Archives for October 2012

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 13

October 14, 2012 By Diana

When I spend time in my daughters’ homes,

I am reminded of many things.

First and foremost,

of how very well they mother their sons.

And secondly,

how they have taken some of my

patterns and traditions and

greatly improved upon them.

I was – once upon a time – a great

seasonal decorator.

I saved art work for years and put

up my children’s creations

for every holiday.

I shopped the sales at Michael’s

and gathered a lot of

decorative detritus

that we used for a long time.

Joy is doing the same thing.

And she is doing it so much better.

Her sons love this tradition

and beg her to pull out the bins

and put up the cute stuff.

Take a little look.

The manzanita branch

is used with a different set

of hanging ornaments for Halloween,

Thanksgiving, Christmas,

Valentine’s Day,

St. Patrick’s Day,

Easter.

And every one of her Mission style door frames

has a decorative object or arrangement

that fits the season.

These photos only capture a little of the fun,

and in about 3 weeks,

they’ll be switched out for

Thanksgiving decor.

This is the beautiful family room they added

about 10 years ago.

A lot of good memories have been made here.

Their home is always open for

friends,

family,

church youth groups,

neighbors.

They are superb hosts,

unfazed by groups sized anywhere

from 3 to 50.

I stand in awe.

And pictured below is our home-away-from-home

whenever we come down to see my mom,

who lives about 30 minutes from them.

This is where Dick stayed from Tuesday through Thursday

every week for ten years while he worked

in southern California before he retired in 2010.

Here is one of the really great things about retirement:

our schedule is flexible.

Packed and ready to return home last night,

we discovered that two of our grandsons

would be playing basketball games

as part of the YMCA fall season

this morning.

So, we unpacked,

enjoyed dinner & some good conversation,

and woke up just in time

to go to Griffin’s game at 9:00 a.m.

Griff plays with the 5-6 year old team –

half court, no score,

frequent substitutes.

He is one of the older members

of his 4-person team

and for the first time in his life,

one of the tallest.

He is a dedicated b-ball player and

it shows.

Good game, Griffin!

This is his team.

Holding his team treats after the game.

Colby is 11 and one of the younger and
smaller members of his 11-12-year-old team,
but he is scrappy and quick
and played well today.

Big brother Wesley and little brother Griff on the sidelines,

otherwise occupied.

Colby had a bigger team, they played the full court,
they kept score.
And they trounced the opposition.

Colby played most of three quarters,
and in between
sat on the sidelines
sucking down water.

And a picture of Colby with his after-game snacks,
but apparently,
an 11-year-old is a little too sophisticated to smile.

The trip home was spectacularly clear after that volatile
thunderstorm blew threw the area on Thursday.
These are the foothills in Ventura,

and a quick shot of a small slice of Halloween on the highway,

This is our favorite 20 acres on the side of the road north,
where we’ve watched strawberries,
lettuce,
tomatoes,
beans,
and now berries-under-plastic
thrive for sixteen years now.

And then, around the next bend, we begin to see the coast,
and we know we’re almost home.

Every single time I make this trip,
I am grateful
to live where I do.
Close proximity to the ocean
is nourishing to me in ways
I cannot put into words
and I am still amazed
that God brought us to this place.

I have loved every place we have lived –

six months in a 1-bedroom apartment

in Santa Monica as a newly-wed college student;

six weeks in a single room at a

Christian camping center

right after graduation;

a concrete block 3-bedroom house

on the savannah of central Africa

for two years;

an apartment in West Los Angeles

and a rented house in Eagle Rock

when we returned to California;

three homes in Altadena,

each with memories and beauties

all their own.

But this one?

This ranch house we’ve pushed and pulled

and added onto and made to fit us,

this space that God led us to

just as we were ready to

purchase another,

far less desirable place –

this place is a gift of grace

and beauty

that God has used

to save me day, by day, by day.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, family, God's gifts, Home, photography, Travel

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 12

October 13, 2012 By Diana

This weekend, we are traveling,

heading south to be with family,

in parts and pieces,

for just a day or so.

And as we leave,

the first storm of the season

is building in drama

and beauty.

As we round the curve on the 118,

heading into the hills and canyons

that separate the valleys

San Fernando and San Gabriel,

we can see what we’re heading into.

We have splashes and splitches

on the windshield as we drive

the two hours,

listening to a play-off game on the car radio.

But after we are safely ensconced in our

daughter’s small, cozy guesthouse,

the clouds burst their seams,

pouring water,

hail and something new to our ears,

graupel,

all around us,

looking for all the world like

small pellets of styrofoam packing material.

Time with mom is good.

My brother has made the long trek

from northern CA

and she is delighted to

have her two remaining

children (and her daughter’s husband)

in the same space,

making her laugh til her sides hurt –

even when she can’t quite understand

everything that is being said.

I take a walk in the late afternoon,

around my daughter’s beautiful, old

neighborhood,

filled with Victorian cottages,

bungalows from the turn of the

twentieth century,

and a bounteous buffet

of doors and porches.

This old codger was somehow

both delightfully out of place
and quite comfy
in this collection of
oldies, but goodies.

The street just to the west of our children
is filled with magnificent
old jewels like this shingled glory,

mixed nicely with smaller, more modest
abodes.

This lovely avenue positively defines
the term ‘tree-lined street,’
and is always deliciously inviting.

Turning the bend below the elementary school,
brings a bright row of small charmers,

and the delightful surprise of a healthy,
blooming plumeria plant,
six feet tall and thriving in this
decidedly non-tropical environment.

And this is a garage.
Oh, my.

This small gem, with its bright red door,
stands diagonally across the corner
on the street where we are staying.
When I see it,
it always seems to call out,
‘welcome!’

One more small Victorian on the way up the hill,

and then I’m back where I began,
the charming Sears & Roebuck bungalow,
which our children have tastefully and carefully
enlarged and improved,
and where we are always received
by grace-filled, loving hearts.

I think this front door is my very favorite of all.

The beauty found in
thunder storms,
architecture,
history,
neighborhoods,
city streets
and warm welcome
is saving me
right here, right now.
And I am thankful.

Much longer than usual for the weekend quiet hosted by my friends Sandy and Deidra, but this is what I’ve got for now. I hope to do a simpler one for Sat/Sun, which means I will not quite make all 31 of the 31-day challenge.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, family, God's gifts, Home, photography, Quiet for the Weekend

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 11

October 12, 2012 By Diana

This is the main drag of our town,

State Street.

In this picture,

we are very near the northern end of downtown,

before the road takes a hard left,

and becomes something else entirely.

But here,

right here,

on the corner of Micheltorena,

you can find this beauty:

A beautiful, Gothic

brownstone church.

Trinity Episcopal Church,

to be exact.

It comes complete

with bell tower and carillon,

which plays hymns at noon.

And its large, red door

is open – all.day.long.

Like any brownstone church should,

it has it’s interesting details,

including side doors,

hidden from the front.

But this particular church has something truly

special and unique.

It has a prayer labyrinth,

after the design of the one at Chartres,

in France.

It is beautiful,

and it is completely visible to

all north and south bound traffic

on State Street,

which as I mentioned,

is the main drag in our town.

I love that.

Every year, the students at
the School for Spiritual Direction
trek down from the Mission Renewal Center
to spend some time
walking
and praying
the labyrinth.

The beige color is the pathway in (on the left)
and the pathway out (on the right).
The charcoal areas are for stepping out if someone
is walking in the opposite direction
and your paths cross.

I’ve already written in this series about
how walking has enriched my prayer life,
here, here, and here.

The labyrinth is yet another way in which

movement can be combined with

prayer, meditation and silence

to enlarge, refresh and enliven

personal prayer.

You enter the labyrinth in a spirit of quiet,

seeking to listen,

to receive,

to understand,

to discern.

Walking into the labyrinth,

you are invited to

let go

of the concerns and

worries of the day,

and all those things

which sometimes

distract from a

deepening interior journey.

When you arrive at the center flower,

you are encouraged,

in fact, invited,

to spend

time in reflection,

prayer,

thanksgiving –

taking as long as you

need, as long as you like.

As you begin the walk out,

take heart from

the time spent quietly at

the center, and prepare

to re-enter the world

of everyday responsibilities

and commitments,

refreshed and strengthened

for the journey.

The interesting part of this experience for me

is the rhythm of the walking.

Parts of the labyrinth are long

and graceful, allowing me

to move easily,

even quickly, if I wish.

But many parts are tight,

with twisting turns,

requiring concentration

and attention to navigate.

The path doubles back,

seems to repeat itself.

A lot like life.

But, in a labyrinth,

you are never lost,

no matter how convoluted

the pathway may feel

at any given moment.

There is one way in,

and one way out,

and when you leave,

you will want to come again.

This labyrinth is just across the street

from my dentist’s office.

Occasionally, when it’s time

to get my teeth cleaned,

I come early

and walk the labyrinth for twenty

minutes or so.

It’s a space of quiet beauty

and refreshment,

and I am grateful for it.

I particularly like that it

is situated on the main street of our town.

Because that’s where prayer

is so often lacking,

and where it is often most needed.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, personal journey, prayer, Santa Barbara, The Church

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 10

October 11, 2012 By Diana

I’ve been thinking a lot about contrasts lately.

Light and dark,

small and large,

near and far.

And about how so many of those things that we

tend to put into opposition to one another

are not all that opposed after all.

Both things are true,

both sides are instructive,

both realities are beautiful,

each in their own way.

Last summer, I spent two weeks

looking at this view.

Here is the view on a sunny day –

with all the colors popping,

the architectural details sharp,

distinct,

easy to follow,

the palm trees leading your eye out to the horizon.

If you look closely at the wing of the building

that was just outside my window,

you can see that the right side of the roof

looks a slightly different color from the left.

It doesn’t seem dramatic, does it?

Now – here are some similar views,

taken on a foggy morning.

The colors blend a bit more,

nothing stands out,

even the lines of the building

are fuzzier, the trees

fade away into the fog.

There is no horizon to be found.

In the cool of that foggy morning,

I began to see that the two sides

of that roof were quite different from one another.

I am facing due south in this picture,

so the westside of the building is the darker one.

I was intrigued by this and began to draw in

a little bit closer.

The fog was beginning to lift as

I screwed on the telephoto lens,

and this is what I began to see.

An astounding display of lichen,
moss, multi-colored plant life,
clinging like crazy-colored barnacles
to the terra cotta tiles

I found them stunningly beautiful,
especially in contrast to the rich red
of the roof; I was
fascinated by
these green and gray polka dots,
scrambling wildly down the rows.

I would not have seen them at all
if the fog had not rolled in,
forcing me
to take my eye off the horizon,
to stop taking the long view,
and instead,
to pay attention
to what was right in front of my face.

I have spent much of my life searching
toward that horizon,
thinking and dreaming about
what was to come.
One of my major regrets
is that I did not fully appreciate
what was
right in front of my face
while I was living it.

I got better at it over time,
thank God.
But how I wish I had
celebrated the glory
of the single moment
just a bit more,
especially when my
children were small
and I was tired all.the.time.

I take some comfort from the disciples.

They weren’t able to see what was

right in front of them, either.

Yet even they,

with their stubbornness,

their denseness,

their projection of their

particular hopes and dreams,

hopes and dreams

that were so far from God’s best

as to be laughable at times –

even they got to see the other side.

Jesus came to them,

in his new,

resurrected body,

and he stood before them,

greeted them gently,

offered them peace

and then sent them out

to change the world.

The truth is, both sides,

both views

are important.

The long view,

and the close-up one.

And both views contain truth,

big truths – long-term goals,

aspirations, dreams –

and small truths –

the glories of

the immediate,

the blessings of now.

Somehow, I don’t think the world

can truly be changed

without some experience

of holding-both-sides-together.

Because our world needs both:

the healing presence and comfort

of the Jesus

who comes and cups our faces

and says, “Peace be with you,”

and the powerful creative energy

of the Cosmic Christ,

in “whom all things hold together,”

who wants to make all things new,

including every one of us.

So, even though I’m not a foggy weather

kind of person,

I will celebrate and appreciate

those days when they come.

In fact, I will seek them out,

looking always for

Jesus

right in front of my face.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, God's gifts, personal journey, Photo Essay, Spiritual Direction

31 Days in which I am Saved by Beauty – Day 9

October 10, 2012 By Diana

I have already written about this evening walking I do.

This circle walking.

And circle praying.

Tonight I was a little distracted.

This is the season for the acorn drop,

and there are hundreds of them,

all over the paving stones of our driveway.

Can you see them in this picture?

The one below these words?

Earlier this fall, my grandgirl Gracie and I picked up a few,
and put them in a bowl on my china cabinet.
We don’t usually see their small caps,
just the cylindrical bodies.
But this year, early in the dropping season,
we found a hundred or so that had their hats.

My husband believes that
the number of acorns on the driveway
is a good predictor of how rainy it will be during
the winter months here on the coast of California.
So far, he’s been right.

I think maybe we’re in for it this year.

They’re in every crevice,
cracking underfoot as I turn circles,
round and round.
And when our cars drive over them,
they break open,
revealing the nutmeat inside.
Tonight,
a small brown bird hopped out
from his hiding place under the
oleanders,
jumping into the space I had just left.
He began busily picking at the broken pieces.
When I’d get within about 15 feet of him,
he’d hop away into the bushes again.
He did this on almost all of my 36 circles this night.

I like the crackling sound these acorns make as I walk.
That noise, these small objects – they remind me
that it is now fall,
even as the changing angle of the light
helps me remember that the seasons
are shifting.
We don’t have a lot of other clues in
central California,
just these subtleties, these small things.
To me, they are beautiful
and evocative,
reminding me of how things
stay the same,
even as they are changing.

If I have planned well,
and begun my walking early enough,
I can finish my time outdoors
by sitting in this swing,
which hangs across the yard.
It’s a beautiful spot,
sheltered under the oaks,
and the swing is strung up by sturdy chains,
wrapped around a large, twisting branch.

If I have planned well,
I try to spend between ten and twenty minutes
in this swing,
centering,
focusing quietly on one or two words
from scripture.
I breathe carefully,
purposefully,
with awareness, trying to stay
in rhythm with both the words
and with the swing.
It always feels to me like I am
held.
Secure, cradled.

Even when the words are these:
“Mercy, Lord.”
Which is what came to me tonight,
for a long list of reasons.

I choose to believe that God hears and answers.
And even when I don’t particularly like
the answers,
there is still mercy to be found.
Selah.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, Birds, family, Home, personal journey, Slowing Down, Spiritual Formation

31 Days in which I am Saved by Beauty – Day 8

October 9, 2012 By Diana

I took my walk at Butterfly Beach today.
The shadows were long,
the temperature was unseasonably warm,
and I needed to breathe in the beach beauty
for a little while.

When I walk at the beach,

I forego my usual walking in circles,

choosing instead to walk laps.

I pace up and down this long, level sidewalk,

edging the beach, and I marvel at the view.

The tide was high tonight,
with barely a beach to stand on.

It felt good to walk,

to stretch my legs,

standing tall in the fading sunlight,

sighing ‘thank you, thank you,’

with each step.

This is my other sanctuary,
quite different from the one I wrote about last night.
Last night spoke to my hunger
for the nearness of God,
the singular joys of being alone in the midst
of gathered community.

Today, I celebrated the bigness of God,

feeling myself puny, alone but not lonely,

relieved to not be in any way confused

with the person in charge of

anything whatsoever.

I need them both, it seems.

I need physical reminders of God’s proximity

and of God’s distance,

of God’s willingness to become small,

and of God’s astounding immensity.

When I walk at Butterfly, I face both into

and away from the sun and the breeze.

One direction is cooler and things can be seen

in sharper outline than the other.

I like these contrasts,

I enjoy turning my face in a different direction,

and seeing the same thing from two sides.

This gull, for example.

Facing into the setting sun,

he stands in silhouette,

dark against the shimmering sea.

But when I face away from the sun,
I see him in full color,
his subtle shades of gray and white,
that startlingly bright orange beak,
even his reflection on the wet sand.

Right now, we are facing into a potentially difficult
situation for someone we love
someone we love more than life.
When I think of her and pray for her,
remembering this experience today
is helpful, centering, yes,
even calming.

Because today I had the momentary privilege
of seeing from two sides,
each beautiful in its own way.
Neither one is the whole picture.

We don’t get to see all that there is to see

in this life we lead.

We do see so much!

So much that is beautiful,

in the way that we ordinarily define that word.

But there is more.

There is more than what we actually see

at any given moment in time.

And I am trusting that what I cannot

see just now

will have a beauty all its own.

Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.

Sharing with Jennifer, Ann’s Wednesday group, Emily and Duane this time around.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, God's gifts, personal journey, Photo Essay

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 7

October 8, 2012 By Diana

Have you ever been hungry for something

and didn’t know it

until you ate,

and found relief?

Tonight, we held our first Taize worship service,

and I was filled with the sweet and savory

presence of the Lord.

If you are unfamiliar with Taize, I write out for you here the descriptive paragraph found at the top of tonight’s worship folder:

A Taize service is a worship service of sung prayer and contemplation. The distinguishing marks include repetition and silence. Taize style prayer is repetitive with simple musical lines and core biblical texts that can be sung by a whole assembly. The assembly is to immerse itself in the simple but profound harmonies and let itself be carried by this sung prayer. Silence is perhaps the second most important aspect of this particular prayer practice. It is simply holding oneself in the presence of God and letting Christ, through the Holy Spirit, pray in us. The simple, repetitive prayers and an ample silence are means for the gathered assembly to “hear the Word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patient endurance.” (Luke 8:15)

Candles, candles everywhere,
soft light spreading,
flicking
into dark corners,
lighting our way into the room.

Thirty-five people,
sitting spread out in the space,
two-thirds of them
under the age of 25.

Gentle singing, sweet harmonies, simple words . . .

“Come and fill our hearts with your peace,
you alone, O Lord, are holy…”

“In the Lord I’ll be ever thankful,
in the Lord I will rejoice!”

“Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten.
Those who seek God never go wanting.
God alone fills us.”

A three-fold reading of Mark 10:13-16,
a lectio passage that spoke
to the deepest places in my heart tonight.
“…that he might touch [the children]…
and he took them up in his arms,
laid his hands on them,
and blessed them.”

“The kingdom of God is justice
and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.
Come, Lord, and open in us the gates of your kingdom.”

A penitential psalm . . .

“O Lord, hear my prayer. O Lord, hear my prayer:
when I call, answer me…”

Space to make silent intercession for others.

And then . . .

. . . this . . .

Our worship leader led us in the refrain,
“Adoremus Te Domine,”
and then he chanted,
very simply,
these lines,
in between each simple singing of that phrase:

“Christ the Lord, you became poor and you offer the kingdom of heaven to the poor of the earth.”

“O Lord, gentle and humble of heart, you reveal a new world to all who abandon themselves; we receive of your fullness.”

“O Lord, you fell prostrate on the ground, and you show us a path of consolation in our distress; you are the joy no one can take from us.”

“O Lord, you shed your blood, and you give the cup of life to seekers after justice; you quench every thirst.”

“O risen Lord, you showed yourself to the disciples and you pluck from our flesh our hearts of stone; we shall see you face to face.”

“O Lord, you divest the powerful and clothe peacemakers in festal robes; you transform us into your likeness.”

“O Lord, first of the living, you welcome into the kingdom all who die for you; we dwell in your love.”

Sung liturgy.

That’s what I was hungry for,
starving for,
in fact.
And I didn’t even know it . . .
until I heard it.
Until I took it in.
listening,
eyes closed,
singing the refrain,
holding my just-lit Christ candle.

Saved by beauty, indeed . . . indeed.

As the service ended,
we each took our candles,
placing them in the white sand
surrounding the
One light that lit us all,
a circle of flickering flame.

And the melting candle wax
dripped onto my finger,
stinging,
biting,
as I moved my one,
lone light
to join the circle.

Because sometimes
to step into
the circle of light,
we have to burn a little.
Sometimes
we have to let ourselves
drop out of our
carefully shaped
plastic holders
right into the dust of the earth.

Oh, that the Flame would shine,
brilliant and true,
through the gathered Body –
in this place,
for this time.

Joining tonight with Michelle, Jen, Ann, Jenn – and with Laura and Laura this week, too:

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, community, Music, The Church, worship

Quiet for the Weekend – October 5-7, 20112

October 7, 2012 By Diana

“The Spirit of the Lord speaks through me,

his words are upon my tongue.

The God of Israel spoke.

The Rock of Israel said to me:

‘The one who rules righteously,

who rules in the fear of God,

is like the light of morning at sunrise,

like a morning without clouds,

like the gleaming of the sun

on new grass after rain.'”

from the last words of David,

2 Samuel 23:2-4, NLT

May your Sunday be filled with the Light of Morning,

gleaming like new grass after rain,

ever aware of God’s loving presence

in the world around you,

and in your heart of hearts.

Joining with Sandy and Deidra,

friends of the heart,

for their weekly invitation to quietness and rest.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Quiet for the Weekend

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 6

October 7, 2012 By Diana

We went to a wedding today.

Being there required driving a long way,

climbing a mountain,

arriving in time to rest a bit

before the ceremony started,

being told the room would not be ready for at least 90 minutes,

sitting in the lobby with all our bags and hangers,

and then making a wonderful discovery:

We had been upgraded to a suite.

With TWO balconies.

And this is what we saw when we stood out there:

You know, we could have just stayed in our room

and enjoyed the view.

But we didn’t.

We got dressed,

we went to the lovely service.

And then, while everyone else

ate appetizers and had a few drinks on the lawn,

in the freezing* cold,

we invited Dick’s 90-year-old cousin

and the pastor’s wife to come back to

our suite

and rest a bit before dinner.

I uploaded pictures I’d taken

and listened in

as Dick brought out some old photos

and diaries he had brought,

in hopes that this very cousin would be here.

Can I just tell you how fun it was

to listen to them talk?

She is sharp as a tack,

has great vision,

and was able to identify a lot of mystery faces

in our old photos.

She thoroughly enjoyed the diary excerpts,

adding her own memories into the mix.

Harriet is very short,

very talkative,

and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met in my life.

I don’t imagine that very many people in her life have

ever told her she is beautiful.

But I’m here to tell you,

she was beautiful to us tonight.

She carries around with her

history.

Our history.

And stories of faith and commitment,

a vibrant testimony of God’s goodness over time.

I think maybe I want to be her when I grow up.

Only trouble is,

I’ll have to figure out a way to shrink

about a foot!

*Please bear in mind that I am a native Californian who has NEVER lived in a true winter climate. I’m guessing it was in the low 60’s. And in evening wear, without a wrap, that is freezing to us. Sorry. I know how wimpy that is. Nevertheless, it is fact, hard fact.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Blogging, family, Marriage, memoir

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 5

October 6, 2012 By Diana

I saw dolphins today.*

It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.

I think they’ve been holding out on me,

to tell you the truth.

I don’t quite know why,

but dolphins speak to me of God.

They are graceful,

sleek,

thoroughly at home in their element,

playful,

communal,

intelligent, and

beautiful.

And seeing them always makes

my heart beat a little bit faster,

my breath draw in,

my eyes slow down to

find them in the water.

Today they were feeding.
A long school of fish trailed
just behind the buoy markers
as a friend and I ate lunch.

And two pair of dolphin
wove their way in and around
fish,
seaweed,
buoys,
lifting my heart
at the sight of them.

Sometimes I am surprised
by how much
a single glimpse
of something like
dolphins
can
make my day.

I only wish I’d had my camera.

*I spent way too much time today trying to track down a single photo of dolphins. I am SURE I have several – but could I find even ONE? No.

So, please use your imagination.
Sometimes that’s almost better, you know?