A Story of dark and light

     My brother and I use to spend lots of time in the car traveling with our parents.  They thought nothing of traveling hundreds of miles for the two weeks of vacation each summer.  We'd drive from Kansas to Utah, from Denver to Texas, from Louisiana to Kansas.  So many relatives to see and so many stories to share.  Sometimes the stories emerged from the traveling itself - like the time we visited New Orleans in the mid-1950's.  My brother and I were jumping up and down on the bed (one of the few times we were at a motel instead of staying with relatives or friends) and I managed to crack my head on the foot board.  I remember my dad carrying me to the car to head to the hospital while mom stayed with John.  I also remember sitting at the hospital listening to my dad and the doctor talk away as he stitched my head.  The whole time I was thinking, "Why doesn't this hurt?"  Guess I was oblivious when the pain-killer was injected.  I'm pretty sure there was lots of crying and chaos before the calm memory of the stitches.  A new family story emerged.
    Last Tuesday I returned from a 9-day journey to Morgan City LA for my high school reunion.  It was a great road trip.  One of the short stories that is staying with me is my visit with our youngest daughter's college roommate at the Atlanta Aquarium.  I hadn't called Emmy in advance as I wasn't certain I'd have time to get there.   I was staying over with a friend north of Atlanta and after a certain time I WAS NOT going to mess with Atlanta traffic.  But I realized mid-day that I could get there by 2PM so I called Emmy and made arrangements to see her.
    She was busy with a dolphin show when I arrived so I got to visit quite a bit of the aquarium.  It's amazing!  Emmy later told me that she's worked there for 8 years and I noticed that she didn't stop smiling when talking about her work at the aquarium.  I can see why.  It is truly a place of wonder.  I stopped and watch jellyfish glowing - looking like works of art as they softly floated along.  I got to see sea otter and dolphins, a huge variety of fish in so many colors, sting rays, sharks and beluga whales.
   She took me to see the area where they have the beluga whales.  I had seen them earlier from below the water, but now we traveled to the employee area where Emmy's co-workers feed the whales and monitor them.   What struck me immediately was how dark the water looked.  I had seen the whales from below and the water was illuminated with light making it easy to make out not only the whales, but all of the sea creatures.  From the top however, the water was dark.  I mentioned this and she pointed up to the large sky light above the water - light was pouring in - yet the water looked dark.  It was only as the whales approached the surface that I saw the white of them
finally reflecting the light.
    As I left the aquarium and drove to my friend's home I thought about this, about the light, and about the dark.  The next day in the quiet of the car I continued my pondering.  How interesting that the water appeared dark, but because I could see it from below - from deep in the water thanks to the aquarium's clear-walled tanks - I knew the sunshine from the sky light was filling the water with light.
   So I wondered, is that how we human beings are?  Are we filled with light even when we are at our darkest?  If I truly believe that God's light fills each and every one, perhaps this is how it looks.  Perhaps it is like the light in the ocean, God's light fills us, but it does not always remove the darkness.  On the surface we may feel darkness, we may show darkness through our fears, our weaknesses, our temptations, our illnesses, our prejudices, our judgements, our disappointments.  God's love fills us with light in spite of the darkness.  On the surface we may see the darkness of others, but God's love fills them with light.
    Every time I passed by a TV last week the George Zimmerman trial seemed to be on.  The prosecution is trying to show the darkness of George Zimmerman, yet  doesn't he too have the light deep within him.  The defense is trying to show the darkness of Treyvon Martin, yet he too had God's light deep within him.  What a different world we would live in if we took the time to go deeper than just a glance at the darkness at the top of the water.  What brilliant color and fascinating parts of lives we would find if we truly believed that God's light is shining within every one of us, whether or not we feel it, and whether or not we see it in others.
   I'm trying to pay more attention to how I respond to others I meet, see, walk by...  I'm trying to keep in my mind the wonderful image of light pouring through the aquarium water - making it possible to see the beauty beneath the dark surface.  May God's light in you shine so fully that you have to acknowledge it; and may you find the glow of God's light in each person you meet.

The Landscape of a Pilgrimage

    
    When I lived in Great Bend Kansas I longed for curved streets.  Our streets, like most in the midwest, were in a fairly rigid grid.  You could ALWAYS go around the block.  Even though I didn't drive, I always knew where I was.  I found that when I returned to Great Bend later in life (having moved away when I was 10), I could drive drive around the town (admittedly, it's not that big) and knew I would not get lost.
   When we went on vacation we would sometimes end up in areas where the streets had these beautiful curves and you didn't know what would be around the next one.   Very different from Kansas (especially where I was and in western KS) where you could see the next town's water tower while miles away.  Now there's something very reassuring and helpful in knowing that you could easily locate yourself in a well-laid out town.  But I still wanted to have some mystery.
    So imagine my delight when I moved to New England.  Things got very interesting.  I quickly learned that driving in Boston did not mean a few streets curving into mystery - my entire driving experience in Boston was a submersion in mystery!  But still, I love the curving highways, the neighborhoods that might have a way out, might not.  I enjoyed the changing landscape, the adventure of not always knowing where I was.
    I wonder if my desire for a little mystery might have been the beginning of my longing for pilgrimage.  A large part of pilgrimage is going to a place that is unfamiliar.  On the Camino I went from one landscape to the next:  mountains, rolling hills, plains, mesatas (flat land with tabletop like hills).  Each day included mystery as I walked new paths.  I relied on the yellow arrows and the scallop shells-- signs showing me the way as as the landscape changed and I appreciated their guidance.  But I also enjoyed waking up each morning wondering what I would see that day.
    The interesting thing is that the landscape has also changed on my accidental pilgrimage.  At first my world was smaller as I spent day after day in a short cycle between the bed and the bathroom.  I had time to pay attention to how the sunlight struck the walls differently during the day.  I noticed how the snow collected in our garden out the window.  As I figured out how to move around the landscape of our living room it changed with the addition of a TV tray to hold my laptop and my husband was bumped from his side of the couch to the other side so I could keep my left leg elevated.  The landscape of our house continued to change as I went from walker to crutches and from cast to walking boot to brace.  The landscape changed again when I borrowed a knee scooter and was able to be a little helpful in the kitchen.  It changed still again when I could put weight on my left foot and was finally able to walk across the street to my office.  These changes were also shrouded in mystery as I learned early on not to anticipate what was on the path ahead.
    But I think our internal landscape also changes as we continue on a pilgrimage.  I think of when I was walking the last week of the Camino.  I was doing many things differently having left behind some of my fears along the way, having learned to trust God more deeply.  In my accidental pilgrimage it wasn't so clear when I was nearing the end, until my doctor appointment in May.  When he told me to give the ultra sound six more weeks and to keep walking - changing to a brace in a few weeks, I knew I was coming to the end.  Though the June appointment might carry the news of my needing a bone graft, fear and disappointment did not rise up in me.  Rather I knew I could leave this with God.   I knew deep inside of me that I had once again left behind fears and continued (continue) to trust God more deeply.  With the end of this pilgrimage my inner landscape has once again changed.
   So last Friday, June 21st, my accidental pilgrimage ended.  The bone is not healing, but I was told to keep walking on it as long as there is no pain (using the brace).  I can even start hiking.  I'll go back in two months and we'll see... we'll see.   But as the muscles and tendons in my ankle and foot strengthen, my faith in God strengthens also.  Healing may not come the way I expected back at the beginning in January, but it will come.  Maybe healing has already come to other parts of my life thanks to this accidental pilgrimage.  I still have much to think about, to be grateful for, to look forward to.  
   I believe these smaller pilgrimages help us on the larger pilgrimage of life itself.  Each time our inner landscape changes, each time we accept God's love, move beyond fear and put our trust in God, we come closer to living deeply with the mystery that comes with the landscape of God.  Maybe the mystery I sought in a winding road as a child was the beginning of my search for God.  
     May God be with you and the landscape of your pilgrimage through life.  And may each curve in the road bring you surprises from the Great Mystery and closer to the landscape of God.

The Peace of God

    Last Saturday I was at the Preachers' Aid Society's annual meeting at the Londonderry NH United Methodist Church.  As I washed my hands in the restroom I looked to my left and read words from  Philippians: 4:6 (NIV) painted on the wall:  "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."  They were just the words that I needed.  This coming Friday, May 10th, is my next doctor appointment and I've found that for the first time I am anxious.
    I was surprised to realize that.  But after seeing x-rays at my last two appointments not showing new growth in my bones , I am finding it harder too have "hope" as I go to this appointment.  And without hope, anxiety is happy to fill the void.  The answer to this is in the passage from Philippians - turn to prayer... present your requests to God. 
    Ah yes, prayer.  Well, I (and others) have been praying for my healing, but it just isn't happening.  At least not the way I expected.  Of course, "my" expectations are more closely connected to my anxiety than to my prayer life.  My orthopedic surgeon has been very upfront all along about how long this recovery might take.  Yet all along I have been expecting things to move more quickly.  My expectations connect me to the chronos time that governs my life.  My prayers have the potential to connect me to God's time - and God has all the time in the world (literally).  Have you noticed that God is never in a hurry?
   As I reflect on this, I realize that prayers are being answered.  People keep asking me how I'm doing or how can I stand it not being able to use both legs equally.  Well, I've been held in prayer and I've known God is with me in this journey.  I guess that's how I do it.  That doesn't mean it isn't frustrating, it doesn't mean I get a little overwhelmed at this at times, but it does mean that I'm able to wake up in the morning and smile, knowing I can make the choice to live each day as fully as possible.  My prayer to God is that I can hand off this anxiety about my next appointment.  My prayer is that no matter what I learn about my bones healing, I will learn more about myself.  God has given me a glimpse into God's time, no hurry, no deadline.   And through my continued prayers I know I will also make room for the peace of God.  For "the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard [my heart and] your hearts and [my mind and] your minds in Christ Jesus."  May the Peace of God be with you all.

A Wilderness Funk

    I haven't been able to write.  It's as though all my words have dried up.  Certain topics were coming to mind, excitement about some books I've read, reflection on conversations.  But when I thought of signing into this blog and writing I felt empty.  I'm still feeling that way and am kind of wondering why I'm even writing today.
    But it's the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter and that just seems like a good time to think about those times when the world as we know it disappears and a world we would never have expected might start to take shape.  I haven't written since the beginning of Lent.  I was truly thrown off by the words of my doctor telling me he needed to see more healing so I should stay off the leg another six weeks.  For seven weeks I had let people help me out, I'd given up trying to get to my office, given up trying to be productive, given up trying to do any of the household chores.  People reworked schedules and provided rides and fixed meals in order to accommodate me.  It seemed like it was time for me to start stepping up and carrying my part.  But no, I was sentenced to another six weeks.
    Maybe part of the reason I haven't written was due to being tired.  A lady loaned me her "knee scooter" and that gave me much more stability and maneuverability in getting around, so I felt I could take on a bit more.  I could make the bed, help with the dishes, bring in the mail... I could also move around better so I spread out from my "couch office" and set up shop in the dining room.  What a luxury to spend time sitting in the dining room while working and using the living room as... well, a living room!  However, in doing more, I've also experienced more frustration with the time and effort needed to do each of these extra things.
    So I've felt scattered, tired, ineffective.  Reminds me a little of walking on the Meseta during my Camino pilgrimage.  However, there I knew it would end.  In fact for many days I could see the mountains in the distance with their guaranty that the climate would change, trees would reappear, and water would flow.  I didn't know exactly how that would look, but I knew it was coming.  Meanwhile, in the Meseta I walked in the dryness, carried extra water, wilted in the sun.
   Yesterday, Good Friday, our pastor asked, What is it you thirst for?  I'm still thinking about that question.  I thirst on so many different levels.  On Thursday the doctor said I could put weight on my left leg, but that is not the same as walking and I thirst for walking.  I hear about N. Korean threats and Iran, and terrorists and I thirst for peace.  I thirst for the living water that Jesus promised which seems to have eluded me during Lent.  I thirst for facilities that will let me enter and move around them easily, whether in a wheelchair, or on crutches.  Yes, I thirst.
    I need Easter.  Easter is for me as the mountains in the distance were for me on the Camino.  Easter brings with it hope, the hope that can only come through God.  The hope that is as steadfast as a mountain range.  Hope that takes the place of needing all the answers.  Easter is my reminder that God is with each of us, even when we travel in the Meseta, the wilderness, the dark places... especially when we travel in those places.  Easter is my reminder that one day I will not thirst - but with God that day may not come as I expect.
    Today, on Holy Saturday, I see Easter and somehow I know my thirst will be quenched.  Not instantly, but it will.  May the hope of the resurrection, and the eternal love of God help to quench your thirst this Easter.  Blessings on your journey.

Beads, Ashes, Hearts & a Walking Boot

    Interesting week.  Tuesday was the celebration of Mardi Gras, the last day before Lent begins.  I have fond memories of spending the day on St. Charles Ave. in New Orleans, catching beads from the endless line of floats.
    On Wednesday I made it to the church for the morning prayer time when ashes would also be offered.  I'm so glad there was this alternative as it would be difficult for me to negotiate our chapel with crutches at the evening service.  Plus I've missed making it to this weekly prayer time.
    Thursday was the celebration of Valentine's Day.  I found it interesting on facebook how many friends shared "larger ways" of celebrating beyond just couples sharing their love for one another.  Considering that St. Valentine was a Christian priest who helped Christians escape the persecution, it seems like a holiday named in his honor should encourage the deeper (and perhaps more dangerous) love that was central to Jesus' ministry.
    Today is Friday.  The day of my Dr. appointment.  Four weeks ago he told me that if the x-rays looked good I might get a walking cast today.  Well, they took off my cast, took the x-rays, I got a walking boot, but I'm still not walking.  I'm to continue with no weight on the left leg for another six weeks! To the end of March!  That will be three months since my slip on the ice.  I tried to think good thoughts as I walked out with my new boot.  After all, it will be great to be able to take it off and move my toes and ankles.  I'm already thinking  of the ease of showering without having to put plastic around a cast.  Hopefully I'll sleep better taking off the boot and not having a cast on my leg any longer.  But my mind continues to return to SIX more weeks hobbling precariously on crutches.  This is a Lenten journey I hadn't expected.
    But I should have expected it.  At my first follow-up appointment back in January I asked him about a trip I had planned to New Orleans in March.  He pointed out I could be still hobbling on one foot, so I cancelled the trip.  At my last appointment he did say, "if the x-rays look good."  My mind heard, "the x-rays will look good."  This morning I learned that everything is healing well except the bone has not regenerated enough around the lower screws to allow moving to a weight-bearing stage.
    As I was thinking to myself, how can I get through another 6 weeks, I remembered the article I read last week about the Iraq soldier who lost both legs and both arms in an armored vehicle explosion.  He was in the news after receiving two arm transplants.  As I read the article I thought how does one deal with that - with the fact that it won't be healed in 7 weeks or 13 weeks, or any number of weeks: the arms and legs are gone.  It's pretty sobering and I give this young man lots of credit for his outlook on his future.  He was glad to be alive.  Since the explosion in 2009 he has moved forward with his life.  He learned to walk on prosthetic legs.  And now he hand arms and hands.  I loved his comment that was something like, "I can live without my legs, but hands, I need them for so many things - even talking!  It's hard for me to imagine ever saying "I can live without my legs."  I have a feeling this young man has loving, supportive people in his life.  We all need loving, supportive people in our lives to help us through the difficult times, whether they are for weeks, months, or however long.
    I have been surrounded by such a community, but among everyone else my husband, Richard, has stood out.  Tonight as he hands me a glass of wine then heads back to the kitchen to finish up dinner, I will say a little prayer of thanks (this is the only part of my recovery that I will miss).  I'm not yet to to the place that I can put both feet on the ground and help out in the kitchen, but I am firmly grounded in gratitude and humbled by those who help others each and every day. Thank you!
    

A little stability... Please?

If you stand, stand.

    If you sit, sit.

But don't wobble!

     ----  Zen Master Ummon 

(quoted from The Art of Pilgrimage by Phil Cousineau)

     I've been thinking about stability.  My mind turns easily to the word as I catch myself leaning precariously in one direction or another  or as I look at the crutches propped up on a wall just beyond me and wonder if I can make one hop over to them.  Before I left the hospital I was visited by a physical therapist.  First she showed me how to use a walker to move around.  She thought it would be best because of its stability.  Now you would think that with the four legs of a walker plus my one usable leg I'd have lots of stability.  Yet I found out quickly that it's not good to lean on just one side, and it is not helpful to try to reach too far for it (as I did the first evening home and ended up on the floor).
     However, the walker is starting to really hurt my hands.  There is no cushion to the handles of where the walker is  grasped so I got a soft winter scarf, cut it lengthwise down the middle and wrapped half of it on each grip.  That helped for a while, but my wrists still need a break.  So now I'm trying to use my crutches more often.  Again, you would think that two crutches plus one good leg would equal some stability -- but give me two legs any day!  I've been practicing with the crutches more often the past couple of days, but they are still a bit elusive, and again I've ended up on the floor.  I have no idea what happened when I went down the other morning!
     So it was interesting to read the words of Zen Master Ummon today as I contemplate stability.  When I stand, I can stand.  When I sit, I can sit.  When I try to move?  ...Unfortunately, "wobbly" is probably the best word.
      As I think about it, pilgrimage seems to be connected to stability.  We go on pilgrimage and are changed slowly but certainly inside.  We get stronger physically (and perhaps improve with walkers and crutches as we [I] practice).  But the real work is going on inside. 
      One thing that keeps us unstable is to follow another person's dream.  Often our parents think we will be more stable if we are in a well-paying position as a lawyer, doctor, banker, etc.  But it will only bring stability if it is our calling, our dream, our deep desire. 
     I remember the evening I told my parents that I was answering a call to diaconal ministry in the United Methodist Church.  My mom wouldn't talk to me the rest of the night.  She had never interfered with the variety of jobs I had held, but as we talked the next day I learned that she could tolerate them because they allowed me to pay my bills, to keep my life stable in her eyes.  My mom had been raised as the youngest of 8 children by a single mother who divorced when mom was 3 years old.  Mom was 7 when the depression hit and she knew first-hand the terror of my grandmother not having enough house-cleaning jobs, wall-papering opportunities, laundry to take care of.  She knew the fear that my grandmother felt as my mother waded through flood water in the root cellar to rescue the jar with the "tax money" in it - the money gradually being set aside for taxes on the house so it would not be lost.
     So when my mom heard me talk about ministry, she pictured poverty and instability.  It took quite a bit to assure her that I would be okay (though I have to say, I was not really certain).  I couldn't explain it to her then, I was still learning about trusting God (and of course, still am), but as I have moved through the years I have found that it is when I move towards instability, which requires more trusting in God, I have actually ended up with more stability.  Of course it's that way... God just loves a paradox.  Perhaps this journey with God provides a stability similar to walking on two legs.  Doesn't seem like it should be more stable than a leg and a walker, or a leg and two crutches - but it is.  Of course, I've practiced walking on two legs much longer than using a walker or crutches.   Likewise, I continue to practice trusting in God, to feel more familiar with hearing God's call, to pray unceasingly so all in my life will be made more stable by my relationship with God.  I may be "wobbly" in my standing on one leg with crutches, but hopefully I will not be "wobbly" in my relationship with God.
     So if you find yourself drawn towards a instability, ask if it might not be God messing with you.  May God be with you in the journey.
     ^"So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness."  

Colossians 2:6&7

Confessions of a Gun Buyer

    I used to buy guns.  Lots of them.  As the hunting buyer for a wholesaler in Denver I bought everything from reloading equipment to Remingtons, bright orange hunting vests to Savage Arms, Smith & Wessons to binoculars. It didn't seem strange to be in the business; my dad had given me a 28 gauge shotgun years before and I enjoyed shooting trap and skeet with it.  My dad and brother both hunted.  When not using the shotguns or rifles they were stored way in the back of a hall closet.
    I've been thinking about that time in my life as I hear many sides of the gun debate.  I used to be a member of the NRA, but let my membership expire.  Thirty years ago they seemed to be taking the same stand as today - any type of gun control might mean that individuals would no longer have the right to own guns.  I never did and still do not understand that kind of thinking.  It seems rather paranoid.
    You can google "gun control" and get a timeline of legislation that has placed restrictions on owning guns.  We've had restrictions on automatic weapons like machine guns since the 1930s.  In 1968 the Gun Control Act was passed that limited who could purchase a gun and required any business selling firearms to keep records of the serial numbers of guns sold.  We've had gun control for years, and as far as I can tell people can still own guns.  In fact, unlike when I was in the business, most states now allow people to carry concealed weapons.  Concealed weapons can even be carried into our National Parks in those states where they are legal.
    I remember the moment when I knew I needed to get out of the "gun" business.  I had moved to MA to head a wholesale buying co-operative (a group of 18 hunting distributors who pooled their orders so they could compete with the "big-box" retailers like Wal-Mart).  One day I was proof-reading a flyer and my eye stopped on the ad for Colt AR-15s.  I knew that the AR-15 was the civilian version of the M16 used by the military and for the first time I started to wonder why anyone would need or want a military-type gun.  And I realized I didn't want to be part of the industry that provided these guns to individuals.
    Interestingly enough, it was the hunting business that brought me out to New England, and it was in New England that God and I were reacquainted.  I had been raised in the church, baptized and confirmed, but after college I drifted away from attending worship regularly.  But as I was driving to Massachusetts from Colorado I heard a voice saying, "Get thee to a church."  It was God, of course.  I know this because the voice actually spoke in God's language, King James English.  I knew it was time and found Trinity United Methodist Church in Springfield.  I started to participate in Bible Studies and prayer groups.  I listened to the sermons and participated in discussions.  The steady work of prayer and scripture and the Holy Spirit showed itself the day I read that flyer.  I had crossed a point and saw there was no turning back.  It was time for me to leave.
     But it was hard.  I had many friends in the business; I'm still in touch with some.  They were good people.  They are good people.  I told the buying co-operative members that I felt I was being called into ministry.  One of them asked if they couldn't be my ministry.  I think of the people I know who own guns.  The guns are not an obsession with them, but simply a means by which they go hunting, or enjoy target shooting.  It's interesting... what I don't know is which of my friends own guns for protection.  Maybe they've told me and I just didn't want to know.
     So I confess, I used to buy guns.  I'm sure the Second Amendment will continue to protect the right to own guns.  But I am 100% FOR banning automatic and semi-automatic weapons along with clips and magazines that hold more than 10 rounds.  I believe there should be a waiting period so background checks can be completed and I think that there should be some definite restrictions on who can buy a gun. 
     Jesus did not live in a time of guns, but as I read the Gospel stories I notice something about him.  Here he is living in an occupied country.  I don't know for a fact, but I have a feeling the Jews are not allowed to arm themselves. But not once do I hear Jesus say, "let's work for the right to carry a sword."  Or "If only we had weapons, then things would be good."   Instead Jesus reminds us of the most important commandment: You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, all your strength, and your neighbor as yourself.  Loving God, loving others.  In no way will an AR-15 help me to love others.  Can we possibly live in a world without them?  I can.