A Year After the Murder of George Floyd

 Today we remember and we honor George Floyd.

There will be news programs and articles in newspapers and online venues to mark this day. Social media will burst with comments and analysis. Events and demonstrations, including one at my church this afternoon, are planned. This is an important day, not only to remember a man whose life was taken cruelly and unnecessarily, but also a day to measure what we have done to change ourselves and this country. 

One of the books I use in my daily devotions is Joyce Rupp's Fragments of Your Ancient Name, 365 Glimpses of the Divine for Daily Meditation. Each meditation explores a name by which God is known around the world and in many spiritual traditions. This is my second time around using the prayers in this book, and more than likely it won't be my last, for they so often are exactly what needs to touch or open or nurture my heart.

This is the prayer for May 21. 

                    Home of Good Choices

                Whether to keep or let go,
                To reach out or pull back,
                To rest or keep going,
                To speak out or be silent,
                To forgive or stay angry,
                To offer help or turn away.
                These choices and more
                Tumble and spin around in us.
                If we bring them to you,
                We will make wise decisions.

        Today: I include my Home in decision-making.

This past year has demanded that we make good choices, better choices. And there is always a choice. I believe that when we ground our decision-making in God as "home," it is more possible to make  good choices. Our choices determine if this year will be another of violence and trauma, of injustice and racial disparity or if this year will lead us closer to justice and equality, to love and compassion. 

The choice is mine. The choice is yours.

An Invitation
What informs the choices you make? I would love to know. 

Easily Led Astray: Time Away from the Desk

 My intention was to finish the draft for an essay on aging and reading for BookWomen, but then my husband tempted me with a drive to a charming river town where there is one of his favorite nurseries. 

"Great," I said without hesitation and off we went. 

I'll write tomorrow I told myself.

And then the next day just as I was ready to head up to the garret for writing time, that husband of mine enticed me with a another drive, this time to one of our favorite small towns in Wisconsin where, of course, there was another nursery. "We can have lunch at the cafe with the good pie."

I was ready in a flash.

Yes, I am easily led astray, and what a lovely day we had. Lake Pepin was sparkling and the pie (blackberry-raspberry was delicious) and I even found a new journal in one of the sweet little shops. Bruce, of course, bought more plants for the garden, but you'll hear no complaining from me. 

On our way home we turned onto a country road unfamiliar to us and were rewarded by seeing trillium in the woods and farms with calves and colts, newly discovering their world, and even a llama still with his shaggy winter coat. Almost home we saw young people in caps and gowns walking towards Macalester College for their graduation ceremony. I sent them blessings for a rich and meaningful life. 

Once home I considered briefly doing some writing, but instead grabbed the book I am currently reading and my wide-brimmed hat and stretched out on the patio sectional. The day was too glorious and the garden too enchanting to only view from a window.

I'll write tomorrow, I told myself, and I will. It's not that I dislike writing. In fact, I cherish my hours of writing, but some days are not writing days. Some days are play days. No regrets. 

How grateful I am to have the luxury of being led astray. 

An Invitation
How good are you at being led astray? I would love to know. 

Discernment Process

I've been contemplating a decision.

I am one of those people who has managed the year plus of hibernation quite well. I have enjoyed the spaciousness -- the lack of so many events on my calendar and the shorter weekly To Do list. For the most part I have used my time well, devoting much of the open time to finish the current version of my spiritual memoir. I have read stacks of books, written many letters, and have expanded my morning meditation time. 

Of course, I have missed being with family and friends and seeing my spiritual direction clients in person, and I relish the return to some entertaining and to replacing ZOOM calls with hugs.

But...

Just how much busyness do I want to allow back into my life?

What does a full life look like for me now?

In recent years I have chaired a committee at church, which has involved organizing, sponsoring, and often leading a variety of events. Doing that has been fulfilling and meaningful to me, and I think to others, but I have been puzzled about returning to that role. For quite awhile it was clearly not the right time and easy not to make a decision. However, now with life opening more to pre-Covid norms, although certainly not entirely, the time for discernment sat on my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "Nancy, what do you want to do? What are you called to do?"

I had no idea, so I did what I usually do when I need to make a decision about a direction and next step in my life. 

I wrote in my journal. Again and again.

I sat quietly, hoping to hear words of wisdom.

I asked the "what would you have me do?" question before going to bed, hoping I would wake up the next morning with an answer. 

I shared my thoughts with family and friends and my spiritual director. 

I reread a book about discernment (Decision Making and Spiritual Discernment, The Sacred Art of Finding Your Way by Nancy L. Bieber), just in case I was missing something.

I walked a labyrinth, and took other contemplative walks. 

I brainstormed and made lists. 

After all that, I still didn't have an answer. What to do, especially since a meeting was scheduled to discuss next steps for my committee and the ways I can be of service. An actual in-person meeting with one of my beloved pastors.

As I drove to church, I truly had no idea what I would say. Then I pulled into the church parking lot, and I knew. There was no neon sign or chorus of angels, but the struggle ended. I entered the building with a plan--a loose one, but one grounded in love for that community. My work there is not done, and I am ready and eager to continue. The pace may be slower. The scope may be somewhat different, but I am ready to move out of the garret and to share my time and energy once again. 

The Japanese have a word for what happened in this discernment process:

                   saku-taku-no-ki

I read about this in Take Joy, A Writer's Guide to Loving the Craft by Jane Yolen. (p. 26)

    Saku--the special sound a mother hen makes tapping on an egg
    with her beak.
    Taku--the sound a chick makes tapping from within.
    No-ki--the moment the tappings come together.
    Saku-taku-no-ki--the instant a chick pecking on the inside and the mother pecking on the outside reach the same spot. The egg cracks open. New life emerges. 

Using the spiritual practices that ground me, I had done the inner work. I had tapped from within. What I needed was the reality, the sacred presence of the outer world to open me to new possibilities. 

And that feels exactly right. 

Stay tuned as I move into the next chapter of living a full life.

An Invitation

How are you doing as quarantine requirements change? I would love to know.  

 

The First Week in May

This week feels like an open window. Fresh air flows in, along with birdsong, the chimes from the chapel at the University of St Thomas, the lively play of the children on our block, and the congenial conversation of walkers passing by the house. 

At the same time I noticed the grime on the sills between the screens and the glass panes. Nothing that can't be easily removed, of course. All that's needed is some soap and water and a little time. How good it is to cleanse, to freshen what has been unseen. 

It is May, the first week of May. A time to welcome, to begin, to renew and revive, to notice, to awaken to pleasures and gifts. 

May 1: I opened the front door Saturday morning intending to sweep the front steps and what did I see but a May basket! No card was included, but I have an idea who delivered it. What could be sweeter, more uplifting than to be remembered. The flowers are now on the ledge in front of my desk, and a reminder for me to send May blessings to others. Later in the day we had dinner with friends on their patio. We kept saying how good it was--the warmth of the day, the warmth of our friendship. 

May 2:  Sunday began with worship, which never fails to inspire and lift, ground and touch me. That evening we gathered with a group of friends in our home. Before the pandemic we shared a potluck supper with these loved ones every six weeks or so and oh, how I have missed those times of sharing and laughter and hugs! How good it was to expand and set the table and know we can begin again.

May 3:  In April I finished writing the current version of my spiritual memoir. This week I have set aside three days, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, for an in-house retreat. I settled into my Girlfriend Chair in the garret and feeling both eager and anxious, I began to read aloud what I have written in this long process. My intention for these days is to determine my next steps. 

May 4:    Along with publishing this new post, I enter Day 2 of my writing retreat. 

Looking Ahead: The Rest of the Week. 

May 5:    Day 3 of my writing retreat, but also the first meeting of a Writers' Circle I have been invited to join. The purpose of this monthly group led by Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew is not to critique each other's writing, but to be contemplative listeners for each other and ourselves in our writing life. The timing feels exactly right. 

May 6:  Nothing on the calendar. Will I need more time to read the manuscript through? Will this day be one of creating a new plan for the book or will it be a day of re-entry to the other aspects of my life? A home-tending day? A play day? A day to sit on the patio and read? I have no idea. 

May 7:   A year ago on this day my father died at the age of 96. I have written about him often on this blog, for he was a strong and loving influence in my life. He died peacefully, and unafraid, knowing he was loved. What could be better, but I miss him every day. 

I look ahead to the rest of the month, which includes Mother's Day, and appointments with clients (several are now in person, rather than on Zoom), times with my writing group, the birthday of a dear friend, a gathering with some friends from college and who knows what else.

My prayer is that this will be a month of open windows. 

An Invitation
What windows are you opening? I would love to know. 

Note: A reader sent me this link to Black-Owned businesses across the U.S. Check it out. https://www.websiteplanet.com/blog/support-black-owned-businesses/