personal journey

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

October 10, 2012 By Diana

I have already written about this evening walking I do.

This circle walking.

And circle praying.

Tonight I was a little distracted.

This is the season for the acorn drop,

and there are hundreds of them,

all over the paving stones of our driveway.

Can you see them in this picture?

The one below these words?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

October 9, 2012 By Diana

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

When I walk at the beach,

I forego my usual walking in circles,

choosing instead to walk laps.

I pace up and down this long, level sidewalk,

edging the beach, and I marvel at the view.

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

It felt good to walk,

to stretch my legs,

standing tall in the fading sunlight,

sighing ‘thank you, thank you,’

with each step.

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

Today, I celebrated the bigness of God,

feeling myself puny, alone but not lonely,

relieved to not be in any way confused

with the person in charge of

anything whatsoever.

I need them both, it seems.

I need physical reminders of God’s proximity

and of God’s distance,

of God’s willingness to become small,

and of God’s astounding immensity.

When I walk at Butterfly, I face both into

and away from the sun and the breeze.

One direction is cooler and things can be seen

in sharper outline than the other.

I like these contrasts,

I enjoy turning my face in a different direction,

and seeing the same thing from two sides.

This gull, for example.

Facing into the setting sun,

he stands in silhouette,

dark against the shimmering sea.

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

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

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

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

in this life we lead.

We do see so much!

So much that is beautiful,

in the way that we ordinarily define that word.

But there is more.

There is more than what we actually see

at any given moment in time.

And I am trusting that what I cannot

see just now

will have a beauty all its own.

Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison.

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

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

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 4

October 5, 2012 By Diana

I walk in the evenings.

I walk in circles,

eighty-five paces to be exact,

eighty-five paces around my driveway,

round and round I go.

I count in decades,

and reverse every ten,

until I get to thirty-six,

which equals one mile

and a half.

I walk fast most of the time,

fast enough so as not

to be able to sing.

But every ten rounds,

I slow it down for two.

I am old, you see.

And I got scary sick a couple of years ago.

I realized that to be well,

to be remotely close to well,

I needed to M-O-V-E.

So walking each day became

my place of commitment

to health.

And I began, very early on,

to connect one kind of health

with another.

My circle-walking became my

primary time of prayer

each day.

I walk out the door,

and I say,

“So Lord, whose face will you

bring to mind today?

How can I join with you in

the work of the kingdom tonight?”

And I say, “Thank you.”

Over and over again.

Thanks for the beauty of this place,

this home,

this town,

this part of the world.

These people I love,

this work I do,

this health I enjoy.

The green of the trees,

the pink light glinting on the

foothills,

the setting sun and the shadows

it creates.

And I breathe in the beauty.

I even force myself, from time to time,

to give thanks for these flowers.

These flowers that I do not like.

We have sixteen large bushes of these,

all down the fence at the side

and across the front of

our property.

Planted long ago by a previous

owner, I endure them.

When their whiteness glistens in

the sunlight,

I say thank you.

But it is always a hedged thanks.

A constrained,

reluctant

gratitude.

These flowers are poisonous you see.

Every bit of this bush is poison

to human creatures.

Scratches fester,

eyes itch,

and if you eat one?

An immediate trip the ER.

Somehow that knowledge makes

these beautiful things

far less beautiful to me.

And that is a good reminder,

especially as I jump into this

31-day-thing of celebrating beauty.

Not all that is beautiful is good for me.

And I need grace, wisdom,

and courage

to sort it out,

to be wise.

Because wisdom is beautiful too, don’t you think?

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

The Long Unraveling: A Deeper Family

October 4, 2012 By Diana

My husband as a newborn with his beautiful mother.

Today is my day to post over at A Deeper Family.

It is such a privilege to write in this space,

where honesty is encouraged,

and going deeper is invited.

You can click this sentence to finish reading in that space…

The tension in the car is thick enough to choke on. My husband begins his litany of things-wrong-with-the-world, something he’s been doing with alarming frequency of late. It makes me tired. Long, loud sighs begin to whoosh from deep inside, as I sit next to him, at my perch behind the steering wheel. Finally, I decide to face into it more directly and ask, with the tiniest hint of superiority, “Can you tell me one thing you’re grateful for right now? Just one? All this negativity is exhausting.”

Silence.

We pull into the underground parking at the health facility where his mother now lives. She is 96-years-old, very frail, fading away like a mirage on a desert highway.

And this is the truth of it: we are waiting for her to die. There it is, in the harsh light of day, like brown, barren sticks in wintertime – we are waiting for her to die.

Perhaps that explains the litany, the sighs.

Twice each week, we make the 20-minute drive across town to sit with her at lunch, watching her not eat. Some days, we rouse her from a deep, gasping sleep. Some days, she is already awake. Always, we get the walker from across the room, remind her how to stand up, gently comb her hair and very slowly walk with her down the hall to the dining room. . .

Please follow this link to read the entire piece at A Deeper Family. Thanks so much.

Filed Under: A Deeper Family, Aging, death, family, Marriage, memoir, personal journey

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty – Day 3

October 4, 2012 By Diana

It is dark as I begin.

I am an owl, a night owl,

so this early morning darkness

feels strange to my skin.

Yet it invites discovery.

I sense a secret,

waiting to be unwrapped.

I gently close my lodge-room door,

walk down the lighted hallway,

the one on the outside

of the building,

searching the downward pathways,

the ones that take me past the art studio,

the gallery,

the large covered pergola,

the tennis courts.

I am hunting the jogging track.

One quarter mile,

circling through the brush,

winding a bit,

decorated with deer scat,

yet carefully tended and groomed.

Like everything else in this place,

a welcoming thing.

Slowly, the morning sun

makes itself known,

and as I reach the halfway

point of round four,

I stop for a moment

on a bench, perfectly placed.

And this is what I see.
The darkness is fully rent now,
no more flash required,
that flash on my small pocket camera,
the one that bounced back
at me,
reflecting only
trunks and branches.

Now I can see through them
to the river below,
almost out of sight,
down the grade.
The river that flows easily,
gracefully,
gently.
It does so in the light,
but also,
it does so in the dark.

In the feeble, clouded light of day,

I can see the path itself,

all of it –
the edges,
the surroundings,
the general direction of things.
And somehow,
it feels more real,
more solid,
more purposeful.

Yet nothing has changed.
The river,
the path,
the trees –
all of them are there
in the light and in the dark.

But sometimes it takes being in the dark
to fully appreciate the light.
Sometimes what seems hidden
in the dark
is not really hidden at all,
only veiled beauty, waiting
to shimmer in the light of day.

And sometimes we have to walk
the path when we’re not sure
where it is,
much less where it’s going.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, Blogging, Laity Lodge, personal journey, Spiritual Formation, Writing Retreats

31 Days In Which I am Saved by Beauty – Day 2

October 3, 2012 By Diana

The blessing of Moses over the land of Joseph:
“Blessed by GOD be his land:
The best fresh dew from high heaven,
and fountains springing from the depths;
The best radiance streaming from the sun
and the best the moon has to offer;
Beauty pouring off the tops of the mountains
and the best from the everlasting hills;
The best of Earth’s exuberant gifts,
the smile of the Burning-Bush Dweller.”
Deuteronomy 33:13-15 – The Message

Ah, this is a land blessed by God. The canyon edge

does not a mountain make. Still, it pours beauty.

Fountains spring up from the depths and a river is born.

From far below the ground, tumbling from a secret place,

a hidden lake makes the Frio flow.

Together, canyon and river, they wander these hills,

carving layers of pink and golden beige,

encouraging cactus, wildflower, scrub brush.

Standing on the edge, the sun sets behind you,

and history shines up, right into your lens.

You remember that eons flowed, suns rose and set,

the earth turned millions of times before you ever looked

through that viewfinder.

Strange comfort, this feeling. Maybe the beauty,

this shimmering, reflected glory,

speaks to the grandness of God,

the faithfulness of stone, the stability of water.

Maybe the whole idea of age is ludicrous

in such a setting. Three score and seven is a blink,

a sigh, a shift in the sandy soil at the bottom of

all

that

water.

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, biblical reflection, Blogging, personal journey

31 Days in which. . . I Am Saved by Beauty

October 2, 2012 By Diana

At the end of it all, I am tired.

I am weary, to tell it true.

I wonder about so many things,

so many people,

so much pain,

confusion,

loss.

There are days when I am tempted

to lose heart.

To chuck it,

check out,

roll over and play dead.

And then . . .

I walk into a room

where I will be alone

for a few days.

And I sigh, deep.

I peer through the slats,

find greens and browns,

lines and curves,

light and shadow.

And I am stunned,

silent.

I hear water,

moving over rocks.

Smell rain,
coming in the back door,
blowing, dancing,
playing with the sky.

I find welcome,
tables spread with goodness,
candles lit,
napkins ready,
bread fresh-baked.

I find row upon row of hand-thrown mugs,
colors of earth and sky,
ready,
for the taking,
for the warming.

And the sighs keep coming.

One of my mother’s

greatest gifts to me —

the finding of beauty in both

the everyday gifts

and the

once-in-a-great-while ones.

Like simple wild roses,

and cerise beauty-berries,

exotic and unusual
to this California
grandmother.

Solid, old hymns,

and newly-minted words,

all of it gifted

with excellence

and joy.

There is deep thinking,

hard questioning,

good learning —

about our brains

and our words,

and our faithfulness

to the gifts

given us.

And there is the turning-around
closing service,
chairs facing out over the glory,
beholding the Glory.
Because this is the heart of it all.
When we’re weary,
when we’re frightened,
when we wonder where next
to put our feet,
this is how we find the way.

We hear the words,
we say the words,
we see the words,
and we meet the Word.
We take the Word,
we share the Word,
and we remember.
We re-member.
We find food for the journey,
rest for the weary,
and hope for the world.

Giving thanks this night for time at Laity Lodge, whose location, hospitality, beauty and generosity are not to be matched. We were led by brilliant and creative teachers – Professor, researcher and author Dr. John Medina; author and film critic Jeffrey Overstreet; publisher and editor, John Wilson; author and priest, Lauren Winner; Professor, poet and essayist Julia Kasdorf; musicians extraordinaire, Ashley Cleveland and Kenny Greenburg.

And with this post, beginning a 31 day exploration of a famous Tolstoy quote which has haunted me for the last three years, since it was given to me by my spiritual director as we began our time together. Somehow, these seven words (“The world will be saved through beauty.”) have spoken to deep places in me and I’d like to explore those a little, with photos, words, quotes, scripture, prayer. It’s not all mapped out, but I believe we’ll get there just the same. Kind of like life.

Joining with The Nester and the 1000 (YES, ONE THOUSAND other bloggers who have taken up the gauntlet and will write every day for the month of October. Go on over there and check it out if you don’t believe me.

And I cannot leave this particular post without saying specific words of thanksgiving for the people with whom I was privileged to live, eat, work, think, talk and worship this past weekend. Here are a few of them:

From left to right-Dena Dyer, Sheila Lagrand, Michelle DeRusha, Deidra Riggs, Nancy Owens Franson, Sandra Heska King, Amanda Johnston Hill, me. (with Shelly Miller and Marilyn Yocum at the table just behind this one.)

Shelly Miller of Redemption’s Beauty and Amanda Hill of Hill+Pen

Marcus Goodyear – our faithful Senior Editor at The High Calling

and his henchwoman, Deidra Riggs.

A whole bunch of The High Calling bloggers – we were about 1/3 of the total number of

participants in this magnificent weekend.

Megan Willome and Dena Dyer, former neighbors, native Texans,

brilliant writers, great people.

Cindee Snider Re (Breathe Deeply) and Marilyn Yocum, one from Wisconsin,

the other from Ohio,

fabulous human beings, creative lovers of beauty.

Amanda Hill, Shelly Miller, Michelle DeRusha (Graceful) and Sheila Seiler Lagrand (Godspotting). DO YOU SEE HOW BLESSED I AM?

IF YOU EVER HAVE AN OPPORTUNITY TO COME TO LAITY LODGE IN THE HILL COUNTRY OF TEXAS,

MAKE EVERY EFFORT TO GET YOURSELVES THERE.

IT’S NOT EASY, BUT IT IS SO, SO GOOD.

THEY OFFER A WIDE VARIETY OF RETREAT EXPERIENCES THROUGHOUT THE YEAR.

YOU CAN CHECK IT OUT

BY CLICKING RIGHT HERE.

Sharing with Michelle, Ann, Jen, Laura Boggess & LL Barkat tonight:

Filed Under: 31 Day Blogging Challenge, Beauty, Blogging, God's gifts, Laity Lodge, personal journey, Photo Essay, Writing Retreats

5-Minute Friday: GRASP – A Photo Essay

September 28, 2012 By Diana

I am sitting on a porch, in a beautiful wooden rocking chair, overlooking the Frio River in the Hill Country of Texas. Gathered at a Writers’ Retreat are about 70 people, here to learn more about the creative process, to eat well, watch a little rain fall onto a drought-prone stretch of chapparal, and to marvel at the goodness of God. I am at Laity Lodge for the second year in a row, delighted to be among such good company, with time to laugh, converse, think–even to write. So, this week’s 5-Minute Friday will look a little different than most. I’ll write first and then give you a

brief photographic overview of our trip out to the canyon yesterday.

Please come on over to Lisa-Jo’s fine blog, where over 200 folks join in the party each and every week. We are to write for 5 minutes, no editing, no over-thinking -just whatever comes out of our fingertips. It’s great fun and often more than a little revealing.

GO:

It’s hard to get from Santa Barbara CA to San Antonio TX.

It requires an overnight stay near LAX,

getting up at 3:45 a.m.,

going through airport security before one is fully conscious,

flying one hour to Phoenix,

walking miles through the airport to another terminal

to board another plane for 2 hours to your final destination.

Then you wait for your van-load of compatriots,

some of whom you actually might recognize,

and drive for 2 hours away from civilization

to this amazing place.

I’ve been here once before,

so I know what to expect.

It’s an enriching, challenging,

welcoming experience to land in this space.

And I cannot quite grasp the words to say why.

We’re singing with a a grammy-winning worship leader,,

listening to a PhD in neuro-biology tag-teaming with

a film critic, learning how to write a good sentence

from an award-winning author

and just sort of spreading out on the inside of our souls.

Funny stories, serious questions, shared struggles –

all of it makes for an enriching, encouraging experience.

There is freedom in this place,

there is welcome.

There is beauty, silence, companionship when desired.

And there is a sense of God’s smile everywhere you look.

I sat on a bench by a jogging trail early this morning

and just listened for about 5 minutes.

Do you know what I hear?

Nothing.

Only a far away bird song.

THAT’s what this place provides that

so few places on this earth can –

the sound of good silence.

STOP

Driving away from the airport.

The contrast of brilliant light and pouring rain off in the distance seen 360 degrees around in Texas.

What you might expect to find in Texas actually can be found in Texas.

Something about these mailboxes seems representative of the wide open spaces and ranch land of this part of the world.

Turning off the highway to the dirt road leading down to the HEB Foundation Camps.

A lovely harbinger of good things ahead.

Reaching the river road that leads to Laity Lodge

This is the only way in and it’s remarkable.

The rainbow almost spanning the canyon carved by the Frio.

Looking out over the Frio right after our arrival at about 6 last night.

Hopeful reflections of beauty to come. Thank you, Lord.

Filed Under: 5 Minute Friday, Blogging, community, personal journey, Photo Essay, Writing, Writing Retreats

To the Penny…

September 27, 2012 By Diana

Circle round, friends. I have a sweet story to tell.

And that open chest, filled with dress-up clothes

is what inspires its telling this night.

It’s a bit circuitous, but truly rich with

wonder and grace

and it happened at –

well, what can I say?

It happened at exactly the right time.

I had been at my job as Associate Pastor for about eight months,

when I overheard an off-hand remark

made by our Senior Pastor,

a man I greatly admired and

was delighted to be working with in my first-ever

paid ministry position.

And this is what he said:

“Well, all the stats tell you that you’ll know a new

hire is a good hire if you can see that

they have ‘raised’ their own salary

and it shows up in the general budget funds

by the end of their first year.”

Gasp.

Earn my own salary?

Have it show up in the budget?

By doing what, exactly?

I was scrambling to learn who people were,

how they worked together – or didn’t work together.

I was preaching a few times,

teaching a few times,

making lots of house and hospital calls,

planning small groups,

meeting with individuals and couples for counseling.

How was any of that

going to raise money for the budget?

And then . . .

One afternoon, a favorite client of my husband’s,

a truly beautiful, older woman who was

self-confident, gregarious and very out-spoken

called him up and said:

“What’s this I hear about you making a move to Santa Barbara?

You know I’ve just moved up here, too, don’t you?

Tell me all about this please!!

Why are you here?“

So he told her.

“Well, you see, it’s like this…

my wife is a pastor.”

“She is what? A pastor, did you say?

Does she preach?”

“Sometimes,” Dick said.

“She’s an associate and she’s part-time, so

it’s just a few times a year.”

“Well!” She bellowed. “I want to know the next time

she’s up in the pulpit, because I’m coming myself

to check her out.”

And come, she did.

All 5 feet 10 inches of Pasadena socialite that she was,

garbed in a bright chartreuse wool cape,

straight from the runways of Milan.

She had been active in an Episcopal parish

in Pasadena but hadn’t yet found a church home

in this new community.

When she came to hear me preach,

she walked into the back door of the gymnasium

we were using as a worship center,

looked at the beautiful wooden cross

we had mounted on the long wall

(between the basketball hoops),

genuflected, crossed herself, and sat down in the back row.

Like any good Episcoplian would.

And she did that every single time she came.

That first time, she came up afterwards,

effusive in her praise, just delighted

that her financial advisor’s wife

was a preacher.

She introduced us to a few other people in her social circle,

and went out of her way to be kind and inclusive.

“Whenever you’re up there,” she said,

“I’m gonna be down here.”

And she was.

She called the church office, and got the schedule.

And just about every time I preached for the next 10 years,

she was there, sitting in the back row.

But here’s the strange and wonderful part.

Are you ready?

That first Christmas,

on the first anniversary of my very first day of work,

she called her investor guy – that would be my husband –

and said something like this, entirely of her own volition:

“You know, I would really like my annual gift this year to

go to that Covenant Church where your wife works.

That’s a great group of people over there

and I’d like to support what they’re doing.”

Can you guess what happened?

Her gift,

to the penny,

was the exact amount of my salary –

for the entire year.

And for every year that she lived after that.

Can you imagine how encouraging this was

to a very wet-behind-the-ears,

brand-spankin’ new pastor?

To this day, I give thanks to God for this

gift of love and grace in my life.

First of all,

for this delightful, loving and faithful woman.

And then for her serendipitous generosity.

Her gift came at exactly the right time,

and was exactly the right amount.

And I had forgotten this lovely truth until one night

last month when we entertained several small girls.

They opened the dress-up chest,

and floating out of it came some of this

loving friend’s beautiful clothes.

When she died, I had also become acquainted

with one of her sons – had married him and his wife,

in fact. And one day, as we were driving back to

Santa Barbara from a time away, my phone rang.

He said, “Mom’s in the hospital, and it doesn’t look good

at all. But don’t come – because I know she would not

want you to see her looking like this.”

Gently, I assured him that I would be there,

and we headed straight to the hospital before going home.

That time of prayer and anointing and farewell

was one of the most beautiful experiences of my pastoral life.

And the two sons who were with her were

more grateful than they knew to have

the prayers of the church prayed over their mom as she died.

After her service,

the son and his new wife brought over a truckload

of her clothing and costume jewelry,

donating it to a rummage sale we were having

to raise funds for student ministries.

I bought some of her beautiful and brightly-colored clothes,

including that chartreuse cape,

and put them lovingly in the dress-up box for my grand-girls –

who were yet to be born at the time!

Because, somehow,

I just knew they would love them.

And every time, they wrap themselves in

one of her diaphanous gowns,

I smile.

Both of our girls are going to be quite tall, you see.

Both of them are blessed with dramatic,

confident personalities.

And one day soon,

I’ll tell them about my friend,

the one who blew through my life

like a gift on the Wind of God

and graced me with her love.

OF COURSE, I’m joining this one with Jennifer Lee’s God-Incidences meme,

and also with Ann, Duane and Emily – whose amazing book releases TODAY.

If you love someone with an eating disorder, this book is one you should have on your shelf – it is terrific. “Chasing Silhouettes,” by Emily Wierenga

Filed Under: community, family, God's gifts, Marriage, memoir, personal journey, Santa Barbara, Wonderings in the Word

The Talisman: a Writing Prompt

September 20, 2012 By Diana

I am a person who wrestles hard with major transitions in life.

I never want to move too quickly, to make big changes

in the routines and patterns I am used to

without a lot of thought, prayer, and discussion

with trusted friends and family.

I surprised myself when our senior pastor was hired in 2005,

midway through my time as associate pastor.

I thought I would retire; that had been the plan.

But then . . . he came, with his high energy,

and his working style that was so different from anything

I’d ever experienced before,

and he knew so much about the liturgical calendar,

and, and, and. . .

I realized I could learn a lot from this man,

things I hadn’t done, in ways I hadn’t done them,

so I decided (and he graciously agreed)

that retirement would go on hold for a while.

By July of 2009, it was becoming increasingly clear
to me that my time as a member of a church staff

was coming to and end.

What, I wondered, comes next?

Who am I without this title,

this role,

this connection to the

community of faith

I’ve worked alongside all these years?

So, I took a leap of faith – gasp! –

and enrolled in a post-graduate learning

experience, this one in Chicago,

to see if spiritual direction might be what the Lord

was moving me toward in this last stretch of life.

I flew to Chicago for a very intense week.

A good week, a rich week, an exhausting week –

“Like trying to drink from a fire hose,”

is how I described it to my friends.

And at the very beginning of that week,

we spent a day on retreat, in silence,

with periodic worship times spaced

throughout the day.

I took a walk around the grounds of that retreat center,
discovering a small gift shop with jewelry for sale.
Almost immediately, I spied this Jerusalem cross
(second from left above) and snatched it up.

Somehow that small, silver ornament became a
picture of God’s promised presence amidst all the
things that were shifting in my life.
I wore it daily for the rest of that year.
It became a sort of touchstone,
a reminder that I was not alone as I
navigated the changing scene before me.

And I began adding other symbolic pieces to the chain.
The small bee, which says, “just be,” on the reverse
and the beautiful spreading tree,
with, “free spirit,” on the back.
Both of these, plus the charm with my first initial,
reminded me – as I caught sight of them
in the mirror or fingered them while
reading or praying –
that my deepest need is for stillness,
for practicing the presence of God,
for sitting in the silence,
in the Mystery.

About a year later, six weeks after my retirement
became official, my husband and I took a
lovely trip to Hawaii,
a place of my heart for the last 32 years.
So I added the heart with the palm tree on it.

That summer,
after being too ill the previous year to continue
the program in Chicago with my own denomination,
I stepped into training with the
Benedictines.
Such a gift.
So the last piece added was the medal
of St. Benedict.

Taken all together,
this set of charms,
of talismen,
speak to me of who I am becoming,
of where I am finding space and gift and grace now,
without the title,
without the role,
but with a life.
A rich, wonderful, Spirit-graced life.

During the hardest months of
this time of change – from about October of 2010
through May of 2011 – I took it off only to shower.
Somehow, the weight of it called to mind
the immensity of this time in my life,
this move from active ministry
to a more quiet and quotidian way of doing life.

Gradually, this way of living became the new normal,
and as it did, the necklace sat on the counter more and more often.
I still love to look at it.
And I still tend to wear it when I’m
feeling uncertain or anxious.
I wore it every day during my
last two weeks in community with the Benedictines
in July and August.
And I’ll likely wear it every day that I’m on
retreat at Laity Lodge.
But I don’t wear it to bed anymore.
I don’t wear it every day or even every week.

Because I’m here.
I’ve settled – as much as it is possible for
a person of my personality to settle anywhere!
And I am grateful,
so, so grateful for what I’m learning,
what I’ve been invited to do,
how God is working through me
and in me and around me
even here, even now.

I’m glad I took that particular route as I walked around
the grounds of that retreat center in 2009.
And I’m glad to have this tangible reminder
of God’s faithfulness in the midst of major life changes.
It’s just a necklace.
But it’s also a story, an Ebenezer of sorts,
a marker of how the LORD has been here,
right through the shifting sands of change.
I look at it and say,
“Thus far, the Lord has helped me.”
And I say, “Thank you. Thank you.”

My thanks to Amber Haines and her new writing prompt each week. The word this week was ‘necklace.’ I cannot write in poetic majesty as she does, but I very much enjoyed thinking about this one. So, thanks, Amber. You can click on this sentence to find her beautiful reflection and to find links to others who have taken up her challenge.
I will also link this to Jennifer’s, Emily’s, Duane’s, and Ann’s gatherings tonight.