One Wild and Precious Life

Belgium, So Far

Using my tablet, which is imperfect, so I'll be brief & experiment further tomorrow (pictures, etc.).

Great adventure today in Bruges (Brussels is home base for 3 nights, then on to Paris on Sat.).

First, a brief story:  My maternal grandfather, my mother's daddy, fought in World War I, and eventually died from complications from mustard gas injury there.  But when my mother was small, he came home with a piece of lace from Belgium for her, and she eventually wore that lace as a wedding cap when she was married in the 1930s.  I still havethat Belgian lace wedding cap, and I took it out of its wrapping in my bottom dresser drawer at home before I left Tennessee in July.

I've always known this trip is my mother's gift to me; when I discovered that the flight I booked to Paris would actually land in Brussels, I knew it was mother's doing.  So today I had a great day trip to Bruges.  I bought handmade lace - 2 pieces in 2 different lace shops.  And each time I was so close to tears, and each time, I told Mama's story of her daddy, and WWI, and the Belgian lace wedding cap.

At the first shop the woman, maybe my age, said, "Isn't it wonderful how, in our lives, we get to live things twice?  And when we're young, we don't know this."  At the second shop the owner was older, and she pointed out that my lace was nearly 100 years old now, maybe more, and that I must frame and preserve it.  She was also touched, and regretted that I didn't have it with me, so she could see it and show me how to mount it.

As I pondered it all (didn't Mary treasure many things in her heart?) over my spectacular lunch of MANY mussels and Brugge-brewed beer, I grew teary, and also now as I write this.  I thought I was traveling to gather stories and pictures to bring home - who knew that I would also be bringing my stories to a bigger world?

Sabbatical!

Yes, I'm on sabbatical.  Last night I tried my first blog post of the trip, and got hung up by the length of time it took to post photos.  So maybe I'll try again, but not right now.  I need to work on reducing their size for blog posting, I think.

My first question is, how did I ever get so lucky to have work that gives me 3 months of paid leave for "true sabbath," that is, "rest," every 5-7 years?  I certainly didn't know about this when I was in discernment for the priesthood -- I didn't choose this vocation (well, I didn't really choose it anyway -- it kind of chose me) based on getting a sabbatical.  I think I first heard about this when I was graduating from seminary, but I never really dreamed it could happen for me! I tried to plan a sabbatical 3 years ago, and nothing seemed to work out right.  This time, after nearly 10 years at St. Raphael's, everything just seemed to fall into place in the most wonderful ways.

So now I have embarked on the adventure of a lifetime.  I don't think I've had three months off work since the summer after my freshman year of high school.

My plans are in three parts.  The first two weeks I spent with my family, staying with my sister-in-law in Illinois, and haunting Terre Haute, Indiana, where I grew up.  I took many sentimental journeys there, revisiting places and people that meant (and still mean) lots to me in my growing up years.  As I said, I hope to post pictures:  of the 2 houses where I spent my childhood, schools I attended, etc.  I also had the opportunity to spend time with 2 of my life's best friends -- women I've known since we all were 13 years old.  And I had a lovely visit with my one remaining brother, Paul, who was my childhood companion, and who is the only remaining person alive who has known me since I was born (well, except for my Uncle John, whom I haven't seen in decades).

Things aren't always working out as I'd planned (thanks, John Lennon, for saying that life is what happens when you're busy making other plans), but I feel like a sponge, soaking up every experience, every adventure, and learning from it all.  So far, it's wonderful.  Miraculous, even.  I'm eating well and abstinently (no flour, sugar, or alcohol, weighed and measured quantities, regular calls to my dear, long-suffering sponsor).  I'm feeling such gratitude.  I even heard God in church (where else?) last Sunday -- it's great not to have to be "in charge," and just go and sing and listen.  Life is amazing right now.

Now I'm in Buffalo, NY (well, near there, anyway), camping by the lake in my friend Cheryl's cozy, sweet little trailer, and using a mobile hot-spot that I purchased in order to have the internet while I'm here.  My plan is to be here by the lake during the week, when the campground is nearly empty, and then be in Buffalo on the weekends, doing city things.  I'm also hoping to get a lot of writing done.  I'll be here for the next 4 weeks with my faithful dogs -- and with Cheryl, too, beginning next week.  Today it was beautiful in the morning, and then it rained, which was also nice.  I've experimented with my camera's auto-timer, and taken pictures of myself outside, alone and with the dogs.  It's the kind of day when it's hard to know what to wear -- it's damp, so feels cool, but too warm for jeans and sweaters.  So I keep changing clothes.

I've had time for reading (Cynthia Bourgeault, "The Meaning of Mary Magdalene;" Phil Cousineau, "The Art of Pilgrimage;" Richard Rohr, "Breathing Under Water;" Diane Mott Davidson, "Fatally Flaky," and more and more to come).  I've been catching up on Jack's Blog, which I'm enjoying very much.  I've been catching up on email.  I've been taking naps.  I've even been reading Facebook from time to time! Sunday I got to finally see "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel."  I guess it would be hard to go wrong with the cast it has, but I was simply enchanted.  I could have stayed with those people and watched their lives the whole night, and was sad when the 2 hours was over.

I'm also listening to a lot of old music -- revisiting the past, I guess.  Before I left, I downloaded Beach Boys (yes, it feels like 1966), Neil Diamond (yes, it feels like 1973), the BeeGees (yes, it feels like 1982), James Taylor (1971).  Oh, music can take me right back to how it felt back then!  I've also got "Graceland," the Beatles, and "Born in the USA," and I keep thinking of more music I want.

The next leg of my great sabbatical adventure is Europe -- 5 weeks in Belgium, France, Spain, and Italy.  Parishioners have given me a week's time share in southern Italy and a week in southern Spain.  I'll be chasing black madonnas all over the continent!  I'm particularly excited about seeing Paris, about which I've had dreams -- literal, night-dreams, though I've never been there, and about all the madonnas I'll be near in southern France and northern Spain.  It's truly going to be a once-in-a-lifetime trip -- unless my retirement dreams of winters in Sicily and summers in the US really work out.

So I'll be writing and adventuring and posting more here.  Stay tuned!

Black Madonna & The Garden

Last Saturday I had the privilege of doing an Advent Quiet Day at Grace Church, Chattanooga.  For those of you who aren't familiar with Quiet Days, they are fairly traditional in the Episcopal Church, especially during Advent and Lent, the liturgical seasons of self-examination and preparation.  My friend, who is the priest in charge at Grace, asked me to do something about the black madonna for them.  Typically the day consists of two presentations of perhaps 45 minutes each, and some quiet time for prayer, meditation, journaling.  It's a time to take the material of the presentations and internalize it, make it your own.  I was very excited to do this presentation, but didn't know what to expect, as I had offered the same presentation to my own parish last year and zero (yes, zero) people showed up for it.  But this is a much bigger and more diverse parish than my own; in addition, I was privileged to get some additional publicity in the form of National Episcopal Church coverage, so as I said -- who knew how many people might come?

I'll admit, the day didn't start well.  I thought I knew my traveling time pretty well, having been off the Plateau and down to Chattanooga several times; in addition, I had directions from the diocese.  Unfortunately, my travel took a bit longer than I'd planned, and I got on the connecting interstate going the wrong direction.  I was nearly a half-hour late (having planned to be 45 minutes early), and of course I arrived flustered.

But then it all settled down nicely.  I talked about my madonnas as artifact and Christian icon.  I talked about how Mary is actually the perfect companion for Advent, as she certainly knew the truest sense of "preparation," and how my own story connected with the darker aspects of Advent preparation.  I, like Mary, knew how it felt to be young, pregnant, and unmarried: I know the shame, the doubt, how it feels to tell parents and one's intended of the untimely pregnancy.  I spoke of Advent being a time when we move into darkness, then out of the darkness toward the light of the Incarnation of Christ.  I showed my artifacts, talked a bit about my pilgrimage last year in search of the Italian black madonnas.  I answered questions, then we took a short break and sat in silent, centering prayer for a time.

After lunch I talked a bit about what some believe are the pagan origins of the black madonna, about the similarity to Isis and Horus, to Artemis, about how the Madonna might have appeared to the Italian culture that had been worshipping women in the form of goddesses for millennia.  I told them my theory that Christianity was much easier for this pagan culture to accept when it appeared in the form of a female holding a child, and how some of the Italian legends and festivals for Mary held elements that resembled pagan legends.  I told more of my personal story, about how grief and dark places are such old, familiar friends to me, how I've trod the dark paths of grief many times, and how I feel called to be with people in their darkest times here at my own parish.  You can imagine that in a parish of retirees, I have many occasions to walk beside them in times of illness, disability, and grief.

This is the black madonna at Oropa, the first one I saw in Italy.  Isn't she striking?

I had 13 participants, and it was really wonderful to be with people who understood my points, who were interested, who asked questions, who weren't mystified when I talked about Carl Jung, his feminine principle, the shadow, the sacred feminine, the dark feminine.

And I was delighted when they asked me to return to conduct their Lenten retreat, an overnight at a nearby retreat center.  I'm happily planning and preparing for that now, as well -- am thinking of focusing on the biblical Wisdom tradition and writings.

The weather has really shifted today.  It went from a mild 50 degrees F, with a little sunshine, to overcast and rainy and cooler.  Tonight and tomorrow it's supposed to snow.

Earlier, I worked outside in the yard a bit.  This is an "after" shot of the sidewalk, which was buried in leaves and overrun with nasty bamboo grass and wild rose thorns.

Yeah, keep in mind, this is the "after" shot!  Imagine what it must have been before.  You can see this overgrown bed (who planted this bamboo grass here in the first place?  It sure wasn't me!) will occupy me for hours, as I spent an hour here, clearing this walk, cutting that nasty wild rose, and raking a bit.  Every mild winter day will afford me the chance to get outside into the invigorating fresh air, as can be seen from this:

and this:

and this:

and this:

Well, that's about half of what needs to be pruned and trimmed, weeded and tidied.  Want to come help?  My flower beds are suffering from years of neglect now; every year I swear I'll do better, and every year things get away from me almost before I know what's happening.

The good thing about this part of the country is that we get plenty of days that are 45-50 degrees and sunny in the winter; that's when it will feel good to get outside and bend and stretch and breathe fresh air (and leaf mold from all the dead things).  Despite appearances, I like to get my hands in among growing things, and it has been entirely too long since I've done that.

Tomorrow is the Third Sunday in Advent. I'm not quite sure where this year, much less this short season, has gone already.  I've begun my Christmas decorating, which feels as though it will be low key this year.  Here's the tree, partially decorated:

The ornaments are red ones that I had in the house (I used them up through Valentine's Day in various bowls).  I haven't brought the rest in from the garage yet -- I get really tired of schlepping stuff back and forth.

Finally, before I head off to finish my sermon:  I've begun a program called Food Addicts in Recovery Anonymous (FA).  It's modeled very closely on Alcoholics Anonymous, not just some generic "Twelve-Step Program."  One of the books we study is the "Big Book" from AA.  It's a pretty rigorous food program for the first 90 days -- no flour, no sugar, call sponsor daily to report food plan for the coming day.  As I read the materials daily, I find that so many of the things these books say "fit" for me, and my heart sinks.  I do not like admitting that I have an addictive disorder or personality.  I'd much rather this was all just "bad eating habits" that I could change at will.  But I've been carrying this weight for nearly 20 years now, and trying to "change bad habits" hasn't really worked.  Though the focus of the program is not weight loss, per se, but becoming abstinent and working a program of recovery, I do, of course, want to lose weight, as well.  This is my eighth day, and I can tell I'm losing.  My knees and hips are already thanking me, and I expect they'll continue to do so.  But equally important, I'm becoming more and more aware of habits and characteristics and coping mechanisms that need to be addressed and changed.  I think I've got a long road ahead of me, but if it gets hard, I remind myself that it's really one day at a time, and maybe I can make it through just this one day.  I'll let you know how it goes.  I'm really trying to let God do this for and with me, but it's hard to let go the reins.

Hope you all are taking some time just to be in Advent.  Be alert.  Watch for signs of what God's doing.  Get your heart ready for the feast of love that Christmas is really intended to be.

Oops!  I forgot the promised link to last Sunday's sermon (thanks again, Fran, for encouraging me to do this!):  Download Advent 2A, December 5, 2010 . I will post tomorrow's when it's finished -- tomorrow!

St. Andrew's Day

Well, that was a rude awakening.  Sigh.  I had a whole lovely post written, and it simply disappeared because of some fancy key-work I did.  I wish this Typepad dashboard had one of those little "undo" arrows like MS Word does.  I could have saved myself a half-hour or so.

Well, rather than rewrite everything about St. Andrew, I'll just send you to the Wikipedia link . Enough to say that today's his day, and he's the patron saint of Scotland, brother of St. Peter, and first Bishop of Byzantium.

Here on the Cumberland Plateau, it's a gloomy, rainy day, and I've had the lights on all day.  I've been cozied up at home, having no appointments to pull me outside.  One of the great things about being a parish priest is the flexibility of my schedule.  I can read and prepare for bible study, for two book groups (one a Sunday group, another a non-parish group), start my sermon, and at the same time be warm and dry, and put on a big pot of turkey-vegetable-rice soup.  Yum, yum.

Days like today, I realize that the 3 years of study for a THIRD master's degree, the intimidating student debt, the grief that I experience from time to time are all worth it.

As I cooked my soup, I could gaze out my kitchen door at this:

I wish I had taken this picture a week ago, when more leaves were on it; but I don't believe the colors were as brilliant then.  Every time I see it, I'm grateful for the warmth of it.

As I was browsing my pictures, I also saw these, and they added another spot of sunshine to my day.  They were taken last month, right after I planted them:

And now look at the contrast here, between October, when the mums were definitely dominant in this window box with mums and pansies:

And this, taken today, albeit with pansies a little sodden:

The mums got frostbitten, and the pansies are flourishing!

I also found this closeup of my Advent table wreath, which shows off the purple privet berries nicely:

So if you're having a gloomy weather day, my prayer for you is that you find a spot of blazing color to brighten things up, or that you let my own spots of sunshine do the trick for you.

I've been thinking a lot about gratitude, which you can probably tell, if you read my sermons in the Sunday posting.  It seems that when I make a practice of literally "counting my blessings" (at least 5 a day), then the world just goes better in every way.  I don't know why that is, except I'm more aware of the abundant grace in my life; I also believe that positive energy attracts more positive energy, and that's what gratutude generates.  I'm making a practice of writing down 5 blessings or gratitudes every day.  Try it!

A Sermon, and the Rest of My Sunday

So this is the first time (well, this year at least -- I think I might have done it once before in nearly 150 posts) that I've posted a sermon.  I wish I had posted my Thanksgiving sermon with the previous post, but I didn't.  So today I'm posting links to two.  I seem to be obsessed with gratitude this week -- there are worse things to be obsessed with!

Download Thanksgiving Day C, November 25, 2010

Download Advent 1A, November 28, 2010

There they are!  Now you can read them if you choose, or not if you don't!

Speaking of gratitude, what a great day it has been!  Church was great.  We switch to Rite I in Advent (also Lent -- traditional, nearly Elizabethan language, a more penitential tone), and we do a lighting of the Advent candle(s) (only 1 today  of course) during the service.

Since it's the last Sunday of the month, I've begun to do anointing and laying on of hands for healing after the service.  This is really pretty popular.  Today, the third month I've done this, I had maybe 10 people, all of whom were anointed for themselves, a couple of whom also asked prayers for others.  I've got to say that this is one of the most fulfilling sacraments that I do as a priest (anointing is a sacrament in the catholic (small c) tradition).  I think God marked and called me as a healer even when I didn't know it, back when I was a therapist.  Now I do know it's not me who's the healer, really -- but I get to be the vessel through which God heals -- or at least reminds people of God's healing will for them.  I've always treasured our Wednesday service of Eucharist and Healing -- but this recent addition on Sunday is Also very precious and life-giving to me.

I love this Advent book group!  I love Marcus Borg (don't tell)!  His chapter on the prophets blew me away.  Part of what I love is his story of his own experience, how the various meanings and interpretations of the prophetic writings became layered and nuaanced for him.  It leads me to reflect on my own religious experience, and the layers and depth and nuance that is still a living part of my faith journey.  I took Old Testament in seminary with one of the primo Old Testament scholars in the world (specializing in the prophets, incidentally), and his parting message to us is that Scripture, while timeless, must be re-interpreted for each generation of Christians, so it remains fresh and relevant, rather than a dusty old book up on the top shelf in the library.  Borg's comments on the Exodus stories only reinforced what we learned and experienced with  the Kerygma study our group just did.  It's so amazing that this stuff lives and applies now just as much as it did then.

And then I came home, put my turkey carcass in the soup pot with carrots, onions, and celery (and some water, of course), and just simmered it all afternoon.  I've turned it off to cool; I'll put it in the fridge tonight, and tomorrow I'll skim off the fat, and also skim out all the bones and veggie scraps, feeding pieces of gristle and skin to my kids (the dogs, of course).  Then I can heat it all again, add some fresh veggies, spices, and some Minnesota-grown wild rice that someone gave me, and cut up a few chunks of the turkey meat (a good use for white meat -- is it clear I prefer the dark meat for sandwiches?), and have a lovely soup.  Yum, yum, my mouth is already watering.

After the carcass went on to cook, I took a big, deep sleep on the sofa, with BBC America droning away.  I don't know what was on while I slept, but as I awoke, I got to see another show about penguins.  I love penguins.  Those deep sleeps are a little harder to wake from, but so very good and restful and satisfying.

Oh, and before that, I spent considerable time watching C-Span.  I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, because I'm sure most folks think C-Span is very boring or nerdy.  But I watched a panel from Emory University discuss raising the tone and quality of public discourse, and a couple of book discussions.  I find this even more compelling than "Sleepless in Seattle."  What's wrong with me, that I'd prefer watching  P.J. O'Rourke, with whom I don't even agree (but he is kind of cute), to Tom Hanks & Meg Ryan?  It just seems to feel really good to get my brain cells tickled once in a while.

Then this evening I watched TV for a while (some network dreck for my "junk food" quota, then a couple of amazing PBS shows, one called "Christmas in Yellowstone" that was awesome).  I did some reading and journaling, and now talking to all of you.

Overall, I couldn't really ask for a better Sunday.  Yay!  I hope to talk to you all more than I have till now.

Life in the Garden

This was a great weekend.  I love my quiet little life here on the Plateau with my parish, my books, my pets, and God's creation all around me.  I guess lots of people would say that my life is pretty small, but it feels just right to me.

I spent a good deal of time in the veggie garden on Friday and Saturday; as usual, the perennial beds go begging.  I started out with this:

Yeah, I know -- it looks pretty bad.  Okay, really bad.  It wasn't too bad when I went away on vacation the end of June, but by the time I got back late in July, it was already overgrown, and the heat and discouragement got to me.  But as I said the other day, the temperatures are really moderating around here, and it was really great gardening weather over the weekend.  So after only an hour, things looked like this:

Not nearly perfect, I know, but so much better!  And no, I didn't make the tomatoes appear this weekend -- they were already there, just not in the last shot.  Back against the fance, you can now see the rosemary, which has grown to huge proportions (I wasn't even sure it would winter over up here), thyme, and the wispier growth is asparagus.  The nearer bed is my strawberry bed, which is in need of some renovation and mulch.  I'm always amazed at how it just propagates itself, though, with minimum upkeep.  And even now this scene looks better yet, as more of the path is completely weeded and mulched with several layers of newspaper and then a thick layer of wood chips.

Now, you'll need to look very closely at the next two pictures, to see what I saw when I got ready to walk the dogs this evening:

The first is the two fawns who live in our woods, grazing at the back of the yard; the second is one of them munching apples in my driveway in the gorgeous afternoon light.  You can see by the raised ears that I've been spotted -- my next quick shot didn't even catch a glimpse of disappearing white tail!  I love these deer -- the doe has raised her two fawns in close proximity to my yard, and they're often seen from the church (you can see the side French doors of the church at the back of the photo).  It always feels like a blessing when they come to eat the apples that fall from my trees; I know as a gardener they are supposed to be my rivals (and they did eat over my garden fence and devoured my green beans while I was away) -- but it's an honor to be host to such gentle, timid, beautiful creatures.  I can scarcely believe that in about a month it will be deer hunting season, and men will take to the woods with their guns to kill these babes and their mother.  I do hope they'll be safe in my woods, but nobody can always keep the scavenging hunters off their property.  Grrrr.  It's one thing when it's the locals, especially the "hills and hollers" folk who need venison for their family's winter sustenance; it's another when it's big men in their camoflage, making sport of killing these beautiful critters.

I pray that my deer will be safe and sound out behind my house.  The difference in the pictures, incidentally, is that the first was taken through my dining room window, and the flash went off; the second was taken as I crept through my side yard, trying to get a clear shot (with my camera only, of course!) of these sweet children.  May you all be blessed with such beauty in your lives.

Ah, one last mention, since I included "books" in my categories:  I'm currently reading Kenneth C. Davis' "American's Hidden History" for my study group.  Very interesting little-known background on the settling and earliest years of our nation.  Even though I knew about Fort Duquesne in Pittsburgh, it never really soaked into my mind that the French were in Pennsylvania!  This book contains lots of stuff we never got in the history books.  I'm really glad our study group is doing it, because it's not one I'd read on my own -- I'm not much of a history buff, except biblical history.  I just finished an unabridged audio version of Ken Follett's "Pillars of the Earth," and I'm excited to hear that there's a sequel out, or soon to be out.  It was fabulous.  And then I read "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini (author of "The Kite Runner").  It was chilling and fascinating and absolutely enthralling.  And now I'm reading "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides.  These last two were lent to me by a parishioner who keeps up with recent fiction, and I'm so grateful.  I've been reading and writing lots more lately; maybe that's why I seem to have less time for blogging.  I'm only coming to learn in my later years that I really can't do and have it all -- there are only so many hours in the day!

Sabbath, Redux

Well, after my "working vacation" week at Chautauqua, I hit the road for Buffalo.  I knew how badly I missed Cheryl when I sat down as soon as I entered her home, and we talked for about two hours straight.  We stayed in Buffalo that weekend, rather than heading for the Lake; apparently the campground where she parks her trailer has a huge celebration every July 4 weekend, including a big bonfire on the beach, a live band, and all night partying.  Not being the party-hearty gals that we used to be, we chose to stay home.  That gave me the chance to go to church at Calvary Episcopal in Williamsville, NY, where I served as Assistant Rector for 3 1/2 years right out of seminary.  It was great to see familiar faces, but I did forget that midsummer without air conditioning, even in Buffalo, can be a tad warm.

Sunday afternoon, 3 old friends came over to Cheryl's, and she prepared an elaborate and wonderful tuna nicoise salad which we munched on all afternoon.  The best part, of course, was the conversation.

Monday, Cheryl and I hit the grocery store and then headed south for a week and a half on Lake Erie.  All I can say is, it was wonderful.  Here are a few pictures:

Our sweet little home.  And below is where I spent a lot of time reading, journaling, and drying out magazines that got left in the rain:

Cheryl is a late sleeper, so I had most of the morning to myself to make coffee, write morning pages, eat breakfast, read, walk the 50 yards or so to get a look at the lake, and putter around.  Fortunately, Cheryl and I both are heavy sleepers, so I could rattle and bang around in the tiny galley kitchen next to her bedroom, and she didn't even roll over.  It was lovely to have that leisurely, solitary (introverted) stretch of morning to ponder the mysteries of the universe.  When Cheryl woke, we would talk while she ate her breakfast.

The  bulk of the day was spent in various leisure pursuits, including trying to find wireless internet access, walking around, or:
I have to ask you: who kidnapped me and put me inside that fat woman's body???  Still, the hammock was heavenly, and even more so after I raised it up higher, so my butt cleared the ground by more than just a couple of inches.

From 3-5 pm I went to the beach every day (well, okay, it did rain a couple of days -- but that's not bad for a week and a half on the lake!).  I love my little rituals, and having a set beach time was perfect.  After the beach it was cocktail hour, and I came home, had a gin & tonic (or 2, or several), and started dinner.  Since I enjoy grilling, Cheryl left that part of the dinner up to me, and she took over table setting and salad-making.  Yum, yum.  We had steak, fish, lamb, chicken, grilled veggies, pre-assembled skewers of meat and veggies, and all manner of wonderful treats.  Evenings were devoted to reading, conversation, the occasional campfire, and reasonable bedtimes for me (though Cheryl tended to stay up late reading).  Oh, and I forgot the nearly nightly walk back to the shore to check out the sunset.
Yes, they looked like this nearly every night.

I was so sad to set out that last morning for home.  I wanted to linger, but I knew I needed to make the whole drive in one day, so an early departure was mandatory.  I wanted to get home Friday night, so I would have all day Saturday to unpack, do laundry, sort and open mail, and generally settle in.

One of the things that Cheryl and I do for one another is share what we're currently interested in, and inspire one another with good ideas and good intentions.  Cheryl has been on a "healthy eating" kick, and she inspired me to add lots of fresh fruits and veggies to my diet.  I'm better than she is about exercise, doing yoga 3+ times a week and running 5 days most weeks.  So the last few days she and I took long, brisk walks together and talked about hopes and dreams and goals.  I think we both got a healthy dose of motivation from each other!

When I got home, I felt energized and inspired.  I went to both the farmer's market and a roadside stand, and bought lots of healthy fruits and veggies.  I decided to cut out cocktail time altogether for a while, all to the aim of losing as much of this excess weight as I can manage.  I got back into my running practice, and also started a home yoga practice, even if just for a few minutes a day.  So far, I've lost 4 1/2 lbs. in the 2 weeks since I got home!  Yay me!  I've also got new energy and enthusiasm for work, which is part of what vacations are for.

So I recommend it.  Exotic travel is great.  Working vacations can also sometimes be great.  But I think God made the Sabbath for us because God knew we needed some time to be still and do nothing worthwhile.  That's where re-creation, even Resurrection, happens.  I'm so grateful for my time away, and so glad to be back home with my work and my dogs!

My Birthday, and the Weekend

It has been a good weekend.  Friday I worked on my back porch, clearing, cleaning, sweeping, planting, making it generally a nice place to hang out in the cooler parts of this summer.  Friday and Saturday were cooler than it has been, so it was actually enjoyable to be working outside.  I still want to buy some brightly colored annual flowers for my "window box" planters (that sit on the ledge), but that will come later this week.  Here's some of what I've done so far:

I know, it looks a lot like last year, except I bought a new umbrella with a crank and a catch that allows me to angle it, so I can have shade in the late afternoon (this photo faces West, and now that the big maples are gone, there's nothing to provide shade from the late afternoon sun except this little umbrella).  The leafy green thing on the right is actually a hydrangea that I bought last year at the farmer's market -- the woman who sold it to me had trained it into a little tree (I'll have to do some trimming to get it back there).  The blue pot closest to the camera has dill that re-seeded from the "crop" I had in that pot last year.  I only used that dill a few times, but if you put a little bit in yogurt, it makes the nicest sauce for grilled salmon.  The lowest green thing you can see is something my neighbor gave me -- she calls it "oregano," and it certainly smells like oregano, but it has leaves that almost look like hydrangea leaves -- sharp-toothed, rather than the small, round leaves that most oregano has.  The stems are also thick (kind of like coleus), not like the thin stems of my other oregano.  Anybody have a clue?  On the left is my fountain, made from a Walmart resin pot and a piece of pipe I found near my fire pit.  I'd love to have something on that wall -- but it's vinyl siding and not truly my own home (the church provides this house for me), so I'm not really confident about what I can actually do.  You can also see the two new boards that replace splintery ones -- I haven't stained them yet.  A parishioner did that repair for me -- the same one that made me the pretty little garden gate that I posted before.  Here's another shot:

If I'm standing at my back door facing vaguely northwest, here's what I see.  In the little planter on the ledge are coleus, given to me last fall by my spiritual director.  They're small just now -- I let them go far too long, rooting in jars of water.  But I can tell they're growing.  Soon I'll have 1 or 2 more of these planters, also planted with pretty coleus.  If I look at this corner, here's what I see:  the little concrete garden angel with a broken wing that a clergy buddy won for me at one of those fun gift games where you can open a new gift or steal one from someone else.  She was a real pal.  The coleus given to me my my spiritual director.  Down below, a bird (heron? ibis?) in rusted metal that my sister in law complimented after I bought it at the Pier I "scratch and dent" store.  The mosaic pot is one I bought at TJ Maxx, and it has lemons that remind me of the Amalfi Coast in Italy.  The bottom is busted out because I left it out and it froze -- but it's still pretty!  The gray thing to the right of the hydrangea tree is a funky little bird feeder that I won THIS year at the same silly gift-game event.  The pot on the base of the birdbath has a little rosemary that wintered over outside.  I transplanted it, so let's see if it survives my merciful ministrations.  On the table, at the very, very far left of the picture, you see a small gray thing.  It's a sweet little cement pig that my artist friend, Rara Schlitt (the one who painted my black Julian) made and gave me.  He's laughing, and I love him.  So this view contains a whole bunch of things that have connections to people I love.  No wonder I love being here!  Behind the porch is my potting shed.  When I came here, it was an airless, moldy mess.  There was ZERO ventilation, and it smelled like the various fertilizers and poisons stored therein.  See that raised up thing at the very top of the roof?  It's a vent that the SAME parishioner (the blessed one of the new boards and the garden gate) installed when he replaced the moldy roof.  And he also installed a screen door that I bought and painted the same blue as the porch railings.  I know, some people think the color on the railings and screen door is way too "loud" -- but it makes me smile.  Anyway, he also installed a skylight in the potting shed (other side from this view).  So instead of dark and dank, now it's dry and light, though way too messy and full of spiders, still!  But this view contains lots of love and affection -- things people gave me and did for me.

I also cleaned and filled THREE hummingbird feeders.  Here they are (look for the dots of red, the most difficult being above and slightly to the right of the one that is at the far left):

You can also see the screen door on my potting shed here -- I seldom close the wooden door that is opened within, which is why it stays so dry, light, and well-aired in there.  No windows, though, except the skylight.  The tree is my flowering cherry, that blooms in both spring and fall.  Much clipping and trimming needed, of course.  On the left is my bird feeder (you can't see it -- it looks like a little church), but you can see at least the bottom squirrel guard (there's also one on the top), and they seem to be effective.

And now I must go.  My family is here -- from Illinois!  It's the best birthday gift I could possibly get!  I didn't even mention my 56th birthday (Thursday), which included a flat-on-my-face, spread-eagled, face-down fall in the parking lot of the retirement community where I do a monthly communion service.  The row of little old ladies who saw me fall, with their faces wrinkled with concern, was solace enough (my Greek chorus to the parking lot tragedy) -- and they patched up my skinned knee and leg in the on-site clinic.  A parishioner buddy bought me lunch, which was absolutely lovely -- and then I went off to a dentist appointment (broke a tooth last Monday) that went from a simple $100 repair to a $1175 root canal and crown in the blink of an eye.  Happy birthday to me, and thank God for dental insurance, even if the coverage is only partial!

So Friday, Saturday, and Sunday really were more like a birthday, with the pleasant day off from work, when I could engage in home (well, porch) making, and the arrival of gorgeous Roman glass earrings (from an archaeological dig in Israel, where I also obtained Roman glass nearly 10 years ago) from my best friend Cheryl.  I put all my cards from friends, family, and parishioners on the mantel, put on my earrings, and began to feel like queen for a day!

And now my family!  I spent almost the whole day cooking for them (tabbouli, hummus, curry-rice salad, real brewed iced tea), just enjoying every minute of preparation and anticipating their arrival.  And now they're here, and I feel so blessed to have them!  Today I feel like a domestic goddess.  It was lovely to watch them eating and enjoying some of the goodies that I made for them!  Tomorrow I will also enjoy them (even though I have a couple of mandatory meetings), and then they will be off on Tuesday to Disney World in Orlando to watch darling Maddie dance.

The Life of the Mind

Tomorrow I am taking a single vacation day from work.  Combined with my two regular days off (which I take whenever possible), I have 3 days off -- a nice chunk of time to be away from church work.  No, it's not as good as a week with my family, or two weeks in Buffalo or Italy (let's see, all other things being equal, how could I choose between Buffalo and Italy?).  But it's time away.  I have planned my time in the past, when I've scheduled time off.  But this time I played.  I scheduled the whole three days.  I designed a retreat.  I have allowed for art, reading, writing, nature, and lots of fun time, too.  I printed myself an elegant program of offerings.  After I playfully designed it for myself, I thought that it might be something others would enjoy.  Of course, if I really had the space for others here in my home, (well, I do have 3 guest beds, but work space is at a minimum, unless I use the church hall, too), I might build in more options and flexibility.  But this is how I will spend my next 3 days:

Download a_life_of_the_mind_retreat.doc

It is a MS Word document.  I can't seem to import multiple pages directly.  I hope you'll take a look at it.  For me, it's perfect.  Some comments:  I've begun eating oatmeal daily for breakfast, and find it delicious (with the fruit added) and filling.  I prefer the steel-cut oats to rolled oats, but am using up a very old box of rolled oats before I resume the delicious steel-cut ones.  Making oatmeal with milk (even lowfat) ratheer than water certainly kicks it up a notch, as Emeril would say.  Certainly for more than one person, I'd have to incorporate more breakfast options, though it would never be a buffet!  Of course I incorporated my current art and reading projects.  And I love to watch TV (Friday night is a very good TV night).  We have the luxury in this town of a yoga studio and teacher that people come to from miles around.  She spent years studying and India and teaching in New York City before she relocated here to be near her parents, who retired here.  What a gift my teacher (dare I call her a guru?  Maybe not!) is!

Even though I have no immediate plans to offer this private and personal retreat to others, I'd love your feedback.  Is this something you'd attend?  How would you change it, if you could?  What parts particularly engage you?  I only ask because I began by designing something that would appeal to only me (since I'm the only one on this retreat).  But I know I love providing quiet days for my parish, even to the small number who attend.  It occurred to me that this is something I'd travel and probably pay big bucks to attend, especially if I got my exquisite massage therapist to come in and offer massage to participants who chose to purchase it.

At any rate, it was great fun.  I intend to put my schedule into a folder and luxuriate in it.  I will not think of work one time.  I will emerge feeling as though I'd had a vacation at the shore.  And I welcome your constructive feedback!

Down off the Mountaintop

Interesting that this Sunday's assigned readings are the Transfiguration -- the origin of that "down off the mountaintop" phrase.  That's what's on my mind tonight.  It hasn't been an entirely easy week and a half, coming back to the real world after my graduation weekend, which was both literally and metaphorically a mountaintop experience.  I came back to many pastoral care needs, large and small.  It's hard being in a parish made up primarily of retirement-age and older people who inevitably go from vibrant, active retirement to increasing frailty and illness, eventually to decline and death.  Just now one of my best-beloveds in the parish (I know, I shouldn't have favorites, but it's an impossible expectation) is facing very serious heart surgery.  His bride of only 12 years (they are both in their 80s) is worried sick.  He is amazingly calm and accepting, whatever the outcome of this risky procedure may be.  My heart is breaking.  And he's not the only one, of course.  It has happened over and over in my 5 years here, and will continue to happen more as my tenure here increases.  Yes, of course, there is always an influx of new members (mostly young, healthy retirees who move to this area, the retirement capital of the midwest), who I also come to love.  But that doesn't make the loss any less painful, even though I truly believe the ones who die are in a wonderful place.

I'm also left after my graduation with this great void, wondering, "Okay, what's next?"  I'm caught between wanting to create a dozen projects right away, in order to fill that void (the loss of a program I was passionate about), and on the other hand, suspecting that a bit of fallow time is probably what I need -- a time to grieve, a time to discern.  I already have a half-dozen projects in mind.  What I know is that I need to be doing something creative (more about this in a minute), something spiritual, and something physical.

I think I'm finally back on track with my exercise practices, which haven't been anything approaching normal since Christmas when I was sick.  I'm back to running with the dogs (well, what I call my "old lady runs" -- I run where it's downhill or flat, but mostly walk uphill, and it's quite hilly here in the mountains), and back to yoga.  I know when I run, it's definitely going to be a good day.  I attribute it to the endorphins that get kicked up when my heart rate elevates.  It's also good mindfulness practice, whether it's feeling how sore and out of breath I can get, delighting in the shenanigans of my dogs, or noticing the beauty of the geography where I live.  I credit yoga with changing my life.  It has taught me to love my body (yes, even this aching, overweight, aging body), and it quickly became a spiritual practice, as well.  There were times during savasana that I felt pure bliss -- enough to bring tears to my eyes and a song to my soul.  And I am poorer when I'm unable to get to 3 classes a week, since I can't seem to discipline myself to have a daily home practice.

I've actually been making some art since I got home.  Yesterday I went to a friend's birthday party.  She always invites 2-3 dozen women to come to lunch in some restaurant that can accommodate us all, and insists on "cards only, no gifts."  Some of us go to great lengths now to create handmade and elaborate cards -- I saw that at least half her cards (of course we pass them around the tables) were handmade: some very fine, some very simple, but all lovely.  I made a large card (perhaps 8x11 or 9x12 -- didn't measure) with a decoupaged picture of an angel (her theme this year), a hand-crafted border, and "Ave" (greetings) painted below, with my birthday wish on the back.  I should have photographed it for you!  I coated it with acrylic gloss finish and it was barely dry by the time I had to leave!  I had a picture in my head of what I wanted my greeting to look like, how I wanted to write it -- and it actually came out very much as I wanted it to.  That's new for me, and I think maybe artistic progress.  I'm getting technically just that teeny bit better so that I can come closer to realizing the vision that I have in my head.  I love that.  What fun it was!

Tonight I'm making a collage for the inside front page of my journal.  I thought it might be a black madonna.  I thought it might be something spiritual.  Turns out, once I got to my studio, I was drawn to my paper souvenirs from Italy, and it's going to be Italian (pictures, ticket stubs, business cards, etc -- I guess they're called "ephemera"), on a red acrylic painted background.  I'm usually surprised by what happens, and this one is no exception!

So I've got physical and creative practices back in my life.  You would think spiritual would be easy for a priest.  It is, in a way.  I pray daily, and I mean it when I pray -- it's not just an empty practice.  Wednesdays I do centering prayer, and in our savasana at yoga class (the "corpse pose," the resting period at the end) I do my best to clear my mind and just rest in the presence of the Holy.  But there's nothing setting my heart on fire just now.  When I was cramming my head with all those spiritual books, doing the suggested spiritual exercises, it all felt much more alive and passionate.  It will come again, I know -- probably sooner, rather than later.  But now it feels just a little blah.

There is some good news, I think.  An elderly parishioner has decided, it seems, to become my "fairy godmother."  She's a great and very interesting lady, recently received an inheritance from her beloved sister, and I think is doing a little "life review," having also lost her husband a year and a half ago.  She has no children, and I think she wants to leave a little something that will outlive her.  At any rate, she has offered to help financially with my sabbatical, but also wants me to write a book (or an outline and first chapter, at least), which she will shop around to various agents with whom she has connections -- she has published at least one book, and also sells her paintings.  I don't know if this will truly go anywhere at all, but it's kind of exciting to think about.  I don't even know if it's ethical -- I need to think and pray more about that, I suppose -- to accept all this assistance from her.  Perhaps I really need to channel the money into the church, since she's a member here.  I would never want to use my position as her priest for personal gain from her.  I need to talk to others, I think -- my Bishop and spiritual director, to start with.  I have no problem with the assistance with writing a book -- non-monetary help -- but I'm not so sure about the other.  Any thoughts?

No photos today.  As I said before, my digital camera is broken -- it's quite a bit outdated, anyway, and so needs to be replaced.  Only my phone camera works -- no flash, less megapixils.  Time to buy a new one, but it's on my list, after new glasses and car maintenance and some bills that need to be paid.  It may be summer before I can take really good shots!

Snow is predicted for tomorrow, February 1, but I know that by mid-month, the witch hazel will be blooming!  Spring is almost here!