Quiet for the Weekend – August 24-26, 2012

August 25, 2012 By
These pictures are over 40 years old, taken in the Southern Province
of the country of Zambia. We went fishing one day, an afternoon off.
We watched some local boys, and then a good friend and his small boy showed 
my husband how to find fish in this large pond.
We laughed and enjoyed the beauty of the day.
And that’s why fishing is a heavenly gift, so very suitable for weekend quiet.

    After this, Jesus appeared again to the disciples, this time at the Tiberias Sea (the Sea of Galilee). This is how he did it: 
Simon Peter, Thomas (nicknamed “Twin”), Nathanael from Cana in Galilee, 
the brothers Zebedee, 
and two other disciples were together. 
Simon Peter announced, “I’m going fishing.”
    The rest of them replied, “We’re going with you.” They went out and got in the boat. 
They caught nothing that night. 
When the sun came up, 
Jesus was standing on the beach, 
but they didn’t recognize him.
      Jesus spoke to them: 
“Good morning! 
Did you catch anything for breakfast?”
    They answered, “No.”
      He said, “Throw the net off the right side of the boat and see what happens.”
     They did what he said. 
All of a sudden there were so many fish in it, 
they weren’t strong enough to pull it in.
       Then the disciple Jesus loved said to Peter, 
“It’s the Master!”
     When Simon Peter realized that it was the Master, he threw on some clothes, 
for he was stripped for work, 
and dove into the sea. 
The other disciples came in by boat 
for they weren’t far from land, 
a hundred yards or so, 
pulling along the net full of fish. 
When they got out of the boat, 
they saw a fire laid, 
with fish and bread cooking on it.
     Jesus said, “Bring some of the fish you’ve just caught.” Simon Peter joined them 
and pulled the net to shore—153 big fish! 
And even with all those fish, the net didn’t rip.
     Jesus said, “Breakfast is ready.” 
Not one of the disciples dared ask, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Master.
       Jesus then took the bread and gave it to them. He did the same with the fish. 
This was now the third time Jesus had shown himself alive to the disciples 
since being raised from the dead.
John 21:1-14, The Message

Fishing is much more than fish. It is the great occasion when we may return to the fine simplicity of our forefathers. 
Herbert Hoover


If people concentrated on the really important things in life, there’d be a shortage of fishing poles.
Doug Larson

If fishing is a religion, fly fishing is high church.
Tom Brokaw
Like they say, you can learn more from a guide in one day than you can in three months fishing alone. 
Mario Lopez

Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.
— Chinese Proverb

Joining Michelle, Sandy and Deidra and their weekend invitations
to slow down, center and lean into rest.

A question for friends using Blogger: 
recently, anytime I cut and paste, I get this weird white background.
Don’t have a clue how to get rid of it.
Any ideas??


Filed Under: An African Journal, biblical reflection, Quiet for the Weekend

Quiet for the Weekend – August 17-19, 2012

August 18, 2012 By
It was a beautiful summer afternoon,
sun shining,
water multi-colored,
wind on the rise.
So I stopped the car at a bluff-top park,
and stood and watched a while.
These trees are fast disappearing,
going the way of much bluff side real estate,
sinking down, down into the sand below.
But today, this one lent itself to a lovely portrait frame
of the wind at work.
Suddenly, two billowing kites puffed into closer view,
filling and flapping and giving their owners
a memorable ride.
 I stood and watched in admiration and awe.
Such grace and beauty,
strength and confidence.
But as always when I gawk at kite-surfers,
I was struck by something else, too.
 I was struck by the power,
the invisible but oh-so-necessary power
of the wind.
Athleticism alone does not make this happen.
Good equipment all by itself will not produce this result.
It is only when the wind rises,
when the board owners allow the wind to do
what only the wind can do
that a good ride becomes a thing of beauty.

Jesus said, 

“You’re not listening. Let me say it again. Unless a person submits to this original creation—the ‘wind-hovering-over-the-water’ creation, 

the invisible moving the visible,

a baptism into a new life—it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom. When you look at a baby, it’s just that: a body you can look at and touch. But the person who takes shape within is formed by something you can’t see and touch—the Spirit— 

and becomes a living spirit.

 

“So don’t be so surprised when I tell you that you have to be ‘born from above’—out of this world, so to speak. You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from 

or where it’s headed next. 

That’s the way it is with everyone ‘born from above’ by the wind of God, the Spirit of God.” 

John 3:5-8, The Message

Joining Michelle, Sandy and Deidra with their lovely weekend invitation to quiet:

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Quiet for the Weekend

Quiet for the Weekend: July 6-8, 2012

July 8, 2012 By
“My beloved spoke and said to me,
    ‘Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, 
come with me. 
 See! The winter is past;  
the rains are over and gone. 
 Flowers appear on the earth;  
the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves is heard in our land. 
 The fig tree forms its early fruit;  
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;  
my beautiful one, come with me.’”
Song of Solomon 2:10-14 (NLT)
It’s summer!
 The flowers are popping,
 the fruit is ripening,
 the fountains are flowing,
 the outside lights are hung in celebration.
 Even the old, tired fence looks happy to see
the sun, the warm air and the pinks and purples of summer blooms.
 And the shyest of our feathered friends peeked out from behind the leaves – even though I did have to shoot through the screen to capture her.
May your weekend be full of light and laughter,
time with family or friends,
and time to sit alone in the afternoon breeze.
God is good, all the time.
But somehow, on a fair summer’s day,
God seems even good-er than usual.
Joining up with Michelle, Sandy and Deidra for their invitations to celebrate
the weekends with a small space of quiet and color. 
 
 
Filed Under: biblical reflection, God's gifts, photography, Quiet for the Weekend

Quiet for the Weekend – June 29/30, 2012

June 30, 2012 By

“Who may ascend the mountain of the Lord?
    Who may stand in his holy place?
Those who have clean hands and a pure heart,
    who do not put their trust in an idol
    or swear by a false god.”
Psalm 24:3 TNIV
“For Christ did not enter into a holy place 
made with human hands, 
which was only a copy of the true one in heaven. 
He entered into heaven itself 
to appear now before God on our behalf.“
Hebrews 9:24 NLT 
“Certainly work is not always required of a man.
There is such a thing as a sacred idleness –
the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.”
 – George MacDonald      
 “People are doubtful and skeptical about the church,
they suspect and dislike the clergy,
they are impatient of theological systems,
but of Jesus Christ,
as he stands out to view in the sacred pages,
as they dimly realize him in their own best selves,
as they catch faint traces of him in the lives of his saints,
they have no other sentiments 
than those of respect and affection.”
–Herbert Hensley Henson
19th century Anglican priest

Photos taken at St. Mary’s Retreat House in Santa Barbara CA where I met with Brother Thomas for the first time. He is not Abbot David, but we will enter into a contract for spiritual direction for 8 months and see where God takes us in that time. The setting for these meetings is glorious, one I had never seen and it is right next door to The Old Mission, where I go frequently. Just enjoying this view may be among the richest of the gifts of the next 8 months.

Joining with Sandy and Deidra at their Quiet Spaces for the weekend, with gratitude for each of them:



Filed Under: biblical reflection, Quiet for the Weekend

Quiet for the Weekend-June 23/24, 2012

June 23, 2012 By
“For now we see only a reflection 
as in a mirror; 
then we shall see face to face. 
Now I know in part; 
then I shall know fully, 
even as I am fully known.” 

1 Corinthians 13:12 

“Maybe the only thing each of us can see is our own shadow.
Carl Jung called this his shadow work. 
He said we never see others. 
Instead we see only aspects of ourselves that fall over them. 
Shadows. Projections. Our associations.
The same way old painters would sit in a tiny dark room 
and trace the image of what stood outside a tiny window, 
in the bright sunlight.
The camera obscura.
Not the exact image, 
but everything reversed or upside down.”
– Chuck Palahniuk

“You can only come to the morning through the shadows.”
– J.R.R. Tolkien
May your weekend be rich
with intimations of heaven,
dear friends,
that place where we will see
each other and ourselves
and our Good God
in truth and beauty.
Joining up with Sandra and Deidra as we all take time to be
a little less busy,
a little more attentive,
a little more centered.
 
Filed Under: biblical reflection, photography, Quiet for the Weekend

“This Difficult Friendship” – Living in Bodies

June 18, 2012 By
And the body, what about the body?
Sometimes it is my favorite child, 
uncivilized… 
And sometimes my body disgusts me.
Filling and emptying, it disgusts me… 
This long struggle to be at home
in the body, this difficult friendship.
-Jane Kenyon (From “Cages”)
 Yesterday, I was in need of some solitude,
some time by myself,
away from the interruptions of home and family.
So I packed a lunch, got in my car,
and waited to see where my car would take me.
Turns out, my car likes the Slough.
 The parking lot was much more crowded than usual,
filled with family and friends of UCSB graduates
who were gathering at the nearby park for 
celebrations of all kinds on this graduation day.
I found a spot between a large motor home,
which served as a gathering spot 
for a group of middle-aged guys I’ve seen here before,
and a car filled with a family of beach-goers. 
I ate my lunch.
I did some reading.
And I got in and out of the car,
taking pictures and paying attention.
 It took me until today,
after hearing a fine sermon this morning by
our Associate Pastor, Jon Lemmond,
to more fully understand why this particular spot,
of all the possible spots I could have chosen,
is such a special one for me.

I like birds.
A lot.
I know very little about them,
I just know I love to sit and watch them,
to try and capture some of their beauty and grace
with my camera,
and to reflect on how completely  
at home they are
with the bodies God gave them.
Completely.
You don’t hear birds complaining that they’ve
got too many feathers or too few,
that they wish their beaks were just a bit narrower,
that their feet were a little smaller,
that their tummies were tighter.
No, you don’t.
Besides the fact that birds don’t speak English,
I think the reason we don’t hear (or observe) such
kvetching behavior in birds is this:
they know who they are,
they accept who they are,
they live a one-piece life.
I want a one-piece life.
I want to keep body and soul together,
I want to recognize that I am a body.
And I want to accept that body with grace and with gratitude.
And I have a long way to go on that journey.
Today’s sermon was a strong, clear word of encouragement
to keep on truckin’. 
Jon took a few verses from a favorite psalm 
this morning – Psalm 139:13-18.
And he laid out his observations beautifully:
1. Our bodies are spiritual – 
we want not to err on the side of gnosticism 
(the most stubborn of historical heresies in the church) 
and denigrate the design of God for our physicality.
It is with our bodies that we glorify God.
It is in our bodies that we are saved.
We are, in truth, our bodies.
In Genesis 2, God takes the dust of the earth 
and breathes life into it…
spirit and flesh, joined forever. 
But unlike the birds, our bodies need redemption,
restoration, renewal.
And they are so valuable to God,
that God took on our bodily form so that redemption
and restoration and renewal might be possible. 
2. Our bodies are praiseworthy.
And this is where most of us badly twist the truth 
of who we are as embodied creatures.
The most usual translation of verse 14 goes something like this:
“We are fearfully and wonderfully made.”
But Jon’s OT prof, Leslie Allen (who was also my OT prof!),
translates it more like this: 
“God is wonderful. And we are made in God’s image.”
We should indeed stand in awe of who we are,
at what our bodies can do –
wounds heal,
pupils contract and dilate 
according to the ambient light,
our skin and sweat glands 
help set a healthy thermostat.
We are indeed wonderfully made!
BUT…
we are wonderful because of who made us,
not because of any intrinsic ‘perfection’ of our own.
Therefore, beware our cultural predilection for
believing we are the center of things.
When the Bible tells us that our bodies are wonderful,
it is not meant as, “a psychological pick-me-up 
aimed at bolstering our self-esteem.”
Rather, these words point us first to the Creator,
and only then, to the creature.
If we can grab hold of this astounding truth,
then maybe, just maybe,
we can begin to believe that every single one of us,
able-bodied or not,
fat, thin, tall, short, young, old –
every one of us – 
broken and imperfect as we are –
is a thing of wonder and delight to the One who made us.
Not just cute babies.
Not just Hollywood celebrities.
Not just the perfect bikini-body.
Not just the strong, ripped muscles.
No.
ALL.OF.US.
“We are beautiful because we are the Lord’s.”
And then my friend and former colleague offered the most
beautiful analogy to help us latch onto this 
powerful truth.
The stole he is wearing was a gift to him on the 
day of his ordination into the ministry.
It was made for him by his mother and his grandmother.
It is lovely to look at…
but it is not perfect.
It doesn’t lie flat at the back like 
a more professionally made stole would.
Some of the stitching around the six lovely 
symbol patches is a little rough. 

But it is one of Jon’s most priceless possessions.
When the Tea Fire hit his neighborhood three years ago,
he first made sure his wife and children were safe.
And then, Jon rushed into his house and grabbed this stole.
Not because it is perfect.
Not because it is without flaws.
Not because it does everything it was meant to do.
No.
Jon grabbed it because of who made it.
Jon grabbed it because of the love that was poured into it.
Jon grabbed it not because of its intrinsic value,
but because of the relationship 
he has with the ones who made it.
It is beautiful,
not so much for what it is,
but because it reflects the love of the creator(s).
 
Can I begin to value my body for what it truly is?
The gift of my Creator?
My body.
The dust of the earth,
into which God breathed life 67 years ago.
My body.
The embodiment of God’s dream for me 
as a whole person,
a unified human being,
body, soul, spirit.
My body.
A reflection of the God who loves me.

An added spot of beauty to our worship last Sunday was a new offertory song. Our Director of Worship Arts, Bob Gross, wrote a lovely melody to go with these powerful words written by Mechtild of Mageburg in the 13th century. This translation was done in 1991 by Jean Wiebe Janzen, but the words in bold are Bob’s addition and served as a beautiful refrain throughout the piece. He tells us he’s going to do a YouTube version, and when he does, I’ll post a link here – and undoubtedly elsewhere, like Facebook and Twitter.  I sat amazed at how these lyrics sort of wrapped up my entire weekend. Read them carefully:
I cannot dance, O Love, unless you lead me on.
I cannot leap in gladness, unless you lift me up.
From love to love we circle, beyond all knowledge grow.
For when you lead, we follow, to new worlds you can show.
Love is the music ’round us, we glide as birds in air,
entwining, soul and body, your wings hold us with care.
Your Spirit is the harpist and all your children sing;
her hands the currents ’round us, your love the golden strings.
Play me a medley. 
Play me a song. 
Lead me, I am yours. 
I cannot dance alone. 
O blessed Love, your circling unites us, God and soul.
From the beginning, your arms embrace and make us whole.
Hold us in steps of mercy from which you never part,
that we may know more fully the dances of your heart. 
Joining with Michelle, Jennifer, Laura, Duane and L.L. this time.
And at the middle of the week, also joining Ann V., Jennifer Dukes Lee and Emily W.

On In Around button




Filed Under: biblical reflection, God's gifts, personal journey, Photo Essay, Wonderings in the Word, worship

That Delicate Balance, Part Two

June 6, 2012 By

She really wanted him to play the piano.
Among the earliest guests to arrive
at the party,
she made her desires known
right away.
And of course, I am not surprised 
she felt that way.
She’s been teaching him piano for 14 years.
He was 4 when he started,
and we were gathered to celebrate
his 18th birthday,
 
and his graduation from high school.
The graduate with his family.

Four.teen.years.
How many people do you know who stick
with anything for that long? 

“He’s been working on this one all year long,”

she said.
“I want to get him on tape,”
she said. 

But he resisted for quite a while.

As the sun began to set,
about sixty friends and family trickled
in the front door. 

The house looked lovely,

the yard, enchanting.
The chatter was friendly,
filled with laughter and warm reminiscence.
A slide show went round and round,
repeating on the big-screen television set,
featuring a lovely collection
of photos from day one until yesterday.
And it was there,
catching glimpses of the past,
that I felt the first sharpness,
the sudden movement of grief and loss
mixing its way right into the middle of 
celebration and joy. 

Our grandboy as a newborn,

held in the loving arms of his daddy.
His daddy who died almost four years ago. 

So much sadness for so long.

And so much joy and happiness, too.
All of it mixed up together in this journey we call life. 

Our daughter’s new husband,

strong and kind and good –
such a gift to all of us,
a gift we are grateful for,
right down to our toes. 

But another milestone has come and gone.

And Mark was not here to celebrate with us.
That will never change.
And I imagine, we will always feel
that stab of recognition at such times,
that moment of searing sorrow. 

It was only a moment.

And soon, the joyful banter
gained volume in corners, at tables,
in the yard, in the house.

And then, cutting through the conversation,
I heard the strains of Chopin.
Familiar music to my ears,
music I heard in my own home, growing up.
Ballade Number One,*
technically difficult,
achingly beautiful. 

So I gently led my mother into the living room,

to listen as Luke played this glorious piece.
She sat in a chair placed right in front of the piano.
My father’s piano,
the one he played for years and years. 

And I stood behind her, 

my hand on her shoulder. 

And together, we heard a miracle. 


The piano literally sang to us.
Of love and loss,
of hope and discouragement,
of hard work – hours and hours of hard work.
My dad’s,
Luke’s,
our own. 

The tears rolled down my cheeks as I

missed my dad,
as I missed Mark,
as I celebrated Luke,
as I thanked God for Karl,
as I thanked God for all of it.
All.Of.It. 

Learning to play Chopin takes practice.

Practice, practice, practice. 

And learning to hold the tensions,

the mysteries of this life –
to hold them together,
to let them resonate with one another,
to acknowledge the pain and loss,
and to celebrate the gift and joy –
sometimes in the very same instant –
this takes practice, too. 

Life is hard.

Life is glorious.
Life is overwhelmingly difficult.
Life is radiantly free.
Life is …
LIFE. 

It’s a dance with ever-changing tempo;

it’s a song with shifting harmonies;
it’s a tapestry,
a rich oil painting,
filled with color and with shadow. 

Thankfully, we don’t have to navigate 
the dance floor on our own; 
we don’t have to struggle to sing all the parts. 

We are given the gift of one another. 

And we are given the gift of Presence.

Loving, gracious Presence.
God – Father, Son and Spirit;
Creator-Redeemer-Counselor –
GOD ALMIGHTY
invites us into the ongoing dance of the Trinity,
the intricately, achingly beautiful song of the universe. 

In this life, we cannot yet see the edge of the dance floor,

nor can we hear the resolution of all the chords.
But…
we can know the One who does.  

Thanks be to God.

“And the Father who knows all hearts knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us believers in harmony with God’s own will.  And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.“
Romans 8:27-28, The New Living Translation

*At the bottom of this post you will find a link to Vladimir Horowitz playing this piece. Horowitz was a hero to my dad – a genius on the piano, especially playing Chopin.
This is an older video of a live performance, but you will get a view of the
technical virtuosity needed to play this music. 
I was so moved that I did not think to shift my little Canon camera over to video
to record even a little bit of Luke playing!
 
Thanks so much, Luke, for those transcendent 10 minutes.

Joining with those same friends with this second part on balance…no buttons this time.
Michelle, Jennifer, Jennifer and Emily. And this time with Laura Boggess, too.



Filed Under: biblical reflection, birthdays, death, family, God's gifts, grief, memoir, personal journey, Wonderings in the Word, Wonderings in the World

That Delicate Balance, Part One

June 6, 2012 By

The wind was gentle out on the patio,
where we waited for our lunch trays.
So she set the small container of salsa verde
on top of the napkin to keep it from blowing away.
Lunch arrived, she picked up the napkin
and the salsa went tumbling,
as if in slow motion,
spilling its brilliant green thickness 
over the concrete,
splashing up into the pocket of my purse,
dousing my cell phone with cilantro scented slime.
She couldn’t see it.
She can’t see very much at all.
And she didn’t remember that she’d put it there.
She doesn’t remember very much, either.
I made three or four trips back inside 
to the napkin dispenser, sopping up the mess,
silent, praying for grace.
“Is this what life is now?”
I prayed inside my tumbled spirit,
as green and splattered as the sauce before me.
Is this what it comes down to?
Cleaning up one mess after another,
praying for patience,
grace,
kindness.
And those good things feeling just out of reach,
beyond my grasp, 
beyond me.
Because, of course, they are.
My shadow self wrestles hard within me,
struggling to teach me
how to live more fully into these moments.
And what I’m learning as I wrestle is this:
the shadow is part of me,
a friend, not an enemy.
A place for learning and stretching,
for telling the truth
and not liking it very much.
For acknowledging that this is hard.
This is really hard.
It’s hard for her.
It’s hard for me.
It is hard.

And I am impatient.
I do wish that she didn’t have to go through this,
and that I didn’t have to go through it, either.
I do not think completely selfless thoughts, you see.
I wish sometimes it were over.
Yes, I even wish that.

But here is the Truth that is slowly
sinking in and healing the holes in me.
Here is the wonder of redemption:
God loves all of who I am,
ugly thoughts, self-pity, impatience,
frustration – all of it.
God loves me before those parts are redeemed,
while they are in process,
and through the refining fire of life circumstances
that are difficult, painful and not very pretty. 

That’s a hard concept for me to grasp,
one that I’ve pushed back against
time and time again.
Pushing back in my usual way –
with lots of private name-calling,
condemnation,
guilt.

But today, as I look back at the last three days
with my mom – three days filled with reminders
of how much is lost, how frail she is, 
how brave and terrified she is – 
when I look back,
I see mercy in the moments.
I see glimpses of glory.
I see fleeting images of the fullness, the richness of life –
the wonder and the sweetness
and
the sorrow and the harshness.

It’s all a part of the mix, you see,
and somehow, we’re asked to live in the balance,
to stay in the center,
to focus on the One who holds it all.
The One who weeps with us when we weep,
who laughs with us when we rejoice,
who reminds us by the very life
He lived among us
that all of it is grace.
All of it.

And so,
the mess is cleared.
The fish tacos are delicious.
And my mom smiles at me across the table.
She is beautiful.
And so am I.
By the grace of God,
because of Jesus,
by the winsome will of the Holy Spirit –
so am I.
“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly… God demonstrates his own love for us in this: 
While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” 
Romans 5:6 & 8, TNIV
 Joining with several friends tonight after a rough and tumble, mixed emotion kind of journey the last few days. I will write Part 2 and post it with the same friends a bit later, 
if their links are still open:
Michelle at Graceful
Jennifer F. and the Sisterhood and Finding Heaven
Jennifer Lee and the GodBumps folks at Getting Down with Jesus
Emily at Imperfect Prose





 
 
Filed Under: biblical reflection, memoir, personal journey, The Journey with Mom

Quiet for the Weekend

May 27, 2012 By

“Moses and Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, 
and the seventy elders of Israel went up 
and saw the God of Israel. 
Under his feet was something like a pavement 
made of lapis lazuli, as bright blue as the sky.  
But God did not raise his hand against 
these leaders of the Israelites; 
they saw God, and they ate and drank.”
Exodus 24:9-11
One week ago today, we returned to real life after a week on St. Thomas. This often overlooked biblical reference to being in the presence of God spoke to me today, reminding me of the ‘bright blue’ ‘something like a pavement made of lapis lazuli’ experiences of this week away. A little exploration yielded these other quotes more specifically tied to the ocean and its healing, renewing qualities.
May you each find a way to meet God this weekend, dear friends. Looking for a bright blue pavement beneath God’s feet might be a way to begin. 
“Why do we love the sea? It is because it has some potent power to make us think things we like to think.”
– Robert Henri

“When anxious, uneasy and bad thoughts come, I go to the sea, and the sea drowns them out with its great wide sounds, cleanses me with its noise, and imposes a rhythm upon everything in me that is bewildered and confused.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke

“The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach–waiting for a gift from the sea.”
– Anne Morrow Lindbergh

“Total physical and mental inertia are highly agreeable, much more so than we allow ourselves to imagine.
A beach not only permits such inertia but enforces it, thus neatly eliminating all problems of guilt.
It is now the only place in our overly active world that does.”
– John Kenneth Galbraith

“I could never stay long enough on the shore; the tang of the untainted, fresh, and free sea air was like 

a cool, quieting thought.”
– Helen Keller

“The waves of the sea help me get back to me.”
– Jill Davis
Joining with my sweet, smart, kind friends Sandy and Deidra today.
And I cannot for the life of me get Deidra’s button to transfer to the new blogger format! 
I copy and paste to no avail. I even tried typing the HTML code by hand – nada. RATS.
Here’s the URL for Deidra’s fine site, to which I cannot subscribe, either.
Time to take a class in computer code?
http://www.deidrariggs.com/
 


 
Filed Under: biblical reflection, Quiet for the Weekend

Lessons from the Vineyard

May 7, 2012 By
“I am the vine,” he said.
“You are the branches.”
We live in vineyard country here in Santa Barbara County.
 It has not always been so.

For hundreds of years, the rolling hills around our county
looked like this. They were covered with oak trees, 
 singly or straggling down the hillsides by the dozen, 
creating a landscape unique to this part of the world. 
Then the trees began going down by the hundreds, 
bulldozed to make room for 
vineyards that look like this.
Miles and miles of vineyards. 
Espaliered grape vines began to sprout out of the ground, neat rows replacing the random gorgeousness
of oaks and wildflowers.

For many, this felt like an assault on nature,
beauty and 
the central coast way of life.

For others, it was evidence of a dream come true.
About a dozen years ago, county supervisors decided to stop the wholesale destruction of native oak groves,
insisting that any new vineyard acreage be built around
the natural habitat instead of through it.
As the vineyards matured, those of us who live by and drive on these highways and byways began to take note of the new beauty around us, enjoying the contrast of
planned and unplanned vegetation.
Now we can follow the seasons by paying attention to what’s happening in the vineyards.
The brilliant, lush green foliage of summer,
the red-gold shimmer of fall,
as the harvest begins.
The increasingly bare branches as December approaches. 
 It is when the branches are at their barest that some of the most important work of the year happens:
pruning.
That good work of shaping, sorting, sifting through the vines for the best, preserving only what will produce good fruit the following year.
Winter is the time for trimming and cutting and neatening things,
making space for the plumpest of red, purple or green grapes, grapes that will grow heavy and rich as harvest time approaches.
 It’s during the pruning season that things are made ready.
Dead wood is removed,
unproductive sucker growth is tossed into the fire.
And sure enough,
when March rolls around,
new growth starts to shoot,
reaching for the sun, growing strong and sturdy,
ready to support the heaviest of clusters,
the richest of harvests.
I wonder, what season am I in?
In terms of my lifetime, I know it is autumn.
And that means the fruit should be ready.
How has the Master of the Vineyard pruned and shaped
and trimmed and cut back the branch that is me?
Have I consented to the shears?
The ones that want to cut away the lies?
The lies I tell and the lies I believe,
the dead stuff that weighs me down
and keeps me stuck.
Have I invited the Husbandman to trim away the compulsions, the anxieties, the addictions – however they may reveal themselves in my life?
Have I said ‘yes’ to the Gardener, the one
who sees what is full of life and promise and potential,
the one who can see what will yield the sweetest of fruit?
And have I allowed my soul-tendrils to sink firmly into the Vine,
practicing those things that will help me to dwell,
to stand firm in, 
to steady myself, 
to ABIDE?
 For much of my life, I feared this word of Jesus in the gospel of John. 
Taught that bad branches would end up in the fire, I wanted to work ever-so-hard to pump out those grapes!
It is only in recent  years –
these years that I’ve been driving through vineyard country – that I’ve begun to realize that ALL the branches on the vine are pruned.
And that kind of pruning is a good thing.
Everyone of us has stuff that needs to be cut away,
thrust into the incinerator,
moved aside 
so that there is more breathing room for good things,
sweet things,
rich things,
nourishing things…
for FRUIT.
It sounds so scary, though, doesn’t it?
Painful, too.
And I suppose sometimes, it is.
It’s painful to let go of habits,
attitudes,
prejudices,
fears,
compulsive behaviors,
reactivity,
defensiveness,
self-righteousness,
and all those things we fill that interior space with,
day in and day out.

But… here’s the thing:
it all needs to go.
All of it.
And for good reason, too.
It’s hard to produce
love,
joy,
peace,
forbearance,
kindness,
goodness,
faithfulness,
gentleness,
self-control
when the branch is laden down with all that other crap.
So…as my own winter draws near,
will I allow the Vineyard Owner to do what needs to be done?
I hope so. I really do.
Because a well-pruned branch,
lovingly shaped and carefully trimmed –
well that’s where the good stuff grows.
My thanks to Don Johnson for his reflection on this passage in worship this morning.
And special thanks to Bob Gross for his wonderful musical setting of an obscure old hymn, bringing words to life in new and fresh ways. 
Joining Michelle for her “Hear It on Sunday” gathering,
Jen and the Soli deo gloria sisterhood,
Laura at “Playdates with God,”
and L.L. with “On, In and Around Monday”
 

 
 
Filed Under: biblical reflection, personal journey, Photo Essay, Sunday Reflections, Wonderings in the Word
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