Friday Sunshine

Maybe Friday Sonshine?

Not so deep, but I am so glad to see the sun today… and to hear that we are expected to have sun and clear skies through the weekend. My ark was over half finished.

Gratitude sometimes requires reflection. And being grateful for the rain that we have had of late offered the opportunity to reflect and be grateful. We are no longer in a drought. Drought seems far away now as I wade through puddles and dodge raindrops.

So today I hum to myself a tune from my youth, with words from Ecclesiates: To every thing, there is a season… turn, turn, turn.

Framing

This weekend I’m answering a call that shouts out from deep inside me to create — more specifically, to work on something I can touch and feel and turn over and hold. Not something on a computer. And so, I’m “scrapping.” Rather, I’ve taken an empty scrapbook/photo album that has been languishing in the guest room and I’m filling it with my “photographs sans people.”

I frequently photograph flowers, trees, landscapes, squirrels, ducks and the dogs. I have images of ginger flowers and a great shot of a duck in Hawaii from the 1970’s (scanned from Kodachrome slides no less); I have plants I can name, and ones I can’t. I have a duck from Hawaii and a seagull from Montauk, NY. I have dogwood and azalea blossoms and crepe myrtle from summer and winter. There are pictures of daylilies from Alabama to Maine, and columbines where the seeds were brought from Maine and planted here in Alabama (beautiful flowers).

It started simple — put the pictures in a book and make a note about what, where and why – or something about what what going on at the time. But, it didn’t last that way. The impression is so much better if you frame the shot. You know — maybe a bit of cropping, or a bit of color around the edge. Follow that with something other than just centering the photo on the page. Group things that go together. Frame it!

Frame it. Not everything can be the most important all the time, all at the same time. Frame it so that there is a focus to the shot. Frame it to free up the observer to get the point. Pick up the proper colors. Use the best mat color and size. Frame it to make my point. And in the process, I begin to understand it all better myself. And I make it solid so I can go back and remember what I thought I learned.

In reading back over what I wrote above, it strikes me that in many ways Jesus is the image of God’s love… framed within the Gospel stories, framed in the shape of a human being, framed by the effect He had and continues to have on people. God’s Love made solid. Something we can touch and feel and at times hold.

[Note/Update: After posting this, I found that a friend had posted following link on Facebook: The Case for Working With Your Hands. Is there something in the air? I tell you, there are no coincidences. Or, maybe I'm just focussed on the same thing as Claire.]

What you say and read

Advertising is targeted — it’s really obvious if you pay any attention at all to the ads that show up in the sidebar of a google account or a Facebook page or have every bought anything from Amazon and get on their mailing lists. Some of our other utilities try to figure out what we will like – It seems that Tivo will try to figure out by the shows you record what it thinks you might like to watch and can record things for you. It seems that programs — just like people — can draw some very odd conclusions.

There’s a story about a guy who had a Tivo that thought he was gay. When he tried to make it change its mind, by recording lots of war movies (“guy stuff”) it decided he was a crazy who wanted to see everything about Nazi bigwigs. I have ordered books from Amazon so I get email because they want to sell me everything Mary Daley and Sue Monk Kidd have every written… and watches, fancy lotions and camera equipment. Facebook sure seems to think I want desparately to lose weight and get rid wrinkles while studying photography. And just this morning, as I read my email from The Daily Gospel I found ads for The American Monk (Accelerate your spiritual growth…), Speaking in tongues today, Dr. Oz’s Real Age Test (???) and the Gnostic Bookstore. But, the ones that intrigued me the most were the learn more about the Easter Bunny and Kindergarten Sightwords.

Kind of scary, huh? I find it to be a warning to me. As one human in a community of humans, I hope that I do better at seeing the whole, real person underneath these external expressions. But, I probably don’t. We all make two mistakes — we observe through the particular focus of our own eyes, and we so often see only the things that we are keyed in to see (keyword searching, anyone?). It might be all I CAN do — so just be aware: I’m only slightly better at judging you than Google Adsense… and therefore I shall attempt to leave that judgement to God.

Self Portrait

I was reading Susan’s post this morning ( Portrait of Ourselves ) — I don’t think I have ever been so self-assured. My mistakes or missteps are more often because of being so uncertain that my view of the world is right or has any value. That may have saved me from some missteps – but it certainly has caused many others.

I am only getting to the point of “I will no longer serve that which I no longer believe in…” only in my 6th decade. Only now am I beginning to be brave enough to figure out what I no longer believe in. There are things that I have never believed in, true. But, there are some things that I have to look in the mirror and say “Honey – give it up. You just don’t believe that. Not now.” And that is rather scary to me.

I discover these things about myself often through reading – through characters I find in novels. The authors that put those stories into words do affect me by letting the characters speak and act.

Thanks Susan for the reflection — and for the focus it helps to bring to my own discovery process.

Focus

It seems that I can easily fool myself — I think I have taken the time to pay attention. But it doesn’t stick with me unless I make a real effort. And effort to be awake and mindful and not just let life slide by aimlessly.

So – yesterday I had my new camera at work when new librarians came around for a bit of a tour. I am sooooo very bad with names (names must not be very important to me). But, I’m giving it a try. I took a picture of each (good chance to reinforce any new tricks with the camera) and made a conscious effort to attach names and things about each one to the name and face. This morning I saw them again and I could remember names and where they came from before moving here.

Is that a bit like praying? Or what is necessary to actually be touched by prayer or study? Take the time. Focus on it. Be mindful of what is happening now. Absorb it. Review it. It is only those things/events/people that we take the time to focus on that stick for the long haul.

And, I really want Jesus to be in that category.

But where would I go?

Yesterday, Susan’s post Master, to whom shall we go? over at Creo en Dios! caused me to stop and consider. Susan is so good – so organized, so focussed. She is a born teacher. I follow her on Creo, and I always come away with a new, positive way to approach life and God.

On days when The Church and her many parts are frustrating me, I often find myself thinking — “I’m outta here!” I struggle with the institution. My gut screams, at times, when the it seems that the goal is not finding God and responding in with love to the gift of Jesus, but the goal is the enforcement of outer trappings. All those i’s to dot, and t’s cross. Get the official baptismal certificate for my son so he can the paperwork in place to get married. Make sure all the music is in acceptable to the powers that be for this service, or that ceremony. Shake my head at the priest who is uncomfortable with a certain devotion because it must be prayed at 3pm (and I understand his discomfort with something that seems almost superstitious) but then he turns around and becomes a hind-bound, unmovable rock with respect to the performance of other church rituals.

And then I stop – “But where would I go?” At this point I find that, just as Susan describes the path of discipleship, I have no other path that I am called to follow. I can’t leave because I can’t walk away from the Heart of the institution. I can’t walk away from the Eucharist that we celebrate. I know that other flavors of Christianity “have communion” – I’ve been there, and been a part of those celebrations. It’s not my walk. I sucked it up, and said “Yes” to joining this community when I was a college student. Even then I had my questions and my doubts, but there was no other way to go. In looking back, the decision to join the Catholic Church took more courage than going away to college, going away to grad school, going into counselling, getting married or staying married. In some ways, it was more difficult than the decision to actually be a Christian in the first place.

Where would I go? Nowhere. And when I accept that as truth, then the question begins to melt away.

“Life is Difficult”…

“Life is difficult” (Scott Peck, opening sentence of “The Road Less Travelled”). Right now I wouldn’t be so polite. The human condition sucks. We are cracked pots that leak. We are fragile — we not only inadvertantly hurt others, but we take offense and are frightened of others. We spend inordinate amounts of emotional and psychic energy protecting ourselves from the possibility of being hurt (and in the process inflict damage on others). It seems the very act of trying to hold the pot together and stop the leaks makes them that much worse.

Right now, I am falling back on Jesus — God’s Love Incarnate. An actual human being who walked this earth an showed a way of living openly so that the cracks in the human pot don’t happen. A whole and complete human person in communion with God – completely. A person who was so completely open to God that he was willing to go as far as required to show us the way — even if we tried to kill him for daring to live in this relationship with God.

Sounds like I might be running from the issues. I don’t think so. It’s that the fear and anger have grabbed me recently in such a way that make me long for the wholeness. I don’t like it a bit when someone behaves erratically and scares me. I don’t like what I find in myself when I want to swing back and knock that other person on his butt. I hate being scared. I am scared and angry when another person is totally unpredictable. I cry. I can’t speak coherent sentences. And then the tears come again and I’m really upset because I can’t make them stop and my mascara runs and my eyes are red, and when that happens I can’t even hide my distress from others. It’s frustrating and embarrassing. It’s a complete loss of control. It let’s someone see how badly I hurt.

Footwashing

My favorite part of the Holy Thursday mass is the Gloria – bells and all. Last night, I was explaining what we would be using before mass last night, and when I made mention of the Gloria, someone (a young couple) questioned the fact that we would be singing a Gloria. Whoa! One the good side, somebody was paying attention to the liturgy.  But, I had to bite my tongue not to be snippy when I responded that “Yes – we sing the Gloria tonight.” (Bells and all).

I always listen to the Holy Thursday gospel and ponder it. I wonder about the cultural setting — in this scene Jesus when Jesus wants to wash Peter’s feet, Peter says “Never!” and Jesus tells him – “But I have to.” and Peter says “well, then, not just my feet, but all of me.” Jesus tells him – “You have bathed. Only your feet need washing.”

Only your feet. You are clean already. Feet – the walking around part of you. I had a couple of images cross before my eyes:

Scene One: I am clean. Once in my life I bathed – I was baptized. But, day to day walking around gets my feet dusty… dirty, tired. Jesus tells me that He must wash my feet. He has to clean off the traveling dirt. I have to allow Him to be that close to me so that he can do that. Jesus tells Peter either I do this for you, or you can’t really be a part of this whole deal. Give up your pride.

Scene Two: Now that Jesus has washed my feet, I must in turn wash others’ feet. I must be Christ to others. I must serve them – clean up the traveling dirt. Interesting — it’s like God took care of the bathing, I do the footwashing – or the pedicure.

Scene Three: I love getting a pedicure. To have my feet cleaned, massaged, cared for, makes my whole body feel better. I think of my friend Judith who would give foot massages to folks who were working as Team for a Cursillo weekend – they were on their feet for extended periods of time and their feet hurt. Judith was there officially as a music minister… but her call to servanthood led her to take care of other folks feet. She even brought nail polish so we could paint up our toes for the Closing at the retreat. At home, she took care of her Mother’s feet. What an imitation of Christ.

Love the one you’re with

I was a teenager in the late 60’s and early 70’s… last of a generation who’s world view was heavily colored by the Viet Nam war and the draft. The guys in my class were the last to face the draft lottery knowing that a low number really meant they were going.

One afternoon, I was riding in the car with my mother… a very proper, lovely woman (OK, as a teenager, maybe I didn’t see that so well); The radio is playing Crosby, Stills and Nash. The words floated through the air and Mama caught them. I still remember her thoughtful comment — “That’s good advice: If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”

I’m not sure her vision of that was the same as the singers’. But she had a point and it comes to me at various times. There are those that I have a strong connection with, that I love. They live elsewhere. They may indeed love me in return. But, the fact remains that they have a life there and I have one here. So, it becomes my call to “love the one(s) I with.”

I think Jesus did just that — that he is my example. The gospels seem to indicate that he had those that he loved and cared about as any human does. Mary, Martha, Lazarus, John… and yet, in all the stories we see a man who was present in the moment. He was approached by a leper – he loved the one he was with. He felt a woman touch his hem — he stopped, and loved the one he was with. He was present for those he was with at the time.

Not always easy to do — but well worth trying to do.

The dreams not fully dreamt

This was a week where the world looked dull and grey and the glass was always half empty. I reverted to ashes – and the words from a song we often use for Ash Wednesday rolled through my head without ceasing for an entire afternoon:

…we offer you attempts
the gifts not fully given, the dreams not fully dreamt
Give our wanderings direction
Give our visions wider view
An offering of ashes, an offering to You.

I may not have the words exactly right, but that’s how these things go: the last line rolls around, and finally is joined by the one before, and eventually the verse is reconstructed from the bottom up. And sometimes it’s not really the original words.

In that half-empty mindset I looked at my dresser which reflects my life. It’s awash in the remnants of not quite finished business. Needed supplies that got as far as the dresser, but the bag remains; a couple of tags removed from a shirt, but never thrown away; Earrings taken out that never made it back to the jewelry box. It reminds me that I have a lot of work to do with respect to letting go. I make the move in a new direction, but I really have trouble with leaving the past behind. Ever. There are memories to keep, I know. There are lessons learned that need to be remembered. But, how will I ever move if I’m still dragging the baggage.

Guess I’ll go clean off that dresser top. Got to start somewhere, and I don’t have the energy to think about the kitchen!