Waking Up to the Sunshine

I don’t think there will be a lot of posts this week, so this one will hit multiple sites.  BUT it was written with these two in mind first:
On In Around button
My thanks to both Lauras for their kind invitation each week.


When I was working,
I made sure that I spent at least a few hours each week
in my 2nd ‘office,’
the one found when I parked my car at our
neighborhood beach.
This space,
this grace-filled place,
became a deep source of joy
and re-fueling,
a place where I could be quiet, alone, reflective.
I’m not sure I would have survived 
the last few years without it.

Since my retirement,
I’ve not been there too often.
I’ve tried to get there at least once a week,
but life intervenes on a regular basis
and I’ve missed it.
I’ve missed it a lot.
So today,
I had some errands to run – 
you know what that’s like:
a run to the bank,
a stop at the wholesale grocer,
some gear to borrow from a friend.
So before I got in my car,
I loaded in a small book bag,
 and decided
that a little 2nd office time was 
definitely on the agenda.
The last time I was at this beach,
it was a cool and foggy morning.
Today was brilliant and warm.
I sat with the windows down and began
to journal a bit,
roughing out ideas for what I might work on 
for this blog in the next few weeks.
And something wonderful began to happen in me.
Something got unstuck,
released, 
remembered.
I’m not even sure what idea triggered my exploration,
but all of a sudden, I needed my Bible.
Here is something you should know about me.
I love scripture.
I love reading it,
I love teaching it,
I love writing about it,
I love preaching from it,
I love using it in worship,
whether public or private.
This has been true for as long as I can remember.
But something strange has also been true for me 
since the beginning of this year of transition:
I have had little interest in opening my Bible.
Oh, I started on one of those 
read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year programs.
I even downloaded Ann Voskamp’s
 Colossians memory work program.
But somehow, my usual energy 
and excitement for God’s word has just…
evaporated.
I have been exhausted, that is true.
More tired than I even knew.
So as I’ve been adjusting to the changes in 
my schedule,
my identity,
my life,
I’ve given myself permission to release
a whole lot of stuff.
And somewhere in that process of 
rest,
recovery, 
re-setting priorities, 
re-membering myself –
I began to believe that this really important
and self-defining passion was somehow waning.
Perhaps yet another sign of increasing age 
and decreasing ‘usefulness?’
But here’s what happened on this 
blue sky,
sunshiny day 
as I sat in my Honda-shaped office:
suddenly, I began to hunt for things in my Bible.
I took notes on what I discovered.
And somewhere in there, 
I found it:
that rising sense of deeply held awe,
that frisson of recognition,
that thrill of the hunting and the finding.
And I remembered who I am.
No, I’m nowhere near as young, fit and athletic as some of these healthy young beach-goers.
 And no, I won’t be riding any waves anytime soon.
But I just might meet an old friend for lunch,
wear a goofy hat,
and laugh loudly enough for passersby to smile.
 And I might brave the water with a boogie board –
maybe even a kayak??  Not sure about that!
 I might not be willing to ride a Vespa,
as this later middle-age woman did today;
 but here’s the truth:
there are miles in me yet.
Vintage is ‘in’ these days, I’m told.
And I can still gasp with delight when one of these
strange and wonderful creatures 
flies anywhere near where I am.
 I’m still capable of a smooth landing.
 My wings have not been clipped,
the water is still full of good fish to swallow,
and there are interesting companions to 
go fishing with me.

All in all, it was a lovely,
serendipitous,
and deeply satisfying three hours.
Slowly, slowly,
things are coming into focus.
God is reminding me,
ever so gently and lovingly,
that my life isn’t over yet – it’s just changing.

And then I came home to discover this:
a beautiful wedding invitation,
from my oldest child,
who is re-marrying after nearly three years of widowhood.
And I rejoiced again at the goodness of God,
the gift of family,
the promise of the future
found today 
in the here and now.
Image is deliberately blurred, but I think you can see how lovely these are.  


It is my privilege to also try and link with Suzannah, Ann and Jen at their consistently excellent blogs,
where so many hard-working, thoughtful and gifted people add their contributions:
so much shouting, so much   laughter


Fifth Sunday of Eastertide

It was a weekend away, with family, 
for a variety of good reasons:
a concert for grandson #2,
a final Little League game for grandson #5,
and a visit with my mom.
So we stayed an extra night and got up and
went to church with daughter #2 and her family.

This shot taken about 10 minutes before worship began, as folks were wandering in.
Their mid-sized, 1950’s style A-frame sanctuary
was transformed for Eastertide –
lovely, white, semi-sheer fabric, 
yards and yards of it,
draping gracefully from the altar to the back entrance.
Stunning.
And inviting.
A grand entrance into worship.

The young senior pastor gave up his pulpit this visit
and invited a congregant to preach.
She is a clinical psychologist who is also
an ordained Presbyterian pastor.

He had done a similar thing the last time we were there –
that week spotlighting a talented pastoral intern,
who also happened to be a woman.
He is exceptionally generous and gracious,
and genuinely delights in sharing the preaching task.

He did sit down with the kids for the children’s sermon,
and this week, he led in the prayers of the people.
(The shining golden-haired cherub on the top step, left,
is grandson #6 – our last grandboy,
 and such a joyful soul.)

It was a good morning, a solid sermon and a nice blend 
of old hymns and contemporary songs.
We particularly enjoy the ‘joys and concerns’ time 
which comes after the sermon each week.
This shot was taken right after the service, when I could more easily
whip out the camera.
We’ve seen several different staff and lay people 
lead this time of community sharing 
and are moved by it every time.
People here know each other.
They care about what’s happening in one another’s lives.
They offer requests for intercession,
or expressions of joyful praise,
and we all respond to each one.
The leader summarizes each moment of sharing, 
closing with, “In your mercy, Lord…”
and the congregation responds with,
“…hear our prayer.”
There is no sense of hurry,
every person who stands or raises a hand 
is acknowledged,
and then the leader closes this time 
with a pastoral prayer –
for the congregation,
the larger community,
the world.
Placing this time after the sermon 
adds weight and resonance to the prayers of the people.
It provides a nice balance to the preached word 
and the lovely variety of musical offerings.
We are deeply grateful for this part 
of the family of God
and the wonderful ways 
in which they have embraced our kids.
And whenever we worship here,
we are welcomed,
blessed,
and encouraged.

Five Minute Friday: When Seasons Change…

It’s that time again – Friday musings with Lisa-Jo over at the Gypsy Mama.  Time yourself – 5 minutes of unedited writing on a theme.  

This week – When Seasons Change:














Where I live, it’s about the light.  


We don’t get snow.  
We don’t get hot sun and humidity.  
We don’t get a lot of color change.  


Ah, but we do get a change in the angle of the light, 
and it’s really something I cherish.  


We’re on this odd peninsula here on the central coast of California and our beaches all face south instead of west. 

So the angle of the sun, the position of the sun 
can change the shape of shadows, 
can illuminate the underside of flowering blossoms in different parts of the yard 
at different times of the year.

You have to pay a bit of attention to notice the seasons changing here.  



Very little drama, very little shouting.  
It’s about subtlety, and the lengthening and shortening of the days.  
It’s about the details.


And I love that.  


It reminds me of the changing seasons in this life we live.


Some things happen dramatically as we age and ‘season,’ but most things come gradually, in small ways.  


Little things.  


Like fine lines on faces.  


Like the sudden appearance of gray or silver where there used to be blonde or brunette or red.  


Like the mild moments of …. ‘Now what is that word/name/idea I’m searching for..’  


Like the small, but unstoppable changes that happen in the littlest of our loved ones, those precious things that mark the passage of time, the changing of seasons. 

What never changes is God’s love for us.
What never changes is our need for that love.
What never changes is the truth that 
our shadows are seen, 
our shadows are known, 
our shadows are welcome.  
Oh, thank you for that, Lord.  Thank you for that.


STOP


Photos and formatting added later.  Yes, I know that’s a bit of a cheat, but hey – it just worked better with the pictures.  No words changed however – just how they appear on the screen.  

Change in Plans – on the road again…

Re-working an old post with new photos from this day in 2009, all to join in the One Word Blog Carnival at Peter Pollock’s site.  Couldn’t find a widget to post here, but check out his site at http://peterpollock.com/2011/05/road-blog-carnival/   This week’s word?  ROAD

A funny thing happened on the way to see 
my spiritual director this afternoon: 
he didn’t show up. 
This is the second time he has forgotten I was coming, 
but the first time he was not to be found on the premises anywhere.

And I come quite a long way – about 115 miles.

But you know…it was an absolutely gorgeous day, 
warm and clear…my camera was in the back seat…
so I had an adventure. 
I surprised myself by having absolutely 
NO sense of frustration, of time wasted, 
of expectations not met.
Maybe that was even the best part of the day – 
I just had this upwelling sense of serendipitous surprise. 
Hasn’t been a whole lot of that in my life of late, 
so all-in-all, this was a change in plans 
I was grateful to experience.

Just as I was getting in my car to leave 
the Benedictine monastery in San Luis Obispo
where Abbott David lives, 
another member of their community drove up. 
He was slightly apologetic for my ‘trouble,’ but I said to him 
(and I really, truly did mean it) 
that it was not a problem to me – 
that I just figured God had something else in mind 
for me to do today. 
And what a lovely gift the day proved to be.
I turned left instead of my usual heading-home right 
at the end of their long country road 
and just went where the road went. 
Wandered a bit through the Cal Poly campus, 
found my way to Highway 1 and headed out to Morro Bay, 
where I drove out to the rock and all along the waterfront embarcadero, stopping at several places to take a few photos.
Then I rounded the peninsula and drove out to Avila Beach,
with its two long piers out into the Pacific.
The sky was simply glorious.
The late afternoon winter light was so long and low, 
there were hardly any people around 
and I stopped at a favorite restaurant for a shrimp louie salad and fresh cornbread when I finished. 

The sun had just set when I turned the bend 
from SLO to Shell Beach, 
creating a beautiful silhouette 
against the bluffside trees and fences. 
A few more pictures and I headed home, 
tired but happy and grateful for a small piece of adventure.














Scripture and a Snapshot

Linking tonight with a new (to me), very cool website – Katie Lloyd Photography and her weekly invitation to submit a favorite verse and photo: 




Sanctuary of Makawao Union Church, Makawao, Maui, Hawaii

Baby Hair

Every Wednesday,
we have a delightful small visitor.
Next week, she will be 15 months old 
and when she’s in our home,
we are on constant alert.
She is bright, 
a great eater,
not so much a sleeper,
is talking up a storm
(though 95% of it is syllabic sound with inflection only,
and it’s anybody’s guess what she’s actually saying),
and she clearly knows what she likes…
and what she doesn’t like.
She definitely likes Poppy (whom she calls mah-ma,
no matter how many times we repeat, “Poppy;”
“Nana” she gets, but not the ‘p’ word).
And she definitely likes hats,
frequently going to her bag to get out her own,
 which action can loosely be interpreted as:
“Don’t you think it’s time to go outside now?”
And this girl loves her binky.
Between our house and her own,
she probably has about two dozen – 
and any of them will do, thank you very much.
In fact, she often enjoys popping one out and
putting another one right back in.
She looks a lot like her daddy (who is our son),
and has been blessed (cursed?)
with his flyaway, very fine hair.
It is constantly in her sweet face.

 Last week, she graciously allowed me to experiment
with a brightly colored elastic band 
which I found stuffed in a drawer.
(Sadly, I have a lot of things stuffed in a lot of drawers!)
And it worked!
Her hair stayed out of her face for…
let’s see…
about 5 minutes, I think.
Just until she dived head first into the couch cushion,
and out it slid.
I think I’ll just let it fly tomorrow.
She is our favorite playmate these days,
whether her hair is perfectly coiffed or not.
A regular reminder of …
joy,
beauty,
winsomeness,
open-heartedness,
and Love, with a capital “L.”

Linking tonight with L.L. and Laura and their wonderfully written blogs:

On In Around button

What Does Obedience Look Like?

Offering this humbly at Ann’s site this afternoon, where so many share their Walk with Him Wednesdays:

What if…
instead of something that seems to us 
so often to be burdensome,
troubling,
almost impossible to do,
actually looked more like
what these beauties do…
…like waiting patiently for the food we need;
…like sipping nectar from exactly the right trumpet flower;
…or watchfully surveying the landscape;
…or keeping our feathers clean and ready for action;
…or singing the lovely song we were designed to sing;
…or wading right in when the water is right;
…or wisely hunkering down when it isn’t;
…or waiting for just the right moment 
to use the beak we’ve been given;
…or finding a companion-on-the-way, 
someone to help us be as strong and sure as we can be;
…someone to help us flex our wings, to practice, 
to keep ourselves ready and in shape;
…so that, when the time is right, we can FLY,
just as God intended us to do.

I’ve been pondering this verse for a long time:

“So even though Jesus was God’s son, 
he LEARNED OBEDIENCE
from the things he suffered.”
Hebrews 5:8

Jesus learned obedience?
Have you ever really thought about 
that subject with that verb?
If Jesus came not only to save us from our sins
(and he surely did that),
if Jesus came not only to heal us of our brokenness,
(and he surely did that),
if Jesus came to model for us what an 
authentic human life looks like
(and he completely did that),
then there is something vitally important for us 
in this short verse.
Jesus is the only fully human being
to ever walk the dusty byways of our planet.
The only one 
who fulfilled God’s original design and desire 
for us, we who are in-God’s-image-creatures.
He was the only one 
who really, truly and always did
what comes naturally,
just like the birds of the air do.
In living out a perfectly human life,
in living and in learning what it means to be ‘obedient’
to God’s dream for humankind,
Jesus shows us the way through.
Jesus shows us how to live a full and rich life,
not just in spite of our sufferings,
but in the midst of them.
And even though he was a learner,
as we are all learners,
he never faltered, wavered,
or succumbed to the ‘bentness’ of our nature,
that off-centeredness,
that unnaturalness that causes us 
to do harm to ourselves and others.
Rather,
he listened to the humming core of his own humanity,
he stayed in tune with himself and with the Father,
he resisted the lure of anything that 
fell outside the bounds of 
what comes naturally.
And obedience,
perfect obedience,
just flowed out of him.
Oh, may I learn to do 
what I was designed and redeemed to do:
to live a fully natural human life.
To listen to the song of salvation that 
the Spirit sings ever so sweetly in me.

Linking with Michelle, Suzannah and Jen tonight, with thanks for their consistently kind invitation to do so:

 so much shouting, so much   laughter


Silent Saturday: refreshment, renewal, reminder

It was a cool and foggy morning and I arrived 
30 minutes early. 
That almost never happens. 
Setting out lovely snacks and interesting reading material was a retired clinical psychologist who also happens to be a nun.  She was gracious and welcoming as I found my way into a high-ceilinged room – a room that used to be 
the ballroom of a mansion, 
then a chapel for the novitiate 
of the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart, 
and now is used for all kinds of retreat gatherings.
This lovely, comforting, renewing and reviving space is located less than 3 miles from my home.
So close.
Yet I’ve been so far.
I’d been here to work,
to lead retreats, but this…
…this was my first visit to their monthly 
Silent Saturday offerings, 
where centering prayer is practiced in community.
This is what I’ve hungered for,
hungered for a long time now.
Time to be quiet, 
time to center down,
to hunker down,
to re-visit myself 
and to re-connect with God.
There were about 25 of us in the circle, 
mostly middle-aged (and beyond) women 
with a smattering of men.
This is what happened:
3 different 30-minute spaces for silent, centering prayer;
3 times of silent, 
very slow and deliberate walking around 
just outside our gathering space;
and 45 minutes for individual reflection,
anywhere on the grounds.
It was perfect.
Restful, beautiful, tender.
Loveliness all around, no matter where your eye landed.
Color, over and over, brightening a gray day.

I sat under a sheltering oak, far back in the corner of 
a small courtyard.
Architectural details added to the 
beauty of the day and to the depth of the experience.
Beauty somehow speaks to the deepest parts of me –
whether that beauty is divinely created 
or humanly crafted.

My soul needed this day.
And so did my body.
I will be back next month.

Later that day, I continued this mini-retreat 
by driving down to the ocean, 
always a source of life and hope and strength for me.
I took a long walk, soaking in the sights 
and the sounds 
and the smells 
of this wintry afternoon 
in the middle of spring.

And along the way, I was reminded 
of some of the interesting anomalies 
of living in this celebrity-laden, 
resort-funded community.
Where else but here would you find 
tour groups on Segueways??
A little levity is always a good thing.
Somehow seeing those hard-hatted travelers
segueing their way around my favorite parking spot – 
well, it offered a bright smiling moment,
a connection to all the strange wonders of
life on the central coast of California.

Succulents shaped like roses,
sandstone cliffs bracketed by potted geraniums,
the grace and fortitude of an old Monterey cypress,
the regal splendor of a well-trimmed King palm,
a trio of friends walking down the beach.
All of it,
all of it spoke to me of grace, 
of wonder, 
of Presence.
God is good.  All the time.
Last Saturday was a day to revel in that truth,
to celebrate it,
to mark it into my heart.

And God met me there – 
in every silent moment,
in every step walked,
in every color relished,
in every blessed breath.
What is there to say but,
“Thank you!”

Because I’ve had blogger problems for much of this week, I’ve just got this one post – so I’m spreading it around a bit by linking with L.L. Barkat at Seedling in Stone On In Around button
and with Suzannah at So Much Shouting So Much Laughter;

so much shouting, so much laughter


and with Bonnie over at the Faith Barista, too:



FaithBarista_FreshJamBadgeG

Five Minute Friday: Deep Breath…


Linking up with Lisa-Jo over at The Gypsy Mama one more time, this week on kind of a strange prompt.  No real clue where I’m going, but here are 5 minutes – unedited, unstopped, leave-them-as-they-lay words on the topic:


Inspiration – breathing in, deeply.  Where have I found it over this life of mine?  More places than I can count or remember.  


First swim test – overwhelmed by water, breathing in an element that cannot sustain human life, being lifted out, patted firmly on the back and released to my mom’s welcoming arms and worried face.


First public speaking – deep breath in, stand up before the assembled faculty at my elementary school at the tender age of 11 and recite a long poem, complete with inflection and gestures.  Receiving applause, pleased smiles, congratulations.  Breathing in acceptance.


Taking the SAT – deep breath in, actually enjoying the wordplay and essay writing; detesting the math.  Breathing in knowledge of my strong – and my weak – suits.


Meeting my husband at the tender age of 17, literally gasping for air when I saw those big brown eyes across the proverbial crowded room.  Not knowing how many years lay ahead for us, just breathing in that face.


Seeing each of my children as they pushed their way into light and space and air.  BREATHE deeply, little one.  And me breathing them into my heart and soul and sinew.


Entering seminary at the age of 44 – DEEP breath, filled with trepidation, wondering, “Can I cut it?”  “Will I meet God here?”  Breathing out joy at all that I learned, all that changed both inside and out.


STOP

Photos and italics added later
Celebrating 45 years of marriage (and then there were those 2.5 years of courtship…)

My ‘baby’ holding his baby.  Isn’t it amazing how that works??

The Beauty of Five – a late mother’s day reflection

Linking this small playful glimpse at 5 year olds  with Laura over at The Wellspring for her weekly gathering:  

The work-out room becomes a place of celebration,
a space for small children to sing loudly, 
recite poetry and look adorable.
Grandchild #6 (and grandgirl #1) 
is finishing her final year of pre-school at our local YMCA. 
And today was the special Mother’s Day 
performance and luncheon.
Wednesday is one of the days we keep grandgirl #2,
so I bundled her into the car,
along with all the assorted paraphernalia required,
and headed over to the park where the Y is located.
Lilly was excited to be there, 
Mama took a long lunch break from her patients so she could join us, 
and we all had a lovely time.

Gracie was decked out as a dinosaur hunter,
and along with the kids on either side of her in the picture to the right, she recited a 
short Shel Silverstein poem called, “Brontosaurus.”

 When they began to sing their wonderful songs 
(my personal favorite – “A Bolt of Cloth” – 
about sewing, accompanied by a wide range 
of sound effects and hand motions),
I put on my long lens and just enjoyed shooting 
close-ups of this amazing face.
 What is it about five that is so magical?
Wide eyes, open to wonder;
a love of music and movement
and no insecurities to inhibit joyful expressions of both;
an ever-changing array of facial expressions,
moving across the planes and angles of a face 
no longer bearing any signs of baby or toddler.
 We have two 5-year-olds in our family circle right now so we can enjoy these wonders twice-over.

Five is marked by an ever-increasing vocabulary,
an inquisitive mind,
an encyclopedic memory,
the vestiges of ‘baby talk’ creeping through from time to time,
a marvelous sense of self, 
and a real delight in wordplay.
Five loves the limelight – in small doses.
Five can be tender, affectionate, thoughtful.
Five can sometimes be stunningly insightful,
finding truth with a capital “T” in stories they hear,
events as they happen,
songs they sing.

And five not only can be,
but IS
delightful, delicious and tons of fun.
Thanks, Gracie, for inviting me to your special day.
I love you!