good and dusty

I remember when my Grandma turned 80.   She had earlier that year moved into this new place for seniors next to the church and not a quarter of a mile down the street from my Aunty Ruth’s and her other grandchildren.    This absolutely amazing woman who’s life, the life she had only ever known, had stopped when my Grandad died suddenly eight years prior, now went to the "hard of hearing" on Mondays for tea; the salvation army on Tuesdays; knitting group on wednesdays; fellowship on Thursdays; the supermarket (in the Tesco Bus) on Fridays, a film in the common room on Saturday evenings and church on Sundays.   She had a more active social life than my cousin who was 16 yrs. old at the time (let alone me).   My Grandma turned 80 and started to live again.   She had found new life at 80 years old.

So I guess it’s not that far fetched to think that at 30ish, it is still quite possible and feasible to find new life.   to start once more.   to come to life again.   What was maybe no more.  But what is might just have enormous potential and goodness hidden in it.   

So last night we had a little celebration for no other reason than to remember that life is: good & dusty.  that life is more than check marks on "to-do" lists; scrumpled up post-its; and dates on my calendar.   

And it was good.  really good.  good to be with friends.  good to remember.  good to laugh.  good to come alive.      

The Way I See It #237

so I get this knock on my door this morning.

and one of my favorite faces (ok, I confess I have like 60 favorites faces that I love to see appear in the crack made by the opening door)  ok back on track, one of my favorite faces pops through the door and steps into my office balancing two drinks from Starbucks.   

Grinning she says, "I happened to find this Venti non-fat latte and was trying to think who likes non-fat lattes."      I lauged out loud and rolled my eyes.    happened to find.   

So I sat in my office sipping at my latte in its "The Way I See It #237" paper cup, smiling.

It’s nice to be known.

It’s nice to be loved.

It’s nice to be surprised.

It’s been a while since a latte tasted as good.

"Taste and see that God is good,"  says the Psalmist.

That’s the way he saw it.  And that’s still the way I see it.

Thanks Alex.

The Day

you know it amazes me how God can remind me of something at 9am in the morning and then by 1:30pm it’s a total wash (and today is no exception).   

I think this is why St. Benedict said that we should stop in the middle of the day and turn our hearts back to what we remembered in the morning.   It’s probably why breathing, stopping, praying, eating, walking (whatever you want to call it; whatever you want to do) in the middle of the day is so essential, even if it is only for a few minutes.

I didn’t stop today.   not even for lunch.  In fact instead I had quite a high moment of stress and overload.   

but all got done.  and I’ve stopped now.  I’ve stopped and watched the sun set.  I’ve had a long walk and a cup of tea.  I’ve turned my heart back to what I remembered this morning and the morning before and the one before that.   I have remembered who I am and who I am not.   I’ve settled back down. Fallen back into sync with the rhthym at the heart of life.   

And Ready to try again tomorrow.    

Interruptions

You know I begin everyday with a plan.  I’m a professional planner in one sense.   No wonder in another sense, that very often, "planning" is the last thing I want to do when I’m off.   

I have my to-do list; I have post-its everywhere.   And I have a plan - often beyond what’s on my calendar.  Today was no different.

But this morning I was reminded that for all my plans, sometimes it’s the interruptions that matter most.   I would actually say it’s the interruptions are actually what I’m here for not my to do list.   

Sunday, someone said to me that they had been meaning to stop in and chat but they didn’t want to "interrupt" me - cause they knew I was busy.

So let me say, please interrupt me. I want you to interrupt me.    

Interruptions are what matter most.   

Interruptions, the things I don’t plan for, the things not on my calendar or my to do list, are important to me.   Because usually interruptions are people.   And people come first.   As Bailey said last week in Grey’s: relationships come first.   

Interruptions — they are a holy thing.   I wonder if they aren’t one of the best parts of life.   

Lord, may I never appear to be so busy that I cannot be interrupted.   

Lord, let me never stay so taskipated that I have no time for what really matters.

Peter!!!!

For two mornings in a row now, I have sat down in my chair and looked out the window (cup of tea in hand and Bugs head resting on my leg) and have discovered such utter delight:  a rabbit (henceforth known as Peter).   

The rabbits used to be everywhere.   Bugs and I would walk and we would see the rabbits all over the place.   In fact we saw so many, that I started naming them (after famous rabbits and based on geographic location).   

And then one day last summer, I woke up and wondered where all the rabbits had gone.   It was as if one day they were here and the next they weren’t.   And of course as with everything else in my life, it’s about so much more than just little, cute, bouncy rabbits.   

I am chuffed.   Peter is back.   Maybe the rest of the rabbits will follow.   

"after the confusion and the aftermath, you are my signal fire..." - Snow Patrol 

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Signal Fire (Snow Patrol)

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a man and his dog

and I actually do mean a man (not me) and his (not her) dog. 

Last evening, I was witness to something so cool.   so cool that I’m still thinking about how cool, how profound and how brilliant it was.  I stood and watched in awe at this relationship between a man and his dog. Watching him roll, shake, speak, go round with such joy and adoration (I swear the dog laughed as they played). 

I was totally blown out of the water.  There was something so beautiful. so right.  so holy about watching this man and his dog.   It was as if I was catching another glimpse of how life is supposed to be.

I mean I love my dog.  we all know that - I love my dog.  He goes everywhere with me.  He is my sidekick.   And he is my family.  Let’s remember, last year for Christmas I sent out family portraits - to everyone - of me and Bugs.   

And I know that I cling to him in part because on some days it seems he’s all that didn’t get washed away in the hurricaine that blew through in the fall of 2005.   On some days it really does seem like he’s all that’s just mine. And so it goes, if I’m really honest, that I am so very afraid of losing my dog.   

Yesterday, though, my fear was gently challenged by the freedom found in this man and his dog.  I timidly and nervously (and apparently somewhat comically) let Bugs run off his lead.

Of course, eventually Bugs took off - found a rabbit to chase and brush to run through - the other dog could only hold his attention for so long.   

But you know, I was ok.   And Bugs - upon his return - was smiling , maybe even laughing (wiped out ,mind you, but so satisifed and pleased) — you could see it in his eyes: the joy of being free.   

The healing thing is that I might actually be brave enough do it again.  Cause it was almost a relief to not be afraid.  it was kinda nice to trust.  it was kinda nice to be free.   it was kinda nice to let Bugs be Bugs and chase rabbits and to keep breathing through it all.

Fear must be the antithesis of freedom.  I find, it’s so hard to live  - really live, freely live, live as I was made to live - when I’m so afraid.

I think that’s part of what held my attention by this man and his dog (aside from the incredible training and obedience)…  I was captured by the joy, the beauty, the devotion, the sweetness and the life that came from being free of the leash.    And the honor, the love and depth within which this man and his dog reside.   

Yesterday brought a bit more courage.   And a bit more hope -  and all from a man and his dog.  Amazing how God works.

Color.

Tonight we painted. 

It was part of our offering of worship.

we painted with lots of color - actually our painting kinda looked like Easter  in an abstract sort of way.

I watched one of my "younglings" so focused on his art as the music swirled around him.  It was as if there was no one else in the room no one else around the table painting on the canvas -  just him, just God and just his painting (his offering).

Then there were the girls that painted the room with their voices and harmonies (those choirs of angels had nothing on us tonight)… and I still can see  the color that filled in all the spaces in between from the beat of the drum and the strum of the guitars.   

And earlier today I saw two of  my "padawans" painting in a different way — I watched their color come to life in their sheer excitement to use their gifts and pass on their faith to the little ones in the church.  Talk about a Monet!

a hero of mine once told me that I was an artist.   She said that what I did in the church and in this world was art.    maybe she’s right.

Because today we painted.   We painted so much more than just a canvas.

And interestingly enough, another hero of mine last month, told me it was time for me to start painting again -to face the fear of what is no longer and start again with what is yet to be. But tonight I wonder, maybe I never actually stopped, maybe my canvas just changed for a while. 

Cause there’s no way around it, today we painted!  We painted in color.    

 

Four Legged Friends.

So I have a new four legged friend, Scout.   

Last night, Scout was demonstrating her instinctual talent for herding,through the movement of a torch (a flashlight to all you Americans ).   She was hysterical the way she would try and herd the spot of light around on the grass.   And when she could no longer herd the light, she waited with such eagerness, her ears ready for flight at the push of a button.

Now Bugs also had a blast running around after Scout - but let’s be honest for a moment - it probably had more to do with how he thought he was missing out on some sort of "chase" for food than the light itself- another elemental instinct born in my beloved four legged friend.

But if that was entertaining enough, this morning I’ve been cleaning up, sorting out, putting away. - making "piles of nowt" (as Grandma would say).   Now as many know, I have this sheep collection at home.  And so for Easter I received a little sheep that goes "baaaaaaa.  baaaaaa" when you press her little paw.   So, I was walking about with her trying to find her a home and couldn’t resist pushing her little paw and listening to her go "baaaaaaaa" over and over again

Now, as a side - I have yet to work out exactly what Bugs is mixed with.    He certainly has some resemblances to "collies" (as Scout and my brother’s dog, Beatrice remind me).   And he also has some herding tendencies as well - as demonstrated on a Sunday evening when things get a little loud and chaotic.   

So this morning — he’s been trying to "herd" my little sheep that goes "baaaaaaaaa."   He kept following the call of the "baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."  and then he’d try and gather her back to his fold (that would be the basket in the corner with all the other squeaky members of his herd).

You know I couldn’t help but laugh —

But then I couldn’t help but think –

Scout and Bugs …. It is as if there is something imprinted on their little hearts … something written into their being, about that for which they were made.  Neither have done much hanging around with actual herds of sheep and still they know how to herd the light … and answer the call.    And they seem to know exactly for what they were made.

So now maybe I’m praying (not just thinking):

If only I were so eager to wait for the light, when it is dark.

If only I were so quick to herd the light.

If only I were so tuned to not only hear the Voice but to recognize it.

If only I were so ready as to answer the call and live for that which I was made.

Incidentally, my little sheep that goes "baaaaaaa" is now safely abiding with the rest of Bug’s herd under his careful watch, where he’s sleeping yet still guarding the gate …. 

He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he gets them all out, he leads them and they follow because they are familiar with his voice… I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.  

(from the Gospel of John, Chapter 10).  

So maybe when we wait for the light; when we follow the light; when we hear the voice; and when we answer the call; the call to be all for which we were made … maybe that’s when life really begins.  real life. Better life than we could possibly have imagined. 

Hippos at Radnor

so Cynth and I are walking with Bugs at the ol’ favorite: Radnor Lake.

and I am just beside myself with excitement and sheer joy at all the deer!

Granted we waited until close to sunset so I could enjoy the deer. 

They were wading in the water, as they always do.

But apparently Cynthia had never seen this before.

And so she says, "what do they think are hippos?"

At that moment, I think I may have enjoyed my friend more than the deer!

Free Bird.

so I know I am no longer in grad school.

I know I am actually long past grad school.

But I just turned in my paper for Sursum Corda, the course work I’m doing currently. 

And I feel like dancing!  I feel like twirling.  And i know if I was a bird, I would be soaring. 

A weight has been lifted (I now only have the other 5 books to read for the end of the month’s residency).   

But the silly thing: it’s really not like this paper was very long or very difficult.  It was a reflection paper.  I didn’t even have to quote or cite anything I’d read (though to make up for it I really had a good time with footnotes).   

S0 maybe it’s the sun and the breeze and the lack of clouds and rain …. who knows,  but at this moment, I’m as free as a bird!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

if you want to read it, here you go: Download The_Christian_Ministry_of_Spiritual_Direction.doc