When God Asks the Questions: where is your brother?

September 11, 2011 By Diana

Joining with Michelle once again over at Graceful for her thoughtful invitation to HeartItonSunday, UseItonMonday. And also with Jen at FindingHeaven and the soli deo gloria sisterhood. This is the 3rd in a series of questions from God to us (usually asked of a particular person in scripture, but the applications and implications of each question apply with a very broad brush to all of us!). This 3rd sermon was preached this morning by our Associate Pastor, Dr. Jon Lemmond, who is a personal favorite (for lots of reasons, not least of which being that he now does some of what I used to do!) and whose thoughtful words never cease to mess with me. As always, my reflections here are my summary and response to the lovely and provocative ideas presented in the sermons I hear and the scripture I read with new eyes after having heard them.

I’m also adding this to the lovely ladies at Scripture and a Snapshot this week:

Ah, Cain.

My brother from another mother.

So adored by his own mother –

“I have brought forth a man!”

she exclaimed when he was born.

So full of himself,

as most young men are.

So sure he was doing the right thing,

so used to being praised for his efforts,

so ill-equipped for a come-uppance.

But that’s what he got.

He brought his offering to the Lord –

the first time in scripture that a religious ritual is described.

He even inspired his younger brother to do the same.

“Some” of the fruits of the soil –

that’s what Cain brought.

“The fat portions from the firstborn of his flock” –

that’s what the kid brother brought.

They both brought a part of themselves, didn’t they?

They both brought some of their own sweat and tears, right?

But for some reason,

one was more acceptable to the LORD than the other.*

And Cain was not happy.

He pouted.

And his pouting soured within him,

stirring up angry, poisonous thoughts.

And God engages him at this point…

“What’s the problem, Cain? Why the long face?

I assure you that if you do the right thing,

you will be accepted.

But if not, beware. Sin is at the door…”

And right there, the jig was up.

Because Cain was unwilling to listen, to hear, to understand.

The result?

Stunning violence. The first murder in scripture.

From glowering shame and disappointment,

to festering anger and jealousy,

to vicious and deadly action.

Abel, the kid brother, lies bleeding in the field.

Cain, the murdering big brother,

feigns ignorance.

“Where is your brother?”

“Where is your brother?”

The question hangs in the air.

And the door is open,

ever so briefly,

for a different outcome.

God, who surely knew where Abel was,

broken and bleeding so profusely that

‘his blood cries out to me from the ground,’

this God creates a small space for Cain to confess the truth.

How might things have been different if he had done so?

Instead of playing the cool dude,

the one with the alibi sewn up,

the kid who can’t stand playing second fiddle to anyone,

so he eliminates the competition –

what if he had owned his crap?

What if he had fallen to his knees,

sobbing out his grief,

his regret,

his brokenness,

his ugliness,

his SIN?

What if?

We’ll never know the answer to that.

Because Cain chooses –

and continues to choose for the entire narrative –

to prevaricate,

to cover,

to refuse to receive any blame,

or to own up.

He refuses to confess.

And the price for this refusal is enormous.

The price is homelessness.

The price is deliberately moving out and away from the presence of God.

The price is continuing to carry the weight of that

unconfessed sin for the rest of his days,

his forehead forever marked –

as a sign of the grace that Cain refused when he answered God’s question with:

“I don’t know. Am I my brother’s keeper?”

YES, Cain, yes.

You are your brother’s keeper.

We are all responsible to and for one another.

And we need so deeply to release the weight of our sins

against each other, and against God.

We need to confess, to admit our need for a Savior,

to admit our complicity in the violence of this world,

to say, “I am so, so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

And the story of Cain and Abel highlights three important reasons that this is true:

1. We need to learn the difference between

honesty and truth.

Because it’s one thing to say we believe ‘the truth’

about a certain set of doctrines

and it is another to learn about and practice real honesty:

honest admission of our flaws and weaknesses,

our points of struggle and doubt,

our personal foibles and demons.

If we cannot find safe places in which to be honest,

even if it embarrasses us,

even if we are forced to acknowledge our own participation

in the problems we deal with,

then all ‘the truth’ in the world is not going to change us from the inside out.

Confession IS good for the soul!

2. We need to understand that the confession of sin is intimately connected to our responsibilty to and for other people.

“Where is your brother?” comes before

“What have you done?” in this powerful narrative.

It’s not primarily about us.

It’s about how what we say and what we do

impacts our relationships –

with God and with one another.

The fact that Cain becomes a wanderer – in the middle of a land which means ‘wandering’ – comes directly out of his refusal

to confess the heinousness of his actions;

it comes from that place almost

as much as it comes from the actions themselves.

Cain took his brother’s life – he broke the web of relationship

that was so tenuously being established ‘east of Eden.’

And then he compounded that act by refusing to engage God

at an intimate level, with honesty and contrition.

The sin crouching at the door devoured him.

3. Confession is the necessary precursor to the reception of grace.

NOT that confession brings about grace –

God’s grace is always first, always.

But…we must be willing to put down our sin (confession)

before we have space for the gift of grace.

My husband and I saw a powerful movie this weekend that played out for us something of the price of unconfessed sin. It’s called “The Debt,” and while God is never mentioned in this story, the weight of sin carried over many years is almost palpably present in every gritty and violent detail of the tale.

And our sermon this morning ended with an illustration from another movie, one where God’s presence is acknowledged throughout – “Dead Man Walking.”

In one of the closing scenes of that magnificent film, the condemned man – on the verge of public execution – finally confesses to the nun who has become his advocate and friend that he did, indeed,

commit the crime for which he has been sentenced.

“Now,” says the nun, “NOW, you are a son of God.”

Confession opens the door to grace,

which has been standing there all along.

Thanks be to God.

*Because it was not the point of this particular sermon, the reason for God’s approval of Abel’s rather than Cain’s offering was not discussed today. I have to wonder, however, if it isn’t somehow connected to what we learn later in scripture, in the Levitical code, about the fact that God was to be given all the fat of any animal offerings. Perhaps this signifies the abundance of the flock? And the overflow of abundance (the fat!) is what is to be offered back to God? I don’t know, but it’s interesting to ponder! I have to think that the attitudes of the heart that we see displayed in the narrative following these offerings has something to do with the approval of the Lord as well.

Filed Under: Wonderings in the Word

Five Minute Friday: In Real Life…

September 10, 2011 By Diana

I swear there’s a hole in the week! These Friday encounters seem to be coming round in ever faster cycles and I can barely stay afloat. This has been a strange week of writing – not really wanting to do much of it. Maybe because I goofed with the writing retreat I’m terrified/excited to be attending in a couple of weeks and didn’t figure out how to sign up for a workshop. So…now I have an ‘assignment’ in a workshop that is more terrifying than any of the others!!! I’ve spent some time trying to rough out what I might submit. Therefore, the blog has gotten short shrift. I will try to dig back in soon – I promise.

In the meantime, I will do my best to cooperate with Lisa-Jo’s weekly invitation to just write it out, without worrying whether it’s right or not. The theme this week? “In real life…” You just might find out a few things you’ll wish you hadn’t. Who knows??

GO:

In real life, I’m a sucker for a happy ending. In fact, I might just have to admit that I’m a bit of a romance-aholic. I adore anything Jane Austen, including “Becoming Jane,” which many critics panned. The original BBC 5-hours+ “Pride and Prejudice?” Don’t even get me started. I cannot tell you how many times I have watched that one.

But then, I adore the newer versions of these things as well. In fact, I may one day have to blog about the spirit-raising power of a well-told/acted/filmed romance. In the midst of the deepest personal anguish I’ve about ever walked through, my drug of choice? Yes. Jane Austen movies – over and over, fast forwarding to the good parts. Sighing and crying and thanking God for beautiful writing, beautiful acting, beautiful cinematography.

I mentioned this once to a colleague, many years my junior, who had lost her dad while she was in college. I felt sheepish admitting this pattern, but she just smiled a sad smile and said, “I distinctly remember coming home from the hospital during that last week, putting Sabrina into the DVD player and hitting ‘play’ at least 5 times. It was better than sleep and it brought a tiny measure of relief.”

Don’t ask me why this is so, I just know it is.

So while I’m admitting things here, I might as well add – ahem – that I think Tivo is one of the best inventions of the last 50 years. Yes I do, too. I can record the things I love and fast forward through all the gunk in between scenes.

And you might be very surprised by what I love.

However…the 5 minutes are now up.

STOP.

P.S. In addition to police procedurals (yes, I am addicted to reading detective fiction, too), there just might be a show with the initials SYTYCD on my Tivo list. Thankfully, it has a very short season. :>)

So if any of you lovely and loyal readers happen to be fans as well, here is a clip from the older BBC P & P – the lake scene.
Enjoy:

P.P.S. In reading this over, I find myself astounded to see that I have responded to a prompt about ‘real life’ with reflections about fiction! Just about as far from reality as you can get, eh? Hmmm…wonder what that says about me??

Filed Under: Wonderings in the World

When God Asks the Questions: who told you that you were naked?

September 6, 2011 By Diana

Joining with Michelle at Graceful once again (HearItonSunday/UseItonMonday) and with Jen at Finding Heaven, (soli deo gloria sisterhood):

From the day we are born, we are destined to deal

with the voice of shame in our lives, with the glare of guilt.

It is true that sometimes shame and guilt

can be true feelings, helpful and humbling,

drawing us in contrition to our loving God.

But most of the time, that guilty voice,

that shame-filled voice clangs inside our heads

like an ugly echo of the serpent in the garden.

The serpent who tells lies,

lies that are buried within partial-truths.

The serpent who twists and turns inside our heads,

telling us that God cannot be trusted,

yet encouraging us to ‘be like God…’ (Genesis 3:5)

Do you ever wonder how the story might have turned out

if Adam and Eve had answered God’s first question differently?

Remember, the one from last week?

“Where are you?”

What if they had said,

“Here we are, Lord. Naked and ashamed.

We did what you told us not to do –

can you ever forgive us?”

Instead, their ‘eyes were opened, and they realized they were naked…

so they made coverings for themselves.’ (Genesis 3:7)

And when God came looking for them,

looking for them because he missed them,

looking for them because he loved them,

what did they say?

What did they do?

Basically, they blamed God!

“I heard you in the garden,” Adam says,

“and I was afraid because I was naked and I hid.” (Genesis 3:10)

Say what???

They’ve been naked all along, right?

So just what was it that happened when they ate that weird fruit?

And that’s exactly where God zeroes in when he asks

the second divine question in the book of Genesis:

“Who told you that you were naked?”

Who told them, indeed.

It seems that the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil

has a really short name – shame.

For it is here in the Genesis story –

which is truly our own story –

it is here that shame shows up.

It is here that we find the beginnings of embarrassment,

of fearful silence,

of feeling that we’re somehow inappropriate,

just because of who we are.

Of looking at ourselves and seeing

not the beautiful, exceptional beings that we can be –

creatures of cosmic dust, formed into the very image of God –

but seeing only our nakedness.

Our inadequacies.

Our failures.

Our brokenness.

For in the Hebrew text, the word used for ‘naked’ at the end of chapter two – as in,

‘they were naked and unashamed’ means exactly that: innocent, transparent.

But when Adam uses it in chapter three, it means something entirely different, something much more like:

“Oh, no!” – vulnerable, unguarded, exposed.

The shame of sin needed to come – deep sorrow for their actions,

contrition, cries of repentantance.

But shame over their nakedness?

That kind of shame comes straight from the serpent.

It is the kind of shame that can lead to hopelessness,

to endless cycles of ugly self-talk,

to an overwhelming sense of our fatal flaws.

It leads to hiding.

It leads to blaming.

Godly shame never takes us down this path.

Good shame leads directly to the throne of grace,

to the foot of the cross,

to the gaping tomb of resurrection.

This kind of shame leads to redemption.

There is a gap the size of the Grand Canyon separating the response of:

“I am so, so sorry. May I receive your blessing?”

from: “I am no good, I am hopeless, I will never get anything right,

how can anyone, especially God, ever, ever love me?”

The latter is the work of the Holy Spirit within us, calling us gently to repentance.

The former is the work of that serpent, deafening us to the gentle voice of God.

Isaiah sings of trading ashes for beauty.

Colossians paints a word picture of new clothes,

the robes of righteousness with which we can

cover our nakedness and be made whole.

Can we choose to listen to the voice of Love rather than the voice of the serpent? Can we learn a new narrative –

a story of redemption and re-creation and beginning again?

Oh, I hope so.

Oh, I pray so.

Filed Under: Wonderings in the Word

Reflections on a Book: Rumors of Water

September 6, 2011 By Diana

“The other important thing to remember is that the work will ask of us what it needs.

If everything seems like a big mess, at any point in the process,
we can take that as a good sign.

The work is trying to speak to us, trying to tell us what it needs.

Our job is not to panic, but to listen and respond.”

“Rumors of Water: thoughts on creativity & writing,”
by L.L. Barkat, pg. 94Disguised as a small, digestible collection of memories,
rich with stories of mothering and growing up;
of woodland meanderings and local farm-stores;
of lighthouses and ailing grandmothers,
“Rumors of Water” is one of the of the most beautiful books
on the art and craft of writing
that I’ve ever read.
Paying heed to the changes in the publishing industry,
unabashedly admitting that it’s not easy to be either a writer or an editor,
L.L. Barkat shares with her readers some of own journey as both.

Weaving in conversations with her two daughters, ages 14 and 11,
Barkat shows us what the writing life looks like
while living creatively with her children,
tending to the needs of her garden,
keeping her fingers in multiple occupational pies.
Using snapshots from day-to-day life,
she sets down a kind of diagram;
a diagram not just for the act of writing,
but for the art of living a writing life.

Each of the book’s seven headings tells part of the story:
Momentum
Voice
Habits
Structure
Publishing
Glitches
Time
And within each of these seven, come the smaller slices.
In chapters no longer than two or three pages,
each one built around a brief vignette from life,
she expands the sectional headings, touching on things like:
“Write with What You Have”
“Nurturing Voice through Tenderness”
“Do You Cultivate Your Wild Side?”
“Making Details Real and Realer”
“Delusions of Grandeur”
“Writing the Truth”
“Writing Takes Time”

I will admit to tears at two points:
reading about her younger daughter Sonia’s brave climb to the top of a lighthouse, each step marked by the stabbing joint pain of Lyme’s disease;
and reading her older daughter Sara’s exquisite essay, submitted as part of an application process for a distance-learning school. This young woman has clearly inherited much of her mother’s skill with words, structure and voice.

I took this book out to the backyard today,
a breath-takingly beautiful afternoon here in Santa Barbara.
I deliberately placed it beneath a book I was supposed to read – a biblical commentary for a study I’m co-teaching this fall, whose planning committee is coming to my house tomorrow to wrap up preparations.
I needed to read that commentary.
But I chose to read “Rumors of Water.”
Turns out, I needed Barkat’s written beauty as much as I needed the warmth of the sun and the view of the mountains. And, at this point in my own particular life journey, I needed “Rumors” far more than I needed that commentary.
And I needed it at a deeper level than even I knew.
I don’t – and I won’t – regret it, not for one single minute.

Filed Under: Wonderings in the World

Saturday Evening Blog Post: July & August

September 4, 2011 By Diana

Joining with Elizabeth Esther for her monthly invitation to post a favorite post for the month. This time she’s invited us to submit TWO, as she was in Bolivia with World Vision at the first of July. Here is what it’s about:

SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST

Welcome to THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST!

This is where bloggers gather on the first Saturday of each month to share their favorite post from the previous month! Today we’re sharing our favorite post from JULY & AUGUST 2011!

As I read over my posts from the last two months,
I was surprised to discover that I like quite a few of them!
Maybe, just maybe, over time and with practice –
I’ll get a little better at this whole writing-it-all-out thing
I’m called to do at this point in my journey.

So for July’s favorite,
I chose to highlight some thoughts
about how hard it is to concentrate on the writing itself,
when everything I find out there in blogland is pushing me
to think about things like ‘platform’
and ‘building my audience.’

It came out in the wee hours of the morning
and is a bit angst-driven,
but it’s what I’m feeling and working through just now.
And, as an added bonus,
it’s just about the first time I figured out
how to put a link in the middle of anything!
As an incredibly techie-challenged person,
it is always delightful
and infinitely self-satisfying to figure out
one blessed thing
having to do with the workings of computers or cyber space.

Here’s the ink for July:

http://drgtjustwondering.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-to-do-when-you-cant-sleep.html

And for August – I picked one from this last weekend,
springing from a powerful sermon
on the questions God asks in scripture.
This will be a wonderful series to post about each week
and I’m really looking forward to tomorrow’s message.

Here is the link for August:

August selection: http://drgtjustwondering.blogspot.com/2011/08/when-god-asks-question-where-are-you.html

Filed Under: Wonderings in the World

Five Minute Friday: Rest

September 2, 2011 By Diana

Holy crap – is it Friday again ALREADY?? Whoosh, that week just flew by. Must be what happens when you spend five minutes reflecting on the word OLDER, like we did last week. Because one thing is for certain sure about that whole word/idea/process/ugly reality: time goes faster as we age.

So, here we are. Once again invited to set our timers and see how the mind that lives in our fingers responds to a prompt. This week, it’s a good one – so good, that even Lisa-Jo, the originator of this divine series, admits that it took her longer than 5 minutes to say what she wanted to say. So, I’ll give it a whirl.

Because watching beautiful fish swimming is one of the most restful things I can think of, here is a shot from our recent family vacation – a tropical tank at the Monterey Bay
Aquarium.

REST

GO:

For far too much of my life, I have believed that ‘rest’ is something I earn. If I work hard enough, if I count off accomplishments on some cosmic scorecard, if I make sure that all the people in my universe are feeling cared for and understood, if I DO what I need to do, if I am making ever-forward progress toward becoming who I’ve decided I’m supposed to be – then, THEN I can rest. And I will have earned that privilege by virtue of all that I have done.

What it took me a long time to unfold and appreciate is the beauteous truth that rest is not a prize to be sought, a reward for good behavior. Instead, rest – beautiful, life-giving, spirit-savoring rest – is two things, neither of which has one blamed thing to do with what I do.

First of all, rest is a built-in design necessity. It is part of the created order, it is part of what it means to be human, created in the divine image. It is necessary, life-giving and central to being/becoming fully me. Rest needs to be part of my self-understanding, it is that important.

Secondly, rest is a gift – promised and delivered in Jesus. He didn’t say, “Come to me after you’ve done everything your obsessive personality tells you have to do, when you’re completely spun out and spent, after you’ve made sure that all the i’s are dotted and the t’s are crossed – and then maybe I’ll give you a chart and you can mark off your rest in 5 minute increments until you reach your allotted max.”

No. Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden” – and that means right in the middle of all that mess you surround yourself with, all that ‘required’ behavior you’re so dang worried about – “and I will give you rest.”

Yeah, GIVE you rest. Give, gift – receive with gratitude – that kind of thing. Rest is a person, a relationship, a spiritual space inside that provides a center that IS rest. Amazing.

And I thought it was up to me.

STOP:

Oh, yeah – this was more than five. I had to stop the timer at 2 when our baby arrived at the door for Friday care-giving, earlier than usual. And when I came back to what I had? I hated it. So I started over and just kept typing without looking at the timer. Probably about 10 minutes, truth be told. Interesting topic – one I continue to learn about, day after ding-dong day.

Filed Under: Wonderings in the World

How to Know You Are Really Home

September 2, 2011 By Diana

Time away from home is a gift, especially when it’s shared with people you love.

But coming home brings a joy all its own. A sense of place, of personal space, of familiarity and comfort.

Sometimes it takes a bit to really step back into that space. A day or two – to do laundry, to sort through mail and newspapers, to answer messages, deadhead the garden, settle right down in again.

And … there is always the pantry and the refrigerator to re-stock, meals to think through, appointments to be kept, news to catch up on.

Yes, sometimes coming home is full of busy-work. Necessary work, but …

Somewhere along the line during those first 48 hours of re-entry, something inside begins to niggle and naggle, something (or someOne) seems to say,

“Home means more than this.”

And you know you need to step away from the busy.

You have to fly like a homing pigeon to center,
the place where spirit and flesh feel most closely allied and aligned.
You have to breathe deeply and move intentionally and … you have to smile.
A slow, quiet smile – one that says, “Oh, yes! This is the place. This is the space that speaks my name.”

So I got in my car and drove the two miles down the hill to Butterfly Beach, just as the sun was ringing the sky with its farewell song.

As I rounded the bend on Channel Drive, I saw that the yucca had bloomed while we were away. Their silhouettes against the softly coral sky took my breath away.

I parked the car, got out, carrying my tiny point-and-shoot, and began to walk the sidewalk lining the beach. With each breath, I felt myself saying, “Thank you.” With each step, I praised the Creator for this place, for legs that move, for lungs that work, for eyes that see and ears that hear the glories of sea and shore and sand and setting sun.

As I counted my laps, back and forth, ticking off the tenths of a mile, I counted the joys of this life I live. The gifts and the grit, the people and the places, the words and the wonder.

And I knew.

I knew that I was really,

finally,

home.

Joining in late with Laura and Laura at TheWellspring (Playdates with God) – and at SeedlingsinStone (On, In and Around Mondays). Also sending this over to Bonnie’s invitation to talk about ‘whitespace’ this week at the Faith Barista and to Emily’s Imperfect Prose congregation at CanvasChild.

Filed Under: Wonderings in the World

When God Asks the Question: Where Are You?

August 29, 2011 By Diana

There are things I know.
There are things I forget.
There are things I need to remember.
And so, so often those things I need to remember
are the very things I oh-so-conveniently forget.
This is one of them:
God sees me.
No matter where I am,
no matter what I am doing,
no matter how I am feeling,
God sees me.

But God is not forcefully invasive,
God does not pound me over the head,
God does not shake me to break me.
No.
God, the omipotent, omnipresent One,
God who is beyond my understanding,
beyond my ability to conceptualize,
beyond me –
this One comes to the garden in the evening,
gently looking under leaves and branches,
and calls out in a soft and loving voice,
“Where are you?”

“Where are you?”

From the earliest pages of our scriptures,
God seeks us out.
Yet God pays us the immense privilege of respecting
our boundaries,
our choices,
our very selves,
because…God waits for us to answer.
It’s as simple – and as complicated – as that.
Simple because…God desires a relationship,
a real, honest, open relationship with us.
Complicated because…we’re not at all sure we’re
ready for that.
So we hide.
We stitch ourselves a handy-dandy little coat of fig leaves
and we hide ourselves away.
Ashamed, embarrassed, angry, lonely, fearful –
whatever emotional stew we are cooking in at any given moment –
we convince ourselves that God couldn’t possibly
want us in the middle of that mess.
So we withdraw.
We learn to numb ourselves.
We shut the doors of our hearts and we stand aloof.
And all the time,
God whispers,
“Where are you?
Where are you?”

And all the time,
the only answer God wants is:
“Here I am, Lord. Here I am.”
Here I am.
In the middle of my mood,
in the middle of my sin,
in the middle of my fear.
HERE I AM, LORD.

So today, today, Lord – here I am.
Tired, worried, uncertain, longing for you.
Working my way through hurt feelings, wounded pride,
ugly jealousies and insecurities, doubts
that creep in and around and threaten to undo me.
Wondering if you’re there, wondering if you hear me,
wondering if you see me, wondering if I am enough.
Here I am.
“Everyone needs compassion,
love that’s never failing.
Let mercy fall on me.
Everyone needs forgiveness,
the kindness of a Savior.
The hope of nations.”
I sing it from the bottom of my heart this morning,
deeply thankful that you invite me to be with you,
no matter what shape I’m in,
no matter how messed up I am,
no matter what.

With heartfelt thanks to Pastor Don Johnson, Bob Gross and the worship team, our small group friends who call me to honesty and openness.
Yesterday’s worship service was wonderfully rich,
and I look forward to every single sermon in this new series:
“When God Asks the Questions.”

Joining today with Michelle DeRusha at Graceful for her weekly invitation to, “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday,” and with Jen at FindingHeaven and the solideogloria sisterhood and also with that trio of talented ladies who invite us to share Scripture and a Snapshot each week:

Filed Under: Wonderings in the Word

Five Minute Friday: Older

August 26, 2011 By Diana

Ah, yes Friday funday. And the lovely Lisa-Jo at TheGypsyMama is another year older today (actually, it’s still Thursday…so I’m guessing the 25th is her big day) and the theme she picked for this week’s 5 minutes of unedited writing is an oh-so-true one, isn’t it? We are ALL getting older. Head on over there and check out what other folks are saying on this topic:

GO:

For just about as long as I can remember, this season of the year has felt like the beginning of things: the start of school, when I was a student and the start of the church year when I was a pastor. But in that fascinating way life has a way of doing, it is also paradoxically a time for reflecting on the topic for today. When things begin again, I remember that everyone is older, another year older to be exact.

I see it most clearly in the little ones who are part of my life. The ‘baby’ is 18 months old today! Our five-year-olds are starting kindergarten – and I can hardly believe it to be true. Gracie was so proud in her new plaid uniform on Wednesday. Griffin has a couple of weeks to go, but he, too, is excited and proud. Proud to join his older brothers at their fine school, proud to be old enough and big enough and ready enough.

That’s the joy of getting older when you’re younger than…shall we say thirty? It feels exciting, grand, grown-up. Somehow that changes somewhere in our 30’s. Getting older feels heavier somehow, the weight of responsibility and the realities of an aging body began to show up in larger-than-life ways. And with each decade, that becomes more pronounced. Don’t get me wrong – I think there are glorious things to be said about every decade we are blessed enough to live through. But…there is this truth to be borne: our bodies get older, even if we’re fortunate enough to keep a young and resilient mind.
As Madeleine L’Engle once said: “I am every age I have ever been.” And I love that we can access those ages as we walk through our days. And I love that I personally get to remember through watching my kids and their kids move through the years. What a privilege and what a joy.

STOP
Pictures added after ‘the bell.’ Gracie and Lilly at our picnic lunch on vacation last week; Griffin at the ice cream parlor we stopped at driving home; Gracie in her new school uniform. Where does the time go??

Filed Under: Wonderings in the World

Trying Out Sonnets – with Photos Added, Too

August 24, 2011 By Diana

The creative minds over at T.S. Poetry have linked up with similar thinkers at The High Calling this month, encouraging us to try our hand at reflecting on our history through poetry and photo. The photos are beyond me for this assignment – not enough time to be as reflective as I’d like – and I’m in the midst of a technical slap-down, learning to edit in Picasa without Picnik and do batches of watermarked pictures. Not up to speed yet, but I have hope!

(12 hours later – I am posting pictures I unsuccessfully attempted to add to the High Calling group…because a search did not turn up such a group! So here they are, with my comments – after the sonnet. Transferring the comments did not yield great formatting, so I apologize for the broken sentences here and there.)

First off, here is a very strange (and my first ever) attempt at writing my story, my back-story actually, in sonnet form:

From There to Here

Over the sea, across the hills, they came with babies in hand.
And not only those, but ‘children’ unseen, baggage from heaven and hell.

Depressive binges, silence and outrage, fears too immense to command,
all of it clinging, like barnacled boat hulls, as small Craftsman houses they filled.
Each side of the tree that tracks my beginnings tells tales remarkably true;
strong women working, troubled men shirking; collars of both white and blue.

They all found their way to that downtown brick building, Trinity Methodist Church.
Music and laughter brought happ’ly e’er after as my parents started anew.
The baggage came with them, minus some heft, as together they started to lurch
toward life and its beauty, life and its sorrow, life with its hard lessons, too.
Creating a family, immersed in the 50’s, with women subservient at home,
though better than childhood, proved binding and blinding, creating a box all its own.

Over 40 years later, I chose to jump sideways, leaving box and the 50’s behind.
Perhaps you can see now, why most of my tree-mates think surely I’ve lost my mind.

And here are the photos and comments:

Who made up your DNA?

My father was born in the deep south but grew up in Los Angeles. This blue book was written in by his mother from 1917 until about 1927. I don’t remember ever seeing this book when I was growing up. My mother surprised me by giving it to me a few months ago and I have loved seeing my daddy as a baby and young boy. Such stark, sepia-tinted photos throughout, such strange insights into my grandmother’s psyche and background. The nurse who helped deliver my dad is noted in this book as ‘colored.’ What a shock that was to read!

The shoes are mine, again given to me fairly recently. They are well-worn, as I had a severely extended arch on one foot, requiring a ‘lift’ in one shoe and constant wearing. I wore

corrective shoes for about eight years – and I HATED THEM.

Where do I come from?

A father who lived and loved music (no photos, sadly) and a mother who knew how to welcome others. These luncheon trays littered my early life – church friends, neighborhood
friends, dad’s work colleagues – everyone was welcomed into our small home in North Hollywood, and a few years later, a larger one in Glendale. Each home was lovingly decorated ‘on the cheap’ – that’s what happens on a single income teacher’s paycheck.

What object is precious to your past?

I chose two of them, both representing my mother’s grace, beauty and hospitality. The aqua figurine sat in the middle of a low bowl, used to float camellias from a wide array of bushes
in our yard. The tea cup is the first of my mother’s collection, given to her as a wedding gift, and reminiscent on so many levels of our family history. My mom’s dad came from England, her mom from Canada, and English or Canadian china teacups are a huge page in my story. I now have pieces of both my grandmother’s and my mother’s collections. I don’t use them as often as I once did, although when I dig out those luncheon trays (previous photo), I often choose to use china cups instead of the glass ones. I love the all-over calico pattern of this cup and it is now so delicate that I only use it decoratively and not for tea.

What memory resonates most deeply?

This is a piece of the slate roof on the Presbyterian church in which I was confirmed and married. The old gothic structure was torn down following the massive Northridge earthquake in 1971 and the slates were sold to help raise funds for a new building. This was the church of my adolescence and beyond (ages 12-30), the place where my leadership gifts were called out and named, where my faith became anchored in sound thinking, good questions and NO easy answers.

What moment in history marks your childhood?

This plate is the one thing I asked my mother to leave me when she dies. She decided to give it to me before that happens and it currently hangs in my entry hall. This church is where I
met Jesus, where I walked forward every month to receive communion between the ages of 7 and 12, where my father played magnificent solos and accompanied the choirs and the
congregation many Sundays. This brownstone building was known to me, deep in my marrow – all the hiding places, the strange rooms, the colored glass windows – each corner precious and safe and inviting. It closed the year after we moved away and began attending Glendale Pres – one of the saddest days of my young life. The heritage I carry from that place is literal – my parents met and married there, I was baptized there. Sad to think it is now a used car lot in downtown LA.

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