Do You Care?

I begin my day by reading historian Heather Cox Richardson's  newsletter, "Letters from an American." I confess I do this even before I make the bed and before I head to the garret for my morning devotion time. Often what I read in her daily commentary becomes the basis for my prayers.

What I read Sunday morning almost took my breath away. 

            Excerpts from a new book by

            former President 
            Barack Obama, due out next week, reveal 
            McConnell’s response to a plea from then-
            Vice President Biden to pass a worthwhile bill. 
            McConnell answered: “You must be under the 
            mistaken impression that I care.” 

McConnell, of course, refers to Senator Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY).

Let me repeat McConnell's words.

       "You must be under the mistaken impression that I care."

Take in those words. Close your eyes and hear them being said. The man saying them was elected by citizens to serve in the Senate. If you are from Kentucky, how does that sound to you? And in the rest of the country, how would you like it if the man or woman elected to serve the people in your state said he or she didn't care? 

I don't know what the bill was that McConnell was asked to consider, but I expect those who represent me in government positions TO CARE, no matter what the issue is or what position is taken. Care enough to consider, to study, to listen, to investigate, to look at all sides, to ponder, to think, to ask questions. And yes, to challenge. Care at least that much.

Part of my morning devotion time is reading Barbara Brown Taylor's new book, a collection of her sermons, Always A Guest, Speaking of Faith Far From Home. As always, I find her provocative and inspirational. She cares. Her text for a sermon called "How To Lose Your Life Everyday," was Romans 12:14-18.

            Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not

            curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep

            with those who weep. Live in harmony with one

            another; do not be haughty, but associate with the

            lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not

            repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what

            is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as

            it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

These verses are full of admonitions to care. Reread these verses, substituting the word "care" where it makes sense.

            Care for those who persecute you; care and do

            not curse them. Care for those who rejoice, care 

            for those who weep. Live in caring harmony 

            with one another; do not be haughty, but care 

            for the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you

            are. Do not repay evil for evil, but care about what

            is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far 

            as it depends on you, live peaceably with and

            care for all. 

Hear that, Mr. McConnell. 

Hear that, Nancy, for, of course, those words are for me. 

For each of us. 

How many times have you heard both before and after the election, "What can I do?" Well, we each have to come up with specific answers, and there are plenty out there, but the first step is to care. 

Just care. 

Right now one way--a big way--to show you care is to wear a mask. 

An Invitation

What are some ways you show you care? Where do you see evidence of caring? I would love to know. 

Kitchen Time: Tuesday's Reflection

Barbara Brown Taylor says in the introduction to her book An Altar in the World, A Geography of Faith, she hopes her readers will "recognize some of the altars in the world."

One of my altars is my kitchen. 

True, it is often a messy altar, because my kitchen is small, very small, but it is there where in the stirring, the mixing, the measuring, the cutting, and the chopping, I return to calm. I move away from myself and towards the tiny spark that is God within. I recognize my contemplative soul.

I have been in the kitchen frequently lately, which is often the case for me in the fall. Ah, the aroma of turkey chili simmering in the slow cooker, and the smell of apricot or applesauce bars or pumpkin bread pudding baking. Recently, we had friends for dinner, and I tried several new recipes to accompany a turkey breast: brussels sprouts with parmesan cream, sweet potatoes with pumpkin seed pesto, and a stuffing in which the main ingredients were pumpernickel bread, fresh spinach, and water chestnuts. During that two-day cooking marathon my kitchen did not resemble an altar, but eventually the dining room table did as we savored the taste and the conversation.

During the preparation I listened to favorite podcasts, usually ones discussing books, which meant my To Be Read list grew even longer, but I also listened to my inner conversation. What is taking space in my mind? My heart? I thought about a new friend who has initiated divorce proceedings, and I thought about a client who is beginning the retirement stage of her life, and about another one who is in deep stages of grief. I explored some ideas for the chapter I am revising for my spiritual memoir. I replayed some recent moments with loved ones. 

As I mixed another batch of pumpkin bread, I thought of the friend whose recipe I was following. We are no longer friends, and I miss her and the friendship the way it once was before it became unhealthy. I placed the tins of batter in the oven and sent her a blessing. 

I remembered a long ago neighbor, the mother of several young children, who said she didn't bake because "they just eat it." Clearly, kitchen time was not contemplative time for her, but sometimes I need to get away from my desk and making a mess with flour and sugar is more satisfying than messing with verbs and nouns. And cleaning up in the kitchen leads to as much contentment as a well-crafted paragraph.

Most of the time, the results of kitchen time taste good, and I feel pleasure in those moments of cozy and contemplative productivity. 

Kathleen Norris in a lecture she gave at Saint Mary's College, Notre Dame, Indiana in 1998, "The Quotidian Mysteries, Laundry, Liturgy and 'Women's Work,'" refers to the details in the book of Leviticus, "involving God in the minutiae of daily life--all the cooking and cleaning of a people's domestic life--might be revisioned as the very love of God. A God who cares so much as to desire to be present to us in everything we do."

Everything we do. Everything we create. Everything we serve. 

An Invitation
Where are the altars in your world? I would love to know. 

NOTE: My essay "The Comfort of Shawls," originally published in Bella Grace, issue 9, Sept/Oct/Nov 2016, has been reprinted in a new Bella Grace publication, The Cozy Issue. You can find this new publication on the newsstand beginning November 1. 

Tuesday's Post: Blessings

Our Granddaughter's School

Almost daily I drive past one or both of the schools our grandchildren attend and when I do, I say a blessing. 
      
May all who walk those halls be blessed.

I started offering this blessing in the fall when I drove past the school our granddaughter was attending. The halls were more chaotic than calm, and the challenges of actually conducting school seemed difficult at best. I worried for her safety and the safety of all who enter those doors, but I knew adding my anxious energy was not helpful. Instead, I decided to send a loving blessing, which is really a way of showing one's care. 

Our granddaughter has moved to another school, one that is a better match for her and is a place where the focus can be on learning. We are so grateful she has the luxurious opportunity to be there, and when I drive by her new school, I offer the same blessing. "May all who walk those halls be blessed," but I also continue to whisper the same blessing to her former school each time I pass.

I think blessings matter, and I am attempting to build a blessing habit in my life.

Early morning when I go up to my garret for meditation and devotion time, I hear a car in the alley, a neighbor heading to work, I presume, and I say a quick "blessings to you." About that same time I hear a bird, one I have not identified, but I think that bird is blessing me, and I offer one in return. "Blessings to you, too." If during the day I hear or see an ambulance or police car with sirens blaring, I put my hand on my heart, and say, "Blessed be you." I don't need to know what has happened, what the emergency is, but I want to extend my human caring, and I can do that in the form of a blessing.

Many years ago I sat in a MacDonalds writing or reading before heading to a meeting. A couple about my age sat across from me. They were having an intense, although quiet, conversation, and I could tell they were struggling with each other. I have no idea what the issue was, and I did not need to know, but I stopped my writing and reading. I put down my book and my pen and closing my eyes, I took a deep, long breath and inside my head and heart repeated, "May you be blessed. May you be blessed." I have often wondered how those two are and if they resolved the painful problems between them, but I also thank them for they introduced me to the spiritual practice of blessing those I don't know. I felt their humanity, wounded, but striving, and I felt connected to them and knew I could offer something they needed. A blessing. 

Barbara Brown Taylor in her An Altar in the World, A Geography of Faith says, "…a blessing does not confer holiness. The holiness is already there, embedded in the very giveness of the thing." p. 203. When you start offering blessings, you start noticing--blessings are a kind of mindfulness. 

One more story. We have been privileged over the years to be included in the celebration of Jewish holidays, and I hold in my heart the remembrance of our dear friend lighting the candles and reciting a blessing. 

           Baruch Atah, Adonai Elohenu, Melech Ha-Olam,
           Ha-Motzi Lehem Min Ha-Aretz.

           Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe,
           who brings forth bread from the earth.

I didn't know the Hebrew she was speaking, but I felt blessed in those moments, we were all closer to the Divine. 

An Invitation
When have you blessed? When have you offered blessings and who or what is waiting for your blessing? I would love to know. 

Thursday's Reflection: Always Time for Spiritual Practice.

One of my first tasks of the day is to open the shades in the entry and dining room, just as one of the last tasks of the day is to close the shades. If I am aware, that simple homey gesture becomes a time of prayer --morning and night time prayers, bookending the day.

       Thank you for a restful night's sleep 
       and for the grace
       of a new day. May I move through it
       in openness and with love and
      compassion.
                                             

       Thank you for the gift of the day now ending.  I am
       grateful for the many riches I have received today. 
       Forgive me for the ways I have been more closed than 
       open. May the rest I receive tonight lead me to be present 
       to the light that flows within and around me.  

It is possible for most anything we do to become a spiritual practice, especially "If you approach it in the right way--with intentionality, humility, receptivity, hope. And of course with an attentive eye on the activity of the divine." (The Sacred Year, Michael Yankoski, p. 12) http://www.michaelyankoski.com/#sthash.YQXNbcQ3.dpbs 

I can be intentional about being present to activities I enjoy and welcome doing, no matter how ordinary. For example, I enjoy most aspects of home tending, even cleaning bathrooms and kitchens.  I start dinner in the evening and as I chop and stir and simmer I can give thanks for this daily sustenance, and I pray for all those who go hungry. I can sweep the front steps and breathe in the glories of the sun or the crispness of the air. At the ironing board I can smooth the creases in my husband's shirts and be grateful for the love we share. I can put away the books and papers accumulated in my office over the days and feel such gratitude for the freedom I have to read and write for hours on end. I can and do pray my way through the day--as long as it goes smoothly, and I am doing something I enjoy doing.

What happens, however, when I am doing something that I don't enjoy doing? I don't like to vacuum or lug bags of groceries in from the car and then unpack them. I am not crazy about folding the laundry or changing the bed. I get frustrated when I am doing errands and I get stuck in traffic or when I am not able to find what I need in the grocery store. Viewing those times as an opportunity for spiritual practice usually doesn't occur to me. However, I know that by filling my life with intentional spiritual practices which simply put are "ways of seeing and being in the world that help us wake up and become fully, truly alive." (Fully Awake and Truly Alive, Spiritual Practices to Nurture Your Soul, Rev. Jane Vennard, p. xviii) http://www.sdiworld.org/resources/educational-videos/reverend-jane-e-vennard I am more likely to ground myself in light and love when hit with times of stress, fear, grief and loss. 

Father Thomas Keating who teaches the spiritual practice of centering prayer http://www.centeringprayer.com says, "The only way to judge your practice is by its long-range fruits: whether in daily life you enjoy greater peace, humility and charity." Who doesn't want to live a more loving and compassionate life? 

Examples of Spiritual Practices
When considering spiritual practices, most people think about reading the Bible or praying at certain times of the day. Or meditating. I write in my journal, and that is one of my main spiritual practices, but I also walk a labyrinth when I can and in the past one of my main spiritual practices was doing Tai Chi. Meeting with a spiritual director is a spiritual practice, as is going on retreats or a pilgrimage. 

But what about making music, baking bread, pulling weeds, cleaning your house, driving a parent to a doctor's appointment, volunteering at your grandchild's school, sitting with a friend who is recovering from surgery, attending a yoga class, reading or writing poetry, walking along the river every morning? 

Barbara Brown Taylor http://www.barbarabrowntaylor.com wrote a wonderful book called An Altar in the World, A Geography of Faith says, "No one's spiritual practice is exactly like anyone else's. Life meets each of us where we need to be met, leading us to the doors with our names on them." 

If what you do at any moment opens you to the fullness of life and fills your heart with love and compassion and gratitude and a new awareness of our own essence, you are in the midst of a spiritual practice. How exciting is that? 

Vennard writes about on-cushion and off-cushion practices, (p.  xx) using Buddhist language. On-cushion practices are the more structured and formal practices and in the Buddhist tradition that would be meditation time. Off-cushion practices are spontaneous and informal and can happen and be available to us at any time, for in any moment there is the opportunity to be mindful. I think, as does Vennard, that a combination of both off and on-cushion practices are necessary to live a fully awakened life, and one leads to the other which leads back to the other and so on. A wonderful circular  energy.  

Barbara Brown Taylor adds further illumination about on-cushion and off-cushion spiritual practices, although she doesn't use those words. She writes about practices of walking the earth, getting lost, encountering others, living with purpose, feeling pain, and other ways of living fully. This is what she says about living her life as a spiritual practice.

          My life depends on engaging the most ordinary physical
          activities with the most exquisite attention I can give
          them. My life depends on ignoring all touted distinctions
          between the secular and the sacred, the physical and the
          spiritual, the body and the soul. What is saving my life
          now is becoming more fully human, trusting that there
          is no way to God apart from real life in the real world. 
                                                                         p. xv 

Yes and Amen. 

An Invitation
What on-cushion spiritual practices are part of your life? What do you do in your ongoing day-to day existence that with greater focus and intention could become off-cushion practices? In what ways can you fill your life with spiritual practices? I would love to know. 
         

Tuesday's Reflection: Sacred Smiles

So many things have made me smile recently.
*  The Jane Austen bandaids the grands gave me for my birthday.
*  The acrobatic squirrels leaping from windowbox to windowbox outside of our sunporch windows.
*  Bruce bringing me a new coloring book, and grandson Peter and I coloring happily when he spent the night.
*  The cardinal who sits on the ledge of our front stoop.

*   Our collection of carnival chalkware figures who now "live" in high-up kitchen cupboards. I have friends in the kitchen!
*  Brightly colored striped socks--a get well gift from a friend.
*  A stash of mysteries delivered by another friend--perfect for this restless time. 






Finding the Sacred
With each smile I see a glimpse of the sacred. I feel connected to the divine. True, this flash of the divine is evident also when I am touched by someone's fresh pain, such as the young friend of my daughter's whose father died unexpectedly, or when I remind myself to breathe through my own impatience or disappointment or frustration. 

Opportunities for Divine Intervention are boundless. 

Barbara Brown Taylor says, "Earth is so thick with divine possibilities that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars." (as quoted in Writing to Waken the Soul by Karen Hering, p. 216. ) Or breaking an ankle, I might add!

At yesterday's appointment with my orthopedist I was told I am healing well enough to make the transition from walker to cane. Alleluia! I smiled when my husband emerged from the medical supply store with several choices of canes. I chose a very chic, quite exotic black and white animal print cane. My new best friend. It makes me smile, and I imagine it will make others smile as well.

Is is sacred? Divine? Maybe not, but right now it is a tool of spiritual practice as it helps me bear my own weight and move forward into further healing. It is a source of support and strength and new life. That sounds sacred to me--and it makes me smile.

One More Thing
One never knows where you will find truth and inspiration. I found it recently in a mystery I was reading, the second in the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear. The following passage was just the reminder I needed. Maybe it will resonate with you, too.

         "Tell me, Dr. Dene, if you were to name one thing that
      made the difference between those who get well quickly
      and those who don't, what would it be?…"
       "Well, if I were to name one thing, it would be accept-
      tance."
        "Acceptance? But doesn't that stop the injured or wounded
      from trying to get better?"
        "…Some people don't accept what has happened. They 
      think, 'Oh, if only I hadn't walked up that street when I did,'
      or ….'If only I'd known the ground was that wet and that Fred,
      or whatever his name was, had left his tools in the way.' 
      They are stuck at the point of the event that caused the 
      injury."
        "So what's the answer?"
         "…I would say that it's threefold: One is accepting what
       has happened. Three is having a picture, an idea of what
       they will do when they are better, or improved. Then in the
       middle, number two is a path to follow." 
                                                   Birds of a Feather, pp 220-221

My current path to follow is finding the sacred exactly where I am and using my cane to take me there.
                                                   
An Invitation
What has made you smile recently? Where have you glimpsed the sacred, the Divine? I would love to know.