One Wild and Precious Life

Remembering Mary (1913-2009)

Dear Mama:

I'll start with this one -- my smart-looking mother in her suit and hat, patiently tolerating her fool-for-love husband and the daughter that never smiled for the camera as she wished.

Today is your birthday, Mama; you would be 96.  And you died 10 years ago next month.  I miss you more than ever, you know.  How you would love this place that I've landed in my journey!  Actually, I believe you do see and love this place, and that you're so happy that I'm here; but I wish you were here to share it with me.  How you would love being "The Rector's Mother," the Queen Mother of this parish!

The longer you are gone, Mama, the easier it is to remember this mother, the one in this picture, who often treated me, as you always said, "like a hen with one chick," who tenderly nurtured this girl that you didn't really understand much at all.  You see, you were an extrovert, and I was always an introvert (Doesn't this picture show it?  I cared not at all for what the photographer and you wanted me to do) -- and became even more so after my daddy died, and then as I entered moody adolescence.  My withdrawn interiority left you baffled, I know.  And you didn't know much about raising girls.  Though you were a tomboy, grew up with four brothers, raised three boys before me (and I think you secretly preferred boys), you somehow expected me to be a "girly-girl."  But instead you got the same dirty little rough-houser that I'm sure you were.  But I do know that you continued to love me fiercely, and even admire me, yes I do know this now, more than you could ever say.

Here's another picture; I'm not sure you'd like this one of yourself, but I love it as a family shot (I've posted it before, but I can't resist):
I'm seeing for the first time that, despite your extroversion, you really did not like to have your picture taken.  I know you never felt very good about your own looks, often called yourself "big and horsey," and always felt clumsy and overweight.  And yes, sure enough, you handed down those body image issues to me!  But you also gave me so much more, so much good stuff.  I can't even begin to say it all, won't even try, but we both know all the good stuff, and maybe someday I'll be able to sum it all up.

What I'm thinking of tonight, Mama, are a couple of things in particular.  I'm thinking of your love for the outdoors, nature, and time spent in the open air, which you also passed on to me.  I'm thinking in particular of my fire pit, which is ready for another burn:

I'm wishing that I had got it started tonight, in your honor.  I can't count the number of campfires we sat around in our plastic web and aluminum tube lawn chairs, Coleman lanterns hissing in the background, staring into the fire, adding one log, then another, to keep it burning after dinner, toasting marshmallows on sticks, singing silly camp songs, with you telling stories about your own childhood, or the early years of your marriage, before I came along, or about my brothers' escapades when they were my age.  Oh, those were good times, sitting around that fire.  Thank you for that.

Another thing I'm thinking about, Mama, is what a gardener you were.  Some of my earliest memories are of the African violets you nurtured in the windowsill on South Eighth Street, and how you carefully pinched off the brown leaves and watered only from below, so not to get water on the leaves.  I remember your hydrangea outside the dining room window, which you fed with coffee grounds and eggshells, and how it bloomed pink, though you wanted it blue.  I remember the armloads of tulips that you sent to school with me for my teacher, and the May baskets we made one year for me to hang on neighbors' doorknobs early in the morning.  I know you would love these perennial gardens around my house (though you'd want me to care for them better, or hire someone to do it), and you would also love my veggie garden, and would take an intense interest in my tomatoes, coaching me about how to encourage maximum fruit.  Some years I pinch out the suckers, Mama, just as you showed me, but I forgot to do it this year.  It's too late now; the fruit is already setting.  I know you'd laugh at the little herb bed I put in tonight against the potting shed:

Yeah, I know calling it a "herb bed" is a joke.  I know you're wondering about the lids from the cat litter buckets.  But I lost the little fence things that I used to have out by the garage, and I need something to warn the lawn people not to whack them down with the weed whacker.  Maybe tomorrow I'll go get some more of those little fence border thingies.  And I know it's only peppermint and dill.  The other herbs are back with the veggies, and the oregano's under the ornamental dogwood.  But the dill came up from last year in a small planter on the back porch (there's more!), and it re-seeds so nicely and smells so good.  And you'd appreciate the peppermint in your iced tea, now wouldn't you?  Mmmm, mmmm.  And if it gets too overgrown, the worst that will happen is that it will grow out into the lawn and the lawn people will mow it down, and then it will smell beautiful.

So that's all I'm going to write tonight, Mama.  Happy birthday.  I'm not sure how much birthdays mean over there where you are now, but I know that remembering and good memories and being loved all mean something.  I miss you.  I love you.  These two gifts, the outdoors and the gardening, are what I miss in particular tonight, though you know there is so much more.  I know that you're happy that I'm happy here on this beautiful Plateau.  And yes, I know you're proud of me, always were, even though you only learned to say that to me at the very end.

And now I'm going to bed.  Another gift you gave me, though I've only learned it so very late in life, is to get to bed at a decent hour so I can enjoy the cool beauty of the morning.  There's nothing like running with my dogs in the early morning, especially these next few days when the temperatures are gorgeous.  It's wonderful to see the bunnies and the chipmunks, as well as cats and dogs going about their morning business.  Everything is so fresh and new and holy.  Thank you for the early morning, too.  I hope your journey on the other side is going well, Mama.  I'm sure it is, as you're a worker, just like me.  G'night.

Happy Summer!

Once again, it took a friend to remind me that I haven't been blogging in some time!  I'm sure you all can identify with the way the days just fly by for me, slipping through my fingers.  Every day I think of this blog, and plan to write something; and I try to keep up with reading all of yours, too, but I seem to go from one thing to the next, and one of the "things" I get to isn't getting a blog post done!

As I said, I've been busy.  And it's full summer here on the Plateau, and that means hot and humid!  So I've been doing lots of indoor activities, like shopping and napping.

At the end of last month, I went to a collage workshop that was given by a couple of women who are in my spiritual directors' peer group.  The theme was on the various questions that Jesus asks in the Gospels, and two that caught my ear were, "What do you want me to do for you?" (answer:  take away my fearfulness), and "What are you afraid of?"  The boards we used were the centers cut from mat board -- wonderful material on which to collage.  Rather than naming my fears, I chose to make affirmative statements, because I knew I would want to focus on it.  Here's mine:
Hell's bells, I'm not happy with this picture, but it's the best I could do.  I'm sure it's my editing of it, but I'm not going to mess with it now.  If I did, it would be another month before I got a post done.  Oh, well.  Live and learn.

I wish you could read the words and see the pictures better.  You can see the bright colors, which make me feel positive.  Under the "Freedom" is a beautiful dove.  Above that it says, "Choosing Faith Over Fear," and the little strip below the chalice says, "breakthrough."  The little orange card at the lower right is a quote from Robert Louis Stevenson:  "To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive."  Making this small, simple piece reminded me how important it is for me to do even simple creative projects.  I'm grateful for the reminder.

I've been shopping for my Italy trip.  Got a good leather knapsack, some lightweight tops (to wear with lightweight skirts I already have), some good walking shoes.  I'm busy plotting out my itinerary, and finding more and more black madonna sites that I'd like to visit.  I've got a summer's worth of research to do before I can even decide where I need to stay.  Got a recommendation from a friend to check out Hostelling International, and for 18 bucks (yes, I qualify as a senior) I think I'll join.  Most hostels offer single rooms, and the prices are excellent.  I'll continue to explore monasteries, as well.

You can see that my gardening is happening in fits and starts:

The front porch is still a work in progress.  I've filled three big pots, and still have a window box to do.  Then I have several backyard planters; meanwhile, the plants are languishing, poor things.  I need to set them into a tray of water, at least.  There!  I just took ten minutes to do that -- maybe the poor babies will live to grow another day.

I keep working at things in bits and pieces, but that seems all I'm capable of and have time for right now.  Lots keeps happening on the church front, including lots of folks in the hospital.  I'll get it all done before I go on vacation in late July, though -- I'm sure of that.

The veggie garden is thriving, including the weeds.  I've got all kinds of baby veggies, and with the heat has come the tremendous growth spurt I expected.  Rain has been forecast every day for ages, and some folk on the Plateau are getting it, but it seems to pretty much skip over my little corner of the world.  This morning I got about 8 drops of rain before I walked the dogs, then maybe a 10-minute shower during the 8:00 am church service, and that was it.

This is the fullest view of the veggie garden I could get in a pinch.  In the lower right corner, barely visible, are my grape tomatoes and Italian parsley.  I'm pretty sure it's all weeds on the lower left.  The next bed in has beans and bell peppers -- the beans are really taking off, beginning to blossom.  They look like they'd like something to climb on, even though they're supposed to be bush beans.  Last year they were in the bed at the bottom of this picture, and the deer ate them nearly clear down to the ground.  Not this year!  They don't munch much on tomato plants, so that's what went near the fence.  The patch of dirt at the bottom is Swiss chard that hasn't sprouted yet.  The third bed from the bottom has all tomatoes, except for 2 bell papper plants.  The tomatoes are Romas and Better Boy.  Beyond that are watermelon, and beyond that, my strawberry bed.

You can see that my "Spicy Globe" basil is thriving -- about time to clip some (I have two plants) for my tomatoes.

I'm eating lots of tomatoes these days.  They're available, juicy and ripe, in all the fresh produce stores.  It's a minor competition around these parts, to see who can get their tomatoes in earliest, and get them to the farmer's market, or garden center, or produce store, or farm stand, the soonest.  I've failed miserably at that, getting most of my stuff in after Mother's Day this year -- a really safe, "sissy" date to plant.  The best trick I've heard is to put some fresh cow or horse manure beneath a thin layer of soil in the bottom of your planting hole -- the manure is "hot" enough to warm the roots of your plants and encourage them to grow, even at pretty cold temperatures.  And you've got built-in fertilizer!
Look at the teeny baby cuke!  I've actually got one bigger than that on this plant, but still a few days too small to harvest.  This one will be full-size within a week, probably.  They grow really fast!  And that's a good thing, because I'm learning about using cucumber slices in place of crackers for cheese spreads.  A friend gave me some local chevre with Italian herbs, and yum!  Unfortunately, I'm doing a 2-week, low-carb food plan, and can't have those lovely, buttery and crunchy little crackers.  So cucumber slices are not too bad as a substitute.  I'm also eating quite a bit of salad, and enjoying the cukes and those ripe, juicy tomatoes in salads.  Soon I'll have them from my very own garden!

Here, happily, are some little bitty grape tomatoes.  Yum, yum, they're my favorites!  I am so glad that I went to the garden to take these pictures, because I hadn't seen anything but grapes and the one cuke so far, and I was getting worried (why do I do that?).  Now I'm much reassured that I will have produce this year, probably more than I can eat.  Have I told you here that I freeze my tomatoes by sticking them whole or cut into chunks into quart or gallon size freezer bags?  If you chunk them, unless you freeze them spread out on a cookie sheet first, they're going to stick together -- so I usually put the chunked-up ones in quart bags.  But the whole tomatoes don't stick together, and so I freeze them in the gallon bags, and then just pour out as many as I need for a soup or sauce.  No, I don't blanch or peel them first.  Yes, I have to contend with (or ignore) peels at cooking time.  But the romas can be dropped one-by-one into hot soup, then speared almost immediately with a fork, and the skins slide right off.  I almost always consider the skins as "bonus fiber" and leave them in, unless I'm making something fancy.
I promise, this is the last veggie photo, though I have some other non-veggie photos to share, too.  Aren't my grapes just wonderful?  I can't remember if they're the reds or the whites, but the other vine didn't produce very well.  The only bad part about these lovelies are that they hang on the outside of the fence, and if the birds don't get 'em before I do, I'm afraid that the deer will!  But this is the first year I've had any significant production of grapes at all.  Last year I had one very small bunch, very good, but very small, and that was it.  So this year I'm thrilled.

Now, just a few more pictures.  Do you need another beer, or glass of iced tea, or something?  Now would be the time to get it.  I can't help it -- once I get going, I have a hard time stopping.  Next time I'll try to find something more interesting to natter about.

Now, isn't this bee balm pretty?  Last year a neighbor, a gardening buddy, gave me bee balm and bright pink yarrow, and I put them in this "nursery bed" until I could figure out what I wanted to do with them.  Look how big they've grown!  Somehow I thought they would be knee high, and instead, they are shoulder-high.  I love them.  It has been a great year for flowers on the Plateau, probably owing to a cool spring and lots of sunshine.  I'm also going to post a closeup of the bee balm, because it's so pretty, and so unusual-looking.  No simple daisy-shapes here!

Doesn't it look like some kind of strange, alien thing?  I love it.  Very delicate.

Now I have only one more picture I'm going to share with you.  I took a couple more, but I do want you to see a problem I'm facing in my back yard.  My predecessor here planted some very beautiful, very invasive variegated bamboo.  It's everywhere, and I can't get rid of it.  I have a corner bed that has many interesting things planted in it, bordered by boxwood.  You'll see in the photograph that the bamboo is taking over everything, and you can barely even see the boxwood.  I can cut it down, of course -- did last year, which caused it to grow up even thicker and more beautiful than ever.  I may try to rescue the plants that are struggling to coexist in this bed -- but I'm afraid if I move them, I'll bring along shards of bamboo, too, and it will soon invade elsewhere.  I could spray it with poison, but I hate using poison, and would probably kill everything else growing in this bed (Solomon's seal, hostas, a Japanese painted fern, and a bunch of other stuff that I can't even identify).  I don't want to kill everything, but I'd sure be happy to get rid of some of this bamboo!

Isn't it pretty?  Isn't it lush?  Can you find the boxwood?  Nope.  How about the hostas and other stuff?  Sigh.  I'm about to just give the whole bed over to the stuff, and abandon all hope and all the other lovely things there.  Sob.

So just one more thing.  The low-carb food plan I referred to.  I'm on day 9 of 14.  It's Dr. Phil's Rapid Start Weight Loss Plan.  It's only a jump-start prelude to his much more moderate and wise weight loss plan, which I intend to follow.  Basically the Rapid-Start Plan is carbs (breads and grains) only at breakfast, small portions of everything but veggies, and just a little fat.  In 9 days I've lost 6 pounds -- not too bad, though I'm pretty sure I did as well in my first week of Weight Watchers, way back when.  But the thing is, I finally decided that I should quit waiting for a hero to come along and save me from myself -- I guess I'm going to have to step up and be the hero of my own life (I think Elizabeth Gilbert used that in "Eat, Pray, Love").  Losing weight is difficult, but it's not rocket science: eat less and move more, right?  So I've ramped up my runs to 45 minutes, 5 days a week, and continue to try to get to yoga 2-3 times a week.  I want to do a little weight work at home, too:  building fat-burning muscle, and all that.  I've got to get some weight off so I can dress more comfortably, fly to Italy more comfortably, and walk more comfortably once I get there.  I finally faced up to the numbers and now admit that I have about 85 pounds to lose.  Sigh and sob again.  But the good news is, that I'm doing it.  I always believed that I needed carbs to feel satisfied, and couldn't imagine a meal without a carb.  Of course, my mom was always a meat-and-potatoes kind of cook, meat, starch, and vegetable.  But if I do it right, I can be quite satisfied with minimal carbs.  It really is an addiction of some kind, thinking I need my bread!  So this week I've allowed myself to feel pretty smug.  I've done well, even in the light of temptations like the parish barbecue dinner, complete with potato salad and cake for dessert.  Skipped 'em both.  If I do it right, I don't even get cravings, though I've had them from time to time this week.  Five more days and I can have a glass of wine and a cracker with my cheese.

It's 49 years since my father died.  I miss him this Father's Day.

Now it's off to bed with my journal and my mug of ice water.  It has been a good day.  Happy solstice!  Happy summer!

Catching Up

How can a whole month and more have flown by since I wrote here?  I don't get it.  So very much has happened.  My friend Sharon finally prodded me into action.   I do wish, even though I think of this blog daily, that I could get myself here to post more often.  A new resolution.

I have purchased my ticket to Italy in September!  Well, I bought a ticket from Nashville to Zurich, actually.  I will stay one night in Einsiedeln, home of one of the world-famous black madonnas, then I will ride the train down through the Alps to Milan.  I hope that my one non-madonna stop in Italy will be to see The Last Supper in Milan.  Then one madonna close by to Milan.  I've also made a tentative itinerary for my trip, 26 visits to black madonna sites in 21 days.  A  whirlwind.  This is not a "rent a palazzo and enjoy the wine" trip -- it's definitely a work trip, to see these madonnas and take pictures of them.

I have also whipped my veggie garden into shape.  There's always more that I could do, of course -- that's the nature of any garden, I think.  But I've planted 11 tomato plants, 8 bell peppers (4 green, 4 red), 3 lettuce seedlings, 2 parsley, 2 basil, 4 watermelon, 3 cucumber, and a great number of beans.  I've weeded, fed, and mulched a bunch of perennial things (grapes, rhubarb, asparagus, strawberries, herbs).  They need more feeding.  But everything has survived 2 years of neglect, and things are growing.  I still want to plant some more lettuce from seed, and Swiss Chard, which I hear is very heat and cold tolerant.  My kind of plant!  We've been lucky to have plenty of rain so far this year, with more due later this week.  My most pressing task now is to get the cages over those thriving  tomato plants, before they get too big!
Here is half the garden.  You're looking east.  In the far, end bed are rosemary (far right), thyme (just to the left of that, too low to see), and asparagus, with one rhubarb crown.  The next nearest bed, with green on the right and yellow straw mulch, are strawberries.  I'm harvesting a few every few days.  They are sweet and delicious, but I need to feed these plants once they stop producing.  They are a little sad for neglect.  Can you also see how I've mulched the paths with newspaper and wood chips?  The far path (between the asparagus and strawberries) has some re-growth of ragweed and wild violets, and I must nip them in the bud.  I know I'll never win the weed war -- if I neglect for a year, it will look like I never gardened here.  But I can win daily, monthly, annual battles, and I'm determined to do so.  The closest bed has 4 watermelon plants.  I can't wait to harvest those sweet, small "Sugar Babies" in August.  They'll be such a pleasure.  And when I visit friends, rather than taking the requisite bottle of wine (especially loved in a formerly dry county -- our first three liquor stores recently opened!) -- I'll take a sweet, small, ripe watermelon.  The bed at the far left has raspberries and grapes, and further to the west than pictured, cucumbers and lettuce.  All of it is thriving, amazingly.

My labyrinth has nearly overgrown with weeds and poison ivy.  Today I spent a while pulling up stuff and beginning my newspaper-and-wood-chip mulching process.  Eventually I'll have helpers, I know (someone offered to help today).  Then it won't be so much work.  I'll probably do the first, hardest work, though.  But I love it.  I think I told you that I heard God's voice about this labyrinth.  I owe it care.

My roses are blooming prolifically, promiscuously!  I can't possibly deadhead all of them.  Anyone want to come and help?  I have a guest room, and will be especially hospitable to garden helpers!
This is only one small sample of the roses that my predecessor in this blessed rectory planted.  I think the "candy-stripe" nature of its blossom is fun.  I have pink, red, white, cream, all variations, all sizes.  Some are more like trees, some are more like fountains of beauty.  They'd climb, if I could get trellises up.  I bet there are 15 plants here, and I can't keep up with deadheading them.  But I love them, nevertheless.

I've done a couple of what I'm calling "guerilla blitzes" on the perennial beds.  I pledge 1/2 hour to just rushing outside and pulling or cutting whatever doesn't belong there.  I've made some improvement, but there are (almost literally) miles and miles to go.  I'm also thinking about some major "remodeling," removing or transplaning things that aren't where I'd have them be, re-shaping (downsizing) some beds.  My veggie garden has encouraged me -- if I devote even a little regular time, I can conquer what seems like Mt. Everest!

My laptop at work gave up the ghost a few weeks ago.  It still runs, but internet access is compromised.  It seems like the cheapest "fix" would have been $60, and no guarantees.  That seemed like a big cost for a 9-year-old laptop running Windows 98.  New ones aren't as expensive as they once were.  A beloved geek-friend advised me to try a new Dell mini-notebook, so I did.  It's teeny.  It's elegant.  It fits in my purse.  I love it.  I use it mostly only at work.  I wrote this week's sermon on it, then sent it here at home, so I could do the final revision this morning, as I like to do.  This baby is small enough to carry to Italy in my knapsack.  It also has a built in web-cam and a card-reader for the memory card that goes into my camera.  I can take pics to my heart's content, then load them from the card to the mini and start over.

I'm doing more research and planning for my trip to Italy.  The more I plan and research, the more excited I get.

Today is Pentecost.  It was a lovely service in the church, though the congregation did not know one hymn (sorry, people), and the organ quit in the middle of the (sung) Creed (organ problem, or organist problem?  Not sure -- but the people SANG! -- I'm so proud of them!).  I love the Calvin Hampton music that I learned 10+ years ago in seminary; we only use it during the great 50 days of Easter, then we go back to a spoken Creed.  This was the last week for the sung Creed, and for certain other liturgical variations that I use to make the point that the church celebrates Easter for 50 days, ending this very day, in fact.

This afternoon we had a big celebration for our adult literacy program.  This was something started by a parishioner, with my encouragement.  It is much needed in our area, and it has exploded in size.  Everyone wants to help, and we get more and more students.  Individual tutoring can really help a lot of people learn to read, especially those with learning disabilities, or otherwise having difficulty in a public school classroom situation.  I'm moved by the folks who simply hope to get a GED diploma for high-school equivalency; but I'll admit I'm most moved by the people who want to be able to read the bible, or those who want to be able to read books to their grandchildren.  The Bishop was here for our service, and he was very complimentary about what he learned about it.   His great gift is to make everyone feel like important contributors to the mission of the church.  Even me.  Even our little reading program.  Bless our Bishop for this great gift of his.

Tonight has cooled off considerably, here on the mountaintop.  It was pretty hot today -- about 80, which makes for pretty intense heat in my upstairs bedroom.  But I think I'll make it at least one more night without the air conditioning.  In these tough economic times when my retirees are really frightened and sometimes already suffering, I try to keep my own (church-paid) utility costs as low as possible, to do my own part.  Besides that -- I want to be as "green" as possible.  I figure even a fan on all night for air circulation is better than the air conditioner.  Anybody know the "green facts" on this?

There's always more to show and tell.  But this is enough for tonight.  I'll try to post more than once a month, for goodness' sake!

Back Home Again

Okay.  I've had an absolutely lovely time away.  The retreat was great.  All the presentations, including mine, were well-received.  The Mercy Center in St. Louis was probably the loveliest, most gracious retreat center I've ever attended (and I've attended quite a few of them).  I took a couple of pictures of my favorite parts: 

Yes, the Mercy Center has a lovely labyrinth, constructed, as I read the story, over landscape fabric.  It was initially built by a group of women, and mulched with wood chips (wisely salvaged from pruning and trimming on their own property -- oh, that I could get our church to do that!).  Now the dark black mulch is shredded rubber, an excellent choice, I think, and I wish I could get hold of some for my own labyrinth.  It was striking.  It is a 12-circuit, like the large one at Chartres Cathedral in France.  It also seems much like the one at Kanuga Camp and Conference Center, where I actually learned to appreciate the labyrinth.  It does seem longer than the one at Kanuga, though.

The outdoor stations of the cross also touched my heart, probably because I saw them so soon in the Easter Season!  I've longed for outdoor stations at our parish.  We have a beautiful and unique set inside our church, and we use them exactly once a year, during Holy Week.  I'd be happy, though, if others wanted to use them more often.  But in the church, to move from one station to another really only requires a shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.  I really wanted stations that you could actually walk a few steps between.  You might be able to see in this photo that the cross sits in the center of a very large circle that contains all 14 Stations of the Cross, each one sheltered in a small wooden "house-shaped" structure, mounted on a pole.  My idea, exactly!  And executed most beautifully, with great love and devotion.

I did not get any pictures of the presenters, but the Hindu woman (a social worker by day) appeared in a sari; the Muslim woman appeared with appropriate head covering, the Jewish woman wore a lovely yarmulke or kippah, and the Zen Buddhist wore traditional Japanese robes.

I didn't get pictures of them all, but I was so very pleased that they were so warmly received by the audience, a Christian religious order (some of whom, I was told, might be fairly conservative).  Everyone there seemed to want to know more about the worship and mystical practices of the world's great religions.  I was also very touched at the warmth with which my talk and my presence were received.  Though I was much too much of a newcomer to share in the rather intense emotional experience of the entire retreat, I certainly felt loved and welcomed, and that was a Good Thing!

During my presentation, I offered this quote, by Bede Griffiths, an English Roman Catholic Monk:  "If you look at religions as they present themselves to us, it is like five separate fingers.  But if you penetrate to their source -- to the palm of the hand -- you will find they all spring from the same source  and instead of being separate entities they are, at their base, sharing in one common, mystical tradition."  This quote was received with many nods and murmurs of assent.  It's what I believe, too.

I left the retreat warmed to my heart.  I was fed by all of the presentations (on interfaith approaches to prayer, worship, and meditation) and the people who were there; I slept a lot, signifying that I had allowed myself to relax into this time of grace and rest.  I was also installed as a Companion in this order, something requiring more of a commitment than my previous status as "Friend."  I wish I had also taken more photos of this gracious location, with its wide, spiral staircase spanning three levels (but also with elevator), its lovely grounds, and the delicious food we were fed with far too great regularity!  I loved this beautiful and holy place, and do hope to return.

And then I drove the three hours back to my family's home in the easternmost part of central Illinois.  Oh, how lovely that was!  I wish I had pictures, but I don't.  But my heart danced in the arms of my family.  I conversed and broke bread daily with the ones I love, and then also had a lovely dinner with my one remaining brother, who generously shared pictures of himself and others in my family.  He lost his wife 7 months ago, but is coping remarkably well.  I was so happy to see my loved ones doing well, and regretted missing the ones who were working in another part of the state.

This afternoon I arrived home.  I was so, so happy to be with my doggies again.  Mr. Buddy, who seemed to have a sore back when I left, is fully recovered.  My kennel lady was kind enough to text me and tell me of Buddy's return to dancing.  The kitty has taken up residency in a windowsill in my study, and I'm delighted that we can finally all be one family down here.  My  youngest dog, Ms. Clementine, has grown far gentler and more respectful, so the kitty need not live in terror any longer.

So I'm so happy to be here.  I was only gone a week, Wednesday-to-Wednesday, actually eight days, if you count them up on your fingers.  But meanwhile, things have gone wild in my garden!  Just look at a few of these!  I've often had the experience of being gone midsummer, and finding my garden gone wild upon my return.  But never have I had this experience so early in the spring.  Things are so much more lush and beautiful than when I left a week ago!

This tree peony never fails to knock my socks off.  I love the vibrancy of it.  This year it has more blooms than it ever has had.  I made the mistake early on in my time here of cutting it back severely, and it has bloomed ever-so-slowly and sparsely in the years since.  I love the blowsy sensuality of these blooms.

This is only the second year in my 7 springtimes here that I've seen these clustered purple wisteria blooms.  The wisteria is amazing, when it decides to happen.  The problem is that it doesn't like any severe cutting back, and if I actually trim back what has extended into the little tree next to it (see upper right), then it doesn't bloom again for ages.  Of course, two years ago we had a severe late frost -- but I'm ever so grateful for these blooms that occurred during my absence!  Now if I could only nurture back its twin, which was chopped to shreds -- twice -- by my ever-helpful lawn crew.  This year I will try once again to pick one perfect stem and nurture it into a small tree.

I could post a number of other photos I took today, including some dynamite columbine.  But  all of these sweet flowers do announce spring to me.  I love lilies of the valley.  I remember when I was a young teen my favorite cologne was "Muguet des Bois" (flowers of the woods, as I recall) -- the sweet scent of lilies of the valley.  They are such a pretty addition to my springtime.

I can't believe that I was gone only for a week, with nothing but the barest hints of these things when I left!  Now they are all in full flower.  Besides that, when I took my walk with the dogs tonight, I discovered many, many tiny bunches of grapes on my wild-as-can-be (though of a domestic variety -- only neglected) grapevines.  I have a parishioner of Italian extraction, who knows about these things, who insists that all these tiny buds will produce only tiny, tiny heads of grapes.  But it's too late to prune as he has instructed, this year.  And there are so many little bunches!  The very best I can do is to find ways to repel the deer, so that I can eventually see all that develops for myself.  Then I'll know better what I should do for next year.  I have shiny things to set blowing outside the garden to scare away the deer.  I can get some netting (though this is best in battling birds).  I might even surrender to the terrible prospect of "liquid fence" -- garlic and rotten eggs!  Oh, my.  But I'd love to save the grapes that have budded out (pictures another day).

How lovely to get away!  How lovely to visit a fine facility and also be part of a lovely retreat!  How truly heartwarming to visit old locales (including the gravesites of my parents and daughter), and to enjoy the love of my family for a few days!  And how wonderful to return home, especially to an abundant garden!  Thank you God, for all of this!

Happy Easter!

Well, we've passed through the glory and the agony of Holy Week, and now we're in the Great Fifty Days of Easter.  You've gotta love a holiday that lasts not just 12 days, like Christmas, but a full 50 days!  Yep, that's Christian Easter!  We get Easter clear up to the Day of Pentecost (May 31 this year)!  Yay!

This week has been a week of "normalcy" in my schedule, and also of holy rest.  I've slept deeply every single night, and also napped every day, I think.  Holy Week, if you really enter into it, can be an intense and exhausting experience for anyone.  If you're a priest, it's a lot of activity.  And if you're in a really good spiritual place and a priest, it's a lot of very intense activity.  And even though it doesn't seem like a lot of work at the time, because the spiritual energy is so intense -- afterward, a good rest is in order.  Most priests take the week after Easter off; I chose not to because I'm taking a week from this coming Wednesday to the following Wednesday (more about that later), and also because I will take time in the summer, as well as the 3 weeks in the fall to go to Italy (2 weeks of which will be continuing education time).  So I'm gently resting in the midst of a return to normal parish life.

On Monday, though, here's what I got done:

Yes, the labyrinth is completed!!  I'm not sure what drove me to do it on Easter Monday, except that it was a beautiful day, and there was only that one circuit to complete.  It did mean collecting and hauling two trunkloads of stone, but I did seem to have the energy and motivation!  I'm so very pleased with it, and will tell you about this evening's experience later.  I want to talk about two more things first.

I'm preparing for a retreat in St. Louis.  It's for an Anglican religious order called "The Worker Sisters of the Holy Spirit" (there are also Worker Brothers).  I'll be installed as a "companion" in this order at the retreat.  The theme this year is interfaith approaches to prayer and meditation.  We're leaving out all the theology, and skipping right to the heart -- the encounter with The Holy in each of the 5 major religious traditions:  Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam.  I get to make a presentation on Christian meditation (and contemplative prayer), and then engage in a dialogue with a Zen master.  I'm so excited.  What a wonderful opportunity for first-hand interchange and learning.  I've long loved Thich Nhat Hanh, and his writings about the intersections between Christianity and Buddhism.  Wish me well!

I will also get to see my family for a brief time on this trip, and I miss them.  I'm really, really looking forward to it.  I'll stay in my sister-in-law's home, and also get to see my wonderful grand-niece, Madeline Anne.  Yay!  And on the way back, I'll see my brother, too.  My last remaining brother, who was so very good to me when I was a little girl.

The second thing I want to talk to you about is this:  Susan Boyle.  I post the URL for the two people in the whole world who haven't seen this appearance on "Britain's Got Talent."  Why, you might ask, do I bother to post it, to mention it?  Why on earth would I possibly care about a plain, rather chubby, perhaps invisible middle-aged woman, who comes across a little bit ditsy at times, but who is, as Simon Cowell says, "a little tiger," and possesses a pearl of great price within her?  Gosh, I don't know.  Don't have a clue.  All I know is that I listen to this You-Tube broadcast over and over and over, and cry and laugh every time.

Now:  tonight's labyrinth walk.  I've been walking pretty much every day.  Having my own labyrinth is as great a privilege as, say, having my own swimming pool or hot tub (how I'd love those!)  As you may have gathered, this time in my life is incredibly spiritually rich for me.  So I quiet myself at the start, as I always do.  I have no particular question or problem as I begin, but I'm aware of being both incredibly grateful, and also that I need to ask so much for myself.  "Thank you" and "Please" are the words that I can articulate.  I begin to walk quietly and meditatively.  Almost immediately I notice sticks and dead vines (that I've pulled as I was building it) in the path.  I stoop each time to pick them up, and soon I have one hand nearly full.  Then I hear God's voice.  It's in my head, but I don't believe it's my own self-talk voice.  It says, "Take care of what I've given you."  And I know that voice is about taking care of the labyrinth (which was totally a God thing, as far as I'm concerned -- I couldn't have done that much work all on my own), but it's about so much more, too, in ever-widening circles.  It's about taking care of myself: my body, mind, and soul; my pets; my home; my family; my parish and all I encounter in the course of my work; this community, and yes, even the world, praying and advocating in whatever ways I can.  "Take care of what I've given you."  Yes, it's a call and a big job, but also a big gift, to hear this.  I'm not sure I deserve to have heard God's voice, but I have.

Now:  Have any of you heard God's voice?  I don't seem to hear it as some biblical characters do -- coming from the outside, like "hearing voices" (in our culture, that's a sign of mental illness).  No, my experience of this (I actually only have a few times when it has happened) is that it's a voice in my head, but it's not my voice.  If it were my voice, it would have said something like, "I must take care of everything that God has given me."  But this voice definitely said, "Take care of what I've given you."  It was a directive.  That's one of the Big Ways I've heard God's voice.  Often it has been much more subtle -- like an idea or a hunch.  Or a sermon.  Y'all don't possibly think that I just think up or make up my sermons every week, do you?  Nope.  I consider them gifts that are "given" to me, almost like dictation that I just copy down.

Anyhow.  When I hear God's voice, I always want to tell someone.  And I usually think maybe it's a message that's not just for me, but for other people, too.  So maybe there are things you all need to treasure more, and take better care of, too.  Well, if the shoe fits, is all I can say.

But I do hope you're rejoicing in the power of the Spirit, and in the power of true Resurrection!

Welcome to Holy Week!

Technically speaking, Holy Week starts on Palm Sunday.  We had a great Palm Sunday service, with warm temperatures, sunshine, and the usual blessing of the palms outside, at the gate to our Memorial Garden.  Once the palms are blessed and distributed, we process around the outside of the church to the big front doors (that are only open two days a year).  We chant Psalm 118 as we walk, and then go forward with the normal service, except a very long gospel reading -- the Passion reading (Palm Sunday is also called "Passion Sunday" because of this).  We have readers for the parts or characters in the reading.  I don't preach much of a sermon on Palm Sunday; there hardly seems anything one can add to that story.  I did encourage folks to reflect on the variety of meanings of the word "Passion," however:  passion as "passivity" (same Latin root word), as "suffering" (like com-passion, suffering-with), and as "ardent love" -- it was Christ's love for God that led him to obedience to what he perceived as God's will, regardless of the consequences.  At any rate, one fairly new parishioner said that ours was the most beautiful Palm Sunday service she had ever attended.  Now that felt good!

Here you see my little Holy Week wreath, with dark red ribbon (the liturgical color for Holy Week), hanging on my front door.  I also like it because the grapevine resembles a crown of thorns.

Holy week is seriously my favorite week of the year.  It's a really poignant juxtaposition of the beauty of springtime and the bleakness of the suffering and death of Jesus.  It's the one season of the Church year where I never fail to enter, at some level, into that liminal space that has one foot in the outer, material world, and one foot in the spiritual world, that place I call the kingdom of heaven, where everything is very real and all is present now.  I love it.  I especially love the culmination of Holy Week, the Great Vigil of Easter, which is held after sunset on Holy Saturday, or early, early, before sunrise on Easter Day.  It's a dark and mysterious service that begins in darkness (dusk, anyway) and then suddenly, there's the light of the new fire, the new Paschal candle, and the chanting procession into the church, where I chant, "The light of Christ," and the congregation, processing after me, responds, "Thanks be to God!"  Then, in the darkened church, I chant the Exsultet, the whole thing, which is a lovely, mystical sound.  We have a series of readings that describe salvation history, and then the lights come up on the newly beflowered church, and the first glorious "Alleluia!" of the Easter season is said.  We pass from darkness to light in that service, from slavery to freedom, from death to resurrection.    We have champagne in the communion chalice, and a celebratory champagne reception after the service.  Easter morning, while lovely, is truly an anticlimax to this glorious and dramatic service.  I guess there's a bit of "ham" in every priest, but the mystery of that night passage from death to life is palpable.

As for the weather:  Oh, my.  This is what I woke up to this morning: 

You can see that it's hardly more than a dusting, but still -- in April?  And get this -- tomorrow is forecast to be sunny and 58 degrees!  Go figure on the weather around here.  This is what spring is like on the Cumberland Plateau.  Two years ago this kind of weather killed a lot of plants, and we had hardly any apple harvest that fall.  But it was more days of cold, and a harder freeze -- at least I hope that's the case.  My apple trees haven't quite blossomed yet, but they're just about to.

And I want to get out in my garden!  My grapes need tying up and pruning, and the beds need weeding and mulching, and the paths need weeding and mulching, and I have peas, spinach, and lettuce to plant.  Sigh.  I'm longing to get out there.  Plus I'm so close to having the labyrinth finished, and I'd love to have it done by Easter Day.  Maybe two more loads of rocks is all it will take.

So I hope you all have a gloriously rich and meaningful Holy Week.  Our services start tonight (Evening Prayer and Stations of the Cross), and then go tomorrow (Tenebrae), Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  Holy Week is always a marathon, but it's a wonderful one.  I may not see you till I'm on the other side of it.

And don't forget that we celebrate Easter for fifty days!  Talk about a good, long holiday season!

Good Morning!

Isn't it a beautiful sunrise?  Oh, yes.  And I know it's not morning -- not now.  And, in fact, this sunrise is not from today, but from yesterday.  Palm Sunday.  It was a beautiful, beautiful day, and I had absolutely no energy to work outside.  I had a morning service, and then another "house church" service at 2 pm.  After that, I was exhausted.

No, today looks just a little bit different:

You can't really see the snow on my big boxwood tree, but right in front of it, you can see a dusting of white.  Okay, I know we're not looking like Nebraska here, but still -- April really is the cruelest month.  Today I could have done a little gardening, perhaps finished my labyrinth -- but nooooo -- it snowed all day long.  All day.  Of course, the ground was too warm to really accumulate much, but I sure am praying for the flowers.  My yard is gorgeous; I must take more photographs.  But I did just now go out and rescue a solitary tulip, and I hope she's not frozen.  You can see a little more here:

It's my back porch with the magnolia and snowball viburnum both beginning to bloom.  I hope it warms up quickly enough to save these beauties.  I lost a lot of the magnolia 2 years ago in an April freeze, and hardly had any blooms at all last year, as she recovered from her trauma.  I know many people are suffering from the weather, and I'm not.  But if you have a prayer or two to spare, send some white light or whatever you do for my flowers, OK?

The labyrinth is nearly finished.  I'm on the very last round.  I think it may take two more loads of stone to finish, but that's about 2 hours' work.  I can't wait!  Did I mention that I'm hauling all the stone myself?  I go to the spot where I found it, load up 12 canvas bags (everything from huge, beach-bag size, to grocery-size, to book-bag size), and carry them home in the trunk of my car.  Then I unload and place them, and do it all over again.  Gradually I will mulch the paths, but that can happen over time.  I have walked it for the first time, and it was delicious.  I also have a mega-case of chiggers, just to prove that I was working!

But now I have a tenderloin steak under the broiler, a potato in the microwave, and a gin and tonic with my name on it.  It's Holy Week.  Today was blessedly peaceful, but the marathon of services begins tomorrow.  I love Holy Week.  It's probably my very favorite time of the year.  There are lots of services, lots of work to do over the next six days.  But it's a great container for most of the mysteries of Christianity.  I hope to be sharing some reflections with you over this week, so that maybe you can understand what it means to me.

The Mystified Gardener: Spring Fever

How can it be that I missed the first day of spring?  I'll tell you how -- I was outside, working hard, and didn't give the day a thought!  I love spring, love, love, LOVE.  Spring and fall are my two favorite seasons, and probably spring the most, though in this State (Tennessee) of hot, humid summers, seeing summer finally break is also a treat.  I've done my first gardening, and am seeing the results.  Look:

It's two of my first three rows of spinach, sprouting!  I've never had spinach sprout!  I think I always planted it too late -- it's definitely a cool-weather crop, and needs to be sown here very early.  I know, you can see that the soil is dry.  I thought I might hold out for rain, but I promise that tomorrow I will water it by hand, with tender loving care, even though it's supposed to rain on Wednesday.  I'm not going to risk it.  I should have done it sooner, even.  But I'm so thrilled to see it coming up!  While I'm out there, I'm going to till soil and plant 3 more short rows, as well as some lettuce and peas.  I'm planting things that don't grow high in the bed near the fence, because last year my green beans were decimated by deer!  I don't think they can reach in far enough to get to spinach and lettuce in this bed.  I'm also going to hang shiny CDs to startle them away.  People advocate smelly and even toxic repellants, but I just can't.  I'll try the old-fashioned stuff first.  I asked for those disposable aluminum pie tins on Freecycle, but nobody responded.  So I think shiny CDs (I have tons from AOL, otherwise known as AO-Hell) hung at frequent intervals might provide a deterrant.  We'll see.

Here's one more veggie garden shot: 

The rhubarb is up -- all 3 crowns of it!  I see some little pest has been at it already on one leaf -- but we don't eat the leaves anyway!  Now I've just got to get some compost and manure on it, as well as seeing to the grapevines, raspberries, strawberries, perennial herbs (rosemary and thyme, and sage in the front perennial bed), and especially the asparagus crowns.  The garden is way full of suspicious and menacing little holes in those beds -- maybe my fence didn't sink deep enough?  Hmmm.  Lots of work to be done there.

But this spring, I have a new love.  Yes, I've spent some time cutting brush and also thorny locust sprouts from the fencerow and the only growth that separates me from a fairly major highway.  And I've enjoyed that.  Some regular attention to these spaces could enhance my quality of life, seriously.  I'm very close to US (not Interstate) 70, which runs from who knows where to Nashville, and beyond.  Lots of traffic, except for the very wee hours of the morning (let's say from 2 till 5 am).  What I really would like is some kind of tall, soundproof barrier, like they use on the Interstates.  That's not going to happen.  So instead of the wild assortment of wild rose, locust suckers, hickory and oak starters from nuts the squirrels have buried, and those low plants with pointy leaves whose name currently escapes me (not agave -- what?), and poison ivy -- I'd like to cultivate a tall privet hedge from the privet that grows wild and invasively here.  The oak and hickory trees are fine, but I don't like the other stuff.  Some privet is coming up already, and all I need to do is let it grow.  Eventually someone could cut it down every 5 years or so, and it would grow tall and thick and give me privacy, at least, if not a bit of a sound barrier.  Also, out there in front, something is killing my hemlocks.  Since I refuse to use any kind of poison, my guess is that it's some pest, and they will all die eventually.  I'd love it if this strong and essentially evergreen privet would grow thick instead.

But I haven't told you about my new love yet.  It's a labyrinth.  For years, I've dreamed that this parish might fund and create a labyrinth on its grounds.  We have 18.8 acres, and about an acre of cleared space behind the church (partly for parking, partly just a clearing, but all underlaid with gravel, so not "getting stuck in mud" territory).  I dreamed of a labyrinth that might attract anyone on a spiritual journey in all of Cumberland County.  Well, no-go.  Before this year, people didn't have the knowledge, energy, or interest.  This year, nobody has the funds, either.  Within the last few months, I've walked a couple of simple, non-fussy labyrinths, one in the backyard of a colleague.  I've decided that I can do this.  I've researched patterns on-line.  I got an easy-to-construct, 7-circuit classical labyrinth.  Then, as I ran with my dogs one day, I found a nearly endless source of stone.  I have a clearing in my own backyard, in the wooded area behind the lawn, where I could construct this thing.  I decided to build myself a personal labyrinth, that I will happily share with all parishioners.  It's in my back yard -- well, in the woods right behind my back yard.  Here it is:

So far, so good.  It has really been fun.  I found the pattern from the internet, and I found a really good source of stone (a subdivision under development -- every time  you move earth on a mountaintop, you get lots of stone!).  You can see that I'm already running into "tree issues."  I'll eventually mulch the path with a variety of things -- wood chips, pine needles, whatever comes along.  But I've only laid out maybe half of it, maybe not even that, since the circuits get bigger each time around.  That's still lots of stone to gather and lay!  The paths are two feet wide, and I started out with an 8-foot diameter "seed pattern."  I'm loving it.

Other good spring news is that lots of things are in bloom around here.  Daffodils and hyancinths are in full bloom, and the earliest ones are fading already.  The cherry tree and quince are starting.  The viburnum by the front door is fading fast, as are the witch hazels and (plentiful) Lenten roses.  I have a pretty little star magnolia that got terribly damaged in our April freeze two years ago.  We had to cut back dead wood severely, but it did survive:
 
It's a little lopsided and considerably smaller than it was 2 years ago, but it has survived!  I like survivors (like me).  Behind it you can see the veggie garden, and behind that the woodsy-brushy screen that conceals the labyrinth.

I love having this much space.  I love it that the magnolia is in bloom.  Within a week or so the pink one behind the potting shed will bloom.  A few weeks later, I'll get something from the dark one (almost maroon) outside my back door.  I've been watching the courtship at my bird feeder  outside the dining room window.  It's all such a pleasure.  It's nearly time to fill the hummingbird feeders.

There's more gardening work than I can ever do by myself -- ever, ever, ever.  But I've decided once again to enjoy myself.  As long as it's fun and soul-satisfying, I'll do it.  I'll take little stabs at it here and there, time after time.  Nothing will ever be perfect, but in the gentle course of time, everything will be better than it is now.  Having my hands in the dirt is something I expect I'll need for as long as I live -- at least a bit.  Maybe eventually a raised bed or window box will be enough, but the dirt literally "grounds" me.  Gotta do it.

I hope you all know the satisfaction of tending living things.  I hope you can have the experience of feeding people with what you've grown with your own hands.  God does love a garden.

The Mystified Gardener (Outside)

There's something really mystical, mysterious, mystifying about being outside at night.  Early this evening, taking advantage of the extra hour of daylight, I decided to burn my brush pile.  It's in the fire pit way back behind the garage, the one that I dug myself and circled with stones.  The pile of brush was really, really huge, especially after Friday, when I cut brush and picked up fallen branches from the little clearing in the woods behind my house.  It was overflowing before that, and something like gigantic afterward.  I don't know what I'll do when I move to a town with real restrictions about burning.  The fire department tells me that my brush-burning is considered a "backyard campfire," and perfectly legal anytime (though I don't do it when there are drought conditions).

A little kerosene starts it.  Kerosene burns very hot and is not volatile like gasoline.  It's probably comparable in fire-starting to charcoal lighter fluid, but it burns hotter.  It's always a little scary right at first, when I let the pile get as high as I did.  Every time I do this, I promise that next time, I won't let it get so high.  But sometimes it's too cold to stand outside and watch it, and then it rains, etc. etc. etc.  Anyway, when that first flame burns so high, and the slightest breeze carries it toward the woods or the pine trees on the east -- I am very alert, I tell you, watching very carefully, and can have my hose out there within five minutes, if the need arises.  But it never does.  After that first burn-off, it settles down to a medium-size, but still very hot fire that can, with a little tending, get rid of a huge pile of brush in a half-hour or so.  Of course, to really burn down every bit of it, it takes a little longer, a little more tending, a little more gazing.

How I love a campfire.  It brings back memories of camping with my family (my mother always told me that  I camped from the time I was 16 days old), and more recent memories of campfires with friends, complete with homemade clam chowder, heated over driftwood coals, or staying in a friend's fishing cabin and laughing late into the night around the fire.  And there's nothing as compelling as gazing into a flame, and then the coals that remain; I find it hypnotic.  Tonight the moon was very nearly full (Wednesday is the "official" full-moon night, but it looked pretty full to me), and she played hide-and-seek in the clouds that skipped along in the lovely breeze that kept my fire burning.  It was magical to glimpse moon and a swatch of stars, then bright moon behind the edge of a cloud, then moon again.  It was a celebration, in and of itself.  Oh, and I forgot to mention that it was in the high 60s, and I didn't even need a jacket.  That's a treat, too.  Welcome, Spring!

And yesterday I bought 6 bags of compost and manure, a bale of yellow straw for the strawberry bed, and planted 3 short rows of spinach (after much robust weeding, including dandelions with those deep roots).  I'm planting the lettuce and spinach in the long bed furthest west in my garden; last year I had green beans there, and the deer ate them all.  I don't think they can reach far enough over the fence to get the spinach and lettuce; I'll plant the beans on an interior bed.  Yay!  Gardening season is here!

Money

Help me understand it.  I can't do it with a pencil and paper, but I'm not very mathematically astute.  I seem to have a lot of money -- for me.  I've always been a grasshopper, and not much of an ant.  Remember the fable?  The ant was careful and sober and conservative, always working for the future, always careful, always with an eye toward "storing things up for a rainy day."  The grasshopper was always a bit more like Tigger (in the Winnie the Pooh stories) -- always jumping around, always happy, always playing -- and not very concerned with being careful, and with what the future might hold.  It seems, reaching back into the depths of my memory, that the ant got his reward for his prudence, and the grasshopper had to pay, once winter came.  Well, I'm the grasshopper.  I have not saved.  I have not been careful with money.  I am prone to spend for short-term, whimsical things, rather than saving carefully for long-term gains.  I watch Suze Ormond every single Saturday night, and catch her on Oprah whenever I can.  I don't have anything approaching 8 months' emergency savings.  I have a lot of debt (that I pay regularly, including student loans).  I'm not a financial fraud, but I've also never been very good with money.  I go through cycles of being overwhelmed with credit card and other debt, and then buckling down and paying it off.  I've never, though, had anything over $5,000 of credit card debt, so I'm not one of those outrageous spenders; and my current credit card debt is about $600, and dwindling, because Suze says to pay it off, and I am.  On the other hand, I've never had anything over $5,000 in a savings account.  For a middle-aged woman, this sounds pathetic.

But there's this other thing.  I've become committed to saving; yes, I want a gorgeous emergency fund.  But I've also got this weird impression that money is for spending.  I doubt that I'll ever have 8 months of net income in an immediately available savings account.  But I'm also aware that I have enough now to take a trip to Italy this year, because I've set my mind to serious saving.  No, I don't have enough to finance the whole thing yet.  But I also know that if I buy a non-refundable air ticket, I will make the other part (lodging, transportation, and meals) happen before I go.  And afterward I'll have a pathetic savings account, nothing approaching 8 months' income, when I get home.

But maybe you all know how committed I am to seeing the black madonnas that are in Italy.  Over 25 of them, including on the floor of the duomo in Siena (I was there 4+ years ago -- how did I miss her???)  I am passionate about this research.  I really want to go for 3 weeks this year, and then for 3  months (my sabbatical) next year.  Maybe next year I could even see a little bit of France (there are literally hundreds of them there).  I don't know what it is about the black madonna that has entranced me, but she has.  Some of it is the work I do, helping folks with aging and ailing, failing and dying and grieving: that's the work of the black madonna, for sure.  And what I also know for sure, is that the more I immerse myself in the study of the black madonna, the more I'm able to immerse myself in the work I have to do, because it is her work.  It's a precious gift, a precious calling, one I have been prepared for my whole life.  I remember when I told my mother that I felt called to the priesthood, and she said, "I think your whole life has been getting you ready for this."

I've also got kidney disease; now is the time to do the things I want/need to do.

But the big part I don't exactly get is that my income hasn't really increased.  Yes, I paid off my car mid-year last year, so I have a bit more disposable income (which has mostly gone to debt repayment).  Yes, I quit getting manicures, pedicures, and massages a while ago.  But I have also committed to this black madonna work, both in an academic sense and in a visceral life sense.  And now there seems to be more money (yes, people are also giving me money) and more opportunity to go.  I also have these odd, early-morning creative ideas about how I might be able to go more cheaply.  Call me crazy -- but I believe that, if I'm doing God's will, things open up to me (and they seem to have).  They just do.  Help me track this.  I've already researched transportation costs, but still have work to do.  I could do this.  Send prayers and good wishes my way, OK?

I'll keep you posted.  It's pretty amazing.  But I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go for a time this year.  Even though it makes no financial sense at all.  I'm sure Suze Ormond would say, "DENIED!"