That Nagging Inner Voice…

May 10, 2011 By Diana

Signing on with Michelle tonight over at Graceful for her “Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday” meme and with Jen at Finding Heaven and her soli deo gloria sisterhood:

These reflections are written after an absolutely delightful Mother’s Day spent with all three of my children, their significant others and 7 of our 8 fabulous grandchildren. They are written with a sad sigh of frustration at how hard it often is for me to take in the good stuff with which I’ve been blessed. Too often, I spend far too much energy picking apart my responses/words/thoughts/reactions and then hurling invective at myself. It’s amazing to me how quickly such inner negativity can turn a beautiful spring day into a wintry experience. So today, I’ve been praying my way through some of the same stuff I’ve been praying my way through for a very long time now! I am happy to report that these stretches are fewer and further apart than they once were and that the remedy suggested here has proven increasingly helpful and true for me.

You’d think the noise on the inside might decrease as you age. After all, a long life is supposed to bring with it some sort of wisdom, right? It seems only fair that there be at least that much recompense for all the assorted insults that come with the advances of time and gravity. I guess I had hoped that by this point in my life, the inner enemy might have calmed down, gotten quieter, responded to a firm word of caution.

But, no-o-o-o-o…

It’s been rearing its ugly head big-time in the last few weeks/months. Caught in the betwixt and between of a major life transition, I’ve had many unpleasant visits from that inner critic, parent, authority figure, negative noise – whatever you have learned to name that voice (or voices, as the case may be.) The noise has shown up with alarming regularity and sometimes at the most puzzling points of engagement.

Why are we like this? Bumping between long stretches of mammoth insecurity and occasional periods of unseemly grandiosity. The father of a friend of mine once put it perfectly: “I have met the enemy – and he lives inside my head.”

About 99.9% of the time when I pray with the psalmist those cries of imprecation, of deliverance from the assault of enemies, those cries for justice from those who would wish me harm – 99.9% of the time, I am praying against the noise inside my spirit, not against any flesh and blood foe. (The other .1%? Well, we’ll leave that one alone for today…)

“O God, listen to my complaint.

Do not let my enemies’ threats overwhelm me.

Protect me from the plots of the wicked,

from the scheming of those who do evil.

Sharp tongues are the swords they wield,

bitter words are the arrows they aim.

They shoot from ambush at the innocent,

attacking suddenly and fearlessly.”

“They encourage each other to do evil and plan how to set their traps.

“Who will ever notice?” they ask.

As they plot their crimes, they say

“We have devised the perfect plan!”

Yes, the human heart and mind are cunning.”

Psalm 64:1-6 (NLT)

Doesn’t that sound familiar? Because, really, isn’t that what those voices are like? We speak to ourselves more harshly than we would ever speak to another living soul. Sharp tongues, bitter words shot at ambush suddenly and fearlessly – oh yeah, that feels very familiar. The human heart and mind are indeed cunning. And a big part of that cunning is what happens inside of us when the loud and carping negative voices are ascendant.

Whether what we hear sounds like feelings of total inadequacy (despite evidence of capability and gifting), questioning whether or not we are loved – by God, those closest to us, anyone-at-all-ever (despite faithfulness over time, presence when needed, material blessing above and beyond, sweet cards and notes, periodic phone calls….) – that head-noise is as efficient as a Navy Seal in getting in and around the crevices of our mind and spirit and sniping away at us.

Ah, but here is what I try to remember when the noise reaches deafening levels – the rest of that song of David –

“But God himself will shoot them down.

Suddenly, his arrows will pierce them.

Their own words will be turned against them, destroying them.

All who see it happening will shake their heads in scorn.

Then everyone will stand in awe,

proclaiming the mighty acts of God, realizing all the amazing things he does.

The godly will rejoice in the LORD and find shelter in him.

And those who do what is right will praise him.”

Psalm 64:7-10 (NLT)

Because if we listen very carefully, while firmly telling those inner voices of blame and shame to shut it, we can begin to hear another, softer, kinder and more truthful Voice. The Voice that calls us beloved, the Voice that reminds us who we truly are, the Voice that sings songs of love over us. The Singer is indeed mighty, amazing and wildly able and willing to shoot down the enemy within. Oh, please listen well, listen hard. Lean God’s direction and soak in the comforting, gracious word of the Sheltering One:

“Do not be afraid; for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine…you are precious to me. You are honored, and I love you.” Isaiah 43:1 & 4b

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Linking with: Saturday Evening Blog Post

May 7, 2011 By Diana

Today, I am linking with Elizabeth Esther’s wonderful monthly invitation to bloggers to hook up one post from the previous month. Run on over there and check it out:

http://www.elizabethesther.com/2011/05/the-saturday-evening-blog-post-vol-3-issue-4.html#comment-14540

These are the guidelines – have fun reading!

SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST, vol. 3, issue 4

Posted on May 7, 2011 by elizabeth

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 April 2011!

This month, it’s all about you! So, here’s how to participate:

Pick one of YOUR posts from the last month. Insert that specific post (not your home page) into the Linky form here.
Create a new post on your blog telling your readers about THE SATURDAY EVENING BLOG POST. Be sure to provide a link back here! It’s always fun to “meet” new bloggers.

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Living the Other Truth

May 6, 2011 By Diana

Contributing these reflections to Rachel Held Evan’s SynchroBlog festival over at her blog today. http://rachelheldevans.com/ It’s a “Rally to Restore Unity” a la Jon Stewart et al, and it’s been both fun and inspirational to see all the wonderful signs

and essays that have poured in this week.

I have wrestled hard with what to say in this space

and here’s where all that angst has landed me.

I disagree with a whole lotta people about a whole lotta

faith-related things. And most of them are not make-or-break issues for me. But there is this one whole area of my life as a disciple of Jesus that is so filled with both joy and pain that I hardly know what to do with it all.

I wrote the sign pictured above with tongue firmly in cheek, wondering as I tried to take the picture,

“Do I even mean this?”

Oh, I hope I do.

I hope I could endure, maybe even enjoy,

a good lunch with someone on the opposite end of this particular discussion.

Because if not,

then I’m not quite as far along on this journey as I hoped.

What I’ve come to, after a lifetime

of wondering,

of working through the biblical evidence for and against,

of reading widely on both sides of the

whole male/female thing,

of arguing with others and with myself and even with God – what I’ve come to is this:

the thing I’m called to do is,

to live the other truth.

As a trusted counselor said to me this morning,

“That is the revolutionary act.”

So that’s what I’ve done, by God’s grace,

and my own determination here and there.

I’ve swallowed the angry retort (most of the time!),

I’ve quietly contributed what I could to

caring for others,

teaching the word of God,

leading in worship,

offering the sacraments,

proclaiming the gospel good news.

And I’ve stood astounded,

mentally open-mouthed,

when men (and women) whom I love and respect

say and do things that are stunningly at odds

with what they say they believe.

Because, as I have learned to my chagrin

and sometimes very deep personal pain,

giving mental assent to an idea, to a doctrine, to a denominational stance …

and living that truth in day-to-day practice are

two very different things.

Long ago, I decided that becoming an angry woman

in an ecclesial setting was not going to accomplish anything.

In fact, an angry woman in church is always,

and I do mean always, viewed as a threat,

as a living oxymoron,

as a strange and frightening being,

somewhat outside the pale.

An angry woman is seldom, if ever, actually heard,

and sometimes not even seen.

Anger was not going to do a thing to bring change.

But living that change just might make a beginning.

So that’s what I’ve tried to do –

to live the change I hope for, I pray for, I long for.

I’ve been a woman in ministry for 17 years,

serving the church in a denomination

that has been ordaining women since 1974.

But that same church has not been proactively engaged in making that act a reality in the day-in and day-out life of the local church until fairly recent years.

I thank God for my denomination.

I love who we are and who we are becoming.

But getting here has been tough sledding.

Real progress is being made, now on an almost daily basis.

And God is doing wonderful things

in our broader community.

Increasingly, the partnership of men and women committed to reflecting the image of God in all its mysterious beauty is being experienced at all levels of our institutional life –

the local church, the regional conference,

the university and seminary. And it’s lovely to behold.

And here, in the bosom of my ordination-wielding church family, I am increasingly comfortable and grateful.

But ask me to step very far outside of this particular comfort zone and I am, to put it bluntly, both terrified and exhausted.

I’ve done this work,

I’ve come to the place where I believe God has led me,

I’ve gratefully received and accepted a call on my life

that I never anticipated,

sought or even thought about very much.

And I don’t want to have to justify,

explain,

supply biblical warrant,

or in any other way try to make someone else understand

why I am who I am,

why I am where I am.

I just want to be those things.

I want to be a living, breathing example of the

powerful truth that God calls all of us to ministry,

that God gifts all of us for ministry,

that God blesses all of us in ministry.

The year I was ordained, a group of six women pastors somehow came together in a loosely associated group.

We laughed a lot,

we shared deeply,

we prayed for and with one another, we became one another’s fervent cheerleaders and supporters.

We even took retreats together –

days spent in silence and solitude,

evenings spent in community and sharing.

Over the 14 years of our connection to one another,

one by one, every other woman in our group

lost her church position.

All of these Amazonian friends continued to do ministry, wherever they landed – but oh! it was so painful to watch them being mistreated by colleagues and/or congregations.

And then – I was the only one left – the remnant,

the hold-out, the last one standing to fly the banner of

female presence in local church ministry.

And now I am retired.

And so I wonder, not so much for the congregation that I’ve left, but for so many others out there in Christendom,

who will pick up the banner next?

Whom will God call?

Who will model week-by-week the fullness of the image of God as we worship together?

Who will bring the complementary

(and I use that good word very carefully,

intentionally

and specifically here)

the complementary gifts/presence/experience

that only a female can bring to

worship,

preaching,

teaching,

offering the sacraments?

God will provide. That is my hope, my trust, my dream.

And God will also continue to provide

open-hearted, big-vision men

to partner with, encourage, and empower those women

who come along on the next leg of this journey.

Hopefully, the groundwork that I and so many others have laid, will make their leg a little less painful

and a lot more straightforward.

In the meantime, I hope I can manage to share a table with someone who hasn’t yet seen what I have lived.

Marriage? Not a chance.

Lunch? Maybe.

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Five Minute Friday: Motherhood Should Come With a …

May 6, 2011 By Diana

Wow. That week just FLEW by. And…it’s Friday once again. Time to sign on with the Gypsy Mama and write for 5 minutes, no editing, on this week’s topic which is an interesting one:

Motherhood should come with a…

Go:

…gigantic truth-in-advertising disclaimer, warning label, cautionary tale, illustrated instruction manual and a clear understanding that once you pass ‘go,’ you are never again ‘home free.’

Because…motherhood is simply the most amazing AND the most horrifying thing to ever happen to a woman.

It is beautiful beyond belief, filled with moments of buoyancy, joy and wonder, the single most remarkable thing to ever happen in one’s life, a gift beyond measure…

…AND it is a never ending series of heartbreaks, sleepless nights, cold sweats and deep-seated fear – no, terror! – about the world into which your beloved must have the bravery and the chutzpah to enter….over and over again, at each stage of his or her development.

But most of all, motherhood should come with an older friend who’s been there before you, can advise you when you ask for it, can cheer you on as you struggle through it, can encourage you when you fall flat on your face, can love your kids (and you) with an uncompromising, fierce and devoted love and can model for you how to move through the tough times and live to tell about it.

STOP

The two most important and consistent of those older ‘friends’ in my mothering life – my husband’s mom, Kathryn, on the left – who turned 95 in January and now lives in an Alzheimer’s assisted living unit; and my own mom – Ruth – who will be 90 in July and whose health is increasingly frail. I thank God for these two women every day of my life. They have loved me and my children, been there when it got scary, taken care of my little ones when I was sick, busy or needed a break. And now they love my little ones’ little ones – even when they can’t remember their names. Each of them has been a shining example to me of courage, commitment and faith, and I am deeply grateful.

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One Last Time…and Then – We’re Home!

May 2, 2011 By Diana

Signing on with Michelle over at Graceful this morning for her “Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday” meme:

I have loved churches as long as I can remember. The churches I have attended in my lifetime have all become second homes to me. I like exploring their every nook and cranny, learning the quickest way to get from point a to point b, and admiring the beautifully artful touches that help lead people into worship.

Upcountry stone church, Maui

I also like visiting churches whenever we travel. The buildings themselves are iconic to me – and if they’ve got either stained glass or some sort of steeple, then I’m in church-heaven.

a small wood-frame church in Nipomo, CA

Congregational church in Hanalei, Kauai

Looking out from that same church.

But…there’s a limit to church-hopping/shopping. And mine has most definitely been reached. Four long months, we’ve been visiting churches other than our own. And yesterday was the last week of that particular ~~experiment~~ experience. We had originally planned to be back in our home congregation yesterday – but somehow we missed a very well-attended evangelical church that had been at the top of our list, so we added on one more week to pay them a visit.

And I’m both glad and sorry that we did. Glad because yesterday’s jaunt served to underscore for me – maybe more than anything else could have – how deeply we love our congregation and how grateful we are to belong to this part of the body. And sorry because we experienced a few things yesterday that I surely wish we had not, including a public chastisement of some wayward leaders and a communion service that did not feel at like a communion service – at least to us. Good music (though I’ll brag a little bit and say no where near as rich as what we enjoy each worshipful week at MCC) and a good Bible lesson. Not a sermon so much as a teaching, and a very well-done one, too. So the morning was mixed for us. Some mornings are like that, right?

We belong to a small denomination, but a growing one. The Evangelical Covenant church is a ‘newbie’ in historical time, formed in the 1880’s by Swedish immigrants and thoroughly north American in ethos and ecclesiology. We are congregational by polity, but we are connected by a wonderful web of mutual care and concern and a list of shared values that have become absolutely central to my own understanding of who I am as the daughter of the Most High God.

It is in the midst of this part of Christ’s body that I have had my gifts affirmed. It is here that I have heard the call, first to seminary and then to pastoral ministry. It is here that I have watched God do a series of new things – reaching out intentionally to embrace women in ministry, multi-ethnic congregations and ministries, peace and justice ministries of all kinds.

And all of it done with careful respect for the teachings of scripture and the work of the Holy Spirit in the church of every age. We value tradition and we value good change, we value liturgy and we value contemporary worship. We value the shared journey and we learn from one another. We’re not perfect, but by God’s grace, we are exceptionally open-hearted and open-handed. And we hold one another accountable, too. I miss that right now. I really, really do.

So, I’m homesick. In a good way, I think. And I’m ready to be back home. And that’s a very good thing.

I won’t be returning to this particular role:

preaching my last sermon as associate pastor in December 2010

But I will be returning to worship in a space that looks a little bit like this:

the Holy Spirit window at the back of the chancel, framed by one of our locally wrought chandeliers

My husband and I are going to try really hard not to jump back into lots of responsibility, but rather ease back in – enjoying weekly worship, continuing to meet with our small group, prayerfully considering whatever options present themselves. But wow – will we be glad to sit in that sanctuary with those people again.

It is true – we can worship our God anywhere and everywhere. And I have enjoyed having the experience of formally worshipping in a variety of spaces, with a variety of people. But ‘doing church’ is meant to be local, it is meant to be consistent. Done well, it is marked by commitment and mutual support, as together we offer God the ‘work of our hands.’ For that’s what worship truly is – all of who we are, all of what we do – offered to God as an act of love and thanksgiving.

I look forward to sitting in a familiar pew next week. It will be so good to be home.

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One Last Good-bye…

May 1, 2011 By Diana

Linking up with Jen at Finding Heaven at midnight Monday/Tuesday for this lovely sisterhood gathering:

This farewell has stretched further than just about any I’ve ever experienced. I retired from ministry at the end of 2010, and then chose to take the first four months of 2011 away from worship with our church family.
I’ve been glad I did that for lots of reasons – I was more tired than I knew, and it was good to not be around a place where I have worked hard for a long time. It was also good to remind myself every single week that I am no longer a parish associate pastor. Though I will remain a pastor until I die, I no longer practice that call in the setting of the local church. I needed this time to face into the reality of that new truth.
The fine man who will move into my former office is a friend and a treasured colleague. But he, too, has been gone from our fellowship these same four months – teaching history in France. So…I had lots and lots of time to move out of that space, right? From January 1 until May 8. Whew – that should be a snap, even for me, the book pack-rat queen.
Wrong.
Oh, I did get those books moved. Most of them are now situated in the long hallway outside all the offices at church. My husband came to help me sort – one pile to give away, one pile to come home, and many, many piles to move out into that hall.

And there they are – in all their splendor! Five sections of seven shelves each. That’s a whole lotta books. But now, they’re available for anyone to use and they include a lot of great resources for biblical study, small group ideas, care ministries, worship and liturgy – all pieces of my ever-shifting job description over these last 14 years.

So today was the last Saturday of packing and schlepping. I opened the windows behind my former desk as wide as they would crank – to enjoy the view and the breeze. It was a glorious spring day, sunny and just warm enough to be comfortable in lightweight clothing.

I went through the last of my files, loaded all my CDs into a box, emptied the various basket containers scattered around that space, took down the last of the artwork and made piles in the hallway for my husband to help me load into our cars.

In the photo above and the one below you can catch a small glimpse of the bookshelves which surrounded me – at my own request when we built this building from 2003 – when our former senior pastor of 23 years left – until 2005 – when our current senior pastor arrived.

Yup, that’s right. We were in a two-year interim stretch while we undertook this long-planned project of building a glorious new worship space and creating staff offices all in the same place for the first time ever.

That stack of brightly colored yarn work just left of center? Those are prayer shawls, created by a variety of folks in our community. They would appear on my desk, or in a bag, hanging from my doorknob. I never knew for sure who made what, but this much I did know: the maker prayed as s/he worked, offering sweet supplication for the recipient of this gift of love.

And I hand carried them – to people facing or recovering from surgery, to brand new moms, to recent widows or widowers – whoever was facing a life transition of one kind or another. And as I wrapped them in this beautifully textured love-gift, I would say: “As this shawl touches your skin today, may it be a tangible reminder that the people of God are praying for you, even as the person who made this prayed for you over each stitch. Wrap yourself in it as you pray in the mornings, or lay it over yourself as you nap in the afternoon. And as it comforts and warms you, may you know the sure, sweet presence of the God who loves you, the God who walks with you through every step of your journey.“

One of the rich parts of this work that I will miss deeply.

After about 3 hours of slow, steady work, I called my husband and said he could come over any time now and we’d pack up the last load. Four file boxes, two large baskets, two open boxes, a CD player, small heater and fan. That’s what was left.

Taking turns and wedging the exit door open, we made a half dozen trips down the hall, out the walkway and down a half flight of steps to the cars. And somewhere in there, the door wedge got bumped and slam! We were locked out.

Are you kidding me?

On a Saturday afternoon, no one around, no key.

But… I had left those windows open….

My ever-resourceful husband walked around to the front and stood beneath those windows.

“Honey, I think these jeans are just a little bit too straight-legged for me to bend these knees enough. Can you find me something to stand on?”

Well, not exactly. EVERY DOOR IS LOCKED.

So he kept workin’ it and eventually got up there – straight legs and all! What a guy.

Almost there…

…SUCCESS!

And now, of course… the almost-equal and opposite problem awaits. My home office is approximately 1/3 the size of my church office. And I really, really did a lot of work trying to ready it for the deluge that was coming.

But as you can see – it flooded anyhow.

I think I’ve got at least another 4 months of work ahead of me, don’t you?

There were a couple of other important things that came home with me today, too. A poster we bought in Paris on our 40th anniversary trip – one month after my husband had surgery for prostate cancer. And what you see below – a gorgeous hand-calligrified gift from my sister-in-law, one of the most talented women on the planet.

She told me to choose a quote – any quote – and she’d make something for my office.

I chose this quote from Rilke – which is my very favorite of almost anything I’ve read, except for scripture. It was quoted in a class I took and I bought the book just so I could find these words and savor them. To me it speaks such beautiful truth – life is about asking questions and then living the answers. And all the people I’ve counseled and prayed for, all the kids I’ve encouraged in Confirmation, all the troubled couples – or happy pre-wed couples, all the recently bereaved friends, or happily moving-on friends – everyone who walked into my office walked right past this beautiful gift:

The framed piece – so lovely.

And a close up of the quote itself, so that you, too, can relish this wonderful writing.
As I left my office for the last time today, I offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of this life, this pastoring life. And I walked out into the sunshine, climbed into my car and drove home.

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It’s For the Birds…

May 1, 2011 By Diana

Linking up on Monday with L.L. Barkat at Seedlings in Stone

who encourages her contributors to write with a sense of place…

To live in Santa Barbara is a gift.

Every single day, I am grateful for that gift,

in ways too numerous to count.

A sliver of fertile land, following the crooked coastline of the north American coastline for about 30 miles or so,

laid out like a sparkling emerald baguette, mountains rising on the northern edge and the great Pacific stretched like a silver blue necklace on the south.

As I said, it’s a gift to be here.

To live within 15 minutes of one of our children

and his family is also a gift – and a privilege as well.

Both my son and his wife are physicians on the central coast and it has been my joy (and now my husband’s as well) to care for each of their two remarkable daughters during the years preceding pre-school. Their mama works half-time, so we are now keeping 14-month-old Lilly two days each week –

and loving it a lot.

The newly-trimmed podocarpus tree just outside our bedroom door.

One of the things we love about living here is the rich variety of bird-life that shares this space with us. From tiny finches with their lime or peach coloring to the great blue herons that occasionally fly overhead, there are lots of birds nearby –

all kinds, sizes, shapes and sounds.

Notorious loud-mouths are the scrub blue-jays who are ubiquitous in southern California. We’ve got several who hang out at our place – and my husband has managed to begin an interesting relationship with a couple of them.

Some of the bird-attracting paraphernalia hanging from that podocarpus.

About the time he retired,

my husband the gifted investment-advisor,

became Poppy Doolittle –

charming our jays with a simple act of bribery:

peanuts, unsalted, in the shell.

He began by standing in the middle of our back lawn or on the patio and clucking/talking to them.

“Here’s something good – wanna try it?”

And he’d put the peanut down on the ground or the table.

Slowly, he began to hang onto those nuts,

until he had one in the palm of his hand.

And to everyone’s surprise and delight, they went for it.

One jay in particular is brazen and fearless,

answering the call almost any time.

His smaller, more nervous compatriot will come if Dick is alone

in the yard, but not when we have guests.

Poppy and Lilly right after her nap.

So, he’s been teaching Lilly about this,

showing her how it’s done.

And she LOVES it.

On Wednesday of last week, she woke up from her nap,

bed-head, sleepy eyes and all,

and began looking out the bedroom door

towards the yard.

Stretching out her hand as Poppy has taught her to do,

she began to make clucking noises.

And Poppy came running!

Out they went, to see if the jays were around.

Bold Jay showed up right away,

and grabbed that nut in a split second.

Lilly was still pretty sleepy

and couldn’t quite get her hand around a second one.

Bold Jay sits in the tree, guarding his treasure.

This day, he chose to keep the nut with him,

more often than not,

he buries it in our lawn,

pounding it down in the ground

with a berry from the tree.

So they tried a second time.

Lilly has not quite mastered the concept

of opening her hand with the nut in it –

she tends to pick it up and grab hold tightly –

so Poppy is still the primary gift-giver in this routine.

Shy Jay was having nothing to do with it.

Bold Jay had flown across the yard to the very top of the utility pole between us and our neighbors to the south,

so our fearless duo moved a little closer to him,

and out into the sunshine where the prize

would gleam a little more clearly.

And down he swooped – all the way across that yard.

Poppy agreed to give the guy one last shot as a special prize

for his awesome aim,

and I managed to get a picture of his feet

as they landed on Poppy’s finger

while he grabbed his final reward

(for the day, at least!)

Wish you could have been here to see him –

and to see Lilly enjoying the spectacle.

But most of all, I wish you could see how this granddaddy loves his little ones –

the ones that fly,

and the one whose smile makes our entire week.

Also sharing this week with Laura at The Wellspring and her lovely meme: “Playdates with God.”

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5 Minute Friday: If I knew I could, I would…

April 29, 2011 By Diana

Ah yes, it’s Friday once again. Joining with Lisa Jo at “The Gypsy Mama” on a very intriguing topic this morning. And I wonder what I’ll say! 5 minutes of unedited, unstoppable writing.

If I knew I could, I would…

I would live my life on tiptoe,

ever expecting something wondrous to behold!

GO

…dance like crazy, letting my body go where it wills – just because I can;
…write like crazy, words that would bring encouragement to others and tell interesting stories because I’ve had quite a ride so far;
…travel without worry or complication to as many of this planet’s beautiful places as I possibly could while still…
…spending as much time as I could at or near my home, which I love;
…save the people I love from pain and heartache – I’ve seen so much of it and they’ve lived so much of it… but then again…
…even more than that, I want for them to be whole and holy (in the truest, best sense of that word) people and sometimes (but not always) heartache is a vehicle for producing precisely that;
… know in my heart of hearts that God isn’t done with me yet, that there is more to do and even better, more to be for however many years stretch ahead of me;
… love my mom with Jesus’ kind of love, showing patience and kindness and soothing her fears as the ravages of age and confusion move in with a vengeance.

STOP
Photo and caption added a bit later…

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Journaling Joy

April 29, 2011 By Diana

Joining Bonnie over at Faith Barista tonight with one of the most fun assignments thus far in this venture into blog-world. Using photos and words, we are to comment on where we’re experiencing joy these days. Go over there and check out some of these collections of pictures and words – AMAZING.

What brings me joy these days?

The list is long, despite the heaviness of worry about my mom, despite the myriad details still to be sorted through as I finally clear out my large, corner office at church and re-settle into my tiny one here at home, despite the unsettled feeling of these early retirement days with no set schedule…that joy-list is long and I am grateful.

The Monastery of the Risen Christ, San Luis Obispo CA

Traveling 115 miles north once a month to meet with Abbot David, my spiritual director, never ceases to bring fresh reminders

of the joy of the Lord.

The Mission Renewal Center, Santa Barbara CA

Finding out that this summer I will be attending the School for Spiritual Direction that meets at this retreat center

brings me joy, just the thought of it!

I will be able to complete my certification process begun in Chicago in ’09, interrupted by some serious health issues last year – and I’ll be able to do it right here in my own hometown.

Remembering our delicious Easter dinner brings me joy, too.

But then good food tends to do that with regularity!

Flowers of all kinds and colors remind me of the creative genius of our good God. I love to have cut flowers indoors, to have lots of flowers in the garden

and to drive to local fields to see them growing wildly,

in all their painterly glory.

Joy!

Fields of poppy and lupine, Figueroa Mountain outside of Los Olivos, CA

Carpets of color at Corrizo Plain National Monument, about a three hour drive from home.

Other than the gift of life itself,

my family brings me the deepest joy of all.

A retirement trip to Maui in February of this year.

45 years and grateful for every single one.

Last summer, at a cabin we rented near Yosemite.

Three amazing kids, all grown up with kids of their own.

Our kiddos range in age from 14 months to 20 years. And we had six boys in a row!

And 8 grandkids – each one unique,

each one adding another layer of joy.

The youngest ones don’t mind having their pictures taken and each of these three seemed to arrive in our family circle at just the right time. (Well, they all did, didn’t they? These three stand out somehow…) The two five-year-olds were born the year our much-loved son-in-law became critically and chronically ill, bringing life and hope to us all as he was dying.

And our newest (and likely last) little one came into our lives soon after the biggest one was out on his own.

And the newest joy in our family is our eldest daughter’s brand-new engagement. We’ll have a summer wedding after a long siege of sadness and loss.

Joy!

And this was the view out my bedroom door as I began compiling this list tonight. The gift of a home, a comfortable, welcoming home is something we never take for granted.

And it is a source of joy on so many levels:

family gatherings,

spiritual retreats for women,

meeting with directees,

hosting friends and strangers,

finding space and permission to be silent and alone,

sharing space with a lifelong partner.

I’ll leave this reflection with shots of some of God’s winged creatures who regularly speak to me of grace, beauty and yes…joy!

“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Matthew 6:26

a visiting oriole in our side yard – shot through the window and the screen!

a mocking bird watches over the wildflowers

a brilliant red cardinal sings his lovely song on Maui

a greater egret wades in at sunset

a great blue heron, hunched position

wading in, standing tall

and taking off with those great wings and long legs

a curlew, reflected in the water with his head up

and with his head down, making a perfect circle of himself

the big birds settling in for the night in the very tops of the eucalyptus trees which stand all along the Goleta Slough, just north of us

the sunset majesty of the ocean as it folds into the slough

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Looking Back on the Weekend…

April 26, 2011 By Diana

It is tough to remember the last time we went to

an Easter service in a church not our own.

My mom was with us for the week,

so we opted to re-visit the most ‘formal’ of those we have visited these last few months, the big Presbyterian one downtown.

And we are so glad we did.

LOVED the massive arrangement of calla

(rather than Easter) lilies.

Loved the pipe organ (even got the Widor “Toccata” as a postlude).

Loved the choir – two anthems, including Handel’s “Hallelujah!”

Loved the stained glass all around.

Loved the sweet older couple in front of us who

warmly greeted us the moment we walked in.

Loved that the pastor sang the psalm once again,

as he had the last time we were there.

And we loved that sermon.

Here are some highlights – at least for this listener:

Text: Matthew’s account of the empty tomb – 28:1-10

Title: “Fear/Joy/Galilee”

Standout thoughts:

The New Testament re-telling of the resurrection story is surprisingly low key, understated and not terribly dramatic.

Using a charming story of a little girl eagerly raising her hand in answer to the question,

“What was the first thing Jesus said after his resurrection?”

she happily blurted: “I know, I know!”

Standing to spread her arms wide and bowing royally: “TA DA!!!”

Yeah -that’s what WE would have done.

But not Jesus.

Yes, there was an earthquake.

Yes, the angel’s clothing was blindingly white.

Yes, the guards shook and ‘became like dead men.’

But Jesus himself?

His first words to the stunned disciples?

“Greetings.”

21st century English equivalent?

“Oh, hi.”

Oh, hi??

And then there was this – “Do not be afraid;

go and tell my brothers (and sisters) to go to Galilee;

there they will see me.”

Basically, he told them – “I’ll meet you at home!”

But…home…Galilee…is a place of purpose and meaning.

Our Galilee is where we meet Jesus –

in that place that holds purpose and meaning for us.

And this simple message, these words of Jesus to those first disciples on the scene, seems to say something like this as well:

that as important as it is for us to believe in Easter,

in resurrection –

it is equally important to realize that Resurrection Jesus

believes in us.

“Go home. Go to the place where you know me best. I have work for you to do –

I believe you can do it because I’ll meet you there.”

And here’s a direct quote which I just loved:

“God lifts us from every place of pain and gives us purpose.”

And calling these men who had abandoned him his ‘brothers?’

Another example of our ‘modest, glorious Jesus.’

This pastor also noted that it’s about 100 miles from the tomb in that Jerusalem garden to Galilee – so we are called to a long journey, not a quick look-see. And best of all,

Jesus is already in our Galilee,

wherever that may be for each of us.

We are called to a journey of commitment, honesty, hope and joy –

because Jesus is joy.

Will we take the next step?

Oh, I hope so!

Because Jesus is waiting there.

Doing a double post with Michelle this week at “Graceful.” This one is probably a bit more germane to the meme:

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