'kay

..music getting better. John Legend!

so...maybe it is just because...

I am watching the democratic convention on my computer screen...but so far...
ho hum....and what is with the elevator groovy music?

Visiting Gertrude

(St. Philips Church, Barbados)
(it's the only picture I could find. I know it is small!)

So, the other day, I was sitting in my office, working on a huge filing project. (o.k., so I haven't filed a thing in 18 months, what's the big deal, right?) and my phone rings.

It's the new activity director at the nursing home facility where we do a protestant communion service once a month. We don't have congregational ties to this place, but this service has evolved over time. Any way. The AD, whom I have never met, said that he had a resident that was asking to speak to a Priest, whoops, a Reverend, and could I visit her. Her name is Gertrude. Sure, I said. Could I come this afternoon? (Note: it was already "this afternoon") Of course, I said. I will be over in about 30 minutes. But I don't look much like a reverend today, I mention. (I am in hiking capris shorts and a silk funky tunic) He laughs. Doesn't matter, he says, and hangs up.

Dude, I think to myself, could ya give me any more information? I am wondering, is Gertrude dying? Is she expecting like, a Catholic Priest to do last rites? Is she agitated? Obviously, I am not going to find out until I get there. So, I dig around on the shelves and locate my tiny bible, pop it into my purse, and drive over to the nursing home, praying for awareness and presence and for Gertrude. When I arrive, I am directed to the memory care unit. When I pass through several locked doors, I am directed to a little living area, where several elders are sitting around a table, "watercoloring"--entailing a cup of watered down paint, and a coloring book page of flowers. Gertrude is sitting quietly, painting her hibiscus flowers a pepto-bismol shade of magenta.

"Ms. Gertrude?"
She looks up at me.
"I am Pastor Karla. I am the reverend. I am here to visit you."
"You are the reverend?" She smiles. "oh, how nice!"
"Gertrude, someone told me you wanted to have a visit with a pastor. Would you like to visit for a while with me?"
Gertrude is focused on her painting. "No," she says, "I don't think so."

So, I watch her for an eternity of seconds. Then I try to make some small talk. Not much luck. I try to get some information out of the staff person at the table, but she isn't very communicative. Obviously, since this is the memory care wing, I don't really expect Gertrude to remember that she was wanting a "reverend" but don't you think the staff might give me a clue?
"Gertrude, would you like me to come back another time?"
"No!"
"Well, I am going to pull up a chair here and watch you paint"
"That would be nice."

I ask her some questions and through the course of this, she tells me her church is St. Philip's parish in Barbados, and she proceeds to list all of the parishes of Barbados (11 in all) and repeats them several times. Then she starts to sing "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" and I sing with her. We sing it three times. She sang another hymn, but I didn't know it.

It is time for me to go, so I ask her if we can pray together. I ask her if I can hold her hands. She reaches out to me. So I hold Gertrude's hands and I pray for her, knowing nothing, but knowing that the Spirit knows it all. I finish, and say, do you want to say the Lord's Prayer together? She nods, but then instead of praying the Lord's Prayer, she begins to pray for me. In her dulcet west indian accent, she prays for blessings on my ministry, my soul, my family, my congregation. The words, you could tell, were called forth from deep within, words she had prayed over and over for her other pastors, for her children, for her friends, phrases that were familiar, in a candence of prayer that only a long time fervent prayer would have.

My heart caught.
It broke open.
I soaked in the balm of prayer in every pore of my skin and bones and muscles.
Breathing in, and out...listening to her repeated phrases over and over and over.
And then she said Amen, and so did I. Amen.

Instead of being the pastoral vistor,
I was visited.
By an angel named Gertrude.

Amen.

Friday Five: Date Edition

Over at RVGP,
Songbird writes:
It's Friday afternoon, Eastern Time, and this is your faithful Songbird with a calendar-related Friday Five. Due to some confusion with our dates, I'm stepping in today, although I am usually here only on the 5th Friday, when there is such a thing.

Here are five things to ponder about dates. I hope you'll play!
I would be delighted to play!

1) Datebooks--how do you keep track of your appointments? Electronically? On paper? Month at a glance? Week at a glance?
I used to have a blackberry, but now I use an IPhone, and keeping my calendar has never ever been so fun!
2) When was the last time you forgot an important date?
Hmmm. I can't remember! it seems that I forget, forget, forget...and then in the nick of time, I remember.

3) When was the last time you went OUT on a date?
One week ago my beloved and I went out to dinner at one of our favorite spots....it was great!

4) Name one accessory or item of clothing you love even though it is dated.
I have these beautiful droopy dangly angel earrings with beautiful blue crystals on them that I received for a gift about 15 years ago when the angel motif was taking off everywhere. I still love those earrings...but I am not sure angels can be out of date, can they??

5) Dates--the fruit--can't live with 'em? Or can't live without 'em?
I love dates when they are in cookies.

last day of stay-cation

wow.
has it already been a week?
but I am not ready! there is so much more organizing to be done, naps to be taken, books to be read, and some more organizing after all of that.
it will happen (maybe not those naps...)

it has been good to be away at home. it has been productive in a nesting way...in a thoughtful way...
alone with thoughts...focusing on awareness and still mind, a practise that will give me some powerful tools for what is looking to be an almost unmanageable fall line-up. breathe. be still.

be still...
and know
that God is God.
amen.

what I learn from clay....

I learn to be free and not afraid to go deep...
I learn respect....
I learn that the best creative time comes when I settle in, ask questions, wonder, and appreciate the process even more than the product....
I learn that my work is my work, and that in itself, is pretty cool.
I learn about me...
and about the One who created me...
I learn about my connection to the One...
and I am grateful.
amen.

stay-CATION #2

so...today I did just whatever the heck I wanted. no schedule, no anything. I walked the dogs for a lovely long walk on the river...and prayed to just be aware...of the trees waving, the butterflies in the wild flowers, the dogs taking their time to leave doggie post cards on whatever bush, tree, post, fence they wanted...I breathed in and breathed out and so grateful to be alive. and intentional about loving the moment.

then I exercised. damn. why don't I do that more? I really love it.

and then hung out in my studio....carving tiles, checking out what I did before....here is a pic of my studio in the cellar.


it is good space. I am lucky to have it. I spent 4 glorious hours there today. here are a couple of the tiles I made. I am new to tiles, so I am not sure how they will turn out, but basically it is clay rolled out, cut, and then I painted teal blue slip on it, and then carved away the images. Then they will be bisqued, and then I will add a glaze to them. Don't know how much of the images will be preserved, but I can't wait to see!

which ones?

I confess I am a dansko junkie. I looove them. I have brown clogs, black patent clogs, brown mary janes, and black mary janes that are open in the back.
But today, I can't decide.
These.....


or these???


I am leaning toward the Mary Janes...but are the clogs more practical? Does it matter?

stay-cation....

So this week we were going to go to Durango to enjoy a week in the west. Unfortunately, the trip got postponed because of other events earlier this summer, and it felt like too much to leave for another week.

I decided to take the week off, anyway, with visions of laying around and reading and napping and watching movies in the afternoon...

Yeah. Right. The first mistake made was to decide to move our office to the attic space. In the current office, we have two giant bookcases, that hold my library of theology, religion, ceramics books along with random favorites that I can't just part with--like Jane Austen, Dorothy Parker, Edith Wharton, and wicca memorabilia. These shelves are also full of CD's, paper craft and beading supplies, yarn, my yoga strap, and photo albums.

Guess what? Giant bookcases won't manuever the tight corners and stairs of our 100 year old house. Can't take them apart, because they are from IKEA, and I put them together, and well...enough said.

So, yesterday, after getting the oil changed on the car, I went to Target (is that a step up or down from IKEA?) to buy one new book case. It took me ALL AFTERNOON to put it together, because of course, I kept putting it together backwards. Then, I would have to undo it, so I could do it right. Oh, and yeah, I had to carry it piece by piece up to the attic since, well, the box wouldn't manuever the tight corners and stairs of our 100 year old house.

Did I mention, also, that I have a mysterious case of poison ivy not only covering the inside of my arm, but my nose, and in my hair on the back of the head? And, I have one more SICK doggie?

Today, I have to go back to Target to get another bookcase, in spite of trying to downsize (please, people, I can't let go of Dorothy Parker or that college textbook that used to belong to Phyllis Trible (who inscribed her name and date on the inside cover)about women and mythmaking just because....I can't.) That is after I go to the doctor who will hopefully give me a shot and after I take the doggy to the vet, where hopefully SHE will get a shot.

But, hey, it is only ten o clock....I can squeeze in 30 minutes to finish that novel I started yesterday, right?

I love stay-cation!!! (even if there is more stay than -cation in it!)

God-Days of Summer

I haven't done a Friday Five in forever, but here it goes! Over at Rev Gals, Presbyterian Gal writes this Friday Five:It’s August. An oppressively hot and humid month where many of us live.

I remember the Al Pacino movie though not much about the plot. Just that it was very, very hot. And he had giant sweat stains on his shirt.

As I pass through this year’s dog days in my felon ridden neighborhood (OK, just two housefuls. But isn’t that enough?), I am trying to focus on the blessings apparent around me, past and present, that I might not notice, necessarily. In that spirit, this week’s Friday Five goes thusly:

1. What is your sweetest summer memory from childhood? Did it involve watermelon or hand cranked ice cream? Or perhaps a teen summer romance. Which stands out for you?
My earliest memory is when I was in pre-school and my sister and I would play in my grandmother's giant garden. We would steal the sweet raspberries off the bushes and just marvel at their delectable taste. Fresh air, good earth, make believe play, and sun-kissed berries...ahhhhhhh

2. Describe your all time favorite piece of summer clothing. The one thing you could put on in the summer that would seem to insure a cooler, more excellent day.
My flip flops. Hand's down.
3. What summer food fills your mouth with delight and whose flavor stays happily with you long after eaten?
Cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden. mmmmmm.

4. Tell us about the summer vacation or holiday that holds your dearest memory.
When I was about 8, my family took a road trip from North Dakota to the Oregon coast where we had a family reunion with my new step-cousins, aunts, uncles. We rented a big house...and I remember seeing the ocean for the first time. And, playing in the waves for hours, and being terrified of rip-tides all at once. My other thought is moving to Florida right out of college to be a youth pastor. A very elderly woman in the congregation took me to the beach club where she donned her bathing cap and took me swimming into the Atlantic Ocean on a very hot August day. It was endearing. Oh, Oh, Oh, but also, I am remembering three amazing sailing trips with other young adults in my congregation to the Bahamas and the Keys. Living on a sailboat for 10 days at a time...what FUN!

5. Have you had any experience(s) this summer that has drawn you closer to God or perhaps shown you His wonder in a new way? My spouse's mother died unexpectedly two weeks ago. So many people have crawled out of the wordwork to send cards and gifts of love and beauty. I am so touched by the love of community in times of grief. It is complete and total grace. The other experience is the call of a morning dove outside my office window in the quiet of Sunday mornings. It is such an exquisite song that it breaks my heart open....every day I hear her.

Bonus question: When it is really hot, humid and uncomfortable, what do you do to refresh and renew body and spirit? Well, sitting on the deck with a really, really cold beer is nice. Or...heading to the movie theatre....

Awareness in the village.

My dear friend, Jess, has an achingly beautiful blog dedicated to her family, and dedicated to awareness and advocacy around autism. It's a blog about being family, about the acute joy and pain of parenting, about living life fully, and reaching out and reaching in. Every post hits me in the heart. In a good, growing way(and I am not even a parent.) Anyway. She gave me permission to post her entry, Triage.

It's about helping and being a village and being aware and taking action. Please read it. Please. Then act. Share Billy and Katy and Scott's story.


Triage, by Jess Wilson
My friend, Scott called me yesterday. Whoa! Don’t just keep reading. Click on Scott’s name and read the story. Please. Pretty please. This is important, folks. This MATTERS. You click. Read the whole article. I’ll wait.

“I need help, Jess.”

Sometimes, life is a game of triage.

What matters most? What needs my attention most urgently? Who might literally die if I don’t take five minutes to get educated and HELP.

We fight for a better life for our children.

Scott and Katy are fighting for their child’s life.

We fight for awareness. We walk and hand out buttons and magnets and scream from the rooftops and we watch hours and hours of footage about autism. 1 in 144.

How many people do you know who know what SMA stands for? Yet it KILLS MORE BABIES THAN ANY OTHER GENETIC DISEASE.

We have big names. Bob and Suzanne Wright - love em or hate em, they know people. They know a LOT of people. With money. A LOT of money. And Influence. Yup, a LOT of influence. Jenny McCarthy - love her or hate her, she is VISIBLE. She’s on the cover of magazines. Mike Savage (I’m not giving you the choice on this one and I sure as hell ain’t linking you to him) - hate him, he talked about autism because autism is VISIBLE.

SMA isn’t sexy. It’s heartbreaking. It’s the stuff your worst nightmares are made of. It’s the stuff that no one wants to talk about because we can’t bear the pain of it. But Scott and Katy and so many parents like them live that pain every day.

We HAVE TO HELP. Children cannot die on our watch when they don’t have to. No one should have to live this way.

We are hurting.

They are dying.

Triage.

SMA has been chosen by the National Institute of Health to be a model for translational research because it is the closest to a treatment or cure out of 300 neurological disorders. Think about that. We are this close. This flippin close.

We are all connected. SMA genetic research in the “Genomic Modulation of Inherited Genetic Diseases” project may provide novel insights into potential ways to treat SMA and 40 plus similar diseases:

Tay-Sachs Sandhoff
Parkinsons
Alzheimers
Friedreich’s Ataxia
Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 1
Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 2/Episodic Ataxia Type 2
Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 6/Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 7
Deafness/Dystonia
Myotonic Dystrophy
Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy
Late Infantile Metachromatic Leukodystrophy
Late Infantile Neuronal Ceroid Lipofuscinosis
X-Linked Adreno-Leukodystrophy
Menkes
Types A and B Niemann-Pick Disease
Fragile X
Machado-Joseph
GM2A
Gaucher Disease
Sialidosis and Galactosialidosis
Infantile and Late-Onset forms of Neuronal Ceroid Lipofuscinosis
Classic Late Infantile Neuronal Ceroid Lipofuscinosis
You see Fragile X in there, right? I knew you wouldn’t miss that.

They need money. $1.3 million to be exact. They need to help fund incredibly promising gene therapy research.

If beautiful, delightful Billy were your child, you’d have called me too. You’d have called anyone and everyone you know who might be able to HELP. Please, pass this on to anyone who will read it.

It takes a village, friends. And the village that I want to be a part of, no the village that I KNOW I AM A PART OF, fights for its children. All of them.

HELP

pearls and diamonds and golden bracelets...in memoriam

so...yesterday (Sunday evening) my beloved's mother died.
it's a whole long story, but basically beloved's mom took a turn for the worse, and beloved tried oh so hard to get there in time, but didn't.

beloved's mother suffered from alzheimer's, and now she is free...she has her precious memory back, her stories, her words, her emotions, her self. that is worth an alleluia, indeed.

she was always dressed to the nines. heels, skirt, matching sweatsuits, and of course, pearls, diamonds, and gold bracelets, as many as could fit on her wrist. she loved her lipstick, especially. ever the lady, ever the lady, for as long as she could. even last winter, in spite of not having anything to put in it, she carried her pocketbook wherever she went, which was usually out for ice cream with a family member or friend.

she loved ice cream. she would eat ice cream for dinner, quite often. I mean, LOOOOOVED ice cream.
also liked soup and crab cakes.

a single mother, she supported her children in the 60's and 70's by running her own business. she had savvy, and finesse.

rest well, dear one,
be at peace,
be free,
be all of who you are whever you are now.
amen.

yellow balloons

Yesterday was six months to the date AND day that my 19 year old nephew committed suicide. I was thinking about his mother, my sister, all day...I knew she took the day off from work. I sent her messages, and called....
late last night she wrote me...and said that she spent time with one of Aric's dear friends...they went to the coffee shop he worked at, and had an "Aric Special" of three shots espresso, raspberry, chocolate, and vanilla syrup...and then to the cemetary, and then watched the slide show from the funeral. Later, a couple of guys from his band came by to see her...and then, late in the evening, she released yellow balloons with his birthdate and heavendate and messages of love tucked inside into the sky, declaring her love for her son forever.

She said it was an o.k. day.

I am so proud of my sister.

We miss you Aric. There are over 18,000 visits on your MySpace page. I think lots of people miss you.
We will all always love you.

present moment, beautiful moment

I have been trying to be more attentive to the moment and aware of my breathing...and my thought processes.
I want to be more self-caring and less self-absorbed.
Self care is being conscious of how my choices are about loving and being present to what is truly nourishing and attentive to being whole, being connected to the Divine, to my raw, beautiful self...
Self absorbed about making choices that keep me in patterns of self doubt, numbness, or on the surface.
For example, it turns out that I have borderline high blood pressure and borderline high cholestral. Heart disease is rampant in my family, on both sides, so in some ways, this isn't a huge surprise. But I have choices--I can feel defeated by this, and go out and have pizza and a beer, or whatever, and let that clog up my arteries more, but I will feel comforted. But, that isn't self care. I am overdue on my mammogram. That isn't self-care, it is denial. My weird thought process is if I don't get one, or get my physical, or don't step on the scale, then nothing is wrong because I don't know if anything is wrong or not.
What I WANT to do is be more gentle, more open to what is nurturing and forgiving and honors the inner strength of my heart.
(however, I do admit that even writing this post could be construed as self-absorbed...)

I resonate with Paul, where he admits "that which I would not, that do I do"...thank God, that grace abounds, and that leaning into that grace can only be construed as self care.
Amen.

whooooooohhhhhh (exhale)

I am having terrible writer's block....the sermon this week is really not coming together, mostly because I keep avoiding it. I have spent the last hour "working" by browsing itunes and online shoe stores (no I didn't buy anything, that would be productive!).
What's the problem? Part of it is that I am preaching on Genesis 24, which is the birth of Esau and Jacob, the famous biblical twins. Rebekah, their mother gets a really bad rap from commentators and preachers, because a. Jacob is her favorite b. she devises a plan to for Jacob to get his father's blessing as the firstborn son. Esau, the oldest, is Isaac (father) fave.
But the context of Rebekah shows her to be hospitable, willing, daring, even, and with a close relationship with God. She is the first woman in Genesis to seek God out in prayer--in a lamenting prayer, at that, when her children are still in her womb, struggling, which must have caused her great discomfort. I don't really defend her deception, which isn't even the text I am preaching on. bllllleeeeehhhhh(that is a raspberry sound with my lips).
I am trying to just get all this out here, so I don't end up with all of this in my sermon which I will just have to edit out.
Writing is so messy......but I woudn't have it any other way.
Blessed be. Amen.

so, uh...yeah...

so...yes, the economy is scarey. yes, we all need to be much more aggressive in how we use precious energy. yes, we should be saving every penny and not splurging...
but if you get something, oh say, like a "used" jacuzzi, and put it in your backyard, isn't that like, uh, recycling?
it's for a more healthy lifestyle, right?

getting back into it....

ah, July.
I always feel so lazy in July, like everyday should be summer vacation. But, alas, it isn't for me....
I used to have that luxury when I was on a ten-month contract, as a college chaplain, as a teacher...and although I am grateful for the slow-down pace of New England congregations in the summer, with fewer meetings on my plate, and a little more time in the day, this is key time for planning, envisioning, scheming, dreaming, organizing, filing...
but I just want to read books and sip lemonade and do a little teeny bit of work. ;-)

My mom has been visiting since Friday. She will be here until next Wednesday, the 9th. I am so glad to have her here, in my home, spending time, laughing, talking, and entertaining her. She is a pretty easy guest, and I love my mom. She definitely has aged some since January; and I see her edges of the frailty of old age poking through her presence....she has chronic back and hip issues which limit her mobility somewhat, and she searches more often for the word or phrase or memory she is trying to articulate. I feel protective.

Well, off to work.
Enough procrastination, time to dive into my life.
Amen.

in a quiet foggy morning....

I am first to the church today. It is 9:00--I have been here since 8:30. I like to get here just to be in the space where in less than hour will be filled with the energy, sorrows, laughter, lives, personalities, rushing racing of the congregation gathering for worship. The quiet is my anchor...my cord running to my balance and godplace inside of me. Grounding here for a few minutes...is a grace I can offer to myself.

Breathing in, I breath in the singing of the birds...
Breathing out, I release any tension to misty fog...
Breathing in, I breathe in the cool breeze gently caressing my cheek....
Breathing out, I open up my heart
to welcome more fully with Your grace, Your peace, Your love
to those who come to meet You today.
Amen.

RGBP Friday Five

Mother Laura writes for the FF

So in honor of summer, please share your own beachy memories, plans, and dreams with a "Beach Trip" Friday Five.

1. Ocean rocks, lake limps? Vice versa? Or "it's all beautiful in its own way"? Ocean rocks, waves, yup. I have great memories of lakes from my childhood, but I really love the vast expanse of the sea.

2. Year round beach living: Heaven...or the Other Place? I probably would enjoy it.
It's not something I yearn for, but I wouldn't pass it up. I would probably prefer mountains, but....

3. Any beach plans for this summer? Does going to Revere Beach count? The first public beach in America? To walk the dogs?

4. Best beach memory ever? Hmmm. The first time I saw the ocean was when I was in second or third grade. We drove to Oregon for a family reunion with my step-father's family and we all rented a giant beach house for a couple of days. My new cousins scared me about the undertow, but I was completely enamoured with the giant rocks and waves crashing and cooking out and it was grand.

5. Fantasy beach trip? Barbados, Figi, St. Lucia, Greece, or Portugal, in a private beach house.

Bonus: Surfing Safari by the Beach Boys.

egads! pepe le phew!!!!

So I was sleeping quite cozily and nicely until about 4:30 this morning, when the doggies, including toy poodles, began a barking frenzy. My beloved thought they just needed to go out. So out the back door they went.
However, the barking continued, even louder. Even our new dog, Fenway, who doesn't bark at ALL, found her voice this morning. What the heck was going on?
I decided to drag myself out of bed, since I figured we had awakened the entire neighborhood and thought I should start baking cookies or something to make amends, when I see my beloved out on the deck yelling and trying to shoo something out of the yard.
It was a big, fat, stinky, stinky, stinky skunk.
Now you need to understand, our backyard is an urban backyard...with fence all around, and bordering five other backyards. There is really no place this guy to go, except ballistic with his spray. I dragged the animals in, and of course, beloved, who says, "What, do they bite or something? I want it out of the yard!"

So, after things quiet down, I check from the basement window to look under the deck and he has burrowed in, for what I think is the entire day. I bang on the window, but that pretty much resulted in more lovely stink.

After dropping off my beloved at the train station, I got back home, and was putting some transplantings on the front porch, and I walked to the edge and saw something move under the hosta plant. Yup. Pepe le Phew. I snuck inside, and watched him waddle down the street a few houses, and into a neighbor's backyard.(this is a BIG skunk--the picture above is just an example, it isn't my skunk)

So, it is 8:30 a.m. and already one crisis arisen and averted for the day.
What else is to come?