Words in Print: Thursday's Reflection

You can find me in Barnes and Noble today. All of them or at least most of them. And you might be able to find me other places, too. Just go to the magazine section, and there I am. 

I am there in the form of an essay I wrote called "The Comfort of

Shawls" in the latest issue of Bella Grace, Life's A Beautiful Journey.
Bella Grace

I have had other articles published in various publications, but for some reason this one pleases me the most. Or maybe I have simply forgotten the moment of delight when I know something I have written has been accepted or the surge of pleasure when I see the piece in print. It would be nice if there were a third wave of happiness when a big check comes in the mail, paying me for my work, but BIG checks and being a writer are not normally synonymous. Oh well.

Why am I so pleased this time? Well, for one thing Bella Grace is a luscious-looking quarterly publication. It feels good in your hands and the photography entices you to see beauty all around you. Even more than that the essays, none of them long, whisper connection between your inner voice and your outer movement in the world.  I am thrilled to be included in this issue. 

Here's what I notice about myself, however, and this surprises me. I love knowing that what I write is read by others, and I am honored when you tell me what I have written resonates with you, but more and more what nurtures me is the writing itself --the writing and the time in stillness uncovering what needs to be written and finding the most authentic way to express myself. 

Writing is my way to wake up, to stay awake. Writing is one of the ways I pray.  

In "The Comfort of Shawls," I write, "It seems to me that in order to know comfort, we are called to comfort others, to share our shawls with one another, to wrap our shawl of warmth, concern, and comfort around someone else, and to be present to another's need." In a way that is my mission statement as a writer. 

Therefore, today I write this post, and I work on a chapter in my spiritual memoir, and I note other ideas for essays to submit to Bella Grace and other publications. 

An Invitation

Of course, I hope you will purchase your own copy of Bella Grace and maybe buy a copy as a gift. As periodicals go, it is not inexpensive ($20), but I know you will find pleasure and comfort in its offerings over time. I would love to know what you think. Plus, I would love to know what you do to wake up, to stay awake.

The Maze: Tuesday's Reflection

On a recent visit to the University of Minnesota Arboretum our

family walked the maze with its high walls of shrubs. Bruce and I headed to the overlook as everyone else made their way along the paths. We heard them laughing and calling to each other and once in awhile saw the top of someone's head or Pete's arms thrust up over his head. Such fun!


After making it through the maze, Pete and his Dad re-entered, thinking they knew exactly the right way to go. Everyone else joined us on the observation deck. I had watched the progress of a couple young adults, who more than once were one turn away from the exit, but retreated, thinking they were at a deadend. I motioned to them to keep on going, and as I did so, my daughter said to me, "Some people want to find their own way."

Ouch! When a comment stings, it is usually because what is said is absolutely right.  

How often I want to rescue and to offer the benefit of my experience, including lessons learned from going the wrong direction.  How often I want to show the way or what I think is the way, but in a maze, as in life, there is usually more than one way. 

How different it would have been if the people in the maze had looked up and said, "Help! How do I get out of here?" But even then, instead of saying "Turn right at the corner," the best response may be to say, "You can do it. You can find your way. Just keep going." 

When our son Geof was 4 or so, we sometimes took long walks in our neighborhood. After walking for some time and making a number of turns, I said to him, "Now get us home." Sometimes he hesitated when we came to a new intersection, but he figured it out without my help, and we always got home. True, there may have been a shorter or more direct route, but we made it home. 

My challenge, and perhaps yours, too, is knowing when to offer help and when to support others as they find their own way. 

                      Our call is to stay in Amaze.
                                             Mark Nepo

An Invitation
When have you wanted to help, but refrained from doing so, knowing not helping was the better choice? I would love to know. 

Evening Contentment:Thursday's Reflection

You know the feeling. The feeling of utter peace and contentment. 

Wind chimes in our Backyard

It's not that everything is right in the world--the BIG world or even your own personal world. We each have our list of worries and concerns, major and minor, but for a moment peace and contentment washes over like shallow creek water over rocks. 

That's how I felt Sunday night when my book and I crawled into bed. 

Bruce was already asleep next to me. He was tired, but happy, from attending his 50th high school reunion in Rochester. Ralph, our grand-dog, who is spending the week with us while his family is on vacation, was snoring steadily on the floor next to the bed. I reminded myself to be mindful of his presence when I got up in the middle of the night. 

The windows were open, thanks to lower temperatures. The curtains lifted and swayed in a breeze one degree above gentle. Oh, how loving that breeze felt as it grazed my body. The touch of angel wings. 

I closed my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and listened to the outside chorus--cicadas, crickets, and wind chimes--not your normal orchestra, but in harmony with each other. No siren dissonance.

I had spent much of the afternoon in the kitchen fixing dinner for my father --my mother's meatloaf, roasted potatoes, corn and peach and mint salad, and apple pie--which we took to him in the evening to celebrate his 93rd birthday. While chopping,  measuring and mixing, I listened to my Indigo Girls station on Pandora, even singing with them occasionally. Those sounds continued to dance within me, as did the events of the previous days.

A Madison friend visited this weekend, and we filled the days with wide and deep conversation, good food, and even some St Paul exploration, touring one of the historic homes and then taking a guided walking tour on St Paul's most memorable street, Summit Avenue. Good times, and I felt more connected not only to her, but also to our years in Madison. 

I knew I should turn off the light, for the week ahead would be full, but for the moment I didn't allow the lists, the schedule to come to bed with me. Instead, I returned to the book I am currently reading, The Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks, which much to my surprise I am enjoying, in spite of it being about the Plague in England in the 1660's. A good book always adds to a feeling of peace and contentment. 

And when I needed to reread sentences more than once, I knew it was time to turn off the light and say my last prayers of the day and rest in peace and contentment. 

                      Dusk slips its easy cover over the day
                      And quietly invites life to slow down.
                      Darkness slowly gathers the sunlight
                      And tucks it away smoothly until dawn.
                      Birds bend their heads under soft wings
                      And day's bright energy bows to stillness.
                      Such is your gentle approach with us.
                      At certain times you move us into quiet
                      That includes darkness in place of light.
                       Let us not fear when the night comes upon us.
                                                 Joyce Rupp
                                                 Fragments of Your Ancient Name 

An Invitation
What are some moments when you have experienced total peace and contentment? I would love to know. 

Tearing Down: Tuesday's Reflection

These signs are scattered throughout our neighborhood of homes built primarily in the 20's and 30's. Some of those homes have not been well tended and need lots of care. Many are small and not conducive to the ways families live their lives today. But many more, if not most, continue to offer satisfying shelter for the owners who have chosen to live in this pleasant urban neighborhood. 


The problem comes when a house is sold to a developer or builder who decides to tear down the existing structure and build a new home. In most cases those new homes do not fit well into the neighborhood. They dwarf the homes on either side. They are usually the most expensive house on the block, but not the most attractive, at least to those of us who love the eclectic cottage, bungalow, and Tudor styles of the current home. Seeing these new homes pop up is jarring and frankly, upsetting, especially when we like things the way they are and have always been.

There are arguments to be made for both sides of the issue, and one hopes there can be compromises and collaboration along the way, but this morning as I walked, I wondered about a "personal tear down."

What needs to be torn down within myself? And once the lot, my ground of being, is cleared, what needs to be rebuilt? Do I need to start completely over--what a challenge that would be at age 68--or are there are parts of who I am that could stand renovation and remodeling?

What have I not tended to over the years? What kinds of updates make the most sense and would add value to who I am, but still maintain my essence? What do I need to do to add to my health and wellbeing, but also to the lives of those around me?

These are the kinds of questions that present themselves as we enter the third chapter of our lives? How is it we most want to live now and what is the legacy we want to leave? 

Writer/philosopher Mark Nepo challenges us to a second time of discovery. I like the idea that more inner discovery awaits me, and my suspicion is that I will discover areas in need of transformation, but also parts of myself that are in good life-enhancing shape and are worth preserving. 

One more thought: Over the weekend a friend and I went on a guided walking tour of Summit Avenue in St Paul, which is the longest street of Victorian homes in the United States. Such fabulous homes, and we enjoyed learning about the history of many of those homes, including the largest home (36,000 square feet) in Minnesota, the J. J. Hill House. Across the street from this historical home is the St Paul Cathedral, a daunting European style cathedral. Hill was approached by the archbishop to donate funding for the construction of the cathedral, but Hill didn't want such a massive structure across the street from his home, and he didn't contribute to the cause. Money was found, however, and five homes were torn down to clear the space for the cathedral. All this occurred in the early 1900's. Not even the powerful and rich railroad magnate James J. Hill could prevent the teardowns! I don't know who was on the right side of that argument, but I am certainly in awe every time I pass both the cathedral and the Hill House.

This story, as well as the ongoing evolution of my own neighborhood, reminds me to be mindful of what needs preservation and what needs overhaul in my own life.

An invitation
What about you? Are you doing any major remodeling in your life? I would love to know. 

Growing Old: Thursday's Reflection

My mother, grandmother, and me (about 6)

I think I have always imagined myself as old. I have felt old before my time. 

I like to think of myself as the holder of some wisdom, of being a compassionate crone, a "been there, done that" light-hearted, but knowing woman of a certain age. 

Perhaps that is why I have never minded the wrinkles, the grey, the age spots, even the minor aches I've experienced. I welcome the position of elder. The matriarch. 

One of My Role Models
Many decades ago, when I was 11 or 12, I remember being scolded by my mother for coming home later than I was suppose to from ice skating on a weekend afternoon. My Grandma Hansen, my mother's mother, was visiting, and she said to my mother, "Betty Anne, how often does Nancy do anything wrong? Let her be." I had never known my grandmother to intervene, and I was surprised by and grateful for her advocacy. 

My Grandma Hansen

My mother shrugged, the kind of daughter to mother shrug that can be resurrected easily from a place thought buried and dead. I received no punishment, no privileges removed. The matter was never discussed again, but I remember thinking that I could be that woman someday: a woman whose age and life-experience and love could cause a change of heart--or if not, heart, at least action. 

Now I am a grandmother and growing into what the privileges of my age could be. I want to be an advocate for my grandchildren, too. And beyond that I hope I can be viewed still as valid and valued for the life lived. I am grateful for the role models of both my grandmothers.

Another Role Model
When I worked at Luther Seminary, I often scanned the chapel or dining room for the wife of a former seminary president. She was easy to spot, thanks to her silver, wispy bun. She was thin, perfect for the Chanel-like suits she wore no matter the weather or the occasion -- the essence of classic elegance. She walked slowly, but firmly and talked the same way. For some unbelievable reason she knew and remembered my name and when she saw me, she would take my arm and we would walk towards her destination. 

I would try to ask her questions, but somehow she always turned them around so I was talking about myself or my work. She laughed softly, patted my hand and before parting --on her own time-- she would give me a thought to ponder, a word of encouragement a "God Bless." 

I want to be her. In my own way, of course. I'll never be thin. I'll never let my hair grow long again, and I own no Chanel-like suits to carry me into the next decades. But I hope I can be a soft curtain of inspiration for someone. I hope I can wear the passing of time, the loss of loves, the removal of roles and the joy in the present moment just as well. 

Ah yes, it is good to be growing old. 

An Invitation
What are your hopes as you grow old? Who were your role models? I would love to know. 

Chairs in the Neighborhood: Tuesday's Reflection

This morning as I walked in the neighborhood, I noticed the number of homes who have chairs in their front yards. 

 
 













They looked lonely to me in the early morning hour. I saw no one sitting, reading the paper, having a cup of coffee. I imagined the homeowners rushing to get to work, dropping kids off at daycare or perhaps they were out for a morning walk, too. Maybe, like my husband, they were in the backyard watering the garden. 





On the other hand the empty chairs looked hospitable to me and full of possibility. I imagined neighbors gathering in the evening sharing their days, chatting while children rode bikes on the sidewalk or made new chalk designs on the sidewalk. Perhaps a bottle of wine would be opened and an invitation extended to the newest resident on the block. It is good to think about the community these chairs can offer. 

An Invitation
If you have a chairs in your front yard, consider inviting someone to join you for conversation. If you don't have chairs in your front yard, consider adding two or three or more. How could that change the quality of your day to day life? I would love to know. Oh, and if you don't have a front yard, how else could you extend hospitality? 

Celebrate! Thursday's Reflection

Pardon my self-indulgence, but I am in a celebratory mode. This 

weekend our family gathers to celebrate our wedding anniversaries. 
              Bruce and I celebrate our 45th.



                    








                   Kate and Mike celebrate
                  their 20th. 
                    

            Geof and Cricket celebrate their 
           10th.












I have filled a basket with pictures from these special days. The memories come flooding back, and I hope, along with raising a glass to one another in honor of the love that has been, is now and we hope will live on forevermore, that we will share stories of those special days.

How important it is to celebrate. Not just wedding anniversaries, for those of us whose lives have been offered that blessing, but birthdays and graduations and work successes. And retirement, whether it is chosen or mandated. And the end of cancer treatment or release from the hospital. Don't forget to celebrate the small things like waking up each morning refreshed and enjoying the first corn of the cob of the season or welcoming a friend to your front door. 

Not every celebration requires champagne or a cake. All that is really needed is an open heart and an awareness of the many gifts in our lives. 

John O-Donohue reminds us in his blessing "For Celebration,"

                   Now is the time to free the heart,
                   Let all intentions and worries stop,
                   Free the joy inside the self,
                   Awaken to the wonder of your life.

He adds, "See the gifts the years have given."

Yes. 

An Invitation
What can you celebrate today? I would love to know.