Favorite Books in February: Thursday's Post

Are you looking for a good mystery series? Are you looking for an author with a nice-sized backlist, someone new to you? 

Well, you have come to the right place.

A series set in Toronto about a Muslim detective and his hockey-playing female detective has grabbed my attention. I have read the first two of the series by Ausma Zehanet Khan, and I really like the complex character development in these books. The characters are more important, it seems to me, than the nature of the crime being investigated. The first is The Unquiet Dead and the second is The Language of Secrets. I plan to request the third one from the library soon--I guess I better do that before you do! 

The author I have recently discovered is Madeleine St John, and I have read three of her books this month: The Essence of the Thing, which was nominated for a Booker Prize in 1997, A Pure Clear Light, and A Stairway to Paradise. Each of these is short, with snappy, engaging dialogue, and characters who may remind you of people in your lives. St John knows how to capture relationships that are more than what they seem on the surface. Some of the characters are in more than one of the titles, but they can be read in any order. 

The following books, however, are my favorites for this month. 

1. The Street by Ann Petry. As I read this book, I kept asking myself, "Why haven't I heard of this book before now?" Petry is an African American writer with more than one acclaimed book to her name. She wrote in the 40's and this was the first book by an African American woman to sell over a million copies, so it is not unknown. We read this for our couples' book group, and the woman who recommended it, a retired university English professor, said it ranks as one of the best books she has ever read, and I, just as breathlessly, agree. The street referred to is in Harlem close to the end of WWII and is the story of a woman raising her young son, trying to make it on their own. She believes in the words of Benjamin Franklin that if she works hard and saves wisely, she will be able to become financially independent and move out of the tenement where she is tormented by the "super" who stalks her. The   street in Harlem is as much a character in the story as Lutie, her son, or others Lutie encounters in her attempts to lift them into a better life. The story is at times hard to read, and even harder because it feels all too true today. Don't let that stop you. 


2. Made for Goodness and Why This Makes All the Difference by Desmond Tutu and Mpho Tutu. When you are too discouraged to get out of bed, ask someone to run to your favorite independent bookstore and get you this book and then prop up your pillows and read. Let Bishop Tutu lift you up, just as he did in The Book of Joy, written with the Dalai Lama. What? You haven't read that yet? What are you waiting for? 
      Reading Made for Goodness is part of my self-guided Compassion 101 course. As you may have read in an earlier post, my word for the year is "fullness," and Tutu equates that with wholeness. I have underlined so much in this book, and I have no doubt you will find just as much that resonates with you. Here's a sample: 
      He lists the practices of goodness as "noticing, savoring, thinking, enjoying, being thankful," and the habits that allow wrong as "mindlessness or tuning out, inattentiveness, busyness of doing to distraction, and an ungrateful heart." 
      "God dwells in each of us. God dwells in each of us 
       even when we are unaware of it. It is radical not only
       in the sense that it is revolutionary. It is radical in that
       it is, literally, at the root of everything...The God who
       dwells in us is a part of us that cannot be destroyed." p193

I could go on and on. We each need this book.

It is almost March and I wonder what will be my favorites in the coming month. I have a big stack from the library next to my chair in the snug. Stay tuned and happy reading!

An Invitation
What did you read and love this month? I would love to know. 

Walking the Labyrinth: Tuesday's Reflection

Walking a labyrinth is one of my preferred spiritual practices. Over the years there have been times when walking a labyrinth has led me to clarity about a troubling or perplexing issue. Step by step I have been led into moments of peace, wrapped in a sense of calm. 

A labyrinth, regardless of its location, inside the Chartres Cathedral in France or an untended weedy outdoor labyrinth in my own neighborhood, is a gift of sacred space and walking it is a chance to move deeper into contemplation and reflection.

At least that's been my experience, but that is not always the case. Just ask children.

Sunday during our congregation's education hour all ages had a chance to participate in a variety of activities to dream together about a project to renovate our sanctuary space. Walking a labyrinth was one of those activities--a chance to experience and to reflect on sacred space. 

That was the intention anyway.

The kids had other ideas as they romped into the room, flung off their shoes and crashed over the labyrinth's threshold.

Instead of walking the labyrinth, why not race the labyrinth! Run the labyrinth! The labyrinth became a playground. A source of exuberant energy. 

"I bet I can get to the center before you do."

"I'm going to go backwards."

"Beep, beep, I am passing you."

"Wait a minute, I thought this was a maze, but I didn't get lost."

They zoomed along the circuits. Who knew a white path on the floor could be so much fun, and yet that is exactly what happened, and I loved it. Occasionally a sedate adult walked the labyrinth in the midst of the speed and the noise, but the kids had taken over and contemplation was replaced with clamor.  

Fine by me!

The labyrinth is not meant to be mysterious or exclusive or confusing. Instead, this meditation tool with its single path leading into and out of a warm and spacious center is meant to be welcoming, whether one needs solace or a time-out or a reminder that we are not just mind and spirit, but body, too. The kids definitely rejoiced in their bodies on the labyrinth. 

This may have been a playful time, but when I have led elementary aged children on more structured labyrinth experiences, I have seen them turn down the volume and the speed. I have seen them relax as they followed the path and then sit quietly in the center. One girl told me she liked walking it because her house was never quiet and she liked being quiet. Wow! 

As they get older, thanks to this fun experience with the labyrinth, perhaps they will be drawn to the more contemplative nature of this spiritual practice. Perhaps the labyrinth will become one of their spiritual practices, an accompaniment on their own spiritual journey. 

May it be so.

An Invitation
Have you walked a labyrinth? What was your experience? I would love to know?

Preparing for Ash Wednesday: Thursday's Reflection

Ash Wednesday is in a few days, and oh no! I haven't decided what my spiritual practice will be during Lent. 

My inbox is full of opportunities. Take this online class or this one or that one or here's an email about a new book of devotions suitable for lectio divina during Lent. Or what about all the books with a Lenten focus already on my shelves? Are there podcasts devoted to Lenten practices. Probably. 

Maybe it is time to return to a focused practice of centering prayer--do it faithfully every day, twice a day, as Father Keating suggests.
Maybe I should consider fasting one day a week, preferably Wednesday because I would feel even more self-righteous when I go to the evening service. Last year I hosted labyrinth sessions every Wednesday evening. Should I do that again?

What should I give up? What should I add in? Is this the time to try something new, something outside of my comfort zone or is this the time to return to a practice used in the past, but kept in my back pocket for when it might be needed? Or do I deepen my core practices--writing in my journal and sitting in quiet meditation each morning? 

I feel a bit overwhelmed with ideas and possibilities, and I wonder how my word for the year, "fullness," intersects with Lent. 

Of course, what I most need to do--right now--is move into silence and allow the voice of God to whisper in my heart. Maybe what I need to do is to let a practice choose me, find me for these sacred days. 

Maybe I need to remember that everyday is sacred.

Maybe I need to remember that a Lenten practice, any kind of spiritual practice, regardless of one's tradition, is not about the doing, but about the being with God. 

                                 It could take you days
                                 to wander these rooms.
                                 Forty at least.

                                 And so let this be
                                 a season for wandering,
                                 for trusting the breaking,
                                 for trusting the rupture
                                 that will return to you

                                 to the One who waits,
                                 who watches
                                 who works within
                                 the rending
                                 to make your heart
                                 whole. 
                                              from "Rend Your Heart"
                                              Circle of Grace
                                              Jan Richardson

An Invitation
Do you feel called to a new practice? An old practice? I would love to know. 

Opportunities to Light Up Your Life: Bonus Post

For those of you who live in the Minneapolis-St Paul area, here are some opportunities that might interest you. 

1.  "Writing: An Exercise in Compassion," Wisdom Ways, Center for Spirituality, St Paul, MN, Thursday, February 20. Facilitators Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew, Dr. Tamara Gray, Swati Avashti, and Deborah Keenan will offer conversation about how the writing practice invites us into ever-deepening compassion. $25.00 Register here.  

2.  "Prayer and Being the Beloved" Retreat at ARC Retreat Community, Stanchfield, MN, March 10-11. This retreat has been organized by a women's book group called "Listening Hearts" and will include a mix of programs/structured time, solitude and silence, as well as time to enjoy the outdoors. The retreat begins at 12:30 pm on the 10th and will end at 11:30 am on the 11th. The cost is $115 for overnight accommodations and three meals. To register, call ARC, 763-689-3540 and mention Ruth's book group retreat. For more information contact Shirley at sm.maier@hotmail.com. You can learn more about ARC here, ARC.

3.  "Language of the Heart--An Interfaith Workshop," Saturday, March 21, Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, 700 Snelling Avenue, St Paul. The workshop will be led by Carol Manfred Sack, an ELCA missionary in Japan for 35 years, serving as a Certified Music Thanatologist who uses the harp and voice at the bedside of the dying. The workshop will include a Taize experience, personal journaling and discussion, the Japanese Tea Ceremony, and stories shared by Japanese guests. The workshop is free with a freewill offering. For more information contact, Karen at karennelson42@aol.com or Pastor Kay at freewaykaylj@gmail.com or Pastor Lois at prlois@gloriadeistpaul.org. or  Registration is required. Register here.

4. "Writing for Your Life--Minnesota 2020, April 27-28, Colonial Church, Edina, MN. A conference for spiritual writers and readers featuring Barbara Brown Taylor. Early bird tuition through March 1. Learn more here.

Time to Listen: Tuesday's Reflection

One of the reasons that I have had short hair for most of my life is that taking care of it takes less time than my wiry, wavy, curly, thick hair requires when it is long. Longer time to wash, dry, style. In my case longer hair has required more fussing, more attention --and more product. 

But I am also someone who appreciates variety in her life, so it is fun to change my hairstyle, and in the last year or so I have grown my hair, and yes, it does take much more time, but for some reason right now I don't mind using more time in this way. 

This may be the reason why: I use the hair-tending time to listen to podcasts, specifically ones that lift me or challenge me spiritually. 

Recently, I have been listening to "Another Name for Every Thing" with Richard Rohr. Saturday I listened to a conversation with James Finley, who will focus on the mystics in a new season of the podcast. At several points I put down the curling iron, to write down something that was said.

                "What's in the way is the way."

                God "protects us from nothing, 
                but sustains us in everything."

                "Everyone has a 'behind the curtain'
                question."

Those statements took my breath away and in those moments Finley became my spiritual director. In my imagination I heard Finley say, "Nancy, listen. Put down the hairbrush and pay attention. This is for you."

As I listened to the podcast I opened to a spacious presence.  I experienced the extraordinary in the ordinary act of taking care of my appearance. In an earlier podcast Richard Rohr said that when the ordinary becomes extraordinary, you don't need the extraordinary. You can bet I paused the audio at that point, too, and wrote down those words!

I am not much of a multitasker. I try to do one thing at a time, and much of my day is spent in silence. But somehow listening to "On Being" with Krista Tippett or "What Should I Read Next?" with Anne Bogel or my church's "What Does This Mean?" when I chop vegetables for the evening meal makes me more present to what I am doing in that moment. I am not sure why it works that way, but it does. 

(I confess those may also be the times I listen to the news or on Saturday mornings I often listen to NPR's "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me" when I am hometending. Chuckling as I dust is a good thing!)

I guess if I decide to cut my hair--and I might do that when the weather becomes hot and humid--I will have to figure out another way to include time for the podcasts that have become part of my devotional life. 

An Invitation
Do you listen to podcasts? Which ones? I would love to know. 

Thoughts of Love: Thursday's Reflection

Who has captured your love today? 









I think about friends who are delighting in a new grandchild.
I think about a dear friend whose mother's memorial service is on Valentine's Day, and she is learning a new way for her mother to be with her.
I think about a friend who grieves for the daughter whose life has changed in dramatic ways.
I think about our grandson who celebrated his twelfth birthday this week and about our granddaughter who, as a junior in high school, moves forward in the college search process.
I think about our neighbor who decorated Valentine cookies with her grandchildren and shared them with us.
I think about the women in my two writing groups who wrestle with words and bravely, express their deepest feelings. 
I think about all those on the prayer list at church and those not on the list, but in need of prayers.
I think about public servants who do the right thing. 



I think about those waiting for love or in the swirl of new love and, all of us who have lived in love for many years. 

May we all walk in love. Happy Valentine's Day! 

An Invitation
Who has captured your love today? I would love to know. 

Potlucks and Community: Tuesday’s Reflection

When was the last time you participated in a potluck meal? 

Sunday our congregation held its annual meeting, but first we ate. Stretching before us were tables laden with baked spaghetti and wild rice casseroles and platters of ham and chicken; salads of every kind, followed, of course, by cookies and bars (Or do you call them "squares?"). 

Earlier we had gathered for worship, always a highlight of my week. Dear friends sat in front of us and how grateful we were for their presence. Just a week ago he had had a stroke affecting his speech, but he is well on his way to full recovery. There he was, exhibiting his usual good humor, and I know how much it meant to both of them to be there in their usual Sunday morning spot. 

A woman I know, but not well, who also was sitting in front of us, cried during much of the service. We shared the peace, and she told me she is mourning the loss of her mother. After the service I asked her to tell me about her mother, and she said how much her mother had loved this church and how she loves it too. We talked about the healing nature of tears and how sometimes church is the best place, maybe the only place, where we are comfortable crying.  

As part of this week's service we welcomed new members--families with young children, couples past the time of raising their families, singles, couples, young, old. We cheered their decision to make this commitment, and I wondered to myself about their stories, their lives, and in what ways we will come to support and know one another. 

Eventually, after many more conversations, we made our way to the Fellowship Hall where we stood in line, awaiting our turn to fill our plates. We chatted about the significant nighttime snowfall. "Have any trouble getting to church this morning?" We reminisced about ice skating when we were kids  and commented on this perfect day for sledding on the big hill across the street from the church. We checked on each other's health, and several people asked how our daughter and granddaughter were doing, following their recent surgeries. How happy I was to give good reports. 

As I ate, I glanced around the packed room, for we are a large congregation, and marveled at the number of people I have come to know over the past few years --the privilege of hearing their stories, their pain and their joys. 

We worship together, and we eat together, and isn't there something so intimate about that. And for some reason a potluck is even more homier. Perhaps it is because we all share in the hospitality. I feed you, and you feed me. 

My husband and I are part of two small potluck groups that gather every few weeks. The food is always good, but even more than that, the conversation, the listening, the learning, the willingness to go beneath the surface, the openness and vulnerability, and yes, the laughter, too, are what keep us returning to each other's company.

We have formed community, and that is certainly what I, also, felt as we gathered Sunday in the Fellowship Hall. When we gather in community we not only create sacred time, but we also become ambassadors and models of reconciliation in a fractured world.

A community is more than casual chumminess, although that can lead to the formation, the depth, of community. Community reinforces the bonds that lead us to wholeness. Community reminds us that we are all one.

Being in community is a kind of spiritual practice, and, therefore, I appreciate Stephen V. Doughty's outlines for a "Covenant of Practice" (p. 79-80) in his book Discovering Community, A Meditation Community in Christ. 

               * Pray for one another.

               * Speak with honesty.

               * Offer encouragement.

               * Be present. 

               * Name and claim the goodness. 

Such wise practices to carry with us wherever we are and even better when we eat together and enjoy the gifts of a potluck.

An Invitation

When have you experienced community? Is there a way you can build community in your life? I would love to know. 

Change of Scene: Thursday’s Reflection

Sometimes a change of scenery is a good thing. 













Yesterday I packed up my laptop and a copy of the chapter I am currently working on for my memoir and headed out to the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. The dining room where I set up my temporary desk has big windows looking out on an area of bird feeders. The gymnastics of the squirrels and the intimidation of the invading turkey flock as they competed for the fallen birdseed was entertaining--and distracting!

But the real joy on this cold winter day was walking into the  main building and seeing the displays of spring flowers. In Minnesota this is definitely rushing the season, but oooh, the happy colors and the variety of blooms. The beauty and the creativity.







These displays seem like a collaboration between God the original creator and the artistry of those who grew, tended, and arranged these flowers for our delight. 









I thought about Desmond Tutu's call for each of us to be a life artist--to create lives of beauty. Sometimes that means creating a work of art--a painting, a poem, a dance, a song or maybe a home or a garden. Our relationships. Our actions--how we respond to the cares and woes of the world and sometimes, make brave decisions.


As I have mentioned, my word for the year is fullness, and it seems to me that to "fully inhabit one's life" is to create a life of beauty. My hope is that I can bring my full self to whatever I do. When I am able to do that, I am living a life of fullness, a life that approaches wholeness. 








An Invitation
In what ways are you a life artist? I would love to know. 

Compassion 101: Tuesday's Post

Some days, some weeks, knock you to your knees.

Sometimes I fall to my knees because I am stunned by personal news. Or by political or world revelations. 

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Sometimes my body needs to catch up with my thoughts. 

Falling to my knees and then getting back up isn't easy for this body of mine these days. My hips protest, along with my knees, but the heart overrules. "Get on your knees," I hear. 

Sometimes I drop to my knees before I even know what I am doing, but sometimes I imagine myself, head bowed, my hands folded in prayer, kneeling at the side of my bed or the chair where I meditate each morning. You know those feelings, too, I am sure; the ones that take your breath away. 

I recently decided I need a crash course in compassion. I have no problem feeling compassion when a friend calls with news of a scary health event in her family, and it is easy to move into supportive action, but compassion is not my first response at other times. I do not have compassionate thoughts towards those who refuse to understand the danger our country is in under the current leadership. 

I try to open to the words of Desmond Tutu in the book he wrote with his daughter Mpho Tutu, Made for Goodness And Why This Makes All the Difference, 
                   As human beings we may tarnish the sheen
                   or rend the fabric of our own goodness. We 
                   can act in cruel and heartless ways. But because
                   we are human, we cannot completely rip out
                   and destroy every vestige of the godliness by
                   which and for which we were made. We cannot
                   alter our essence. We are made by God, who is
                   goodness itself. We are made like God. We are
                   made for goodness.  p. 15

I confess at times I don't see or feel much goodness. And then I feel even less compassion. 

                  But we do not always act out of love. Sometimes
                  we act out our jealousy, our insecurity, our pride,
                  and our resentment. Sometimes we act out our
                  hate. No, we do not love perfectly. But God does.
                  And the more we come to emulate the divine love,
                  the more our lives are an expression of the goodness
                  that is at the heart of each of us. p. 25.

                  We can always aspire to be more compassionate
                  and more generous, not out of some dogged need
                  to be good or to be lovable, but because to give 
                  love is our greatest joy. p. 33. 

Another companion on my self-proclaimed Compassion 101 course is Joyce Rupp's book Boundless Compassion, Creating a Way of Life. She says compassion consists of "awareness, attitude and action," and requires four spiritual qualities in order to grow: nonjudgment, nonviolence, forgiveness, and mindfulness. See why I need this crash course!

I seem to be having these metaphorical and/or literal "fall to my knees" moments more often these days. When I do, I place my hands on my forehead and say, "May I be a source and reflection of kindness." Then I place my hands on my heart and say, "May I cultivate inner peace and move forward with calm reflection and wise action."

After I pick myself up, I seem more able to remember that God is always present.

                       I am here.
                       I am as close as prayer.
                       I am breathing in your breath.
                                        Made for Goodness, pp. 16-17

An Invitation
When is compassion a challenging concept for you? I would love to know. 

Other resources from my library for Compassion 101:
Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life by Karen Armstrong
Boundless Heart, The Buddha's Path of Kindness, Compassion, joy and Equanimity by Christina Feldman
Compassion, Listening to the Cries of the World by Christina Feldman
Hallelujah Anyway, Rediscovering Mercy by Anne Lamott