Cemetery

When my siblings and I learned to drive, it was in the local cemetery where generations on both sides of my family are buried.  It was a safe place.  No small children to dart out into the street.  Very little traffic.  Just us and one parent, and hills and curves.  I remember uphill and downhill parking.  And yes, lots of curves.  It did not occur to me at the time to think of all my relatives buried there.  Driving to Minnesota yesterday, my daughter drove a lot of the way.  She got her permit in January.  She will be eligible for her license in September.  Freeways and construction zones.  My brother suggests I take her to Lakewood Cemetery while we are here so she can drive the curves and practice parking uphill and downhill.  And yes, experience the presence of all the generations looking on.

Consider this:

Look at your child, if you have one or two.  Consider how life is different for him or her or them.  Consider how life is different for you now that you are grown up (or mostly grown up).  Thank God for some changes.  Pray for others.  Pay attention to the road.

Today

Tomorrow we leave for a road trip to Minnesota to see Erik.  Part of today, of course, is to get ready to travel tomorrow.  But today is still for today.  When I am only focused on what I have to do for tomorrow, I miss what is happening now, in this space, with whomever I encounter right now.  There is a saying in the Recovery movement:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a gift. That's why they call it the present. Don't waste the gift!

So today, while I plan for the trip, I also watch the cat asleep in the sun, drink my coffee, feel the cup warm in my hands.  I will enjoy the redbud in full bloom in front, and untangle the clematis, which is already ahead of itself, given the warmer spring.

Consider this:

How are you present to today?  Right now?  Not two minutes from now.  Right now.  What do you see?  What do you hear?  What is the present, the gift, for you today?

Repair Creation

I subscribe to a daily email service from www. inwardoutward.org.   I find it in my email box every morning.  I highly recommend it.

Inward/Outward provides a spiritual quotation every day.  Today*s quotation is from Rabbi Lawrence Kushner:

When you see something that is broken, fix it. When you find something that is lost, return it. When you see something that needs to be done, do it. In that way, you will take care of your world and repair creation.

Source: Eyes Remade for Wonder

Consider this:

So often we get all bollixed up with assigning blame when it would be a heck of a lot easier to fix it, return it, or do it.  Sometimes (probably often) it is not for us to teach the responsibility lesson.  This is one I have to learn over and over again.  

Impossible things

It was Alice (in Wonderland) who recommended believing six impossible things before breakfast.  I am forestalling breakfast this morning because I need to go to the grocery store.  So I am drinking coffee, considering the grocery store, and I have begun the count of seemingly impossible things.   It seems a good exercise.  I think about the elephant herds showing up to mourn the man who rescued them from being shot. They stayed two days. I think about this incredibly early spring, tromping around the back yard chronicling the signs of new life.  I think about my husband*s friend in Russia being invited to write his name in the frost on the rocket engine, along with the astronauts who were going up to the space station.  That*s three.  I know there are more.

Consider this:

What do you list as impossible?  Part of the Alice in Wonderland exercise is paying attention to the things we never imagined could happen... but they did... and they do.  How might you increase your innate capacity to realize the seemingly impossible?  How about a couple impossible things before lunch?

Quiet

Today I attended a clergy quiet day at the Morton Arboretum.   It was time well-spent in good company.  There is something about being quiet (not necessarily silent) with others.  It deepens the experience.  It gave me space and allowed me to be present to God in new ways.  Being away from family and work responsibilities, if only for a brief few hours, slowed me down and cleared space for renewed relationship with my colleagues, for renewed relationship with God.

Consider this:

Where could you find space for refreshment?  Who would you invite to take a walk with you and trust not to fill the time with chit-chat?  Who would you like to know better, more deeply?  

Avoidance

I have to get the car serviced today.  It is the one thing I know I need to do.  Of course I am doing a number of other things as I avoid that one thing.  Perhaps I am alone in this, but I don*t think so.  It is amazing all the things I accomplish when I am avoiding something.  Of course that one thing I am avoiding is often something that will not take nearly as long, or nearly as much energy as I expect.  And this is a simple thing.  Now I am looking for the perfect book to read while I wait.

Consider this:

What is the one thing you need to do today?  Who is the one person with whom you need to make amends?  If that one thing, that one person, that one situation, is huge, where can you start?  Identify that first step.  Then, start walking.

Onion

Years ago now, my son (who is now 25) had a very creative preschool teacher.  One evening I picked him up from preschool and he absolutely reeked.  It turned out that day had been vegetable day, and the children tried a range of vegetables, including the onion.  Apparently my son had fallen in love with the onion and begged the teacher for more.  The upshot is that he ate three whole onions, much like one would eat an apple.   Three onions in a three or four year old made for a smelly evening.  I jokingly told the teacher I would feed him an onion or two in the morning before dropping him off.  Of course I never did.   He did grow up liking a wider array of food than many children.

Consider this:

We all get stuck in ruts, often food ruts, eating the same things over and over.  While the onion is a familiar food to most of us (maybe not eaten like apples, but still familiar), I do invite you to consider expanding the menu a bit this Lent.  Maybe scan the produce aisles.  In our area, there are several stores (Valli Produce, Caputo*s, Trader Joe*s, Whole Foods, to name a few) that offer a rich variety.  Choose one vegetable or fruit, and learn how to prepare it.  This may seem an odd Lenten activity.  But there is good research which shows that moving out of our ruts helps create new ways of experiencing the world around us.

Being caught

Sometimes I find myself catching sight of the bigger picture.  It*s not like I determine to do this.  It*s more like it catches me.  Often it catches me up short.   By bigger picture I mean all those times that I realize there*s so much more to things, to people, than the way I experience them.   Certainly there are circumstances which make these times more likely.   Circumstances like death, or tragedy, or perhaps even something small like someone acting completely outside of the way I have characterized him or her.  These moments come all the time, really, but it is only sometimes that I can stick with it.  It is only sometimes that I allow it to catch me, so indeed I might be changed.

Consider this:

Where have you caught sight of the bigger picture recently?  Where have you realized that it*s all so much more than you could imagine all by yourself?  Often it comes when we are surprised into it, when we are caught up short.  How have you let yourself be caught?  Caught so that you stayed with it for awhile.  Caught so that you learned, you gleaned new understanding, from the experience? Caught so that the way you see the world, that very world God has made, the same world in which God continues to act, That World... is made bigger.

Light

This weekend Daylight Savings Time begins.  The concept of saving daylight somehow is amusing to me.  We lose an hour in the spring and gain it back in the fall.  Really, ofcourse, we*re not gaining or losing anything.  We*re just playing with the pieces of that thing we call time.

Still, the daylight is different this time of year.  As the seasons change, the sun angles on the earth in a different way, now showing the world to be a more spring-type place.  The animals key into it.  The birds key into it.  The plants key into it.  We key into it, consciously or unconsciously.   Everything works together, naming it to be spring.  Amazing this thing called we call the season of spring.  Amazing the light.  

When I was younger, I understood that the word Lent meant spring.  Well, it sort of means that.  It does come from the same word from which we also get the word length.  The light grows longer and longer in spring.  So I guess it kinda means spring.

Consider this:

Pay attention to the light today.  Remember how everything looked different even a month ago.  Key into the light, the sun (there are no clouds today here in northern Illinois).  Give thanks for the light, for the growing light (at least here in the northern hemisphere).  Remember Jesus as that Light that has come to the world.   Pay attention to the light, the Light, today.  Watch it grow.

No and Yes

I wait to hear about a part-time position for which I interviewed two weeks ago.    I am almost certain the answer will be no.  Truth be told, if the answer is yes, I have some praying to do. 

I used to see no as only a failure to get my way.  Now it takes on different dimensions.  Part of it may be that now I am almost 57, with more than half those years ordained.  Life experiences, the gains and the losses, all the gains and the losses, show me, when I consider them, that I have probably learned more about what comes next from the no than from the yes.  Of course when I am waiting for something, I always want the answer to be yes … so I can decide.  A no means the ball is out of my court.  I can only begin to see the possibilities when I take a step back.  Sometimes it even takes two steps.

Consider this:

A no is always a loss of some sort.  I believe we spend our life regaining our balance in light of things not going our way.  The no response puts us off-balance.  Where have you heard no most recently?  How will you take that no and grieve it?  Who can be there with you as you live through the stages of grief, whether they are the standard Kubler-Ross stages, in a standard order, or whether you skip over anger and live in denial for a time?  Who are your grief-buddies?  

Grocery-shopping

Our timing is different.  I am a fast grocery shopper.  My husband is slow… to me… incredibly slow. 

So we divided it up.  I went shopping one time, he went the next.   It only seemed expedient.  Of course it seemed expedient … to me:  the fast shopper.   I would like to point out here that we differ in our eating speeds as well.  Here it is the opposite:  I am slow, and he is fast.  

In the last year I have had the challenge/privilege of not being able to drive.  So my husband and I have had to coordinate and tolerate and acclimate to one another*s tempo in a range of ways.  I have just begun to drive again.  We have begun to get accustomed to this new/old order of things.  We have also begun to do our grocery shopping together.  Each of us sees and remembers different things we need. The people-watching is amazing in grocery stores, and so much better when it is shared.  He still shops too slowly for me.  I am still a fast shopper.  It is not expedient.  I have newly realized that perhaps expediency is not the primary goal.  My husband?  He would have preferred all along that we shopped together.

Consider this:

What*s your speed?  Where are you leaving others in the dust?  Particularly loved ones?  For example: Do you leave enough time when you ask a question for the other to answer?

Conversely, when you are left in the dust, do you speak up?  I was often left putting on my coat in the restaurant while my husband and daughter were out the door... until I stopped them, that is.  It*s never too late to figure out new ways of doing things.  Grocery shopping, for example, is a lot more fun now.

Loss and blessing

It is an odd thing, perhaps, but it seems that the times of greatest loss carry with them the potential of greatest blessing, if we let them.   Years ago now I went through an alternately numbing and painful divorce.   A priest friend of mine took me out to lunch and counseled me to be open to reconciliation.  I mistakenly thought she meant my husband and I should get back together.  Boy, was I angry!  And boy, was she right!  After my anger cooled, she explained that she meant I needed to be open to being reconciled to the grief and loss involved, and invite God into that process.  She had been through divorce herself.  After the divorce was final, my son*s father and I decided to attend a healing service together asking that God be present in our lives as we continued to parent our young son, only now separately.   I had no idea what this could even look like.  Still, it seemed a good thing to name it out loud, and to ask for healing, whatever that would be, unimaginable healing.  Then ... I waited. 

Am I the poster child for good divorce?  No.  But through the years, there have been so many blessings.  I do not wish divorce on anyone.  I do not believe we enter Christian marriage with the possibility of divorce on the horizon, nor should we.  Yet… here I am.  Divorced, remarried to a wonderful man, two wonderful children, and yes, I am even still a priest.  And… blessed beyond comprehension.

Consider this:  

I believe God*s wish is always for reconciliation.  To me this means asking for God to enter into the hurt and hurting spots, even when we have no idea what healing or reconciliation will look like.  Most often our vision is too tiny, anyway.  

Where do you need healing in your life?  How will you invite God into the picture?  Healing prayer is one option.  Other options include the Sacrament of Reconciliation (otherwise known as Confession).  Sometimes, particularly when we are stuck, saying it out loud to someone can be helpful, and begin the process.  Receiving the Eucharist (Holy Communion) is another way of connecting with God and inviting God into the struggle with us.  

Planning

I planned the Lenten blog in a particular way.  I would do my regular writing in the morning, and the Lenten blog (this one) in the afternoon.  It was all so neat and orderly.  I thought they would be completely separate, that I could turn my brain on a different path from morning to afternoon, kind of like the way the light changes during the day.  The trouble is I do not work this way.  I never have.   To be sure, I do keep a (mostly) regular sleeping and eating schedule.  I am there at particular times for family, or for clients.  We all live in a scheduled world.  Most of the time I have even managed to write the regular blog in the morning, except of course, that is, when the Lenten thought comes first, and it seems the regular blog needs to wait.  Then of course there are the times that regular life intervenes.  This week has had several interventions that have thrown off MY timing, MY schedule.  This, while disconcerting, is  a good thing, overall.  Life happens when it happens.  I still need regular reminders.

Consider this:

Where do you find yourself tripped up by your schedule?  Maybe it*s the creative things schedule.  Maybe it*s the daily regular everyday stuff of life.  To be sure, we all need to pay attention to our families, our jobs,  We need to be there when we say we*ll be there.  Still... in the midst of whatever schedule you have made or written down, how do you let life intervene?  How do you remind yourself?

Asking the question

I wrote today on the other blog allwillbewellperiod.blogspot.com about my experience going to Wheaton College for my MA in Clinical Psychology.  In large part, my Episcopal colleagues were horrified that I would do such a thing.  For some it was akin to sleeping with the enemy (an interesting expression in itself) or even taking poison.  For some it showed that my allegiance to the Episcopal Church or to my LBGTQ colleagues was in question.  It is amazing the assumptions that others make about us when we make particular choices.  Like going to an Evangelical school such as Wheaton… for example.   Some, however, see fit to ask us why we have made particular decisions.  I have found, when I do this, the answers are most often not what I have expected.  Go figure!

Consider this:

Probably all of us know the experience of having our intentions misunderstood.  What would it look like if we each took responsibility to ask the question: What did you mean by that?  Even the classic Help me understand...  then listening to the response, really listening to the response, will go a long way toward understanding.  This Lent, let us give up assumptions.  Let us ask the questions and listen to the answers.

Children

My office is on the first floor of St. Mark*s, right next to the Parents* Day Out (PDO) space.  PDO is one of two weekday nursery school programs here at church.  I am often in the office on weekday mornings, with the children playing or singing outside my door.   Today they are getting ready to play outside.  It is an unusually warm day for the end of February.  For the most part, I enjoy the sound of child voices, as well as the occasional child knock on the door.  The presence of children helps me see things differently.  Children are often so fully themselves that I catch myself remembering what that was like.  I remember Jesus with the little children.  I remember how He said it was good to come to Him, to God, as a small child.

Consider this:

Do you have the privilege of having a small child in your life?  The most amazing things can be found in their presence, in talking with them, in interacting with them.  Watch one... and remember.  Talk with one...  and remember.  Listen to one... and remember.  Interact with one...and remember.  

Self-care

Years ago I decided to take care of myself for Lent.  I made (and kept) all the personal health appointments I had been avoiding: the internist, the dentist, the eye doctor.  Even the hairdresser.   I was a newly single mother, and it seemed more than enough to balance my child*s needs and the demands of work.  It took Lent to convince me that perhaps, just perhaps, caring for myself, and even allowing others to care for me, was a priority, at least this year.  It was hard to do this.  Very hard.  Women may understand this more easily than men.  But I think men have their own man-ways of not taking care of themselves.  I am not an expert in these.  Still, I live with one and I know it*s true. 

Consider this:

How is your health?  Yes, yours!  I mean you.  Your physical health.  Your mental health.  How do you take care of yourself: body, mind, soul?  What needs attention?  Might Lent be a time to make a beginning?

First Sunday in Lent

This morning the family and I went to church.  Admittedly we were a few minutes late.  We arrived halfway through The Great Litany, a long order of prayer and response, a staple in many Episcopal churches for the First Sunday in Lent.   We even prayed for an end to pride, vainglory and hypocrisy.  This was the Sunday of Jesus being driven into the wilderness and tempted by Satan (we hear this every year)… except… because it is the year of the Gospel of Mark, we did not linger with Jesus there in the wilderness, but moved on immediately to the beginning of Jesus* ministry in Galilee.  Already the kingdom of God is near, very near.   It begins again.   Yes, it is Lent, a season named for the days lengthening, a time the days grow longer, and spring is on the horizon.  At least here in the Northern Hemisphere, this is true.

Consider this:

By now we really begin to notice the days are longer.  What will you do with longer days, more daylight?  What will the extra few minutes each day offer you?  What will you see?  What will you hear?  To what are you drawn?  How will you capture it, then let it go?  It all seems a form of catch and release.  I saw a crocus next to the St. Mark*s office entrance this morning, just emerging from the ground.  There was a man, clearly homeless, who waited on the same side of the tracks with us as we all watched a very long freight train pass. What will you do with more light?

Labyrinth

I am not a labyrinth expert, but I have walked a few in my time.  Here is what I have discovered:

1.  It is impossible to get lost

2.  Often I take something with me: a problem, a concern, a question for God.

3.  At first it feels like I am going in circles.  Perhaps this is because I am.

4.  When I reach the middle, I leave there whatever I have taken with me.

5.  Sometimes I am aware of something new by the middle.

6.  When I reach the middle, I know I am halfway through.

7.  Usually I become more clear on the way back out.

8.  Sometimes I try to empty myself (clear my head) before beginning to walk.

9.  Sometimes I discover God fills some of the emptiness by the middle.

10.Sometimes I have to wait until I am finished walking.

11, Sometimes it takes longer.

Still…. It is impossible to get lost.

Consider this:

There are many places to find a labyrinth to walk, particularly in warmer weather.  The twists and turns can be helpful.  This Sunday there will be a portable labyrinth laid out in Mahon Hall.  Did you miss it?  Sometimes a simple walk around the block, twice, will do it.  It is helpful to have a middle point.  The same principles apply.

Would you like something hot to drink?

Would you like something hot to drink?

This was usually the first thing out of the mouth of our seminary professor of pastoral care when one of us appeared in his office doorway.  In the hallways we would laugh about this mode of pastoral care.  Now, years later, its wisdom is more obvious.  I have used it myself, many many times.  There are many ways to offer something hot to drink.  Studies have even been done that say that when we receive a hot drink from someone, we feel them to be a warm person.  But beyond that, the offer of a drink, perhaps a chair to sit in, is a beginning.  A beginning of saying: I*m here for you.  If the offer is made to us, and we say yes, then we are there too.

Consider this:

Lent starts tomorrow.  Would you like something hot to drink?  Would you like to sit down and stay awhile?  Would you like to skip or meander through Lent with me?