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/

After the Conviction

 More than one friend, nonresidents of Minnesota, emailed me the day after the conviction of Derek Chauvin to say how relieved I must feel. 

I did feel relief, but I wondered if I should feel relief. Why did I feel relief and what exactly did that relief encompass? And what business did I have feeling relief? I am a white, privileged woman in her 70's and what stake did I have in the outcome of the trial? 

Besides, this was only one trial, one police officer convicted, and shootings have continued, even as the trial was in process. 

I was relieved that riots and violence and property damage were averted.

I was relieved that Minnesota might not be in the news every night.

I was relieved that in at least one case justice was done.

I was relieved for George Floyd's family--that at least their loved one was known as a real person whose life should not have been taken from them. 

In Sunday's sermon Pastor Javen Swanson gave a brilliant sermon about the heaviness he was feeling, and reminded us that "justice occurs when hearts are changed."

Justice occurs when hearts are changed. 

That's the kind of relief I want--the relief that comes knowing hearts have changed. That has yet to be proven. 

I have been reading Diana Butler Bass's new book, Freeing Jesus, Rediscovering Jesus as Friend, Teacher, Savior, Lord, Way and Presence, and she mentions Dorothy Day who "displayed a restless sense of moving deeper into both the world and God." (186)

Read that phrase again: "...a restless sense of moving deeper into both the world and God." That's what happens, I think, when hearts are changed. 

Bass continues to describe the two spiritual journeys: "the interior one toward knowing our true self and knowing God, and the one directed outward into the world to enact God's justice and love." (186) 

As a spiritual director, I meet with clients who desire to deepen that interior journey, to awaken to the movement of God in their lives. What often happens then is that their growing awareness leads them into the world to BE the movement of God. Or sometimes a client comes to me whose focus and energy is devoted to making a difference in the world, but they feel some emptiness or exhaustion in their spiritual life. 

The interior journey and the one directed outward have a dynamic relationship. Both are needed. Sometimes one is--and needs to be--more dominant than the other. For each of us one journey may feel more challenging, and the other may unfold more naturally. My way of pursuing each of the journeys may look, more than likely will look, different from your paths. 

Both paths, entangled sometimes, but always stretching out in front of us, change hearts. 

This is hard work. Important work. Sacred work. This is the work God has given us to do. 

Here are some words that may help. 

        Go gently into the new day.
        Go with love for yourself and others.
        Kindle patience towards all beings, all things.
        Remain awake as you step in any direction.
        Keep a hand on the pulse of your creativity.
        Remember always what is yours to embody.
        Share yourself freely.
        Go with your imagination lit and your intuition purring with possibility.
        When in doubt, be yourself.
        Step forward. 
                                    Glenn Mitchell, Oasis Ministries

An Invitation
Where are you on the journey to change hearts? I would love to know. 

NOTE: You can watch Pastor Javen's sermon here. You can read Diana Butler Bass's blog here. You can read Glenn Mitchell's daily meditations here.

        

Waiting for the Verdict

Now we wait. 

Yesterday the closing arguments were presented in the George Floyd murder case, and the jury was given its instructions. 

The prosecution urged the jury to believe what it saw.

The defense relied on "reasonable doubt," saying if you don't have all the ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies, you can't make chocolate chip cookies. If a single ingredient is missing, it is a not a guilty verdict. Does anyone else find that metaphor insulting? Trivial? Simple? 

Yesterday during my church's online worship service, the text for the opening hymn, "Have Mercy, God and Purge From Us" was written by Gloria Dei's assistant director of music and worship production, Paul Damico-Carper (You can listen here) and several lines keep vibrating within me:

      Have mercy, God, and purge from us enduring corporate sin...

      Lay bare the evil we ignore pretending peace within...

      Unbind our hearts, cast out our fears so we will start today to
      right the centuries of wrongs...

      Embolden us to be participants in turning our entire society...

      Revise our hearts where justice has eluded us too long...

Notice the strong verbs, especially "purge," "unbind," "embolden," and "revise." Active verbs. Nothing passive there. Words of change. 

I tend to think about what needs to change in our society--and much needs to change, but what needs to change within me? Where am I passive, when I need to be active? What do I need to purge? 

As a white person, I am used to being comfortable. I desire comfort, but this is not a comfortable time. For one thing, waiting for this verdict is not comfortable and if a "not guilty" verdict is found, life will be anything but comfortable. But can a person of color ever describe their life as comfortable? 

And if the verdict is "guilty," does that mean life can return to being comfortable for me, a white privileged woman? It shouldn't. And life in this society will still be uncomfortable for too many. 

I need these words from poet Steve Garnaas-Holmes:

    We will do justice, and love kindness, and walk humbly with God.
    We will no longer be afraid
     to do justice, to love kindness, to walk humbly with God.
     Even in the lingering darkness we are not afraid. 

And now we wait. 

An Invitation
What does being comfortable mean to you? What do you do with your discomfort? I would love to know. 

 NOTE: To see more of the portraits I feature in this post go to  https://www.mrjohnsonpaints.com

Anatomy of A Weekend

NOTE: This post was written before I learned about the shooting of Daunte Wright by a police officer. How trite everything else seems. I recommend history professor, Heather Cox Richardson's commentary in her daily newsletter, Letters From An American

If you are a fan of Downton Abbey (and who isn't?), you probably remember the Dowager Countess of Grantham played by Maggie Smith asking "What's a weekend?"

Thanks to my husband's retirement, my flexible, self-directed writing and spiritual direction schedule, and pandemic limiting activities, weekends have not had much meaning. 

One day tends to feel like another. What I do on Tuesday, I can easily do on Sunday, as well. 

The one exception has been "attending" Sunday morning worship services. On YouTube. For much of our lives, Sunday morning church has been a grounding landmark, and that has been no less true this past year. Sunday gets us to Monday and on Saturday we know what we will be doing, where we will be on Sunday. 

Several months ago, however, we realized we needed a Saturday-- a day that would be different from other days in the week. We needed change, a highlight, a day off from the ways we had settled into life during the pandemic. 

We started roaming. Saturday has been our day to explore Minnesota. Where can we go in one day? We have driven each direction. 

Sometimes we have a specific destination, like Duluth to see the memorial recognizing victims of a lynching there in 1920. 

Sometimes, however, we just pick a direction and go, driving down country roads and through small towns. We have counted eagles, hawks, and most recently, swans, and have marveled at the beauty of the land and the change of the seasons. We have lunch in our car--MacDonalds crispy chicken sandwich is our first choice and later, as we head home, an ice cream cone. 

Lately, we have stopped at antique stores, and if we are lucky add to our latest collection: vintage copper. 

This past Saturday the small town of Darwin, MN was on our route and much to our surprise, it is the home of the largest ball of twine. Now who can resist that? 

And when we pull back into the garage, we feel as if we have been on a trip. We are glad to be home and back to more routine activities, like making banana bread or for Bruce, working in the garden. And church on Sunday morning. 

Then on Monday morning, I am ready to return to my desk. 

An Invitation
Do your weekday activities differ from what you do on the weekend? I would love to know. 

Friends for Dinner

For the first time in over a year, we entertained INSIDE the house! We have gathered friends and family on the patio periodically, but remember, I live in Minnesota, so winter weather has greatly limited that ability.

Now that we have had both vaccinations and are in the "safe" zone, as are many of our friends, we are beginning to open our home, and we invited two friends for dinner on Good Friday.

I laughed at myself and wondered if I would know how to set the table, for Bruce and I have our dinner each evening on tv trays while watching the PBS News Hour. Meal time has been casual, to say the least. My sister teased me, saying I could Google how to set a table if I had forgotten on which sides of the plate to place the flatware. 

Like riding a bike, however, I remembered how to do it, and I delighted in the process. I love setting the table not only because we have a variety of pretty dishes, but as I prepare the table, I open my heart to the guests who will enter the door. And after such a long time of not opening the door, of no one crossing the threshold, I was so eager to share our space, or food, our love.

During the day, as I chopped and sautéed and simmered, I glanced at the waiting table with its tulips, candles, white Damask napkins, blue and white Danish dishes and my mother's flatware, and I remembered other times of gathering with friends or family. The insightful conversation. The warm laughter. The increased connections. Oh, how I have missed that! 

And it was good. I fixed risotto with peas and a delicious green salad with celery seed dressing. Our friends brought a yummy trifle with strawberries and blueberries and even left some for us to enjoy the next day. Don't you wish you had been there?

Now here is a confession. Good Friday is a solemn night--a time of lamentation, and we invited our friends to watch our church's service on Youtube with us and then we would have dinner. Well, we were not very solemn. Instead, we were almost giddy with our eagerness to be together. As we hugged, we seemed to have moved into Easter's rejoicing. I trust we were forgiven.

Our routine after our guests have left is to do a complete clean-up. Bruce is in charge of filling the dishwasher, and doing the additional hand washing. I return the table to its previous look, wipe, and put away the dishes. We are a good team. And as we do that, we review the evening's conversation, which feels like an additional blessing. 

The next morning when I got up and walked through the house, I sensed a different energy in each of the rooms. It was if the house remembered one of its main purposes--to be a place of love and welcome. 

I can't wait to do it again. 

An Invitation
Have you entertained recently? How did that feel? I would love to know.