This morning I was reminiscing with some friends at church around tables of greens, candles and styrofoam rings about my beloved four legged friend.   

Just about a year ago he ate the chocolate cake that was about to become a castle for a special little girl’s birthday.   Several christmas’s ago he ate the entire stick of butter, paper and all.   There’s the time he ate the seasoned salmon and so I fed my guests chicken instead;   t he valentine’s day cookies that I had so colorfully decorated;  the french onion dip that he actually removed the lid from the tupperware;  and this summer, the casserole!   He knocked it off the counter, it smashed and he continued to eat it - dish and all until he was caught.  

That’s my Bugs for you.   Apparently the vet was telling me last week it’s a “lab” thing but I don’t know other labs that go to quite the extremes that he does.     And we haven’t touched on all the things he eats while outside on the leash.  

Well tonight he outdid himself.   No he didn’t eat my homework and he didn’t eat anything that I’m baked, cooked or had out.   No it’s better.   Today he ate Jesus.  

No joke, I found him eating this little wooden Jesus that my dear friend had brought back from Ecuador.    Jesus.   Bugs ate Jesus.    It wasn’t even like it was a wafer or communion?  He ate Jesus.  

So trying to put it in a little perspective: I guess he didn’t want to wait for Christmas on any lelve - he thought we, or at least he,  should have Jesus now.

and listening to old tunes. 

when you love you walk on the water
just don’t stumble on the waves
we all want to go there something awful
but to stay there takes some grace
cause we are not as strong as we think we are. 
-Rich Mullins

a different sort of thankfulness today.

Bunnies are my thing. And not my thing in terms of collecting “bunny” type things (that would be sheep – sheep are my thing in that way). Actually I wouldn’t even say bunnies are my thing – really they are more like “our” thing – “our” being me and God.

Bunnies have been this line of communication for five or more years now, I think. I began discovering them when I got Bugs and began walking a lot outside. I used to find enormous delight in happening upon a bunny on our way. I confess I even began naming some of the local ones. They were so endearing to me: wild and wonderful. I used to see them everytime I would walk.

Somewhere along the way I worked out that it seemed to be that bunnies (in whatever disguise they happened to don: moose, deer, otter, fox, dolphin and most recently elk) seemed to be God’s way of saying I’m here. I’m present. I’m wild and untame but I am good. I see you. You are the apple of my eye. I wait for you. I love you in personal ways not just corporate ways. So ever since, I’ve always looked for the bunnies in all their disguises.

I don’t see them as often as I did those first couple years but when I do — what a treat and a gift. Some times I find myself setting off for Radnor Lake at the right time in the afternoon to broaden my chances of seeing bunnies (that look like deer ). I will confess that I probably don’t look like I used to for them, especially around my home. It’s like I’ve somewhat resigned myself to the fact that they have disappeared (I wonder sometimes if the foxes have had anything to do with that) so I don’t look like I used too.

The other week my assistant was working in the office on a sunday afternoon with his girlfriend when she apparently thought she saw a bunny in the office. Brett told me about this because somehow me and bunnies had come up in one of our conversations. Wild we both thought especially given some of the things that were at play around me that week. The next night, on the eve of my well-needed-retreat to Arizona I was walking Bugs and what do I see in the corner of my eye in the dark: a bunny. Haven’t seen one in months around here. Assurance at it’s best.

So off I went to Arizona to rest, to calm, to talk, to pray, to read with my oldest of friends. I had some anxiety about coming back — retreats, vacations are never long enough — as I knew some of the nonsense I had retreated from would still be here upon my return. It took three planes to get home to Nashville – and totally out of the blue, the last plane had a picture of “stu” on it’s tail wing. My jaw dropped when I saw the sign that said I would be riding with “stu” on this plane: a cottontail rabbit. Because it was dark, I seriously asked the attendant if Stu, the rabbit was really on the tail of “my” plane.

Talk about going home in style. Talk about being carried home. The grand canyon, the red rocks, the peaks, stripping wall paper, the elk, the lava river cave, Cera, Kyle and Christy did serious wonders for me in terms of calming me down, bringing me rest, bathing me in beauty but the picture of Stu on the tail-wing — clearly God had a finale in mind.     I could walk off that plane and be calm amidst any nonsense that awaited me.

Thinking about Dad today.   I think he would have liked Arizona.   I think he would have liked Flagstaff.  I know he would have loved this house with the mountains surrounding the meadow it sits in.  

He loved the peak district in England.   I’m told as a young adult he spent much time climbing the “peaks.”    Christy was telling me last night as we drove down the road warned as “primitive” on the yellow sign that the big mountain her house faces, are called the “peaks” of Airzona.  The highest height in Arizona.  

So Cheers Daddy.    Cheers to you today as I look out at the peaks!   Altitude, heights nor even your body can hold you back now…  the peaks are all yours.  No matter which peaks they might be. 

my 30th birthday picnic in Castleton of the Derbyshire Peak District.

so I checked the mail this evening as usual and in it was the below piece of mail.    Now I’ll preface this and say, I still do receive mail for mum every week – all junk mail but this one left me thinking, seriously? 

Mum died over five years ago why on earth would someone send me the eligible death benefits for “Jane Chambers” in 2009.   Seriously?

Seriously  in this day and age with more modes of storing, offering and exhanging information that would have even seemed fathomable 50 years ago, we are lousy at communicating.  

But alas? This post-modern epidemic?  is not restricted to companies that insist on sending me death benefits for my mum who is now well beyond death.     Nope,  we’ve all forgotten how to use our words and all their benefits.

I grew up traveling around the world.    Before the age of 10, I had three countries that I had spent significant time in – three countries had been “home.”   And though I’ve spent more time in the US than either of the other two, I still don’t think I’d say that I have ever developed a patriotic spirit -  no offense intended to anyone.   I am highly respectful of any country I happen to be walking but patriotic?  no, not really.   

That being said, I did grow up hearing stories of the war and from the war.   Stories of children evacuated to the north of england from London.  Stories of “bevin boys” and of gas masks.  Stories that described the sound of the “doodlebugs” dropping out of the skies.    Stories of a German parachute hanging in the trees of Chatsworth Park one evening.   And stories of my great uncles fighting in battles like El Alamein in Africa.    In fact I new the stories of war so well that I remember the day the US bombed Afghanistan after 9-11, I went to an older gentleman at the church and asked: does this mean we’re going to get bombed now?   It was the only stories of war I knew.  

Today is veteran’s day.   I’ve never been to a veteran’s day parade before today on either side of the pond.    It was really moving.   I might even say I danced close to being “patriotic” for that half an hour.    I watched a handful of our community at church provide music and salute as they lead the veteran’s down Main St.    I cheered them on.   I gave them my salute as they passed.   What really got me though was watching the ROTC from the high schools dressed in uniform – some even dressed for combat.    What a sight, especially knowing a few of them.  

I know I’ve never been to one before.   I know I’m not particularly “patriotic.”  But I’m not sure I’ll miss another veteran’s day parade – I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to offer my nod and smile to those who have defined duty and service.

Never let it be said that we are ever too old to need community.

Today I was sandwiched in the back seat of a  little car (I’m not so sure it was really so little) with four other dear colleagues and friends.    For an hour and a half each way we were like a tin of sardines – scrunched together.   Lifting our gludes so seat belts could be fastened;  arms into our sides; carefully adjusting our legs; trying to be as small as we possibly could to give the others a little more elbow room.  — all while talking life and work.

And it was good.   Really good.   One of the best days of work, I’ve had in a long time!

You know, I’ve done my job for so long now, that I’m used to it.   I have rhythm and rhyme in the way I do it.   I loved today cause it was done in community.    Sure I work and meet with folks all the time as part of my job but my old friend who told me long ago that ministry is a lonely place, an isolated place was so right.    I love what I do.   I’m really not sure what else I’d do if I didn’t do this.   But today was nice.   A nice change.   Nice to be in community.   Nice to breathe, relax, laugh, pick and work.    To quote the creator of such things:  it was good.

I think it would do most “grown-ups” I know good to be squished like sardines into a little car for a little while!  Maybe I can be an instigator of such happenings – make a new game out of it  – a new version of sardines!   A game for grown-ups to play….

I learned for the first time this summer, the apparently well-used phrase to toddlers: use your words. I was at a family gathering and being exasperated in jest the way that only family can. Apparently I was so befuddled that I couldn’t formulate any words — and so the comment was made again in jest and with much laughter: come on Sally, use your words. Which of course escalated the laughter and my lack of articulation.

Today sitting on the couch with my sister-in-law (whoo hooo for the new Mrs. Chambers) and Janey was in a huff. We’re still not sure exactly why but almost four year-olds don’t need a reason to be all haughty. She finally lifted her head from a pillow fiercely pouting. She looked straight at her mother and then pointed to her bedroom, mouth sealed shut. Clearly laughing wasn’t appropriate or helpful. After some cajoling, Brenda firmly said: Janey use your words. And eventually she did.

Janey is almost four. I get why she needs a little help remembering to not only use her words but how to use them. I really wonder though why it is that we as adults still need so much help using our words.

I was never particularly a big fan of pumpkins.  I’ve never liked pumpkin pie.   But come to think of it I’m not sure I’d like anything made with what pumpkin looks like when it comes out of a tin.   It’s not that I was anti-pumpkin or anything just didn’t really get into them.   That was of course until I had a niece who fell in love with pumpkins.  I carved my first one ever last year with her.   And though still not a fan of “pumpkin filling” I discovered that I love roasted pumpkin seeds (not sure I’d buy them but I love making them).   Last year I even made a “sukkot” thanksgiving bowl out of a pumpkin with my home-made trail mix.   Last year pumpkins became fun – one of the cool parts of fall along with all the leaves.

This year pumpkins – though I confess I never got to go to the market to buy one until last week – are bringing a strange sort of comfort and ironically carve out space for joy.

Who would have thought?

you could actually buy a pumpkin called a “fairy tale pumpkin.”     There was one called a “Cinderella” pumpkin too, I might have to go back and look at that one.    But who doesn’t feel warmly better, comforted, amused and content when you have a “fairy tale” pumpkin sitting on your patio…. makes you start to wonder if a fairy godmother isn’t too far off?  or at least the road to a happy ending.

and who would have thought?

I could actually carve this!!! well let’s be honest who would have thought I would have carved the time to carve this?   Well I guess that’s what happens when no one shows for a church “sabbath” … the staff get sabbath

pumpkins.   good stuff.   I may still not really enjoy eating them but my eyes enjoy looking at them, my patio is filled with them and my mouth grins with pleasure.

I never really know through what the comfort and joy will come.  But it always does.   It always does.

Bibbity.  Bobbity.  Booooooo!