Outer Banks Ponies

Weathervane Poetry Party

Christine at Abbey of the Arts offers this image and the notion of the Spirit wind blowing within us. Today I'm not even going to try it; a song immediately came to mind when I saw the pictures on her site, and I've posted the lyrics below.


Wind and Spirit, by Chris Rice

I hear a sound and turn to see a new direction on that rusty weathervane
Suddenly the dead brown leaves are stirred to scratch their circle dances down the lane
And now the sturdy oaks start clappin’ with the last few stubborn leaves that won’t let go
I can hear Old Glory snappin’ and her tattered rope now clangin’ against the pole
And my breath is snatched away
And a tear comes to my eye
Feels like somethin’s on the way so I look up to the sky, I look up to the sky and...

From the corners of creation
Comes the Father’s holy breath
Ridin’ on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness

I see the lifeless dust now resurrected, swirling up against my window pane
And carried ‘cross the distance comes the long awaited fragrances of earth and rain
And out across the amber field the slender grasses bend and bow and kiss the ground
And in them I see the beauty of the soul’s who let the Spirit lay them down
And it takes my breath away
And a tear comes to my eye
Feels like somethin’s on the way, so I look up to the sky, I look up to the sky and...

From the corners of creation
Comes the Father’s holy breath
Ridin’ on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness

And like a mighty wind blows with a force I cannot see
I will open wide my wings, I will open wide my wings
I will open wide my wings and let the Spirit carry me
From the corners of creation
Comes the Father’s holy breath
Ridin’ on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness

Copyright Clumsy Fly Music (ASCAP)

New stuff weekend

This has been a good weekend. Great sermon tonight, if I say so myself (and I do). Can't post it because it was for the evening service, and I rarely even have good notes. But it was good. Really good.
I learned a new crafty this weekend: making perfect-bound journals using photos as the covers. Found the tutorial here and just wanted to give it a try. I really like how it's coming out (not quite done yet) and I think I've found my mother's day gifts for my mom and the Exceptional One's mother.
I finally got what I think are going to be pretty good pictures of the Carrot Island ponies. There was a small herd grazing and frisking about, and I for once had the good camera with the good lens and some relatively fresh film. Hope to get 'em printed this week. Anything particularly good (or frankly, only okay), will likely make it to my Etsy shop. Not that I expect them to sell, but there's something about having it that makes me want to do more. And I've been pretty happy the last 10 days or so, having taken pictures, sewn a nifty project, and now made a little book, and will likely make more.
And I got a chance to hang out with Wyldth1ng this weekend, too. He lives not too far from here, and came to Beaufort for the afternoon. We hung out, ate seafood, and talked all afternoon--fun stuff.
Yep, all in all a good weekend. I even did chores in the morning before Ben got up. That's me--I'm just good that way. :)

Ancient/Modern/Postmodern Friday Five

From Singing Owl:

Yesterday I had two separate conversations in which people were musing about how much change is occurring. The WW II generation, of which my mom is a part, went from horse and buggy to automobiles, saw the lessening, or even the end of many diseases, went from widespread use of kerosene lamps and outhouses (in the country, and most folks were rural)) to a totally electrified and plumbed society. The fastest means of communication was a telegraph. The second conversation--gulp--was about MY generation and how much change occurred in the last half of the 20th century. The person said his 13 year old had not seen a vinyl record album until a few days before, couldn't remember a time without cell phones, and on and on.

As for the questions!

1. What modern convenience/invention could you absolutely, positively not live
without?

The computer, of course! I started blogging as an experiment, and now I’d addicted. Plus there are video chats with the Exceptional One in my future. But I say that knowing that I take air-conditioning for granted, and I’d give up (gulp) the computer/internet not to be so hot all the time.

2. What modern convenience/invention do you wish had never seen the light of day?

Junk mail of every variety. If it’s not wasting paper, it’s wasting memory and computer time and space on my answering machine. And let’s not talk about the energy and people-time wasted…

Why?

Or maybe we will talk about it. Waste, waste, waste, and more waste.

3. Do you own a music-playing device older than a CD player? More than one? If
so, do you use it (them)?

I have an MP3 player that I don’t use, but I play most of my music on the computer. Windows Media Player—I’m behind the curve here.
(It would be a better answer if I had read "older" instead of "other"...my bad. There's a tape deck in my car. I occasionally use it for books on tape when I'm driving.)

4. Do you find the rapid change in our world exciting, scary, a mix...or something
else?

I do find it exciting, even though I’m what you might call a slow adopter.

5. What did our forebears have that we have lost and you'd like to regain? Bonus
points if you have a suggestion of how to begin that process.

A slower way of life. Because we have cheap electricity, we can stay up later and keep ourselves busier. Studies show that using computers and other electronic devices before bedtime makes it more difficult to sleep, and then we’re tried and crabby all day. At least I am. So my suggestion would be that we learn to follow the sun a bit more, to go to bed at a reasonable hour, and de-tech and de-stress a little. And I should be the first to learn…

What a good day it's been!

I have been crafty today. Very crafty. I've learned a new skill, ribbon weaving, which I really like and which will come up again, no doubt. I've got plans for a wall-hanging that I want to work on. And I dragged the sewing machine out, and it seems not to be holding a grudge for ignoring it for the past several years. Yep, I have sewed and I have ironed and I have cursed the project I was working on (only mildly; we mostly got on very well). All in all, a successful and creative day.
Oh, and I made a banner for my Etsy store from a photo I took last year near Cape Hatteras. All in all a very good day, satisfying somewhat and definitely whetting my creative urges. Yay me!
What? You want to know what I made?
It's a secret, just for a week or so.
I'll post a photo here next week.
Promise!

Sunday's Sermon: With My Own Eyes

Yay! It's post #300. Oddly appropriate that it would be a sermon.
John 20: 19-31

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

 
Today I’m asking you to do something a little bit different. It’ll be fun, I promise. I’m asking you to go back in time with me, back to Easter, but not Easter 2008. Let’s go back farther, to the days after that first Easter. Jesus’ disciples heard strange news from Mary that she had seen Jesus, and they were afraid. In that first week after the resurrection, they had not one but two encounters with the risen Christ. Thomas’ story is perhaps the most interesting from these days, so I invite you to hear it from him, as if he were speaking to us today.
I wasn’t there, but my friends told me all about it. It was the strangest story I’d ever heard, and I didn’t really believe it. Who would? Jesus had said some strange things about the Temple, the presence of God, being destroyed and rebuilt in 3 days, but none of us understood that. All it did was make the Pharisees mad, and give them something else to use against him.
Anyway, it was Sunday afternoon, the first Sunday after the Passover. Jesus had been tried and killed just 3 days before, on Friday. Saturday was the Sabbath, and we all stayed in and prayed that God would show us what to do, since the Master had died and left us. Early Sunday morning, some of the women went to the tomb—and they came back to us with this insane story about the tomb being opened and seeing Jesus alive again. We were, well, skeptical, to put it mildly. And we were scared. If the tomb was empty, someone might have stolen his body. Even worse, someone might accuse us of stealing Jesus’ body to fake his resurrection—and that could only lead to trials and death for us, too.
We were all scared of what the Jewish authorities might do. After all, they had already managed to have Jesus killed, and we knew that any one of us might be next. My friends, the disciples, had all gone back to the house where we ate the Passover with Jesus, where he said those strange words about the bread and wine being his body and blood. They all went back to that upper room, and locked the door. We were terrified that someone might tell where they were hidden, and that we might be the next to be crucified. Everyone had gone there to talk about what to do next—whether we should leave Israel altogether, or go to the Temple and ask the priests for advice. No one knew what Jesus really wanted us to do next, and we were all in shock.
Jesus had told us more than once that he would die, that he would be killed for who he was. We knew that, I guess, but we never thought it would actually happen. We didn’t really believe it. We couldn’t imagine that anyone who could do the miracles Jesus did could be tried, and sentenced, and executed like that. We thought God himself would save Jesus—maybe Jesus would step down off the cross, maybe the Holy Spirit would come like an eagle instead of a dove, and drive off Jesus’ accusers. But we were wrong, and Jesus was right, as usual.
So even though he had told us what he wanted us to do—to go out and make more disciples, and tell everyone about how God would forgive anyone’s sins, if they asked in repentance—we were all afraid to do it. After all, it was the miracles and saying he knew God better than the priests and rabbis and scribes that got Jesus killed in the first place. To go out and teach like he did—to heal people and perform the miracles that he did—well, that was just a little more than we were ready to think about yet. Instead we hid, and waited, and talked, and tried to absorb the shock of Jesus’ death.
Everyone, the Twelve (or maybe I should say the Ten, because Judas was gone, and I wasn’t there), along with some of our friends, were hiding out. The door was locked tight, and the shades were drawn on the windows, and they thought they were safe. They huddled together and wept and talked and marveled, because we had all heard from Mary that she had seen Jesus outside the tomb that morning. No one really knew what to think…and then the most incredible thing happened. When I tell you about it, you’ll understand why I didn’t believe it right away.
Jesus came in to that upper room. Three days dead, open wounds and all—he walked right into the room, through the door! Through the door! We had all been terrified before, because we thought someone might break it down, but no one ever thought about anyone walking through it. It’s not surprising that the first thing Jesus said was, “Peace to you.” I don’t guess there was much peace. Can you imagine? This…this ghost…walked through a door and spoke to them. It’s a wonder they didn’t break the door down themselves trying to get out. And they must have wondered, “Is it really you, Lord?”
He showed them the wound on his hands and his feet and his head and his side. They saw the blood and the scars and then they recognized him—after they saw him with their own eyes. And Jesus did the most incredible thing: he breathed the Holy Spirit into each of them. Each one received the breath of life from Jesus, and he said, “If you forgive someone’s sins, they are gone for good. If you don’t forgive sins, what are you going to do with them?” And before they had a chance to say anything, Jesus was gone.
Well, you know I heard all of this second-hand. I wasn’t there when Jesus came, but all my friends made sure I knew about it. To be honest, I didn’t really believe them. It was such a crazy story. We all know there’s no such thing as ghosts, and if Jesus really had been resurrected in the body, he wouldn’t have been able to walk through the door. Their story had some real holes in it, and I just knew they had made it up or had a hallucination or something. So I told them straight out: “I don’t believe you. And unless I can see the wounds for myself, and put my finger in the nail holes, I won’t believe that you saw Jesus.” I’m no one’s fool. And they just wouldn’t stop talking about it—“Risen” this and “Resurrected” that and “I wonder when we’ll see him next.” I just knew they’d lost their minds—or were playing a really dirty trick on me.
The next week, though, something amazing happened—and this time, I was there! We were back in the upper room, still trying to come up with some kind of plan. We were still worried about being lynched or stoned or something, still had the door and the windows barricaded, when he walked in—I saw it with my own eyes! Jesus walked right through the locked door and into the room with us. And this time I was the one who thought, “Is it really you, Jesus?”
And then he spoke to us—I heard it with my own ears! He said, “Peace to you,” just like he had said before. And boy, did we need a little peace just then. I was stunned. Here I had said it couldn’t happen the way they said, but there Jesus was—standing right in front of us!
Everyone just stood there in awe, but Jesus turned and looked straight at me. “Take a good look, Thomas. I’m no ghost. Examine the nail holes. Stick your hand into my wound. Look. Touch. Believe.”
I knew he was no ghost. He was the resurrected Messiah, standing there in front of me, in the flesh. I know, because I looked at the holes in his hands, and I touched the torn muscle and flesh at his side. And despite what common sense or anything else I knew in my head would tell me, I believed that this was Jesus, risen victorious from the grave. The Messiah lived! We weren’t alone! And so I looked at him, and I said, “My master! My God!”
Now we get to the part people never quite seem to understand. So many people think that Jesus was speaking directly to me, rebuking me, when he said, “You believe because you have seen with your own eyes. Even better blessings are in store for those who believe without seeing.” I hear it all the time—you call me “Doubting Thomas” and question my faith. But I’m not the only one who asked, “Is it really you, Jesus?” We had all seen him, and had all heard him speak. Each of us in that little, locked-up room had seen Jesus, and believed in him because of the evidence of our eyes. That’s how we knew him before he died—because each of us, from Peter to John, had seen Jesus preach and teach and work miracles. That’s how we knew him to be the Son of God—by what we saw him do.
Jesus didn’t mean that blessing for my friends, who had seen Jesus alive, wounds and all, on that first Easter Sunday and believed once they had seen him. Jesus meant that blessing for all of you—for all Christians everywhere who believe in Jesus even though they don’t have the benefit we did of walking with him, eating meals with him, and talking and listening to him. Yours is the truer faith—a faith that believes what it has not seen, but only hoped for. Yours is the faith Jesus spoke of, that believes in him without examining the scars, without touching the wounds.
Nearly two thousand years ago, Jesus came into that upper room to encourage us. We were frightened, cowardly, really. We knew that Jesus wanted us to go out and teach and bring others to faith in Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God. But we were too afraid. He had told us he’d die, and we had seen it with our own eyes. He told us we’d be persecuted—and we didn’t want to see that, or to believe it. It was like that day Peter stepped out of the boat and took a few steps on the water. He stepped out in faith, and he walked on the water, just like Jesus. Then he realized what he was doing, and how strange it was, and he fell in. Jesus told him that he had “little faith.”
Up in that upper room we all had “little faith.” None of us could quite convince ourselves to take that step out in faith, to face our persecutors and do what Jesus had commanded—not until the Sunday a whole week after Easter and the resurrection. On that day, our “little faith” was strengthened by the Master, and we were renewed. We received the Holy Spirit, and we had the courage to leave that upper room and go out into the world, into a world that was suddenly different, because Jesus was alive again. In the days and years after that first Easter, we made disciples whose faith was even stronger than ours was—because they believed in Jesus even though they had never seen him like we did. They believed, just like you do today, even though they never sat on a hillside with us and listened to him tell stories about bird and seeds, farmers and widows and lost sheep.
Blessed are you, my friends, because you believe what you have not seen. Your faith is great—so is the God we all serve. He promised us eternal life, and then went on ahead to make sure everything was ready. He promised not to leave us alone, and then he left us the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Breath of Life, who lives in us, so that we would never be without God. He promised us peace—and then he gave us peace that in unshakeable in our hearts. And he promised us work: a world full of people who had spiritual and physical needs that he, through we who are called by his name, could meet.
Jesus was my friend. We walked together, talked together, sat out under the stars and prayed together. He showed me things I’d never seen before: blind men receiving sight, lepers being healed of their disease, mercy and compassion to those who are humble and repentant. Jesus and I were close, and because of that closeness, I believed in him. After all, three years of listening to the wonderful things he had to say and watching the wonders he worked around us was pretty convincing. It was easy to believe.
But for all of you, faith is a much greater gift. In this age of technology and science, your faith conquers the restrictions of the world. Instead of saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you have chosen to believe what you can’t see, to embrace the mystery of what is too great for us to understand and to far outside our understanding for us to prove. And because you have, you are heirs to the same gifts and promises he made to us, all those words you read in the Bible—they were made for you, too.
You will never be alone, because you have the Holy Spirit within you. You will walk in the strength of God, who bears our burdens and never abandons us. You have the love of God in your hearts, so that you may share it with others and be richly blessed yourselves. You have the promise of new life in Heaven, where you will be with Jesus for eternity. You have God’s mission set for you: to offer healing, help, and relationship to a world in need.
You see, you have the same commitment we did too—the same “marching orders” to go and make disciples, to teach others about the wondrous love of God through Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. You have the same blessing we did, of being able to tell people about who Jesus was, and what he did, and how much he loves us. And you get to help people meet the same Holy Spirit that Jesus breathed into me, and into my friends, and into you, and know that you can share in the Kingdom of heaven and make it real here and now.
Almost two thousand years ago, a small and very frightened group of people huddled in a little upstairs room, shut in tight against a world they feared. Then the room was filled with the presence of God, revealed in Jesus Christ, the risen Savior. We had no choice but to believe—we had faith in what we saw with our own eyes. And it wasn’t “little faith” any more. But as great as our faith was, the Twelve of us who lived and worked and walked and talked with Jesus, your faith is even greater. We saw signs and miracles all around; you have learned to trust the voice of God in your heart.
And this is the promise God makes, the promise I myself heard from the mouth of the Son of God. Believe in it, believe in him, even though you cannot see him like I did: Blessed are you, because your faith is great, even great than ours. Blessed are you, because you have looked beyond the evidence of your eyes, the proof offered by science, into the mystery of God’s great love. Blessed are you, because you have believed what you have not seen.

I have done a thing...

I've been gradually feeling an increasing pull to spend more time feeding? training? indulging? my creative side. If you've been reading, you've noticed before now, and probably before I did.
So here's the plan: I am going to quit making excuses for why I don't have time to take care of myself. I've made great strides getting my health under control, and meeting my body's needs for proper nutrition. I've taken care of my back, which has been a major project. I've cultivated friendships that have made a tremendous difference in my life. I've gone back to school, which I generally love, although the present class is not what I would have chosen. And all of these things have fed some need in me, physically, spiritually, emotionally, whatever.
But what I haven't fed is my need to make creative things. I've always dabbled at a lot of different things: crocheting, a little sewing, occasional painting (abstract, of course, realism's too hard), scrapbooking, photography, and of course we all already know about the bad poetry. I got a little ego bump last year when Relevant online published an article I wrote, and when it was reprinted by another denomination in their print magazine, and I will continue writing. But I need to make things with my hands. I always have. And so I'm going to start making time to do that.
So tonight I took a big step. I opened an Etsy shop, and there's already a few photos listed. I'm not saying they're even all that good, but they're mine. And I've got a collage or two already coming together in my mind, and a little sewing project to work on this weekend. This is good for me. I don't care if I never sell anything (although I'd be thrilled if I did), but I need the outlet, and I need a way to share it, and maybe, just maybe, I'll do something someone likes and at least subsidize my habit.
Wanna see? There's a link in the sidebar.
No pressure, though. It's just something I need to do. We'll see how it turns out.

Journaling/Scrapbooking exercise

So here's an exercise for sparking creativity (scrapbooking, specifically, but I don't see why it couldn't apply to other stuff):

"What is the focus of your energy? When you are being a mother, is it all about nurturing? Or teaching? Or learning? Or feeling connected emotionally? All of these, perhaps, but if you look closely, you will find one thread that connects the important elements in your life. Why do you have the friends you have? Why do you nurture the relationships in your life? Why do you go or not go to a place of worship? Why do you have your particular hobbies and interests?"

Not being a mother, part of me just wants to tune out. But that's me. Here are the formal questions:

1) What motivates you?

Who knows? I tend to be driven. The conference buzzword is excellence, but I prefer integrity or authenticity. I want to be wholly me. Going back to school is part of this; I want to write (something besides this blog and newsletter articles). I have too many hobbies; I want to focus and be really good at something. And I need some external affirmation. I'm not (quite) cocky enough to believe my own press.

2) What sustains you?

Relationships, of all kinds. Snorgle time with the WonderMutt, phone calls from Jamie the Exceptional and her parents, quiet time with Ben, playing with "the girls" who are so faithful in Bible study and the evening service. IMing with Tonya. Popping in and out of Eric's office with "just one more thing." And the true quiet time, when it's just me and God and the wind and the waves and the sand.

3) What would an observer of your life say matters the most to you?

I hope my faith and my family. I love people and want to take care of them, and I'm passionate about helping people find a faith in God that is welcoming, loving, and healing, as well as challenging us to look outside ourselves for opportunites to love, serve, and grow.

4) How do you find your truest self in the concept of your relationships?

When we connect emotionally/spiritually: when I have finally managed to let the Holy Spirit say through me the thing that helps them see the love and calling of God in their lives. And when we can laugh or cry together. When we can be vulnerable together: when I am needed, or in need. There's so much of interdependence in what I do and how I live.

5) What word stands out from what you've already written? Circle it.

Love. Relationship.

6) Stop and think about your word for a minute. How do you live it out? How does it show up for you?

Bringing candy to Bible study. Holding someone's hand in the hospital. Letting an older gentleman kiss me on the cheek. Being the one people vent to. Having long "philosophical" talks in the coffee shop. Saying "hi" while walking the dog on the waterfront.

7) How do other people experience this aspect of you?

This is a hard one. I don't know. I give them candy? I work hard to be the one people can call with a problem or stop by and invite to lunch. Sometimes things are so busy that I worry I can't be there for people the way I want to, but then the other work is important too. I hope people who know me know that I love them and love God and am trying my best to do both at the same time, along with caring for myself (the part that slips through the cracks sometimes).

8) Now choose a picture that conveys that word.

24 Hour Friday Five

Rev HRod offers:

Yesterday I had the 24 hour flu. I had been told by the people who had it first that it really was a twenty-four hour bug. And so while I dealt with all the blech of the flu, I kept reminding myself that morning would come and I would feel a lot better.
This is certainly a strange way to start out a Friday Five but it made me think about what I might like to do if I knew it would only last for 24 hours. There are no reality boundaries to these imaginings. So here are the five things for you to consider...

If you could dramatically change your physical appearance for 24 hours, what would you do?

I think I'd want two shots at it. Just once, I'd like to look like I'd look if all my parts worked (no PCOS, no arthritis, no asthma, etc.). Plus, I think it would be interesting to be able to go "undercover" in another culture. Make me Peruvian for a day and let me hang out in Lima. Make me Sudanese for a day, and I'll come back with renewed passion for mission. Something like that.

If you could live in another place for 24 hours where would you go?

Sort of the same as my answer to the last question. Either I'd want to do something fun like live on my own Caribbean island (with staff, of course), or use the time tp really learn something about someplace else. South Africa kind of intrigues me, too.

You get to do somebody else's job for a day...

In my life BPM (before pastoral ministry), I had a split personality. I spoke fluent Spanish (alas, no more) and was a science nerd. I'd want to be a marine scientist studying the ecology of coastal communities. Maybe in South America, just for fun.

Spend the day with another person from anywhere in time and space...

This one's a toughie. Lazarus Long comes to mind but I'd fear for my virtue (bonus points to anyone who knows who this is--don't read the comments, that's cheating). Plus he's a figment of someone's imagination. Maybe Jacques Cousteau in the Amazon....

A magical power is yours. Which one would you pick?

I want a Time Turner like Hermione's. There's just not enough time in the day, and every now and then I need a do-over. (That's a Harry Potter reference. No bonus points :) )

Update: points to Mrs. M!

Is it real or is it virtual?

I have blogged here before a bit about the dog-blog I read, The Best Dog Ever. Not only have I enjoyed reading updates in Cub's life, I've talked with Cub's thumbhaver, a couple of times about work & school-related stuff.
Today I'm sitting at my desk in tears. Cub is gone, victim of liver disease that she and her family had fought for some time.
Yes, I'm crying, for a dog I never actually met, in the sense of being able to scritch behind her ears and offer a treat. But many of us got to know Cub, prayed through her illness, and laughed at stories about her short life. And so I grieve too.
My grief can't compare to Amy and her husband's, and I don't intend it to. But I'm not being silly; this is genuine grief, for a friend who has lost a close friend. (Anyone who doesn't think our pets become our friends probably doesn't have pets, and in my not-so-humble opinion, are the poorer for it.)
So today my prayers are for grace and peace for Cub's family, whose loss is real. And marveling, in a quiet way, that mine is too, as is the blogosphere's. I'll miss checking her blog every day to see what's new, and that's a revelation. Some people think that these relationships we form online aren't real, that reading someone's blog and offering the occasional comment isn't enough to make a real connection between us. But I would differ; I think sometimes we open our hearts enough, and share enough, that we are forming real, albeit unconventional, friendships here. And I have lost a friend.

Daffodil poetry party

Yep, it's time again. Christine at Abbey of the Arts has posted another poetry party.



Daffodil, daffodil,
silly girl in lace and frills
waiting for Spring's party
Is there no thought in your head?
It cannot be as empty as you seem...

Narcissus they name you,
Tell stories of his great vanity
and hours--days--months--life
wasted staring at his own beauty
and resurrected as a flower

Daffodil, daffodil
little dancing girl clothed with Spring's bright hues
You speak to us not only of fleeting beauty
but of rebirth and new life and of a promise:
For every Winter, there is Spring

The Mother of (Re)invention

Over the last several years, I have had a number of email conversations with a couple of former boyfriends in which I explained a number of truths that I think perhaps did not sit well.

-I am not who I was in high school and college. Generally speaking, this is a good thing as I was a confused and emotionally kind of messed up person. I'm better now. Yes, there's a back story, and it's a pretty juicy one. But it's not blog fodder.
-I do not have conversations with my friends to which my husband is not privy. Well, maybe if I were planning a surprise party or a really great gift. There are confidential church things that I don't tell him, but everything else is fair game. Mostly he doesn't want to know, which is great, and he's not the least bit controlling or intrusive. I have all the privacy I want--but I don't keep secrets from him either. And he doesn't often (ever) ask, but I don't keep my email secret from him. If he ever wanted to read it, I'd let him.
-I am not particularly nostalgic for the past, at least not my childhood and young adulthood. I don't maintain any friendships from before college, and I really only regularly keep up with one person (Tonya, the aforementioned BFF), apart from family. And I'm happy that way. I use Facebook to touch base with some people from college, and that's fun, but I am content to keep things very light and frivolous.
-I am not interested in any ongoing relationship, via email or any other means, which Ben is not comfortable with. I turned down a phone conversation with a former friend whom I had considered as close as a brother (before we dated, not a good thing) who wanted to talk to me about some trouble in his life, because Ben didn't want me to do it. This is okay with me. We could have continued to converse via email but I never heard from him again. Part of me regrets that. Part of me suspects that my insistence on maintaining the integrity of my marriage didn't sit well. So be it.
-I don't want to be a part of conversations someone else is keeping from their spouse, except in certain narrowly defined and otherwise confidential work-type situations. I once asked, "does your wife know you're in touch with me?" No reply. Ever. This would seem to suggest my suspicions had some justification.

So what's the point?
After years of keeping my online presence very small, in the last year and a half I have put myself out there. At one point I was authoring or co-authoring five blogs. I've cut back now. And I'm happy being out in cyberspace, to some extent. But it's my own little world, and I make the rules. I moderate all my blog comments to avoid spam. Yes, I IM, but only with a couple of people, and that's the way I like it. I only "friend" people I know and want to be in touch with on Facebook; I'm not out to have the biggest network, I just want to keep in contact with a few people. And this week I have ignored 3 friend requests. A couple were from people I don't know, with whom I have a friend in common or shared interest. And one was from one of those ex-boyfriends.
I didn't turn him down to be rude, or because I'm bitter, or because I hate him. I'm not, and I don't. I turned him down because he doesn't know me anymore. I'm not who I once was. God and I have reinvented me, and I like who I am now much better. And I don't much want to spend time with someone who doesn't know who I am. Truth be told, I don't know him anymore either. He's married, and has a whole different life than what he thought he'd have when we were younger. So have I, and that's okay with me.
If necessity is the mother of invention, maybe growing up is the mother of reinvention. I don't know. All I know is I like who I am now, which more than I could say then. And I plan to keep it that way.

Moving, moving, moving Friday Five

No, I'm not...Mother Laura is. She writes:

We are right in the middle of a move--only twenty minutes away, but we're still a mix of busy, excited, nervous and surprisingly full of grief about what we're leaving, for me at least. So this week's Friday Five asks about your experience of the marvels and madness of moving...

1. How many times have you moved? When was the last time?

As a pastor, I'm in my 4th appointment. Prior to that I moved every two years or so until jr. high school. I did live in the same house for all the way through high school. I think that's the longest I've ever lived anywhere.

2. What do you love and hate about moving?

Packing and unpacking. There's something very liberating about throwing stuff out, but it's depressing to see how it accumulates between moves. I'm having to learn to be brutal about books. Hate it.

3. Do you do it yourself or hire movers?

Prefer to hire movers to do the actual moving, but I always pack up myself. I don't want to have to be angry at anyone else for accidents, and also it lets me purge and also pack in ways they wouldn't: I wrap the crystal in blankets and pad the lamp for my bedroom with pillows. I always have 3 boxes and a suitcase that go with me: 1 box each kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom, and clothes for a few days. My second move as a pastor, the movers decided that they couldn't load and unload in the same day, and so we had to wait for the truck...I learned from that move!

4. Advice for surviving and thriving during a move?

Give the dog Valium. Consider taking some myself (j/k, I think). Have the invisible fence installed professionally before I get there so the WonderMutt can be outside while all the action is inside. Sequester the cat. Pack wisely, and load the necessities in my own car. Including the important 4th box I forgot about: pet bowls, food, beds, and cat box. Remember that we can only do as much as we can do, and there's a chance some emergency will radically change our plans.
Learned that one in the first move, when someone died about the time we got the truck unloaded. No unpacking. Working. Also when I learned to include dress clothes in the suitcase.

5. Are you in the middle of any inner moves, if not outer ones?

I am not having an outer move this year (so says the DS, and I believe him. No one wants me to move, especially me!) but I am having an inner move. Shifting back towards exercising creativity in tangible ways. So I write bad poetry now and then for the Poetry Party, and blog, and I'm think seriously about scrapbooking and collages and also maybe going back to sewing. I only sew straight lines, but I enjoyed making handbags and totes for a while, and I'd like to try my hand at banners again. Where I'll find the time, I don't know, but when class is out this summer, I want to do some 'me' things that aren't school related. Oh yeah, and write. Ben and I are planning to work on a Bible study based on To Kill a Mockingbird. Perhaps during the summer creativity fest I can squeeze that in.

Bonus: Share a piece of music/poetry/film/book that expresses something about what moving means to you.

In a pretty silly way, There's a Monster at the End of This Book. It's been a favorite forever, and speaks to me both of my own occasional monstrousness (I do have a temper) and also about fear of the unknown. No matter how much I anticipate a move, there's always a great deal of fear. In a lot of ways, I feel like all those times I went to a new school: will they like me? will I fit in? will my clothes/hair/accent/whatever be right? how long until I figure out how things are done here? This is usually when I have the good old anxiety dreams, too: time to take a final for a class I forgot to drop, being in school naked (hate that one), oversleeping and missing church on Sunday...

Preblogging bonus sermon

This week's Emmaus text has prompted me to drag this out from the archives:
"In the Breaking of Bread"
Background:

Luke’s gospel was written toward the end of the first century. By that time, there were very few, if any, Christians remaining who had seen Jesus in the flesh. Instead, there were stories, and letters, and a few copies of the gospels, to teach the church what it means to be Christian.
Luke tells the stories of Jesus in a deliberate way so that in the telling, Christ is revealed to those who have not seen him. This happens in today’s passage in 3 ways:
• Telling the story and then, within the story,
 Interpretation of Scripture
 The breaking of bread
Today’s passage takes place on the “third” day after Jesus’ crucifixion, that Sunday afternoon when the 11 are in hiding, and other disciples, who have not heard anything but that the tomb was empty, have left Jerusalem, dejected.

“In the Breaking of Bread”

My husband likes to wonder about strange things. He asks questions like, “If you could have dinner with any 5 people (living or dead), who would you invite and what would you talk about? If you could ask any one person any 3 questions and know they’d answer you truthfully, who would you want to talk to and what would you ask?” And my personal (least) favorite: “if you could eat only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?” I don’t think the way Ben does; I don’t wonder about these things often, and I don’t like to be put on the spot by them. And I don’t want to choose between cheese, chocolate and potatoes.
Ben, on the other hand, loves this little game. His answers tend to be kind of predictable. However many people his question involves, one is always Jesus. The question is usually about Einstein’s theory of relativity, and when it comes to food, his answer is always the same: pork chops. This is always followed by the same observation: “you know, I think it’s a shame Jesus never ate a pork chop. You reckon there will be pork chops in heaven?”...I expect there will be in Ben’s heaven, anyway. Mine better have chocolate… and cheese, and potatoes.
This week, we all have a big meal planned, where hopefully we will get to spend time with people we like and have some of our favorite things to eat. I mentioned a few weeks ago that my brother-in-law is a vegetarian, which has added a few items to our Thanksgiving table: we have our own old standbys: turkey, gravy, dressing, mashed potatoes with cheddar on top (my favorite), sweet potatoes with marshmallows, butter beans, corn, green bean casserole; and now we’ve added a few extra dishes: the infamous tofu turkey…the “Tofurkey” brand (hey, he likes it), vegetarian gravy and dressing, and macaroni and cheese.
Having Bryan at our table has changed our menu quite a bit. Before he and Emily got married, he ate Thanksgiving dinner with his family and then came to “hang out” with us. I noticed that he never ate much but I wrote it off to having already had a big meal…but that was before I really got to know Bryan. As I got to know him, over Thanksgiving and Christmas meals, in restaurants and at family weddings, I realized that there’s a lot of food we eat that Bryan can’t eat…dressing is made with chicken broth, gravy is made from meat, and the turkey is, well, turkey. So because we want to be hospitable to Bryan and reassure him that he’s a full-fledged part of our family, we make sure that Bryan’s always got something he really likes to eat, while we’re eating our own favorite foods.
Over the years, at all these family gatherings which are defined by food, I learned a lot more about Bryan than I could have any other way. I learned that he is so quiet and gentle that he would go hungry rather than tell us that he couldn’t eat what we were having. I learned that he really likes cheese (so we have that in common). And I’ve learned that he really loves my sister. As we’ve broken bread as a family, and included one another, we’ve grown to know and like each other more and more.
Each year at this time, as we give thanks for our many blessings, we truly are reminded how thankful we are to be a family, to know one another, and of course this year, we’ve got my niece Jamie to be thankful for, too. I can’t wait to get to know her over these special meals: will she eat tons of black olives, like her mom and I do? Will she like the mashed potatoes or the green bean casserole better? How will her personality be revealed in our time together? Meal times are special times of sharing, in every family, and the big holidays give us the chance to celebrate our family time together over special meals.
The Bible is full of stories about people meeting and revealing themselves over a meal. Abraham and Sarah by the oaks of Mamre offered hospitality to 3 strangers with a ridiculous message, when they realized it was a message from God: this old couple would have a child on whom the nation of Israel would be founded. Jesus told story after story about food, and how God’s word and kingdom were revealed in that table fellowship: eating with tax collectors helps demonstrate that grace is available to the repentant sinner; eating grain on the Sabbath helps us see that Jesus is the Lord of the Sabbath; feeding 5000 men, plus women and children, with a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish shows that the kingdom of God is not characterized by scarcity but by generosity and abundance; prodigal children are welcomed home with feasts and celebration; and a piece of unleavened bread and a cup of wine become signs of crucifixion, resurrection, and eternal life.
In today’s story, Jesus appears to two disciples who have their minds on bad news. As far as Cleopas and the other disciple understand, Jesus, who they thought was the Messiah, died and was buried, and the tomb had been found empty that morning. There is some story about angelic messengers and a rumor that Jesus lives, but they are discouraged and hopeless and cannot envision how this might be. Without hope, they have left Jerusalem and are heading for home when they meet a stranger along the road, an apparently foolish stranger who doesn’t seem to know about all the fuss that’s taken place in Jerusalem since the Passover…but this stranger knows scripture, and speaks wisely and with authority about the prophets and the Messiah. When they all arrived in Emmaus, as good hospitable people, they invited him to share their meal and stay the night with them. It is then that the miracle occurs: their guest takes the role of host, blessing and breaking the bread, and revealing to the disciples in that moment who he is. Just as they recognized him, he vanished, leaving them to hurry back to Jerusalem and share the good news with their friends of how the risen Christ had been revealed to them in the breaking of the bread.
Have you ever noticed how Jesus used simple things to teach us: sheep, lost coins, mustard seeds, bread? In God’s Kingdom, the entrance exam is not the SATs; it’s a burning heart, strangely warmed with the knowledge that somehow, some kind of God-thing is happening…grace is having its way with us, and our life is being changed. The Kingdom of God is not seeking only people of Nobel Prize qualifications; instead, the qualification for God’s kingdom is being willing to have our eyes opened, to listen, to put ourselves in position to meet Christ and be changed, to be hospitable to the grace of God.
There’s that word again. Hospitable. Hospitality means something important in the Bible, and to the people of God. In the Law of Moses, the people of God were commanded to be hospitable to strangers, to make sure that the alien among them did not hunger, but had what he needed. Jesus in the story of the Good Samaritan taught that it doesn’t matter who we see in need…we are to treat them as a neighbor, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. And when we do that, the stories of scripture teach us, sometimes we are in fact entertaining angels unaware…or in the very presence of God, in the middle of our own blindness and need.
This Thanksgiving, we have an opportunity to sit at table and to be truly hospitable to one another. I’ll be the first to admit that that’s not always easy at my mother’s house. We have the one cousin who drives us all nuts, my mother and my aunt each have their own ways of doing things (and of course they’re both always right and never in agreement), Ben and I have to drive for hours to get there, and we’re always tired…but this year, and every year, and every meal, we find ourselves learning something new about our family, and extending that “family” circle further and further. Every year, and every meal, we wonder who is sitting at our table, and what will we learn about one another in the breaking of bread?
None of this revelation and learning is quite a divine surprise. As the stranger walks beside Cleopas and his companion, he explains the scripture about the prophets to them, laying the groundwork for when they will know him. As the prodigal son returns home, he practices his confession, hoping that his father will understand. Abraham and Sarah sought to serve the Lord with faithfulness, although they could not understand how God’s promises would come true. The crowds sit at Jesus’ feet to feed spiritually, and receive a physical blessing as well. There is preparation going on in each of these stories of Godhood revealed in table fellowship: hearts are burning, God is present, and all that remains is for the God-presence to be revealed, in the breaking of bread and in our hospitality.
As the hospitable people of God, we are called not just to long for God’s presence in our own lives, in our own revelations of Christ with us, but to make room for others to have the same opportunity. We are called to create welcoming spaces in our church and Sunday School, in our lives and homes and youth group and in every encounter with another person, from the guy next to you at the gas pump to the person sitting next to you this morning. As much as we want our own hunger to be fed, as much as we want to know Christ ourselves and to feel like a part of God’s kingdom, as much as we long for that acceptance ourselves, so much and more should we offer it to others. That means accepting those who are different from us and their differences, welcoming those people we’re not really comfortable with, and offering them grace until the way has been prepared for the divine surprise, and we can somehow find a way to “break bread” in their lives that leads to an awareness of Christ.
Hospitality means that we have a calling in Christ to make sure that no one goes hungry…hungry at the dinner table, hungry for kindness and acceptance, hungry for the presence of God in their lives. We have, as those who know Christ, the joy, privilege, and obligation to share God’s grace with others…which means we must prepare ourselves first, as Christians growing in maturity, so that we have something genuine, deep, and meaningful to share. When we have been faithful to God’s grace in our lives, when we have prayed and studied, and learned, and grown, then we can offer the hospitality of the Kingdom of God to others.
We can offer the hospitality of table…the gift of reaching out to meet others’ physical needs. To wander from Luke into another gospel, we have the story of the separation of sheep from goats at the judgment, when some will say, “Lord, when did we see you in need?” and the reply will come, “You did not do it for others; you did not do it for me.” This is what we sometimes call the missionary imperative: the drive to meet the needs of others out of an awareness of God’s goodness to us. This is what we do with Christmas Shoeboxes and special offerings and our conference apportionments…and what we should do with generous hands and a willing heart at every opportunity: feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, give shelter to the homeless, offer to the captive, sick, and lonely the presence of God in our own presence. Hospitality of table reveals the presence of God in healing and grace offered to others.
We can also meet the emotional needs of others. We all have a need to be loved, accepted and valued. As United Methodists, we affirm that all people are of sacred worth to God, even when they are not living as we think they ought to. Because we believe that all people are God’s people, and precious in God’s sight, we are called to show kindness and mercy and humility before God and to all people. There’s a great commercial for some company, maybe an insurance company?, that shows how God’s people should live: one person does something kind for another, who does something kind for another, who does something kind for another…you get the picture. In treating one another with kindness, we acknowledge God’s love for us all…and that hospitable act can open doors for God’s love to be revealed as we treat one another with the hospitality of fellowship.
Lastly, we can offer the hospitality of Spirit, meeting one another’s spiritual needs. We do this in big and small ways: in prayer, in what John Wesley called “Christian conversation”, in small groups and in worship and in missions…we are called to truly be the Body of Christ, embracing those who need to be a part of the kingdom of God…that is, everyone. Christ’s presence and love are a gift to be revealed in us, when we can communicate that gift without prejudice or contradiction. What do we have to offer someone who needs God’s love, when we can’t even look at them without judgment or speak to them kindly without condescension? In order for us to hospitably offer someone the gift of faith in Jesus Christ, we have to be people in whom Christ can be seen. I read a phrase somewhere that has stuck with me: the Body of Christ (that is, you and me) is the sacrament of the presence of God. Sacrament in this sense has 2 meanings: mystery, and an ordinary thing made holy by the presence of God. Mysteriously, by God’s power, it is in “ordinary” us that God is revealed to the world. Ultimately, we are the face of God most people see first, and we all know how important first impressions are. Hospitality of Spirit is a gift to be shared when we, ourselves, can embody the presence of Christ for others.
So what’s the point? Only this: as we come to the table at Thanksgiving, in the presence of our friends and family, let us remember that in us, in our hospitality to one another, in our every day and every conversation, we reveal ourselves to others. As we break bread together, let us be truly thankful for God’s presence in our lives. May we live as those in whom Christ can be seen, known, and revealed. May our lives show Christ in the breaking of bread.

Revelation Friday Five

From Sally:

With this Sunday's gospel reading in mind, that wonderful revelation of Christ to the companions on the Emmaus road. I wonder where you might have been surprised by God's revelation recently.

So with no further waffle I offer you this weeks Friday 5:

How has God revealed him/herself to you in a:

1. Book

I read so much that is frivolous, but Bread and Wine has been very influential for both me and my Tuesday morning Bible study. I can't name a single reading; there are so many. And there are the "usual suspects" that I read over and over again: Tolkein, the Narnia series, Madeleine L'Engle.

2.Film

"August Rush" and "The Martian Child" come to mind. I have a little John Cusack thing, but the willingness to love so deeply that you risk almost any hurt was beautiful to me. "August Rush" was a fantasy in sheep's clothing about the language of the universe, the music of the spheres.

3. Song

I've been having this ongoing conversation with my DMin group. There are many songs in which I hear a little God. "American Pie" would be Ben's pick. I was thinking about "Desperado" and "Promised Land" by a folk group called Patchwork.

4. Another person

Again, so many. There are some wonderful folks at church, including a group of ladies (widowed) that Eric and I call "the girls." They are endlessly faithful and loving. There are really too many to mention.
Isn't that a good "problem" to have!

5. Creation

I live on the tail end of the Outer Banks, basically, about 60 miles from Hatteras. As I write this, I am in a coffee shop (my Friday office), and I can look out the windows at Taylor's Creek and beyond it, Carrot Island. The island is home to a small herd of wild Banks ponies, including a colt that's maybe 6 months old. And pods of dolphins wander up the creek from time to time.

Bonus answer: your choice- share something encouraging/ amazing/ humbling that has happened to you recently!

I did another funeral. Two, actually, this is getting to be a bad habit, although at least I knew these two fairly. I assisted Eric at the first, and then on the second, I had the meditation. The woman who died was 2 days older than my mother, just a few years older than my stepmother, and although the meditation was easy to put together, it was really hard to preach. First, 3 family members had readings or spoke (one brilliantly), and they were all crying, which always makes it hard for me. And perhaps I've had enough of funerals for the time being. I stood up to speak, and I thought, "I'm not sure I can do this."
I did, and well, I think. This time someone said they really enjoyed it (surreal). And maybe it helped me deal with my grief a little.
Also, Bob just came by to ask me about the spirituality business. I told him I think people are maybe asking different questions, but still feel a longing to be connected to something bigger than themselves, and to feel loved. He said, "I hope so, because I talk to a whole lot of people who think they are the center of the universe, and I think it would be terrible if it all revolved around me."
Me too.

I made this!

I've done several rounds of flyers for the evening worship service--but this one was the easiest thus far. I'm pretty pleased:

I'm also very bloggy this week...perhaps that's because I'm creeping up on post #300...only 10 more to go (I think)!

Oh Happy Day

Today is the 1 year anniversary of my back injury.
It also marks a different milestone: I am far enough along in my recovery (I've had frequent flare-ups in the last year which have delayed me a bit) to begin to do some real core-strengthening and strength training, which will give me added support so that I am less likely to have further flare-ups. I have 2 bulging disks, so I'll always have trouble with my back; I did before this injury, too. But I can care for myself, get the exercise I need, and decrease the odds of being in the kind of pain I was in last year.
Yay me!