national news.
We were not even a blip.
How quickly fame disappears
and compassion and care move on
to another part of the world
another disaster
antoher war
another political argument.
But Ike is still big news in Houston
front page every day
dogging us still
with heart rendering stories of the aftermath
POD (points of distribution) squabbles
a ravaged Galveston and Bolivar
now looking like a third world country
hot tempers from people with no electricity
wanting the infrastructure of their lives to return.
Be with us in our waiting, Lord.
Calm our angry, fearful, despairing hearts
with the balm of your healing presence.
Powerlessness
It's a little thing really
in the grand scheme of things
that I have no television
or internet
no keeping up with the world
just me
on my little island
my air conditioned island.
It's the powerlessness that is frustrating.
not being able to fix it
not knowing when or if
it will ever be fixed.
No one calls with updates about the cable.
We wait silently
for someone else who does have power
to make things right again.
How many people live their lives like this every day.
unable to fix what is broken
unable to rise above it
and take action of any kind
powerless
dependent upon others for their well being.
It's not so easy.
A long time of it will bring despair.
Be with us all, O God, in our waiting.
Fix our vision on higher things
and give us compassion for those who wait.
in the grand scheme of things
that I have no television
or internet
no keeping up with the world
just me
on my little island
my air conditioned island.
It's the powerlessness that is frustrating.
not being able to fix it
not knowing when or if
it will ever be fixed.
No one calls with updates about the cable.
We wait silently
for someone else who does have power
to make things right again.
How many people live their lives like this every day.
unable to fix what is broken
unable to rise above it
and take action of any kind
powerless
dependent upon others for their well being.
It's not so easy.
A long time of it will bring despair.
Be with us all, O God, in our waiting.
Fix our vision on higher things
and give us compassion for those who wait.
Red Light Green Light
Red light - green light
I used to play that game as a child.
Someone shouted red light
and we all froze in place.
They shouted greeen light
and we all ran
I don't know that there were winners or losers.
We just stopped and started
and had fun doing that.
Forrest and I are playing that game in Houston this week.
A hurricane has ripped through town
leaving all manner of destruction in its wake.
Millions are without electrical power
including all the traffic lights.
We try to be courteous.
We wait our turn.
But some people don't have the hang of it yet.
They don't understand the red light-green light game
of when to stop and when to start
so there's a little chaos and anxiety
when we come to an intersection
with multiple lanes of traffic.
This afternoon coming home from church
it seemed more like the game bumper cars -
cars starting when they should be stopped
and stopping when they should be going
and the intersection full of cars
going both ways at the same time.
The front end of a hurricane is more fun than the back end.
We're getting testy now
a lot less patient
with the government,
power and cable companies,
the endless lines for gasoline, ice and groceries.
Today is Day 3 of the aftermath
It doesn't seem any better than Day 1.
It's hard for someone to have patientce -
when there's an oak treee in the living room.
when we scramble eggs on the barbecue grill for breakfast
when we cannot watch TV or use the internet
when we read by candlelight in the evening
and when clients in other parts of the country
don't understand why their demands aren't met.
God is teaching us this week in Houston
what our priorities are
who is important in our lives
how much time we have when there is no electricity
how self centered our lives are
who really is in control ultimately.
May we emerge from this storm more aware
and as open, playful and adventurous
as we were so many years ago
when we played red light - green light.
I used to play that game as a child.
Someone shouted red light
and we all froze in place.
They shouted greeen light
and we all ran
I don't know that there were winners or losers.
We just stopped and started
and had fun doing that.
Forrest and I are playing that game in Houston this week.
A hurricane has ripped through town
leaving all manner of destruction in its wake.
Millions are without electrical power
including all the traffic lights.
We try to be courteous.
We wait our turn.
But some people don't have the hang of it yet.
They don't understand the red light-green light game
of when to stop and when to start
so there's a little chaos and anxiety
when we come to an intersection
with multiple lanes of traffic.
This afternoon coming home from church
it seemed more like the game bumper cars -
cars starting when they should be stopped
and stopping when they should be going
and the intersection full of cars
going both ways at the same time.
The front end of a hurricane is more fun than the back end.
We're getting testy now
a lot less patient
with the government,
power and cable companies,
the endless lines for gasoline, ice and groceries.
Today is Day 3 of the aftermath
It doesn't seem any better than Day 1.
It's hard for someone to have patientce -
when there's an oak treee in the living room.
when we scramble eggs on the barbecue grill for breakfast
when we cannot watch TV or use the internet
when we read by candlelight in the evening
and when clients in other parts of the country
don't understand why their demands aren't met.
God is teaching us this week in Houston
what our priorities are
who is important in our lives
how much time we have when there is no electricity
how self centered our lives are
who really is in control ultimately.
May we emerge from this storm more aware
and as open, playful and adventurous
as we were so many years ago
when we played red light - green light.
Watching for the Morning
I had never heard that swishing sound before.
In the darkened night
the tree branches swished and danced
as the gusty wind tickled their leaves
and sent them spinning.
I had no fear
knowing that a giant storm was wooing them to action.
I was strangely still within.
I have never had rational fears,
only irrational ones.
On this night I was alone
and peaceful
as I listened to the swishing
and watched very serious television anchors
describe what Ike was doing in the Gulf of Mexico.
Millions of us were watching for the morning.
I was prepared.
bottled water,
food in the pantry and refrigerator
flashlight
battery powered radio on alert.
All the physcial things were done.
Emotionally I had moved into numb,
the place where I don't feel anything.
I function.
I was clear,
not having eaten any sugar or flour.
Spiritually, I had few words -
other than asking God to protect
the elderly, fragile people
and all those who were vulnerable and afraid.
I asked for myself that the air conditioning stay on,
remembering the oppressive heat of Hurricane Alicia.
I spoke words of peace to the storm
just as Jesus had done.
Peace, be still.
All night long.
Swishing and swaying.
Peace, be still.
Swishing, dancing, clapping their hands
Peace, Be still.
The trees seemed to enjoy the dance.
It never felt frightening.
At 11:30 the power went off.
odd since the trees were doing a slow dance,
not a tango.
I lit a glass candle, the dime store variety
with a picture of the sacred heart of Jesus.
It stayed lit all night,
warming me with its light.
The power came on again, then off
then on, then off, then finally on again at 5:30 AM.
I slept through most of it,
and when I was conscious
spoke lovingly to the storm
Peace, be still.
The storm crept in in darkness
while we waited for the morning.
My soul waits for the Lord
and in His word I hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
In the darkened night
the tree branches swished and danced
as the gusty wind tickled their leaves
and sent them spinning.
I had no fear
knowing that a giant storm was wooing them to action.
I was strangely still within.
I have never had rational fears,
only irrational ones.
On this night I was alone
and peaceful
as I listened to the swishing
and watched very serious television anchors
describe what Ike was doing in the Gulf of Mexico.
Millions of us were watching for the morning.
I was prepared.
bottled water,
food in the pantry and refrigerator
flashlight
battery powered radio on alert.
All the physcial things were done.
Emotionally I had moved into numb,
the place where I don't feel anything.
I function.
I was clear,
not having eaten any sugar or flour.
Spiritually, I had few words -
other than asking God to protect
the elderly, fragile people
and all those who were vulnerable and afraid.
I asked for myself that the air conditioning stay on,
remembering the oppressive heat of Hurricane Alicia.
I spoke words of peace to the storm
just as Jesus had done.
Peace, be still.
All night long.
Swishing and swaying.
Peace, be still.
Swishing, dancing, clapping their hands
Peace, Be still.
The trees seemed to enjoy the dance.
It never felt frightening.
At 11:30 the power went off.
odd since the trees were doing a slow dance,
not a tango.
I lit a glass candle, the dime store variety
with a picture of the sacred heart of Jesus.
It stayed lit all night,
warming me with its light.
The power came on again, then off
then on, then off, then finally on again at 5:30 AM.
I slept through most of it,
and when I was conscious
spoke lovingly to the storm
Peace, be still.
The storm crept in in darkness
while we waited for the morning.
My soul waits for the Lord
and in His word I hope.
My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Ike
I like Ike.
It was a campaign button my parents wore
as they left me in the back seat
and went off to cast their ballot
for President of the United States.
It was the first election I remember.
I haven't heard the name Ike since then
except for some crazy televangelist.
I wonder if I will like this Ike who's coming for a visit tomorrow.
He's howling in the gulf - like Halloween
trying to scare the peewaddle out of us.
It's eerie waiting for him.
Reminds me a little of Wednesdays
before "the boys" descend upon my church.
Houston feels anxious today -
traffic at unusual times
long lines at Walgreen's where people
are buying junk food, water and batteries.
A little chocolate surely will help face down a hurricane.
I'm waiting this one out alone
a first for me.
Forrest is stranded in Reno
can't get a plane out because of Ike
I wonder if I will like Ike when I meet him.
Will he charm me or seek to destroy me and my house?
Will he leave a nasty trail behind him?
Mostly I worry whether the roof will hold up.
and whether we shall lose electrical power.
I don't worry about myself.
I worry about the old people who are fragile
and on oxygen,
the ones who are sick,
and the ones who are so afraid.
I remember a story from long ago,
how Jesus spoke to a storm and it stilled.
I speak peace to Ike.
Be still
compassionate
gentle with us.
Maybe we too will wear a button with your name on it
when this is all over.
It was a campaign button my parents wore
as they left me in the back seat
and went off to cast their ballot
for President of the United States.
It was the first election I remember.
I haven't heard the name Ike since then
except for some crazy televangelist.
I wonder if I will like this Ike who's coming for a visit tomorrow.
He's howling in the gulf - like Halloween
trying to scare the peewaddle out of us.
It's eerie waiting for him.
Reminds me a little of Wednesdays
before "the boys" descend upon my church.
Houston feels anxious today -
traffic at unusual times
long lines at Walgreen's where people
are buying junk food, water and batteries.
A little chocolate surely will help face down a hurricane.
I'm waiting this one out alone
a first for me.
Forrest is stranded in Reno
can't get a plane out because of Ike
I wonder if I will like Ike when I meet him.
Will he charm me or seek to destroy me and my house?
Will he leave a nasty trail behind him?
Mostly I worry whether the roof will hold up.
and whether we shall lose electrical power.
I don't worry about myself.
I worry about the old people who are fragile
and on oxygen,
the ones who are sick,
and the ones who are so afraid.
I remember a story from long ago,
how Jesus spoke to a storm and it stilled.
I speak peace to Ike.
Be still
compassionate
gentle with us.
Maybe we too will wear a button with your name on it
when this is all over.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
The Windfall
There I was
young, innocent, curious
out for a new experience
in a new group of people - Roman Catholic!
I saw her standing there
chubby
in a flowered muu-muu
shiny grey hair
and sparkling eyes
holding a guitar.
Love oozed out of her
from every pore.
Later I asked her if she spoke in tongues.
I'd been reading the Bible
and was fascinated with that phenomenom
because I was a linguist.
She looked at me
serious now.
Yes she said.
I speak in tongues
but you won't.
You're in your head.
You must go to your heart
in order to speak in tongues.
I was still fascinated as our small circle
joined hands and prayed,
Lord, fill us with your Spirit
and bring us safely back next week.
I opened my eyes.
The world was a different place.
I was different too.
Divine love had flooded me
like water rushing into an empty lock in a canal.
except that it bubbled up
from somewhere deep within me.
I knew, KNEW the words then,
You shall know the truth and the truth will make you free.
Truth wasn't about knowledge.
It wasn't about finding the right words.
It is experiencing the presence of God
and following that presence into freedom.
The windfall turned my world upside down.
More to come.
young, innocent, curious
out for a new experience
in a new group of people - Roman Catholic!
I saw her standing there
chubby
in a flowered muu-muu
shiny grey hair
and sparkling eyes
holding a guitar.
Love oozed out of her
from every pore.
Later I asked her if she spoke in tongues.
I'd been reading the Bible
and was fascinated with that phenomenom
because I was a linguist.
She looked at me
serious now.
Yes she said.
I speak in tongues
but you won't.
You're in your head.
You must go to your heart
in order to speak in tongues.
I was still fascinated as our small circle
joined hands and prayed,
Lord, fill us with your Spirit
and bring us safely back next week.
I opened my eyes.
The world was a different place.
I was different too.
Divine love had flooded me
like water rushing into an empty lock in a canal.
except that it bubbled up
from somewhere deep within me.
I knew, KNEW the words then,
You shall know the truth and the truth will make you free.
Truth wasn't about knowledge.
It wasn't about finding the right words.
It is experiencing the presence of God
and following that presence into freedom.
The windfall turned my world upside down.
More to come.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Forrest
The door swung open
and I saw him standing there.
Kind
Pleasant
Dimples in his cheeks
and I thought,
"Oh no, I could never marry him!
with his ears
and my big nose
we would have ugly children!"
What a strange reaction for a first date
a blind date at that.
We rode in the back seat of his friend's car.
His friend and my friend were in the front.
He told me jokes,
made me laugh.
I felt so comfortable with him,
not nervous at all
unusual for a first date.
It was as though we had always known each other
cut from the same cloth
attached somewhere deep within.
I was safe around him.
no fear
no angst
no worries about what to say next
I loved the way I felt with him.
O.K. to be who I was
whoever that was back then.
I somehow knew we would end up together.
Today is his birthday.
He's 67 years old.
A lifetime has happened between us since then.
We've birthed children
traveled the world
had multiple careers
and a farm
health issues
money issues
identity issues.
I'd do it again
in a New York minute.
God bless him!
Big!
and I saw him standing there.
Kind
Pleasant
Dimples in his cheeks
and I thought,
"Oh no, I could never marry him!
with his ears
and my big nose
we would have ugly children!"
What a strange reaction for a first date
a blind date at that.
We rode in the back seat of his friend's car.
His friend and my friend were in the front.
He told me jokes,
made me laugh.
I felt so comfortable with him,
not nervous at all
unusual for a first date.
It was as though we had always known each other
cut from the same cloth
attached somewhere deep within.
I was safe around him.
no fear
no angst
no worries about what to say next
I loved the way I felt with him.
O.K. to be who I was
whoever that was back then.
I somehow knew we would end up together.
Today is his birthday.
He's 67 years old.
A lifetime has happened between us since then.
We've birthed children
traveled the world
had multiple careers
and a farm
health issues
money issues
identity issues.
I'd do it again
in a New York minute.
God bless him!
Big!
I Remember Ron
(This is response to a Max prompt)
Sitting in his chair
in the nursing home,
crutches parked by his side
silver hair
twinkly blue eyes
kind and a little sarcastic
I was charmed.
He drew me into him
because he listened
like me.
I listen mostly.
Few people care what I have to say
or what I think.
They tell me what they think.
But Ron asked me questions.
He listened
and asked me follow up questions
and was genuinely interested
as I sat there on his couch
spilling the facts of my life.
He was anti religion
didn't believe a word in the Bible
turned off to it big time
said sternly in no uncertain terms
that I was not to pray out loud.
Neither was I to bring that black box around
that held communion elements.
But he wanted his funeral in my church.
That signaled a huge disconnect to me
between the sarcastic, twinkly charm
and the lovely soul within.
I didn't mention it.
I watched him get up on crutches
and make his way to the bed.
I left him there
no closing with prayer that day.
But something had stirred within me.
It was the birth of a call
to companion him.
Sitting in his chair
in the nursing home,
crutches parked by his side
silver hair
twinkly blue eyes
kind and a little sarcastic
I was charmed.
He drew me into him
because he listened
like me.
I listen mostly.
Few people care what I have to say
or what I think.
They tell me what they think.
But Ron asked me questions.
He listened
and asked me follow up questions
and was genuinely interested
as I sat there on his couch
spilling the facts of my life.
He was anti religion
didn't believe a word in the Bible
turned off to it big time
said sternly in no uncertain terms
that I was not to pray out loud.
Neither was I to bring that black box around
that held communion elements.
But he wanted his funeral in my church.
That signaled a huge disconnect to me
between the sarcastic, twinkly charm
and the lovely soul within.
I didn't mention it.
I watched him get up on crutches
and make his way to the bed.
I left him there
no closing with prayer that day.
But something had stirred within me.
It was the birth of a call
to companion him.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Nice Quotes
A couple of quotes from the Spirituality and Health discussion board today struck a chord within me:
The young people who come to me in the hope of hearing me utter a few memorable maxims are quite disappointed. Aphorisms are not my forte, I say nothing but banalities.... I listen to them and they go away delighted. ~Andre Gide
And another:
~ Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles. What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other? ~ George Eliot
Day Three of trying to get the wheat and sugar out of my body. Day three of splitting headaches. Day three of feeling lackluster and having brain fog. Soon, tomorrow or the next day, it will be gone and my spirits will lift. May I make the world less difficult for someone today - perhaps myself.
The young people who come to me in the hope of hearing me utter a few memorable maxims are quite disappointed. Aphorisms are not my forte, I say nothing but banalities.... I listen to them and they go away delighted. ~Andre Gide
And another:
~ Wear a smile and have friends; wear a scowl and have wrinkles. What do we live for if not to make the world less difficult for each other? ~ George Eliot
Day Three of trying to get the wheat and sugar out of my body. Day three of splitting headaches. Day three of feeling lackluster and having brain fog. Soon, tomorrow or the next day, it will be gone and my spirits will lift. May I make the world less difficult for someone today - perhaps myself.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Clark Family Politics
For generations the Clarks have been Democrats.
The family album was full of Franklin Roosevelt, the hero
Not so in my family.
They thought Roosevelt was a traitor.
But I loved this guy Forrest
And he was a Democrat
A Democrat who wouldn't marry me unless I converted
so I did.
I've been happily Democrat for years now, ever since I could vote.
But something happened with the Clintons
to turn him off
and then Forrest started listening to talk radio
joking about it at first,
then announcing that he would support W for president.
No one could believe it.
A Clark! Voting for a Republican!
He still, even now, loves W and the war in Iraq
The family whispers quietly amongst themselves that he has gone to the dark side.
Our children love Obama.
Forrest leaves them messages that Darth Vader has called.
Emi announces herself as Princess Leah.
At least they're laughing now.
It's an improvement.
Me?
I go back and forth
like a ping pong ball getting whacked.
but I like Sarah Palin.
Who knows?
Maybe I'll descend to the dark place as well.
The family album was full of Franklin Roosevelt, the hero
Not so in my family.
They thought Roosevelt was a traitor.
But I loved this guy Forrest
And he was a Democrat
A Democrat who wouldn't marry me unless I converted
so I did.
I've been happily Democrat for years now, ever since I could vote.
But something happened with the Clintons
to turn him off
and then Forrest started listening to talk radio
joking about it at first,
then announcing that he would support W for president.
No one could believe it.
A Clark! Voting for a Republican!
He still, even now, loves W and the war in Iraq
The family whispers quietly amongst themselves that he has gone to the dark side.
Our children love Obama.
Forrest leaves them messages that Darth Vader has called.
Emi announces herself as Princess Leah.
At least they're laughing now.
It's an improvement.
Me?
I go back and forth
like a ping pong ball getting whacked.
but I like Sarah Palin.
Who knows?
Maybe I'll descend to the dark place as well.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Poo-poo mouth
I'm on Day 15 with the Dalai Lama
Weary of him now
May go on to Hosea instead.
His teachings solidify my thinking.
I really am a Christian, not a Buddhist.
But today's meditation was interesting.
"If you find yourself slandering anybody, first imagine that your mouth is filled with excrement. It will break you of the habit quickly enough."
I had lunch with Mona and Ann,
friends for 37 years whom I had not seen in a while.
Over chicken enchiladas and a burrito without the tortilla
we shared the news of our lives.
Several times I was tempted to tell the "full" story.
The image of poo-poo mouth restrained me.
I guess it works.
Weary of him now
May go on to Hosea instead.
His teachings solidify my thinking.
I really am a Christian, not a Buddhist.
But today's meditation was interesting.
"If you find yourself slandering anybody, first imagine that your mouth is filled with excrement. It will break you of the habit quickly enough."
I had lunch with Mona and Ann,
friends for 37 years whom I had not seen in a while.
Over chicken enchiladas and a burrito without the tortilla
we shared the news of our lives.
Several times I was tempted to tell the "full" story.
The image of poo-poo mouth restrained me.
I guess it works.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Reincarnation
I had to part ways with the Dalai Lama today.
Don't think I'll post this in the dialogue circle.
I'm a Christian, not a Buddhist.
I find reincarnation exhausting.
There's no grace in it either.
Today's spiritual practice invited us to go sit somewhere and people watch
Then imagine that one or more of them could have been my mother in some other life.
Oh, please!
Today I went to see a movie with my daughter - the early show.
We saw Henry Poole Is Here.
When it ended, Emi said it was way too heavy handed
no room for the imagination.
It's true.
There are no subtleties in that film.
Everything is in your face. literally.
The other person in the theater when we left was an older woman
older than me so she's getting up there
short white hair, glasses, lace up shoes
She said she had slept briefly and asked us to fill in some details.
She remembered everything we told her.
I guess I saw more than I thought she said.
I just didn't get it.
There were plenty of subleties for her.
What if she had been my mother in some other life?
How would I be different?
kinder maybe
a little more dense
probably a good baker (she was pretty hefty)
no fashion sense
for sure no big jewelry
friendly
I doubt that we were ever related
but we are connected
we are all God's children after all
and worthy of care.
Lord bless her.
Don't think I'll post this in the dialogue circle.
I'm a Christian, not a Buddhist.
I find reincarnation exhausting.
There's no grace in it either.
Today's spiritual practice invited us to go sit somewhere and people watch
Then imagine that one or more of them could have been my mother in some other life.
Oh, please!
Today I went to see a movie with my daughter - the early show.
We saw Henry Poole Is Here.
When it ended, Emi said it was way too heavy handed
no room for the imagination.
It's true.
There are no subtleties in that film.
Everything is in your face. literally.
The other person in the theater when we left was an older woman
older than me so she's getting up there
short white hair, glasses, lace up shoes
She said she had slept briefly and asked us to fill in some details.
She remembered everything we told her.
I guess I saw more than I thought she said.
I just didn't get it.
There were plenty of subleties for her.
What if she had been my mother in some other life?
How would I be different?
kinder maybe
a little more dense
probably a good baker (she was pretty hefty)
no fashion sense
for sure no big jewelry
friendly
I doubt that we were ever related
but we are connected
we are all God's children after all
and worthy of care.
Lord bless her.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Contentment
The Dalai Lama says contentment is core to his faith.
The Apostle Paul says that too, that he has learned to be content in all things.
There are times when I have been wonderfully content
when my family was together for my 60th birthday
Christmas mornings
Sunday mornings when worship has gone well and there is a full church
when I held/hold my children and grandchildren
when I am on retreat
whenever I see a sunset
when I go to sleep at night with Forrest by my side
and when I awaken in the morning.
Mostly I live with restlessness.
I'm a whiner.
I grumble and complain and question why.
The Costa Ricans hve contentment.
When the water or electricity didn't work
they shrugged their shoulders.
"O well," they said
and they were content.
Americans don't do that.
We want it fixed - now!
Our country would be very different if we were all contented.
I wouldn't like it as well.
But somehow there needs to be more of a balance than we have
so that we're not screaming at each other all the time.
Contentment goes against the grain of the American way.
We're restless.
We dream of how it could be different, better.
It's in our DNA.
The Dalai Lama speaks of beggars with their bowls
being content with whatever is put there in the day.
I would never make it,
begging and being content with whatever landed in my bowl.
Somebody for sure would pitch in a piece of candy.
My blood sugar would plummet soon after that
and I would be felled fright there
on the street
in front of God and everybody
laid out and lifeless.
I will have to find a different path to contentment
a little more balance
Exactly how is that done?
What is the first step in dealing with restlessness?
For me,
Quit whining, grumbling and complaining.
For sure that's a no-no in a contented life.
Today is the Sabbath.
I shall not complain.
I shall go on a fast from negativity and make gratitude
a more conscious part of my hours.
The Apostle Paul says that too, that he has learned to be content in all things.
There are times when I have been wonderfully content
when my family was together for my 60th birthday
Christmas mornings
Sunday mornings when worship has gone well and there is a full church
when I held/hold my children and grandchildren
when I am on retreat
whenever I see a sunset
when I go to sleep at night with Forrest by my side
and when I awaken in the morning.
Mostly I live with restlessness.
I'm a whiner.
I grumble and complain and question why.
The Costa Ricans hve contentment.
When the water or electricity didn't work
they shrugged their shoulders.
"O well," they said
and they were content.
Americans don't do that.
We want it fixed - now!
Our country would be very different if we were all contented.
I wouldn't like it as well.
But somehow there needs to be more of a balance than we have
so that we're not screaming at each other all the time.
Contentment goes against the grain of the American way.
We're restless.
We dream of how it could be different, better.
It's in our DNA.
The Dalai Lama speaks of beggars with their bowls
being content with whatever is put there in the day.
I would never make it,
begging and being content with whatever landed in my bowl.
Somebody for sure would pitch in a piece of candy.
My blood sugar would plummet soon after that
and I would be felled fright there
on the street
in front of God and everybody
laid out and lifeless.
I will have to find a different path to contentment
a little more balance
Exactly how is that done?
What is the first step in dealing with restlessness?
For me,
Quit whining, grumbling and complaining.
For sure that's a no-no in a contented life.
Today is the Sabbath.
I shall not complain.
I shall go on a fast from negativity and make gratitude
a more conscious part of my hours.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Practicing Kindness
"My religion is kindness," says His Holiness on Day 8.
That's not so hard.
I treat people nicely.
Practice random acts of kindness today is the assignment.
Harder
Means I'm going to have to get up and actually DO something.
My body is full of wheat
Big no no.
Couldn't resist Chicago Pizza last night.
Today I am a huge elephantine slug
no energy
no coffee in this caffeine free house either
Whatever shall I do?
I'm whining now - big time
Marsha would tell me,
"Put on your big girl panties and go do it."
But what?
I am stuck in brain fog.
Perhaps I shall begin with myself
Quit trashing my self
for eating the double stuffed spinach pizza.
First person to be nice to today is Pat.
More to come.
That's not so hard.
I treat people nicely.
Practice random acts of kindness today is the assignment.
Harder
Means I'm going to have to get up and actually DO something.
My body is full of wheat
Big no no.
Couldn't resist Chicago Pizza last night.
Today I am a huge elephantine slug
no energy
no coffee in this caffeine free house either
Whatever shall I do?
I'm whining now - big time
Marsha would tell me,
"Put on your big girl panties and go do it."
But what?
I am stuck in brain fog.
Perhaps I shall begin with myself
Quit trashing my self
for eating the double stuffed spinach pizza.
First person to be nice to today is Pat.
More to come.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Emi's Surgery
My little girl went under the knife today.
It happened about eight o'clock this morning.
We were out of the house by 5:30 AM.
5:30!!
Looking out the sap stained windows of the mini-van
and driving to the heart of the city of Chicago
We witnessed the most gorgeous sunrise
peeking over Lake Michigan
It was a show stopper.
Wow! I thought.
Wow!
An omen of profound hope as we began this day
Something new and beautiful is about to begin
heralded by the fiery, purply change in the sky.
Just what wonder will be a part of this day,
this week, this year?
Emi lay peacefully in her bed
propped up with an IV in her arm
holding a purple marker so they could write on her belly.
The doctor was tall
Really tall
A giant, no doubt
They say that about his skills too.
We prayed.
I anointed her with balm
Christ's healing presence to fill her and surround her.
She'll come out later, groggy and dragging drains.
And I shall tend to them for her.
May I be God's instrument of healing this week
as she recovers from having her insides all stitched nicely in place.
It happened about eight o'clock this morning.
We were out of the house by 5:30 AM.
5:30!!
Looking out the sap stained windows of the mini-van
and driving to the heart of the city of Chicago
We witnessed the most gorgeous sunrise
peeking over Lake Michigan
It was a show stopper.
Wow! I thought.
Wow!
An omen of profound hope as we began this day
Something new and beautiful is about to begin
heralded by the fiery, purply change in the sky.
Just what wonder will be a part of this day,
this week, this year?
Emi lay peacefully in her bed
propped up with an IV in her arm
holding a purple marker so they could write on her belly.
The doctor was tall
Really tall
A giant, no doubt
They say that about his skills too.
We prayed.
I anointed her with balm
Christ's healing presence to fill her and surround her.
She'll come out later, groggy and dragging drains.
And I shall tend to them for her.
May I be God's instrument of healing this week
as she recovers from having her insides all stitched nicely in place.
Ezekiel and the Dalai Lama
It happens to me all the time.
I forget.
And then it happens again.
I set out with eagerness to read the whole, entire Bible.
I love Genesis, greet it with enthusiasm!
slug through Exodus' double details of the tabernacle
put up with Leviticus and Numbers
And then I get into the rhythm of it
Some days I love, LOVE it!!
Then I hit Ezekiel.
Ezekiel!
What kind of crazy guy is he?
He rails at everyone
and has the most bizarre behavior.
beyond bizarre actually.
and we revere him
because he spoke the truth.
He seems a little crazy to me.
I think the Israelites thought so too.
Nobody paid much attention to him or the other prophets in their day.
Most people don't read or listen to them now.
I skim the pages,
then skim the chapter headings.
Obedience compels me.
I'm a minister after all.
Reading the Bible is what I should be doing.
But I hate reading most of Ezekiel.
Every time it's where I bog down
and feel more resentment than joy
when I pick up the Good Book.
I've been in rebellion nearly a week now.
The other night I was surfing the net looking for film reviews.
The Broussats are offtering another online course
40 days, 40 meditations with the Dalai Lama,
$24.95
Hmmm, I thought. Why not?
So I punched in my charge card numbers and began to read.
first it was introductions,
then setting our intention
I've already forgotten what mine was.
And then came the first day's exercise - 10 quotes.
Choose the one that jumps out at you.
This is it -
"Even if one has no religion, everyone appreciates kindness and compassion."
And so I promised to practice kindness that day
Then it was smiling at everyone.
Then letting go of anger and anxiety - like feathers, he said!
Today the practice is listening.
I can't dialogue with them anymore.
For some reason the site no longer accepts my posts
So this blog will have to do instead.
The interesting thing is how much I look forward to it
this Buddhist teaching that comes to my inbox
how much it is bringing me life
and making a difference in my day.
Ezekiel doesn't do that for me.
He makes me feel worse
inadequate
like I deserve every rotten thing that has ever happened to me.
I don't want to listen to him today.
The Dalai Lama invites me to practice faith with gentleness.
Ezekiel doesn't.
He leaves me cold.
I know now why people leave churches.
If they are like me, they are longing for gentleness,
compassion and kindness,
some help in seeing holiness in their lives.
We argue and pontificate
and tell them what they should be doing in no uncertain terms.
Mission!
Mission!
Mission!
Take care of the world!
It's all our fault that it's broken!
We have to fix it now!
Now!
God's Spirit is changing me.
It is changing the church.
Can we not change the world one heart at a time?
Beginning with me, with you,
loving each other
and practicing gentleness, kindness and compassion
These are after all the fruits of the Holy Spirit,
the evidence that the Christ life has taken hold.
Can we not move from that centered place
and not an angry, disconnected space within us?
Help me
to stay true to you in the unfurling of my soul
and the uprooting of my stodgy moorings.
I forget.
And then it happens again.
I set out with eagerness to read the whole, entire Bible.
I love Genesis, greet it with enthusiasm!
slug through Exodus' double details of the tabernacle
put up with Leviticus and Numbers
And then I get into the rhythm of it
Some days I love, LOVE it!!
Then I hit Ezekiel.
Ezekiel!
What kind of crazy guy is he?
He rails at everyone
and has the most bizarre behavior.
beyond bizarre actually.
and we revere him
because he spoke the truth.
He seems a little crazy to me.
I think the Israelites thought so too.
Nobody paid much attention to him or the other prophets in their day.
Most people don't read or listen to them now.
I skim the pages,
then skim the chapter headings.
Obedience compels me.
I'm a minister after all.
Reading the Bible is what I should be doing.
But I hate reading most of Ezekiel.
Every time it's where I bog down
and feel more resentment than joy
when I pick up the Good Book.
I've been in rebellion nearly a week now.
The other night I was surfing the net looking for film reviews.
The Broussats are offtering another online course
40 days, 40 meditations with the Dalai Lama,
$24.95
Hmmm, I thought. Why not?
So I punched in my charge card numbers and began to read.
first it was introductions,
then setting our intention
I've already forgotten what mine was.
And then came the first day's exercise - 10 quotes.
Choose the one that jumps out at you.
This is it -
"Even if one has no religion, everyone appreciates kindness and compassion."
And so I promised to practice kindness that day
Then it was smiling at everyone.
Then letting go of anger and anxiety - like feathers, he said!
Today the practice is listening.
I can't dialogue with them anymore.
For some reason the site no longer accepts my posts
So this blog will have to do instead.
The interesting thing is how much I look forward to it
this Buddhist teaching that comes to my inbox
how much it is bringing me life
and making a difference in my day.
Ezekiel doesn't do that for me.
He makes me feel worse
inadequate
like I deserve every rotten thing that has ever happened to me.
I don't want to listen to him today.
The Dalai Lama invites me to practice faith with gentleness.
Ezekiel doesn't.
He leaves me cold.
I know now why people leave churches.
If they are like me, they are longing for gentleness,
compassion and kindness,
some help in seeing holiness in their lives.
We argue and pontificate
and tell them what they should be doing in no uncertain terms.
Mission!
Mission!
Mission!
Take care of the world!
It's all our fault that it's broken!
We have to fix it now!
Now!
God's Spirit is changing me.
It is changing the church.
Can we not change the world one heart at a time?
Beginning with me, with you,
loving each other
and practicing gentleness, kindness and compassion
These are after all the fruits of the Holy Spirit,
the evidence that the Christ life has taken hold.
Can we not move from that centered place
and not an angry, disconnected space within us?
Help me
to stay true to you in the unfurling of my soul
and the uprooting of my stodgy moorings.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Shoes - A Love Story Turned Sour
The prompt was this: Write a letter to an object that has caused you harm.
You were so lovely that wintry afternoon, calling my name as I strolled through Foley's. There you sat, perched on plexiglass, clunky brown wooden heels, made in Brazil. Buy me!! you screamed. Take me home!!! I'm yours! What fun we shall have together!
You seemed a little snug, but O, you were so irrisistible. I loved you fiercely, took you into my home, my sanctuary, my safe place - introduced you to all the jackets and dresses in my closet. We were made for each other - family!!
We went to the courthouse the next morning - you and me - pounded the concrete together and all the marble floors. The romance wore thin before the day was over. That night I hobbled home, barely able to stand. It was then that I first noticed it - the knob on my foot. I think you put it there. You betrayed me. You were the first of a dozen or more suitors who seduced me, then ruined my feet. I can't wear high heels anymore. I've had surgery. I'm stuck with Triple E feet and specialized, expensive shoe stores.
Maybe it would have happened anyway. Maybe it's all a part of this aging process, losing parts of myself.
But I'm the winner. I can go barefoot. I can run and dance and play, things i never could have done when the two of us were together.
You were so lovely that wintry afternoon, calling my name as I strolled through Foley's. There you sat, perched on plexiglass, clunky brown wooden heels, made in Brazil. Buy me!! you screamed. Take me home!!! I'm yours! What fun we shall have together!
You seemed a little snug, but O, you were so irrisistible. I loved you fiercely, took you into my home, my sanctuary, my safe place - introduced you to all the jackets and dresses in my closet. We were made for each other - family!!
We went to the courthouse the next morning - you and me - pounded the concrete together and all the marble floors. The romance wore thin before the day was over. That night I hobbled home, barely able to stand. It was then that I first noticed it - the knob on my foot. I think you put it there. You betrayed me. You were the first of a dozen or more suitors who seduced me, then ruined my feet. I can't wear high heels anymore. I've had surgery. I'm stuck with Triple E feet and specialized, expensive shoe stores.
Maybe it would have happened anyway. Maybe it's all a part of this aging process, losing parts of myself.
But I'm the winner. I can go barefoot. I can run and dance and play, things i never could have done when the two of us were together.
Obsession - Dangerous Writing
The prompt was this: Think of something you used as a drug that was not pharmaceutical. Tell as much as you can without bursting into flame.
The chicken was plump and fresh. Its flesh separated from the bones easily enough. One slice down its back was all that was needed to separate the skin. With a surgeon's skill I dislodged the entire skeleton from its raw hide. Then I stuffed it with seasoned rice and vegetables - sewed the whole thing together as though not a single bone had been removed. It came from the oven all crisp and buttery, a delight to behold. I was triumphant!
My house meanwhile rested in squalor, neglected, as usual in behalf of another fabulous culinary treat. We lived in disarray in those days while I dreamed of glorious food and spent all my time bringing the creations to life.
The chicken was plump and fresh. Its flesh separated from the bones easily enough. One slice down its back was all that was needed to separate the skin. With a surgeon's skill I dislodged the entire skeleton from its raw hide. Then I stuffed it with seasoned rice and vegetables - sewed the whole thing together as though not a single bone had been removed. It came from the oven all crisp and buttery, a delight to behold. I was triumphant!
My house meanwhile rested in squalor, neglected, as usual in behalf of another fabulous culinary treat. We lived in disarray in those days while I dreamed of glorious food and spent all my time bringing the creations to life.
Lucy
A Beatles drug song heralds her nearness - Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. The excitement has been building - cases of necklaces, crosses, icons, TV shows illustrating rulers of the past, murals describing cities and their treasures, including the ark of the covenant. A film tells us how she was found quite by accident, and then the sign points the way to Lucy.
I enter the darkened room - black ceiling, charcoal carpet, barely lit except for a lighted mural that circles the room - pictures of apes and animals in a grasy plain near a river. And there, neart the center of the room lie Lucy's remains, the original remains, 3.2 million years old, the oldest and most complete human that we have. It was just a bunch of bones, but there was such a holiness to them. It was probably the oldest thing that I have ever seen.
I thought of Ezekiel's valley of dry bones. Can these bones live?
the PCUSA?
St. Stephen?
Me?
Can we live? Only through the Spirit of God.
Lucy is alive again, now serving as the goodwill ambassador for Ethiopia. The Spirit of God has brought her to life.
May it be so for all of us.
I enter the darkened room - black ceiling, charcoal carpet, barely lit except for a lighted mural that circles the room - pictures of apes and animals in a grasy plain near a river. And there, neart the center of the room lie Lucy's remains, the original remains, 3.2 million years old, the oldest and most complete human that we have. It was just a bunch of bones, but there was such a holiness to them. It was probably the oldest thing that I have ever seen.
I thought of Ezekiel's valley of dry bones. Can these bones live?
the PCUSA?
St. Stephen?
Me?
Can we live? Only through the Spirit of God.
Lucy is alive again, now serving as the goodwill ambassador for Ethiopia. The Spirit of God has brought her to life.
May it be so for all of us.
The Red Ribbon - Memoir for Christmas
I remember Ann - beautiful wise woman
sage
mistress of the arts of all things feminine
She came to my house early in the Christmas season
to help me put on a smashing party.
My house was naked, stark, Puritan like.
She unfurled red ribbons.
Before I knew it there were double bows everywhere
Down the bannister
around all the stuffed animals
on every wreath
and everything that sat still.
Christmas came that day
all full of love and beauty
sage
mistress of the arts of all things feminine
She came to my house early in the Christmas season
to help me put on a smashing party.
My house was naked, stark, Puritan like.
She unfurled red ribbons.
Before I knew it there were double bows everywhere
Down the bannister
around all the stuffed animals
on every wreath
and everything that sat still.
Christmas came that day
all full of love and beauty
memoir - The Spoon
It was just a simple spoon, an ordinary, unadorned tablespoon, nothing special, but it became a flashpoint that day. The question posed to me by my stepfather was simply this or something like it: Which direction should the bowl face for water poured onto it to go downward or something like that. I thought it should face downward, but then I changed my mind. I said it should be open, faced upward. It was the wrong answer.
He had a scowl on his face - said something cruel about my scientific aptitude as I recall. I felt him thinking I was stupid, hopeless, and I was ashamed. I think now that I was answering a different question that day - How shall we face life - open and trusting or turned away? He couldn't see it, but I do, and I am going to stay open and receive beautiful, refreshing, life giving water.
He had a scowl on his face - said something cruel about my scientific aptitude as I recall. I felt him thinking I was stupid, hopeless, and I was ashamed. I think now that I was answering a different question that day - How shall we face life - open and trusting or turned away? He couldn't see it, but I do, and I am going to stay open and receive beautiful, refreshing, life giving water.
Spaghetti Sauce - Memoir
I remember the day I poured weevils into the spaghetti sauce.
Oops!
It wasn't intentional.
The spice was too old.
It was too late to pour it out.
I served it up anway.
People thought it was pepper.
My secret.
Oops!
It wasn't intentional.
The spice was too old.
It was too late to pour it out.
I served it up anway.
People thought it was pepper.
My secret.
Memoir - Vicks Vapo rub
It is winter, freezing cold outside.
I am inside, tucked away in a comfy bed
not feeling well today.
Something is not right in my chest.
Grandma rubs me with medicine.
Then she covers my chest with Kleenex.
The fumes go right to my sinuses.
She says they will help me breathe better.
To breathe is to live.
To live is to breathe.
God is breath.
And so I wait for the stinky fumes
to bring life to my listless body
as I let go into God.
I am inside, tucked away in a comfy bed
not feeling well today.
Something is not right in my chest.
Grandma rubs me with medicine.
Then she covers my chest with Kleenex.
The fumes go right to my sinuses.
She says they will help me breathe better.
To breathe is to live.
To live is to breathe.
God is breath.
And so I wait for the stinky fumes
to bring life to my listless body
as I let go into God.
I Remember
This is a response to a prompt at Max Regan's writing class on Memoir. I wrote it after smelling a jar of herbs.
I remember...
an herb garden at our farm
thyme, oregano, all kinds of mint
planted in clumps with sloping sides to the ground
Martha spent hours making it just so
She worked and worked
consultations with everyone
blistering sun
not enough water
Most of the plants died.
Chickens ate the rest of them.
Now the garden is dormant,
Past its prime
like so many of us
waiting
for love to till the soil again.
I remember...
an herb garden at our farm
thyme, oregano, all kinds of mint
planted in clumps with sloping sides to the ground
Martha spent hours making it just so
She worked and worked
consultations with everyone
blistering sun
not enough water
Most of the plants died.
Chickens ate the rest of them.
Now the garden is dormant,
Past its prime
like so many of us
waiting
for love to till the soil again.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Swing Vote
What a fabulous film! But then I love Kevin Costner and nearly everything he does. This movie is about him and how he finally "comes to himself." It reminded me of the biblical story of the prodigal son that is found in Luke 15. In verse 15 Luke tells us, But when he came to himself... The prodigal's thought pattern changed, a new awareness dawned, he took a different course of action and he returned home to his father (a metaphor for God). Costner becomes lucid in the final scene as he finally comes to himself. I wanted to stand up and cheer.
Costner's moment of awareness came when he began to read some of the letters sent to him by people all over the country concerning the outcome of the Presidential election that Costner would have to decide. The written words touched his heart, and we see a dramatic change in him. Isn't this how people have responded to the written and spoken Word throughout the centuries? How many people have come to know God through reading the words of the Bible! Much of the New Testament is letters that Paul wrote to churches.
Costner's daughter, whose name is Molly in the film, plays the role of the Holy Spirit who guides us, counsels us, and serves as our advocate. She is the embodiment of Isaiah 11:6: The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.
Besides the spiritual connections, the film is a wonderful satire on American politics and politicians who will sell their souls for a vote. I laughed out loud!
think I'll fix some egg salad for lunch.
Costner's moment of awareness came when he began to read some of the letters sent to him by people all over the country concerning the outcome of the Presidential election that Costner would have to decide. The written words touched his heart, and we see a dramatic change in him. Isn't this how people have responded to the written and spoken Word throughout the centuries? How many people have come to know God through reading the words of the Bible! Much of the New Testament is letters that Paul wrote to churches.
Costner's daughter, whose name is Molly in the film, plays the role of the Holy Spirit who guides us, counsels us, and serves as our advocate. She is the embodiment of Isaiah 11:6: The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.
Besides the spiritual connections, the film is a wonderful satire on American politics and politicians who will sell their souls for a vote. I laughed out loud!
think I'll fix some egg salad for lunch.
Mama Mia
I wanted to like this movie! I was pumped and ready. I wanted My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I didn't get it although I did love the music and the scenery. The movie opens with a 20 year old girl, Sophie, who is about to be wed. Unbeknownst to her mother, she has invited three men, one of whom she believes may be her father, to attend her wedding on the Greek island where she lives. This movie is about Sophie's longing for a father and how that issue gets resolved.
My interest in film is in spiritual connections, seeing the metaphors for God and humanity and how those issues play out in the movie. Sophie's longing for a father is one of the primal longings of all humans. We all long for our father's blessing; in fact, it is the reason why most people go into the ministry. The Psalms are full of prayers of longing for God. Consider Psalm 13:1-2: How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?
We think our longings can be satisfied with other things - people, food, material goods, drugs, alcohol, all manner of addictions. Longings can be appeased with these for a while, but ultimately only God can satisfy our deepest longings. There are many who believe that when we find our truest self, we shall also find God. Perhaps that happened for Sophie at her almost wedding; it was left unclear, and the movie bobbled for me then. I also didn't like the way the clergyman was portrayed - old, irrelevant, clueless and bumbling. The word for wisdom in the Greek is Sophia. Sophie didn't seem to have much of that, even though it was her namesake.
My interest in film is in spiritual connections, seeing the metaphors for God and humanity and how those issues play out in the movie. Sophie's longing for a father is one of the primal longings of all humans. We all long for our father's blessing; in fact, it is the reason why most people go into the ministry. The Psalms are full of prayers of longing for God. Consider Psalm 13:1-2: How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?
We think our longings can be satisfied with other things - people, food, material goods, drugs, alcohol, all manner of addictions. Longings can be appeased with these for a while, but ultimately only God can satisfy our deepest longings. There are many who believe that when we find our truest self, we shall also find God. Perhaps that happened for Sophie at her almost wedding; it was left unclear, and the movie bobbled for me then. I also didn't like the way the clergyman was portrayed - old, irrelevant, clueless and bumbling. The word for wisdom in the Greek is Sophia. Sophie didn't seem to have much of that, even though it was her namesake.
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