June in my Town

I just got back from a walk with my dogs. Today is simply beautiful and a welcome respite from the stress in my life at the moment. Normal June temperatures are in the high 80s, but today it is 70º.

This was one of those walks where all my senses were fully engaged. Traffic was unusually light, so I heard birds chirping and singing. It rained quite a bit in the last 24 hours, so everything is shining with a wonderful brightness. As I walked by some juniper bushes their fragrance just flooded my nose. Even the slight breeze was refreshing.

Anyway, it was an oasis of calm and beauty.

Vulnerability in Writing

When I first shared my blog with some friends, I sent the link with these introductory words, “For me writing feels like holding an egg. I want to share my thoughts, but I feel so vulnerable. It doesn’t take much pressure to break the egg and the life that goes with it. It then takes a lot of courage to be willing to hold another egg.“ They encouraged me to write an entry about this. So here goes.

When I offer words for others to read, I want to offer a glimpse into my soul. But in doing so, I risk rejection which is my greatest fear. A negative response unknowingly becomes a flaming arrow that ignites smoldering fears. Did I say too much? Am I being too honest and open? Do my dark and messy places cause discomfort in people for I know they bring me shame?

Over the years I have watched the agonizing process of several dear ones as they worked to complete their master’s theses and PhD dissertations. So much fear lurks below the surface. “Is this good enough? Is it researched enough? Do my words say what I need them to say?"

Several weeks before Christmas, I walked to the Great Reading Room on campus which is part of the original library. This room is truly magnificent in every dimension. The walls are lined with beautiful bookcases where theses and dissertations stand. It was with sweetness that I walked around the room and read the acknowledgements. These bound books represent a finished work and the pages reflect a portion of their lives. Each time they opened their writing to another's eyes, they offered the fragile egg and the life within.

I truly admire the humility and strength of these to journey forward in spite of sometimes life crushing criticism. Every time they share a chapter with their advisors, they hope for encouragement and a tiny breath of life to fan their flame. Sometimes their flames glowed so dimly that criticism without encouragement left only a tiny glow.

I think back on periods in my life when my "flame" was but a tiny, tiny ember. I am so very grateful for those people who believed in me and sent encouragement my way.

A bruised reed he will not break and
A smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
(Isaiah 42:3)

Neat Blog Entry

Just a quick note. I occasionally read the blog, Correction, which was recommended by Real Live Preacher on one of his blog entries. Anyway one recent entry recounts a meeting between these two bloggers. It's worth the read. Here's the link.
My Dinner with Real Live Preacher

Worship

Real Live Preacher's recent blog entry "On a Wing and a Prayer" touched me today (as they most often do). He stretches my thinking and often leads me to a small glimpse (grin). I'm most touched by his last few paragraphs about worship. Here is a brief clip. (If you have time, read RLPs essay. It is really good...plus he includes a really cool picture)

"When the end you seek is so wonderful, so unthinkably good, and so compelling that you will throw yourself against time, space, and even reality for the slightest chance of finding it, you have found worship." Real Live Preacher (On a Wing and a Prayer)

I've always considered worship as something exclusively related to singing and/or music. Although I love music and I've been touched at times, I struggle with worship. I've observed people deeply moved by a piece of music. It is a sacred moment, but I find myself wondering "what is wrong with me". RLP's essay shows me another way.

Several weeks ago I was contemplating the Opportunity and Spirit landings on Mars as part of the Mars Exploration Rover Mission. That these tiny man-made machines are occupying space on another planet and sending information back to earth...WOW.

How tiny the space I occupy on earth...
How tiny the earth within its solar system...
How tiny this solar system within the universe...

In this context my infinitesimally small existence in the universe was mind boggling and bending. Quite frankly it was sobering. Yet, I still believe that somehow and for some reason this really powerful God of the Universe truly, truly loves me. I think this was a moment of worship.

Comments

I finally got around to adding comments to my blog (thanks B!!). It was much easier than I thought it would be. Also, it was sort of fun to mess with the html code. I guess the programmer in me still lives on a bit.

I'm working on a blog entry about writing that I've been thinking about for several months now. It will probably turn into two entries. Oh Well!

P.S. Btw...Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Courage

Today I did something that took a lot of courage. I'd put off this task until almost the last possible moment. "I'm proud of you. You did great!" were the words to my soul. Immediately I countered, "I'm not proud of me at all because I know how simple this task is and also I know just how much I've struggled to do this very simple little thing." As I approached the place to do my task, words came to mind about courage: "Be strong and courageous...be strong and very courageous."

As I ponder these words, I wonder if courage doesn't always look courageous from the outside. Yes, sometimes it is accomplishing a grand feat against all odds or standing firm on principle against strong opposition.

But maybe courage is also about what happens on the inside. Maybe I was actually being strong and courageous while wrestling with whether or not to do this thing. I sure didn't feel strong and courageous. I felt the opposite: weak and afraid.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that maybe struggling and wrestling with things is not a sign of being weak, cowardly, or faithless. But maybe it's in our weakness, fear, and doubt that we find courage to do what we know we need to do.

Sweet Healing Music

My friend who writes the blog, A New Anglican’s Journey, posted music for Divinum Mysterium in the Advent posting. The song's name was not something I recognized, but the music and lyrics are precious to my heart.

My mother played the organ in the church where I grew up and she played this song during Christmastime. The music brings back wonderfully good feelings and memories from my childhood in the Episcopal Church. I always loved the Advent season when I was a little girl especially the candle light service on Christmas Eve: the candles, wreathes, poinsettias, the smells, the green and red, the air of expectation. Something about it always gave me pause and awe, and sometimes sweet tears.

As I listen to this piece of music over and over again tears roll down my cheeks. It's been a long time since I've felt good feelings about the church. I thank my friend for posting this piece of music. It is a precious glimpse of goodness.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving - The act of rending thanks, or expressing gratitude for favors or mercies

B and I traveled to my aunt and uncle’s house in Leavenworth, Kansas for Thanksgiving. My sisters, their families, and my mom and dad also made the trip. I’m especially touched by a friendship that has developed between B and my uncle who is a retired military colonel. They are on opposite sides of many issues, but somehow this new friendship transcends the difference. I watched them interact both with humor and with serious conversation.

On the last day of the visit, I had a few moments alone with my aunt and uncle while B was getting ready. With watery eyes, my uncle spoke an especially powerful compliment to me about my husband. His words articulated characteristics about B that I’ve known and seen develop over the last 5 years. I have utmost respect for my uncle, knowing he sizes up someone’s character quickly.

I dearly love this man I married 15+ years ago. I express my deep gratitude for this man with whom I walk side-by-side on this journey through life.

Pine Trees

The pine trees are gone; cut out several weekends ago. They've been looking sickly for several years now. No pine needles on the bottom half and some of the higher branches dead and brown. Over the years my husband, B, asked me several times to schedule an appointment to remove them. Somehow I just couldn't do it. Although diseased, these old things are somehow a comfort to me.

The morning they came, B and I went to Starbucks for coffee. When we pulled into our driveway we saw the ladder propped up against the tree and several large branches on the ground. As I gathered my things from the car, I felt a lump of sadness in my gut and my eyes started watering. I pushed these "silly" tears away and got out of the car.

On and off for the next few hours we watched their progress. My "silly" tears continued to occupy my gut.

These past weeks have been especially difficult. I'm feeling stretched at work...new topic, new technology, and using skills that expose my weaknesses. Also, I've been facing decades old emotional wounds...the kind you shove into a closet and lock up tight.

I recently discovered that my faith teaches me to face painful wounds. It's part of the healing process. I decided to open the locked door. I acknowledged the hurt as real and legitimate. I've been grieving and at times find myself weeping. In these moments I've found truth in the Psalmists words, "The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

These old wounds are infected just like my pine trees. It's time to face this fact. I'm treating them; no longer practicing denial. Oddly enough, I'm discovering that as I uncover and "look them in the face", they are loosening their grip over me. I'm seeing them for what they are, nothing more and nothing less.

The trees and stumps are now gone. Initially the area felt bare and empty. Today it feels open and free. I'm getting used to it. I actually kind of like it and suspect our big healthy maple tree will like the additional space to spread its beautiful canopy.

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(Updated:  Here is a followup post I wrote 18 months later.)

A Tear of Joy

I was planning to replace my last entry with rewritten text, but something within my soul said, "No. Keep writing. Don't sensor." So here is the replacement text, but as a new entry.

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Sometimes when I look at my animals a tear forms in my heart and every so often it makes its way down my cheek. Not a tear of sorrow, but a tear of joy. Joy that my cats, my dogs and their humans (three species no less) live peaceable under the same roof...well most of the time.

Frederick Buechner talks about this "tear of joy" in his book The Longing for Home. He recounts an experience with his wife and daughter when they "caught a glimpse of the Peaceable Kingdom". The experience that elicited their tears was at Sea World (of all places). He describes it this way:

The way the show began was that at a given signal they released into the tank five or six killer whales... [They] went racing around and around in circles. What with the dazzle of sky and sun, the beautiful young people on the platform, the soft southern air, and the crowds all around us watching the performance with a delight matched only by what seemed the delight of the performing whales, it was as if the whole creation -- men and women and beasts and sun and water and earth and sky and, for all I know, God himself -- was caught up in one great, jubilant dance of unimaginable beauty.

For a few moments we had seen and been part of the great dance that goes on at the heart of creation. We shed tears because we were given a glimpse of the way life was created to be and is not. We had seen why it was that "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy" when the world was first made. (Buechner 1996, 126-127).

I, too, have gazed upon this dance between human and killer whale, and quite unexpectedly my eyes filled with tears in the same way Buechner describes. At the time I didn't ponder the meaning, but drank the goodness of the moment. It was a glimpse of something delicate and beautiful, something good.