Sitting With Mary: Thursday's Reflection

I continue to journey with Mary.

Part of my meditation time these Advent mornings is to page through the book Holiness and the Feminine Spirit, The Art of Janet McKenzie, edited by Susan Perry, (Read about the artist and see images of her work here.) On these pages I journey with Mary, but perhaps not the Mary usually depicted in art through the ages: the serene, calm, radiant, and, of course, white Mary. 



Instead the Mary McKenzie depicts and the Mary I am coming to know has more grit. She sweats as she labors. She has big, strong hands that hold her son firmly. She stares with eyes that seem to say, "Here I am. Here we are. Don't mess with me." Yes, there is love there, too. The kind of "Mama Bear Love" all mothers understand. 

The Mary who sits with me doesn't look like me. But still I recognize her. I know her. In all her different colors and ethnicities. 











I read the essays that accompany the paintings--essays by wise women like Joan Chittister, Diana Butler Bass, Paula D'Arcy, Ann Patchett, Barbara Lundblad, Joyce Rupp and many others, and I feel as if we are women gathering at the well. We share the news of the day. We share our worries and wonderings and the ways we hope to make a difference, to create a better world for our children. We dream about the gifts our children will bring into the world. We give strength to one another. 

Sometimes we are midwives for each other. 

McKenzie's painting "Mary with the Midwives" fills in the Gospels' blank spaces. At that time in history and in that place midwives would have been alerted to an impending birth and would have hurried to assist the about-to-be mother during her labor and delivery. Mary would not have been the only woman in the stable, although centuries of nativity art would like us to believe that only men were present.

We women know better. The midwives were there. 

I think about the midwives in my life. Women who have made a difference as I have made decisions about what is next or how to best use my skills. Women who have influenced me, encouraged me, sat with me when I have needed comfort. Circles of women. Women, one by one. Women who are there when they are most needed. 

The women in my writing group are midwives for me. Like Mary's midwives, they urge me to push, to breathe, to dig deeper, to not give up. They cheer when I dare to share my latest chapter. They respond to my efforts with praise, but also with questions, with gentle prodding. They support my yearnings. "You can do this. You are doing this." They listen to my cries, "This is too hard. I don't think I want to do this anymore." They encourage me to be more myself on the page. They groan with me and rejoice with me. And I am so grateful.

We are midwives for each other, and therefore, the birthing continues. Just as Mary's midwives did, we help each other be  bearers of God. 

            We are all meant to be mothers of God, 
            for God is always needing to be born.  
                                     Meister Eckhart

An Invitation
 What is being born through you now and who are your midwives? 

NOTE: This is my last post for 2018. I will return on January 8. 
May you feel richly blessed on these holy days. 

Favorite Books of 2018: Tuesday's Reflection

It's that time of year. The time of year when lists of "favorites" for the year are posted, and today it is my turn to shine a light on my favorite books of the year. 

I have read 98 books so far this year (58, fiction and 40, nonfiction), and I assume by the time the cheering begins for 2019, I will have read two more for an even 100. Oh, and I am actually saving the new Louise Penny mystery for the transition days from Christmas to New Years. Anyway, here goes.

Fiction
My top favorites are:
* Two Meg Wolitzer titles--The Wife and The Female Persuasion. The movie The Wife with Glenn Close is based on the Wolitzer book. I liked both very much. 
* An American Marriage by Tayari Jones
* Death Comes to the Archbishop by Willa Cather (2nd time)
* There, There by Tommy Orange

Other Fiction Favorites in no particular order:
* Idaho by Emily Ruskovich
* The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer
* Exit West by Mohsin Hamid (for the second time)
* The Odd Woman by Gail Godwin
* The Ninth Hour by Alice McDermott
* The One in a Million Boy by Monica Wood
* The Nightengale by Kristin Hannah
* To Die But Once by Jacqueline Winspear
* Pachinko by Min Jin Lee
* The Resurrection of Joan Ashby by Cherise Wolas
* The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain
* Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward
* Behold the Dreamers by Imbolo Mbue
* Paris by the Book by Liam Callahan
* A Place for Us by Fatima Farheen Mirza
* Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
* The first 5 in the mystery series by Julia Spencer-Fleming. 3more to go. 
* Manhattan Beach by Jennifer Egan
* The Map of Salt and Stars by Jennifer Zeynab Joukhadar
* Warlight by Michael Ondaatje
* Dear Mrs Bird by A.J. Pearce
* Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie
* Women in Sunlight by Frances Mayes

Nonfiction
In this list I normally separate books of a spiritual nature from other nonfiction, but this year several of my favorites are not so easy to classify. Thus, an integrated list. 
My top favorites are:
* Becoming by Michelle Obama. This may be my favorite nonfiction book of 2018. Read it!!!
* Parting the Waters, America in the King Years, 1954-1963 by Taylor Branch. An investment book, for it is long and detailed, but fascinating and so well-written. Now it is on to volume 2!
* Almost Everything, Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott
* The Art of the Wasted Day by Patricia Hampl
* Living an Examined Life, Wisdom for the Second Half of the Journey by James Hollis
* Grateful, The Transformative Power of Giving Thanks by Diana Butler Bass
* On the Brink of Everything, Grace, Gravity and Getting Older by Parker Palmer

Other Nonfiction Favorites in no particular order:
* She Read To Us In The Late Afternoons, A Life in Novels by Kathleen Hill
* Pilgrimage of a Soul, Contemplative Spirituality for the Active Life by Phileena Heurtz
* Dying, A Memoir by Cory Taylor 
* Turning to One Another, Simple Conversations to Restore Hope for the Future by Margaret Wheatley
* The Heart of Centering Prayer, Nondual Christianity in Theory and Practice by Cynthia Bourgeault
* Everything Happens for a Reason And Other Lies I've Loved by Kate Bowler
* The Wisdom of the Body, A Contemplative Journey to Wholeness for Women by Christine Valters Paintner
* The Butterfly Hours, Transforming Memories into Memoir by Patty Dann
* The Breath of the Soul, Reflections on Prayer by Joan Chittister
* The Art of Spiritual Writing  and The Soul Tells a Story, Engaging Creativity with Spirituality in the Writing Life. Both titles are by Vinita Hampton Wright
* The Way of Silence, Engaging the Sacred in Daily Life by David Steindl-Rast
* Educated, A Memoir by Tara Westover
* The Great Spiritual Migration, How the World's Largest Religion is Seeking a Better Way to be Christian by Brian McLaren
* Tell Me More, Stories about the 12 Hardest Things I'm Learning to Say by Kelly Corrigan
* The Bright Hour, A Memoir of Living and Dying by Nina Riggs
* The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, How to Free Yourself and Your Family From a Lifetime of Clutter by Margareta Magnusson
* No Time to Spare, Thinking About What Matters by Ursula Le Guin
* The End of Old Age, Living a Longer, More Purposeful Life by Marc Agronin
* I'd Rather Be Reading, The Delights and Dilemmas of the Reading Life by Anne Bogel
* Let the Whole Thundering World Come Home, A Memoir by Natalie Goldberg
* Celtic Treasure, Daily Scriptures and Prayer by J. Philip Newell (the 2nd time)
* Bittersweet, Thoughts on Change, Grace, and learning the Hard Way by Shauna Niequist. 

Well, that should keep you going!

At this time of the year I think about my reading plans for the coming year as well. I will refrain from saying reading GOALS, for I know one book leads to another, and I am more than willing to take detours and discover surprises along the way. But here are some thoughts:
* I've noticed I don't remember the content of a book I've read--even when I have truly enjoyed and appreciated it--the way I have in the past. Therefore, I am going to try and jot a few summary notes about each book I read along with listing the title and author. 
* I have used the library much more this year than in the past. It is such a nerdy rush when an email arrives in my Inbox, saying a book I have requested has arrived. However, that does mean that other books in my stack are placed on a personal hold, so I can meet the library's due date. 
* I intend to read the remaining three Willa Cather titles. 
* Since our return from the civil rights tour we took in November, we have been building a library of books on that topic. I think the one I will read next is The Warmth of Other Suns, The Epic Story of America's Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson.
* I am aware of how many books are sitting in piles or on shelves in our house that I have not yet read, my To Be Read (TBR) piles. Tempted by new titles, I am like a crow attracted to the shining object next to the sidewalk. I make no apology for my book addiction, but this year I hope to focus more on my TBR piles.  

What am I reading right now? As I ride the exercycle I am reading My Life With Bob, Flawed Heroine Keeps Book of Books (Bob), Plot Ensues by Pamela Paul. I just started reading a book from the library, Kate Morton's The Clockmaker's Daughter, which feels like the perfect light book to read as the clock ticks toward Christmas. And during my meditation time I am rereading Holiness and The Feminine Spirit, The Art of Janet McKenzie, edited by Susan Perry plus chapters about Mary in a variety of other books. 

I thank Anne Bogel for the following words; words that could be on my tombstone. 

        "Reading isn't just a hobby or a pastime; 
        it's a lifestyle." 

Yes.

An Invitation
I would love to know your favorites of 2018. 

NOTE: I will post again on Thursday, December 20, but then I am going to take a break for a couple weeks. I plan to return on Tuesday, January 8. 

My Advent Companion, Mary: Thursday's Reflection

I did what I always do when I have a new direction for my meditation/prayer time or when I am preparing a class or talk or retreat or when I am diving into a writing topic: I gather resources, beginning with my personal library. 









When I randomly selected the Mary card (Read here.) as my Advent companion, I eagerly stacked books near my Girlfriend Chair, which is where I sit in the mornings. I was prepared to study Mary, but, of course, that isn't really what is happening. 







Instead, I am sitting with Mary and listening to what she has to say to me. Sometimes we just sit and breathe. She's pregnant and near her delivery date, so her breath is sometimes heavy and labored. She sits with her hand on the curved mound, patting the babe she has not yet met, but feeling the movement, the tapping and kicking. I remember those days, even though they were so long ago and my children have been adults for many years. 

Sometimes, however, I read to Mary. I read what others have written about her or what she might have said. 

                   Not to one
                   but to many you have called:
                   come
                   on the dancing wind
                   come
                   from the deepest forest
                   come 
                   from the highest places
                   come
                   from the edge of darkness
                   come 
                   from the depth of fear
                   and become
                   the bearer of God.
                                      Jan Richardson 
                                     Night Visions, Searching the Shadows of 
                                     Advent and Christmas, p. 7

And then we chat.

I exclaim, "The bearer of God? The bearer of God!!"

She tells me she was amazed at that notion, too, but she was assured all would be well. She had been chosen and without having any satisfactory answers, she finally agreed, "Let it be so." 

"Or did I say, 'let it be me' or 'let it be done'? I'm not sure. I don't think it really matters. 

"No, I suppose not, but the bearer of God? Really?"

"Really. I agreed to be the bearer of God, but the question now, Nancy, is how will you be the bearer of God?"

It is my turn to sigh heavily, deeply. That is the question, isn't it? And one I sometimes struggle to answer. 

I tend to be overwhelmed by all the possibilities, the opportunities, which become muddled by all I think I have to do or want to do or am in the middle of doing. I feel pregnant, almost overfull, with ideas and insights and choices right now. 

Ah, this is the perfect time to stop and breathe. To clear the space. To pause. How can I be the bearer of God today, right now, here and now? 

I am reminded of the Hasidic saying, "Every time we walk down the street, we are preceded by hosts of angels singing, 'Make way, make way for the image of God.'"

We are each invited to be the image of God, the bearer of God. In fact, we each ARE the image of God, the bearer of God. We do that in our interactions, our reactions, our actions. We do that in the way we choose to move through the day and in the way we lift our hearts in prayer and our hands in service. 

"It's quite simple isn't it, Mary?" 

Mary nods in that serene, accepting way she has. "Let it be so."

An Invitation
How do you live as the bearer of God? I would love to know. 

Threads of A Life: Tuesday's Reflection

Is it just the Christmas season that makes me more more present to the various threads of my life? Is it my age that encourages me to connect one part of my life with another?

In recent days my feet have been in both the past and the present. And thus, my heart, as well.

Saturday we drove to Northfield, MN, to buy Christmas presents at a favorite bookstore, Contents. St Olaf College, where Bruce and I both went to school, is located there, and we always enjoy a trip down memory lane when we head in that direction. In fact, we had been there the week before for the annual Christmas Festival, which never fails to open us to the nostalgia of our undergraduate years and at the same time leads us into the Advent season. 












After making our book purchases, we headed up to the campus, which was much quieter than the week before. Students were studying for finals and few old alums were present. Our goal was to see the memorial to James Reeb, a graduate in 1950 who had gone on to become a Unitarian minister. His brutal murder, when he went to Selma, Alabama, in March, 1965 to become involved in the Civil Rights Movement, was the impetus for the passage of the Voting Rights Act. Martin Luther King, Jr, gave the eulogy at Reeb's funeral service. 

We had seen pictures of Reeb in a couple of the museums we visited on the Civil Rights Tour in November and going to this memorial felt like a piece of the pilgrimage.

The past and the present blended together, for the memorial is in the library on campus and as an English major that is where most of my classes were held. I studied often, sometimes with Bruce, in the reference room, which is now designated one of the QUIET study areas. 

Once home, Advent music in the background, I made the first batch of cherry walnut bread, a Christmas tradition for many years. I thought about many I have delivered bread to in the past and also created a mental list of who might receive loaves this year. And how many batches that will require. I mixed past and present as I creamed the butter and chopped the cherries.




Then Sunday I presented an adult forum at church, "The Body's Address: Spiritual and Practice and the Body," and as part of the session I taught some introductory T'ai Chi moves. During our Ohio years, I was part of a weekly T'ai Chi group and also practiced it daily on my own and later taught classes myself. I felt the presence of those years Sunday morning as I lifted my arms, opening to receive from heaven and as I returned to mountain space, my feet shoulder width apart and knees slightly bent. Body memory, as well as heart and mind. 

Later we returned to church for the Service of Lessons and Carols, and I rested in the beauty of the music and the words, giving thanks for the ways I have been enriched along the way and for the gifts of these precious present days. 

                       Blessing the Way

                       With every step
                       you take,
                       this blessing rises up
                       to meet you.

                       It has been waiting
                       long ages for you.

                       Look close 
                       and you can see
                       the layers of it,

                       how it has been fashioned
                       by those who walked
                       this road before you....

                       Look closer
                       and you will see
                       this blessing 
                       is not finished,

                       that you are how
                       this blessing means
                       to be a voice
                       within the wilderness

                       and a welcome
                       for the way. 
                                      from Circle of Grace,
                                      A Book of Blessings for the Seasons
                                      Jan Richardson

An Invitation
In what ways are you meeting past and present in your life? I would love to know. 

Mary and My Advent Practice: Thursday's Reflection

I've always loved choosing a book to use as my guide during Advent. Earlier this week I gathered some possibilities from my library.
            




              * Preparing for Christmas, Daily Meditations for 
                 Advent by Richard Rohr
              * Advent and Christmas with Thomas Merton
              * Night Vision, Searching the Shadows of Advent 
                 and Christmas by Jan L. Richardson
              * The Vigil, Keeping Watch in the Season of Christ's
                  Coming by Wendy M. Wright

I've used and loved each one of these books in the past, but I have not been able to settle into just one of them in these first days of Advent. I have been cruising, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, for I have found treasures along the way. 
                We dream that the glimpses of the fullness of 
                 love that we sense occasionally in our lives, 
                 show us what we were created to become.
                                                 Wendy M. Wright

                            Move over the face of
                            my deep,
                            my darkness,
                            my edges restless chaos,
                            and create,
                            O God;
                            trouble me,
                            comfort me,
                            stir me up,
                            and calm me,
                            but do not cease
                            to breathe
                            your Spirit into
                            my wakening soul. 
                                                   Jan L. Richardson

But then my sister Amy gave me a gift, an unexpected gift, and aren't those often the best? Amy happens to be an excellent gift giver, in part because she always gives herself. 

Tuesday she attended, along with my father, the class I led about "waiting" and she brought me a packet of cards called Advent Perspectives, Companions for the Journey created by Tracy Mooty, Janet Hagberg, and Ali Boone. Each card has a lovely illustration of a character or symbol in the Christmas story. Shepherds, Joseph, Mary, even the manger and the star. Members of my sister's church, Colonial Church in Edina, Minnesota, were randomly given one of the cards and now are invited to "live" with that companion throughout the Advent season. My sister received a shepherd card and my brother-in-law, Elizabeth, which apparently was quite a surprise for him. 

On the back of each card are questions for reflection. For example, "What are the ways you may want to grow to become a more gracious, generous host for the arrival of Jesus?" is one of the questions on the innkeeper card 

Amy knew I would love this idea, this spiritual practice, and I do. In fact, I could hardly wait for morning meditation time to come, so I could discover the identity of my Advent companion.

I sat in the silence, the stillness. I shuffled the cards, closed my eyes and let my hands drift over the cards fanned in my hand. I selected one card and opened my eyes. 

                                    MARY

My eyes filled with tears. Why is that, I wonder? Well, I am going to ask that question in the coming days. 



Would I have had the same response if I had pulled the sheep card or one of the Wise Men? I don't know.

The Mary card now sits in front of me on my desk propped up against the Wise Woman doll I moved there a few weeks ago. Two powerful symbols of feminine energy and wisdom. 

I read the reflection questions and once again my eyes fill with tears. What is that about?
             
* What experience have you had with God that altered the course of your carefully made plans? How did you respond?

* How comfortable are you in being honest with God, wrestling with God, and asking questions of God?

* How do you, as Mary did, feel like God's favored one? How are you being asked to birth your special gifting of God's light and love in our world?
             
I whisper a promise, "I am going to immerse myself in you, Mary. I am going to listen to what you have to teach me. I invite, you, Mary, to move into my heart, to nurture new life within me. Thank you for being my companion."

And thank you, Amy, for this gift.


An Invitation
Even without having this special deck of cards, you can listen in your heart to determine which character or symbol of the Christmas story or any other sacred story resonates with you right now. You can choose to "live" with that companion for a period of time. Who might that companion be? I would love to know. You can receive Advent meditations from Colonial Church here. 

NOTE: To order your own set of these special Advent cards, email tracymooty@aol.com


              

Fullness: Tuesday's Reflection

Such a full week it was.

We transformed the house from the fruits of fall to its Christmas finery. From the muted beauty of pumpkins and deep colors to chaos, which included a "Claus Convention," to twinkling and sparkling beauty. 

We hosted a number of gatherings during the week -- our Sunday Supper group, our group from the civil rights tour, my writing group, and finally, a family gathering to meet Baby Bennett, the son of a niece who lives in Omaha. 

I spent time at my desk whenever I could, in order to finish preparations for the Advent program on waiting I am leading today and also to think ahead to the adult forum I will lead Sunday about the body and spiritual practice. We even did some Christmas shopping, both online and in local shops and an art fair.  

Yes, it was a full week, and that is the way these holiday weeks are. By Saturday evening, as snow began to fall, I was grateful to relax into the snug, a shawl wrapped around my shoulders. How good it felt to ease into the quiet, a departure from the preparations of the previous days and to allow the richness of relationships to rest in my heart.  

My preferred way to separate from tasks, however pleasurable they may be, and return to solitude is by opening a book and immersing myself in someone else's world. Page after page. And I had the perfect book in which to do that.

Late afternoon drifted into evening, as I continued reading Michelle Obama's Becoming.

          For me, becoming isn't about arriving somewhere or

          achieving a certain aim. I see it instead as a forward

          motion, a means of evolving, a way to reach continuously

          toward a better self. The journey doesn't end...It's all

          a process, steps along a path. Becoming requires equal

          parts patience and rigor. Becoming is never giving up

          on the idea that there's more growing to be done. 

It seems to me "becoming" also requires balanced parts of fullness and spaciousness. In this week I have had both. 

And as evening became night, I came to the end of Obama's book.

           Let's invite one another in. Maybe then we can fear 

           less, to make fewer wrong assumptions, to let go of

           the biases and stereotypes that unnecessarily divide us.

           Maybe we can better embrace the ways we are the

           same. It's not about being perfect. It's not about where

           you get yourself in the end. There's power in allowing

           yourself to be known and heard, in owning your

           unique story, in using your authentic voice. And there's

           grace in being willing to know and hear others. This, for 

           me, is how we become. 

This week is another week of fullness, another week of becoming. Breathe and feel the blessings. 

An Invitation

What does "becoming" mean to you? I would love to know. 

Gift Ideas--Nonfiction Books: Thursday's Reflection

I certainly hope you plan to do a big chunk of your shopping this holiday season in an independent book store. One of our family traditions is to give everyone a book--often something we want to read ourselves and plan to borrow. 

Saturday Bruce and I will go to an art fair near us and then stop in at Common Good Books in St Paul, one of our favorite spots for a book fix. Perhaps next week we will drive to Northfield to shop at Contents, another terrific independent book store. I will try to limit my shopping to gifts for others, but no promises!

If you are looking for suggestions, here are three nonfiction titles I recommend.

1. Let the Whole Thundering World Come Home, A Memoir by Natalie Goldberg. Goldberg is most famous for her books on writing--Writing Down the Bones and others. She has made writing accessible to anyone with the inclination, a notebook and a pen. This book, however, is about her cancer experience, which she said,  "...like a wild animal, followed me one hundred paces behind." What I especially appreciated in this book was her honesty, which meant at times she was totally self-absorbed, but also how she grew into living life more fully. 
            This is one heavenly life. This afternoon. This 
            Thursday. This sun on the pale dirt and the cottonwood
            green leaves. This blue mesa in the distance, this gutsy
            temporary life lived as the Buddha taught--with gusto. 

2.  Almost Everything, Notes on Hope by Anne Lamott. Just the fact that there is a new Anne Lamott book is cause for hopeful rejoicing. I read this book in its entirety as we flew home from Memphis at the end of the civil rights tour. So much about that tour in Alabama and Mississippi was sobering, and how grateful I am that Anne was my homeward bound travel companion. Her advice was just what I needed: 
               Go do some anonymous things for lonely 
               people, give a few bucks to every poor person
               you see, return phone calls. Get out of yourself
               and become a person for others, while 
               simultaneously practicing radical self-care;
               maybe have a bite to eat, check in with the sky
               twice, buy some cute socks, take a nap.
Reading this latest book of hers makes me want to pull all her other books off my shelf and curl up in a quiet corner where the only sound is the turning of page after page. 

3.   Becoming by Michelle Obama. I am doing something rare for me--recommending a book before I have finished reading it. As of this minute I have only read 200 pages, but I love this book. I don't read celebrity memoirs or autobiographies very often, but I was totally sucked by the first sentences.
                 When I was a kid, my aspirations were simple.
                  I wanted a dog. I wanted a house that had stairs in 
                  it--two floors for one family. I wanted, for some
                  reason, a four-door station wagon instead of the 
                  two-door Buick that was my father's pride and
                  joy.
Of course, we all know what happened to that wish list! This is a real woman writing a real book about a real life, one that happens to include being the First Lady. What intrigues me, however, is her honesty about herself--her need to achieve, her concerns for much of her life that she is "enough," and her view of being Black in our culture today. 
       When she considered applying to Princeton, her high school counsellor said to her, "I'm not sure that you're Princeton material." Obama writes,
                  ...failure is a feeling long before it's an actual
                  result. And for me, it felt like that's exactly what
                  she was planting--a suggestion of failure long
                  before I'd even tried to succeed. She was telling
                  me to lower my sights, which was the absolute
                  reverse of every last thing my parents had ever
                  told me.

A few pages later, when she writes about being at Princeton, she says,
                  It takes energy to be the only black person in a
                  lecture hall or one of a few nonwhite people
                  trying out for a play or joining an intramural
                  team. It requires effort, an extra level of
                  confidence, to speak in those settings and own
                  your presence in the room. 
Last Christmas I was given the wonderful collection of photographs by the former official White House photographer, Pete Souza, and occasionally when I have felt discouraged about the state of our country this past year, I have paged through this book. Now I also have Michelle's book to inform me, to inspire me, and to remind me of the strength of good people doing good things.  


So...get thee to a bookstore! 

An Invitation
What books are you giving or recommending this year? I would love to know. And stay tuned for my annual favorite books of 2018 lists. 

NOTE: If you live in the St Paul area, I am giving a program/workshop on Advent and the spiritual practice of waiting, "My Soul Waits for Thee" on Tuesday, December 4. I am doing two sessions: one in the afternoon (1:30-3:00), which is quite full, but the evening session (7:00-8:30) has more space available. The sessions are at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church and are open to all. Let me know if you are interested. 


           

Being Patient With Myself

The day after Thanksgiving I moved smoothly through a hefty To Do list. I woke early and worked for several hours on a class I am teaching in early December. I grocery shopped, did some online Christmas shopping, responded to a number of emails, and prepared for today's writing group meeting by writing feedback to material read at the previous session. 

Instead of my fixing dinner, Bruce suggested we just have popcorn, and I readily agreed and returned to the book I was reading, a novel called Midwinter Break by Bernard MacLaverty. I finished that and then read in its entirety, Natalie Goldberg's memoir, Let the Whole Thundering World Come Home. A delicious evening of words.

Ever since returning from the civil rights tour (See posts November 13, 15, and 20), I had not been able to do more than the most pressing items on each day's list. I felt shaky, foggy, overwhelmed by all I had experienced. I felt messy, like I needed a haircut or like I had a hole in my slippers. 

Friday, however, I felt restored to my usual energy. My productive pace had returned, it seemed, and I was back to a rewarding rhythm. I know I will continue to process the trip's gifts and lessons, and I don't yet know what will grow out of that trip, but in the meantime, I told myself, at least I am able to function again in more normal ways. 

I had given myself permission to pause, to be patient with myself. 

                       Do you have the patience to wait
                       till your mud settles and the water is clear?
                       Can you remain unmoving
                       Till the right action arises by itself?
                                            --Lao-tzu, Tao te Ching   

I am grateful I once again feel more able to move through my days with more energy, but at the same time I recognize I am still in a time of waiting. (How appropriate that the season of Advent, which is a time of waiting, is beginning.) I am waiting to discover the new or renewed ways in which I can be a loving and peaceful, peace-making presence in the world.

I hope I can continue to be patient with myself in this time of waiting. 

An Invitation
What are you waiting for. I would love to know. 





NOTE #1: The photographs were taken in a park next to the parsonage where Martin Luther King, Jr, and his family lived when he was pastor of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. 

NOTE #2: I am teaching a class called "My Soul Waits for Thee: Advent and the Gifts of Waiting" at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, St Paul, MN on Tuesday, December 4 from 1:30-3:00 OR 7:00-8:30. Open to all. Let me know if you would like to attend. 






               

Happy Thanksgiving! Thursday's Reflection

One of the books I am reading currently is a delightful collection of essays by Shauna Niequist called Bittersweet, Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning. Niequist is far younger than I am and is definitely wiser than I was at her age. When she writes about childbirth, her children, her marriage, friendships, especially with other women, and all the tough growing up women still need to do in the mid-decades, I flash back to my years as a much younger adult. 

Reading these essays I hope will enable me to open my heart more fully to the younger women in my life--to their stresses and challenges, their choices and decisions.

But she speaks to my older self, too. 

Today is a day when we expand the dining room table. We get out the one tablecloth big enough for that stretched table and hope we have enough silverware for everyone we've invited. We grocery shopped more than once and still forgot to buy whipping cream for the pumpkin pie. We chop and sauté and stir and baste. 

Or at least some of us do. My husband and I are going to my sister's house for Thanksgiving dinner, and my only assignment is mincemeat pie, my 95 year-old father's favorite. I used my mother's recipe for piecrust with lard as an ingredient. How bad can that be for us just once a year! 

We will have a lovely day, and I am grateful for the hospitality she and her husband offer, but this morning when I read Niequist's essay, "Feeding and Being Fed," I thought about how much I love to open our doors to friends and family.

        There's something about seeing your house filled
        with people you love, something about feeding 
        people, especially on days when it seems like you
        can't make a dent in any of the larger, more theoretical
        challenges in life.

We aren't hosting Thanksgiving, but later this weekend we will have a group of 10 here for a potluck supper and then on Monday another group of 10 for dessert. My writing group will come on Tuesday and then on the following Friday another gathering of family from a distance, including a new baby. I remember similar times, and I share Niequist's sentiments:

           I stayed up late, long after they all left, letting the 
           candles burn down, trying to remember each moment,
           exactly how the table looked and how each bite tasted.
           I felt nourished on an impossibly deep level, thankful
           and full and proud and humbled all in the same moment.
           It felt to me like we'd been part of something important,
           something larger than a meal, like we'd managed to
           thaw the ice just for an evening, like we had traversed 
           bridges normally impassable. 

I know not all family gatherings, especially at holiday times, are easy. I know sometimes they are fraught with hurt or unaddressed feelings. I know our differences can seem wider and more painful if walking in the front door feels like a command performance, but I also know love happens. Niequist says,

            Sometimes the most spiritual things we do are the
            most physical, the most tactile. Feeding people is
            one of those things, whether we're helping to feed
            hungry people, or feeding the hunger in each one 
            of us on these dark and heavy winter nights.

And so I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving, a Thanksgiving in which love is reflected in the candle light at your table. May you count your blessings and resolve to offer blessings to those most in need of them. 

An Invitation
When did your open door bring you surprise blessings? I would love to know. 


           

Civil Rights Tour: Reflection #3

If you are a ongoing reader of this blog, perhaps you are saying to yourself, "Isn't she done writing about the civil rights tour she was on yet? Can't she find something else to write about, like Thanksgiving and all the ways we are grateful? Maybe even offer her favorite pie or stuffing recipe?" 

Nope. Not yet.

Our group returned from the civil rights tour in Alabama and Mississippi a little over a week ago, and, of course, life is moving forward in many ways. I've paid bills and bought groceries. Fixed meals. Ironed. Met with spiritual direction clients. I've started preparing for two upcoming sessions at church. Etc. Etc.

I am functioning better than I was a week ago, but I am still foggy. I am still as muddy as the water in the Tallahatchie River. 

Part of me remains standing on the bridge over the Tallahatchie River where the body of the young Emmett Till was thrown. This young child supposedly had committed the sin of whistling at a white woman. For that he was tortured and murdered. Only in recent years has that woman, whose husband was one of the killers, recanted the story, saying she had lied.  




Why is it, I wonder, that only a simple, unofficial sign points the way to the bridge? Why is it that the path to the bridge is untended,  overgrown, ignored? I stood on that bridge, holy ground, and looked down into that brown, dirty water. The dense vegetation along the murky river's edges symbolizes for me the challenge of becoming clear about the wrongs we have committed and continue to perpetrate.  

Later that day we met with an impressive young man, Benjamin Salisbury who runs the Emmett Till Interpretive Center. The center  is across the street from the courthouse in Sumner, Mississippi where the men who murdered Till were acquitted. Under his direction we read a resolution that had been developed through a process of reconciliation and presented to the Till family. Salisbury described this process as "choosing to work towards a better part of ourselves."

The resolution begins in this way:

          We the citizens of Tallahatchie County believe that 
           racial reconciliation begins with telling the truth.
           We call on the state of Mississippi, all of its citizens
           in every county, to begin an honest investigation into
           our history. While it will be painful, it is necessary
           to nurture reconciliation and to ensure justice for all.
           By recognizing the potential for division and violence 
           in our towns, we pledge to each other, black and white,
           to move forward together in healing the wounds of the 
           past, and in ensuring equal justice for all of our citizens.

Salisbury told us the Till family accepted the public apology and were grateful for it. He sees that as a "reset" moment. 

I needed to stand in silence at that bridge. Later, sitting in one of the jury chairs (Who sat there, I wondered, and what was he, for it was a jury of all men, thinking and did he ever think he had done the wrong thing?) I closed my eyes, as Salisbury, this wise young man, said, "We have to choose to be hopeful."   






Now home I have needed to sit in stillness, even more than what is normal for me. Images from those days, as well as conversations with the people who shared their stories should not be filed away into a folder labeled "Fall Trip." Our guide reminded us that it is not enough to learn the history, but we must take steps to develop relationships with those whose stories are different from ours. We must find a way to reconcile and repent--not just by saying we are sorry, but by taking action, by finding ways to move from injustice to justice for all. 

I am not pointing fingers at Mississippi or Alabama, for my beloved cities of St Paul and Minneapolis are one of the most segregated areas of the country. We have so much work to do here, and that's why I continue to reflect about what I learned and saw on the civil rights tour. My hope and prayer is that I can make a difference here and that you can make a difference wherever you are.  

An Invitation
What reconciliation needs to happen in your own life? I would love to know.