Wow. That week just FLEW by. And…it’s Friday once again. Time to sign on with the Gypsy Mama and write for 5 minutes, no editing, on this week’s topic which is an interesting one:
Motherhood should come with a…
Go:
…gigantic truth-in-advertising disclaimer, warning label, cautionary tale, illustrated instruction manual and a clear understanding that once you pass ‘go,’ you are never again ‘home free.’
Because…motherhood is simply the most amazing AND the most horrifying thing to ever happen to a woman.
It is beautiful beyond belief, filled with moments of buoyancy, joy and wonder, the single most remarkable thing to ever happen in one’s life, a gift beyond measure…
…AND it is a never ending series of heartbreaks, sleepless nights, cold sweats and deep-seated fear – no, terror! – about the world into which your beloved must have the bravery and the chutzpah to enter….over and over again, at each stage of his or her development.
But most of all, motherhood should come with an older friend who’s been there before you, can advise you when you ask for it, can cheer you on as you struggle through it, can encourage you when you fall flat on your face, can love your kids (and you) with an uncompromising, fierce and devoted love and can model for you how to move through the tough times and live to tell about it.
STOP
The two most important and consistent of those older ‘friends’ in my mothering life – my husband’s mom, Kathryn, on the left – who turned 95 in January and now lives in an Alzheimer’s assisted living unit; and my own mom – Ruth – who will be 90 in July and whose health is increasingly frail. I thank God for these two women every day of my life. They have loved me and my children, been there when it got scary, taken care of my little ones when I was sick, busy or needed a break. And now they love my little ones’ little ones – even when they can’t remember their names. Each of them has been a shining example to me of courage, commitment and faith, and I am deeply grateful.
Archives for May 2011
Five Minute Friday: Motherhood Should Come With a …
May 6, 2011 By
One Last Time…and Then – We’re Home!
May 2, 2011 By
Signing on with Michelle over at Graceful this morning for her “Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday” meme:
I have loved churches as long as I can remember. The churches I have attended in my lifetime have all become second homes to me. I like exploring their every nook and cranny, learning the quickest way to get from point a to point b, and admiring the beautifully artful touches that help lead people into worship.
Upcountry stone church, Maui
I also like visiting churches whenever we travel. The buildings themselves are iconic to me – and if they’ve got either stained glass or some sort of steeple, then I’m in church-heaven.
a small wood-frame church in Nipomo, CA
Congregational church in Hanalei, Kauai
Looking out from that same church.
But…there’s a limit to church-hopping/shopping. And mine has most definitely been reached. Four long months, we’ve been visiting churches other than our own. And yesterday was the last week of that particular experiment experience. We had originally planned to be back in our home congregation yesterday – but somehow we missed a very well-attended evangelical church that had been at the top of our list, so we added on one more week to pay them a visit.
And I’m both glad and sorry that we did. Glad because yesterday’s jaunt served to underscore for me – maybe more than anything else could have – how deeply we love our congregation and how grateful we are to belong to this part of the body. And sorry because we experienced a few things yesterday that I surely wish we had not, including a public chastisement of some wayward leaders and a communion service that did not feel at like a communion service – at least to us. Good music (though I’ll brag a little bit and say no where near as rich as what we enjoy each worshipful week at MCC) and a good Bible lesson. Not a sermon so much as a teaching, and a very well-done one, too. So the morning was mixed for us. Some mornings are like that, right?
We belong to a small denomination, but a growing one. The Evangelical Covenant church is a ‘newbie’ in historical time, formed in the 1880’s by Swedish immigrants and thoroughly north American in ethos and ecclesiology. We are congregational by polity, but we are connected by a wonderful web of mutual care and concern and a list of shared values that have become absolutely central to my own understanding of who I am as the daughter of the Most High God.
It is in the midst of this part of Christ’s body that I have had my gifts affirmed. It is here that I have heard the call, first to seminary and then to pastoral ministry. It is here that I have watched God do a series of new things – reaching out intentionally to embrace women in ministry, multi-ethnic congregations and ministries, peace and justice ministries of all kinds.
And all of it done with careful respect for the teachings of scripture and the work of the Holy Spirit in the church of every age. We value tradition and we value good change, we value liturgy and we value contemporary worship. We value the shared journey and we learn from one another. We’re not perfect, but by God’s grace, we are exceptionally open-hearted and open-handed. And we hold one another accountable, too. I miss that right now. I really, really do.
So, I’m homesick. In a good way, I think. And I’m ready to be back home. And that’s a very good thing.
I won’t be returning to this particular role:
preaching my last sermon as associate pastor in December 2010
But I will be returning to worship in a space that looks a little bit like this:
the Holy Spirit window at the back of the chancel, framed by one of our locally wrought chandeliers
My husband and I are going to try really hard not to jump back into lots of responsibility, but rather ease back in – enjoying weekly worship, continuing to meet with our small group, prayerfully considering whatever options present themselves. But wow – will we be glad to sit in that sanctuary with those people again.
It is true – we can worship our God anywhere and everywhere. And I have enjoyed having the experience of formally worshipping in a variety of spaces, with a variety of people. But ‘doing church’ is meant to be local, it is meant to be consistent. Done well, it is marked by commitment and mutual support, as together we offer God the ‘work of our hands.’ For that’s what worship truly is – all of who we are, all of what we do – offered to God as an act of love and thanksgiving.
I look forward to sitting in a familiar pew next week. It will be so good to be home.
One Last Good-bye…
May 1, 2011 By
And there they are – in all their splendor! Five sections of seven shelves each. That’s a whole lotta books. But now, they’re available for anyone to use and they include a lot of great resources for biblical study, small group ideas, care ministries, worship and liturgy – all pieces of my ever-shifting job description over these last 14 years.
So today was the last Saturday of packing and schlepping. I opened the windows behind my former desk as wide as they would crank – to enjoy the view and the breeze. It was a glorious spring day, sunny and just warm enough to be comfortable in lightweight clothing.
I went through the last of my files, loaded all my CDs into a box, emptied the various basket containers scattered around that space, took down the last of the artwork and made piles in the hallway for my husband to help me load into our cars.
In the photo above and the one below you can catch a small glimpse of the bookshelves which surrounded me – at my own request when we built this building from 2003 – when our former senior pastor of 23 years left – until 2005 – when our current senior pastor arrived.
Yup, that’s right. We were in a two-year interim stretch while we undertook this long-planned project of building a glorious new worship space and creating staff offices all in the same place for the first time ever.
That stack of brightly colored yarn work just left of center? Those are prayer shawls, created by a variety of folks in our community. They would appear on my desk, or in a bag, hanging from my doorknob. I never knew for sure who made what, but this much I did know: the maker prayed as s/he worked, offering sweet supplication for the recipient of this gift of love.
And I hand carried them – to people facing or recovering from surgery, to brand new moms, to recent widows or widowers – whoever was facing a life transition of one kind or another. And as I wrapped them in this beautifully textured love-gift, I would say: “As this shawl touches your skin today, may it be a tangible reminder that the people of God are praying for you, even as the person who made this prayed for you over each stitch. Wrap yourself in it as you pray in the mornings, or lay it over yourself as you nap in the afternoon. And as it comforts and warms you, may you know the sure, sweet presence of the God who loves you, the God who walks with you through every step of your journey.“
One of the rich parts of this work that I will miss deeply.
After about 3 hours of slow, steady work, I called my husband and said he could come over any time now and we’d pack up the last load. Four file boxes, two large baskets, two open boxes, a CD player, small heater and fan. That’s what was left.
Taking turns and wedging the exit door open, we made a half dozen trips down the hall, out the walkway and down a half flight of steps to the cars. And somewhere in there, the door wedge got bumped and slam! We were locked out.
Are you kidding me?
On a Saturday afternoon, no one around, no key.
But… I had left those windows open….
My ever-resourceful husband walked around to the front and stood beneath those windows.
“Honey, I think these jeans are just a little bit too straight-legged for me to bend these knees enough. Can you find me something to stand on?”
Well, not exactly. EVERY DOOR IS LOCKED.
So he kept workin’ it and eventually got up there – straight legs and all! What a guy.
Almost there…
…SUCCESS!
And now, of course… the almost-equal and opposite problem awaits. My home office is approximately 1/3 the size of my church office. And I really, really did a lot of work trying to ready it for the deluge that was coming.
But as you can see – it flooded anyhow.
I think I’ve got at least another 4 months of work ahead of me, don’t you?
There were a couple of other important things that came home with me today, too. A poster we bought in Paris on our 40th anniversary trip – one month after my husband had surgery for prostate cancer. And what you see below – a gorgeous hand-calligrified gift from my sister-in-law, one of the most talented women on the planet.
She told me to choose a quote – any quote – and she’d make something for my office.
I chose this quote from Rilke – which is my very favorite of almost anything I’ve read, except for scripture. It was quoted in a class I took and I bought the book just so I could find these words and savor them. To me it speaks such beautiful truth – life is about asking questions and then living the answers. And all the people I’ve counseled and prayed for, all the kids I’ve encouraged in Confirmation, all the troubled couples – or happy pre-wed couples, all the recently bereaved friends, or happily moving-on friends – everyone who walked into my office walked right past this beautiful gift:
The framed piece – so lovely.
It’s For the Birds…
May 1, 2011 By
Linking up on Monday with L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone
who encourages her contributors to write with a sense of place…
To live in Santa Barbara is a gift.
Every single day, I am grateful for that gift,
in ways too numerous to count.
A sliver of fertile land, following the crooked coastline of the north American coastline for about 30 miles or so,
laid out like a sparkling emerald baguette, mountains rising on the northern edge and the great Pacific stretched like a silver blue necklace on the south.
As I said, it’s a gift to be here.
To live within 15 minutes of one of our children
and his family is also a gift – and a privilege as well.
Both my son and his wife are physicians on the central coast and it has been my joy (and now my husband’s as well) to care for each of their two remarkable daughters during the years preceding pre-school. Their mama works half-time, so we are now keeping 14-month-old Lilly two days each week –
and loving it a lot.
The newly-trimmed podocarpus tree just outside our bedroom door.
One of the things we love about living here is the rich variety of bird-life that shares this space with us. From tiny finches with their lime or peach coloring to the great blue herons that occasionally fly overhead, there are lots of birds nearby –
all kinds, sizes, shapes and sounds.
Notorious loud-mouths are the scrub blue-jays who are ubiquitous in southern California. We’ve got several who hang out at our place – and my husband has managed to begin an interesting relationship with a couple of them.
Some of the bird-attracting paraphernalia hanging from that podocarpus.
About the time he retired,
my husband the gifted investment-advisor,
became Poppy Doolittle –
charming our jays with a simple act of bribery:
peanuts, unsalted, in the shell.
He began by standing in the middle of our back lawn or on the patio and clucking/talking to them.
“Here’s something good – wanna try it?”
And he’d put the peanut down on the ground or the table.
Slowly, he began to hang onto those nuts,
until he had one in the palm of his hand.
And to everyone’s surprise and delight, they went for it.
One jay in particular is brazen and fearless,
answering the call almost any time.
His smaller, more nervous compatriot will come if Dick is alone
in the yard, but not when we have guests.
Poppy and Lilly right after her nap.
So, he’s been teaching Lilly about this,
showing her how it’s done.
And she LOVES it.
On Wednesday of last week, she woke up from her nap,
bed-head, sleepy eyes and all,
and began looking out the bedroom door
towards the yard.
Stretching out her hand as Poppy has taught her to do,
she began to make clucking noises.
And Poppy came running!
Out they went, to see if the jays were around.
Bold Jay showed up right away,
and grabbed that nut in a split second.
Lilly was still pretty sleepy
and couldn’t quite get her hand around a second one.
Bold Jay sits in the tree, guarding his treasure.
This day, he chose to keep the nut with him,
more often than not,
he buries it in our lawn,
pounding it down in the ground
with a berry from the tree.
So they tried a second time.
Lilly has not quite mastered the concept
of opening her hand with the nut in it –
she tends to pick it up and grab hold tightly –
so Poppy is still the primary gift-giver in this routine.
Shy Jay was having nothing to do with it.
Bold Jay had flown across the yard to the very top of the utility pole between us and our neighbors to the south,
so our fearless duo moved a little closer to him,
and out into the sunshine where the prize
would gleam a little more clearly.
And down he swooped – all the way across that yard.
Poppy agreed to give the guy one last shot as a special prize
for his awesome aim,
and I managed to get a picture of his feet
as they landed on Poppy’s finger
while he grabbed his final reward
(for the day, at least!)
Wish you could have been here to see him –
and to see Lilly enjoying the spectacle.
But most of all, I wish you could see how this granddaddy loves his little ones –
the ones that fly,
and the one whose smile makes our entire week.
Also sharing this week with Laura at The Wellspring and her lovely meme: “Playdates with God.”
