Abundance

 I never shared the pictures of my late garden, taken at the end of September.  Here are the collards, carrots, beets and nasturtiums.  The cabbages were already gone.  The trellis in back was covered with cucumbers and winter squash earlier in the season.

Here are some of the red peppers ripening.  I've got to say, I don't think I've ever tasted a pepper before.  Fresh from the garden, these were as juicy and as sweet as apples.

This is one of the thousands of morning glory blooms that sprang from one seed, planted on the edge of the tomatoes.  I figured the morning glory would climb the tomato vines and they did!  It took until late fall for them to begin to bloom, and then they were amazingly vigorous. 

This picture does not do justice to the amount of amazing tomatoes we got - both round and plum.  The green ones I picked at the end of the season are still ripening into juicy, delicious fruit on the kitchen windowsill today.

Here are just a couple of the Asian yard long beans.  They really were a yard long, and they had a firm texture and a nutty taste.  Only two or three beans were enough for a meal!  In the background is the already cleared bed that held 48 corn plants that actually yielded great silver queen corn, but we had to fight the worms for it.

The garden was more abundant than I had dreamed it would be, but not in the ways I'd imagined.  I had more cucumbers than I knew what to do with from only two plants until they mysteriously all turned soft and yellow and died.  But they were great while they lasted.  My winter squash vines took off like a shot and grew hundreds of blossoms.  In the end only two of the blossoms developed into a squash - the rest just fell off.  I had more tomatoes than I expected and frankly, I didn't expect any corn at all - but I actually had some!  It felt like a real accomplishment.  The carrots were thick and straight and beautiful, and the beets were big and round, but the cilantro died and the melon never sprouted.  I didn't get the greens I'd hoped for.  The collards, grown from young plants produced well all summer, but the kale, spinach, chard and lettuce I planted from seed really didn't grow much at all.  That was disappointing, since my main reason for wanting a garden was for greens.  But the peppers and the fresh parsely and basil made up for it.  They were much better than I could ever have imagined.

Sometimes you can fall into thinking that abundance means having it all.  But my garden this year reminded me that true abundance - the God give kind - is not the same as getting everything you want.  True abundance is in the awareness that you've been given a blessing, and it often comes in unexpected ways, and what you don't get only makes you love what you do get all the more.  



Overconsumption

My neighbor and I went out to breakfast together recently, and she ordered a pancake special called "One is Enough," and this is what she got.  Wow!  That was the biggest pancake I had ever seen (the picture really doesn't do it justice - it is very thick as well as wide!)  She said it was delicious, but of course she couldn't finish it even half of it.  My first thought was that I had to bring the boys to this place because Carl, in particular, is a pancake fanatic.  But you know, who really needs that big a pancake?    

Christmas is coming and this weekend is the biggest shopping weekend of the year, and American consumerism is at its ugliest.  We are all like kids in a candy store (or Carl in a pancake shop) and we just want more and more cool stuff.  Why have a stack of two pancakes when you can have a gorgeous stack of 5 or 6?   Why have a regular cell phone when you can get a smart phone?  Why have a regular TV, when you can get an HD flat screen?  I heard that in certain places, people were camping out in front of stores on Tuesday in preparation for Black Friday.   They were camping out in front of some big box store right through Thanksgiving Day.  

My family has moved 5 times in the last 5 years.  We haven't been any place long enough to accumulate much, and each time we move, we get rid of LOTS of extraneous stuff.  Yet each time, I am still amazed and appalled by how much stuff we still drag around with us.  My parents didn't have this much stuff.  Their parents, who immigrated from Sweden, didn't lug along anywhere near that much stuff.  Old houses have tiny closets because that was all they needed.  And they didn't rent storage units, either. 

I was just listening to an economist on NPR, talking about our national debt and deficit.  She said that the problem is that Americans have increasingly become "overconsumers."  We have lived beyond our means for a very long time.  She said that unless we learn to consume less we will not be able to maintain a sustainable economy.  Overconsumers.  Hmmm.  I thought immediately of the size of that pancake.  (not to mention the amount of food I ate on Thursday!)

I have been considering the issue of our society's unsustainability in many areas lately.  The U.S. uses most of the world's resources.  We eat ourselves silly.  We build acres of 5000 square foot houses with 3 and 4 car garages.  We heat and air condition all those houses and fill all those cars with gas.  And, I am sorry to say, we also have a church on just about every street corner, each one with its own furnace to fill, roof to repair and staff to pay.  All you have to do is look at global warming, increasing obesity, the mortgage default and bankruptcy rates and the rate of decline and closure of churches to know that we are behaving in unsustainable ways and things have got to change.

We are in a transitional place in history in our country.  We know we need to change things but we don't yet know how.  We know the future needs to be different, but we're still clinging to familiar habits.  We know many of the things we do aren't good for us, but we keep doing them anyway, unsure of what a future without them would be like.  This reminds me a lot of the kinds of stories I hear in 12 step meetings. 

And I guess I'm thinking about unsustainability in the month of December in my own home.  And I am praying for the courage to change.  Am I going to spend more money than I have to get stuff to go under the tree that gets enjoyed for a day or a week and then gets stored in a closet?  Do I have to buy stuff this Christmas or can we find a different way to show God's love to each other?  All I know is what we've always done.  What would a different kind of Christmas be like? 

Well, I'm not going to solve our country's issues of unsustainability myself this season.  But I can take some little steps toward change.  I've decided I don't need to fill the stockings with fun little items that last a short time, but then fill the landfill with more plastic.  In fact, I'm thinking twice about buying anything made of plastic lately.  I'm thinking about giving my kids an experience for Christmas (like a family trip) instead of giving stuff.  I'm thinking about walking to the grocery store when I need a few things instead of jumping in the car.  It's only 1/2 mile away!  And I'm turning off lights all over the place.

And I'm praying.  Praying that God takes my life and my will and turns me toward sanity.  I want to become entirely ready to be made new and to welcome healing for my - and my society's - unsustainable ways.

Invention

The boys pedal power a sky ride

Last weekend my family and I went to the NYC "Maker Faire," which I'm having a hard time describing to people.  The closest I've gotten is that it's a fair of people who enjoy tinkering with the latest technology and who care about solving problems with innovation.  There were some people who shared some very serious and innovative models for green agriculture and energy.  There were other people shared some pretty quirky inventions like human powered carnival rides made entirely of recycled bikes.  There was some guy that spent 13 years building a life sized Mousetrap game (remember the plastic board game with the marble?) with scrap metal and bowling balls.  At the end, instead of a cage falling down on the mouse, a 10 ton safe that was suspended on a crane fell on a taxi cab.  And I also have to mention the two guys in lab coats who put on a Diet Coke and Mentos demonstation with 108 liter bottles of coke spewing soda into the air all at once.  

Two of the fantastical chariots created for the chariot race.

 There were also a whole bunch of computer geeks there.  These were people deeply engaged in "Hackerspace," who talked so matter of factly about robotics that I felt I'd stepped out of the world I know and found myself in another dimension.  They were speaking another language I had never heard (including words unfamiliar to me, like "hackerspace" and "arduino").  The thing that most amazed me were the people there demonstrating their 3D printers.  These things actually take a CAD image from your computer and create a three dimensional object, either solid or hollow - right in front of your eyes.  You can already buy a simple 3D printer, called a "Makerbot," for under $700.  Honestly, it made me feel I had actually walked into the future already.  Imagine what life will be like soon: "Oh, darn, the handle broke off of the toaster.  Wait, I'll just print a new one on my makerbot..."    I can't remember ever being around so many people who knew so much about something I'd never even knew existed before.  I was completely out of my own element, which, as a person who can usually feel at home just about anywhere, was a unique sensation.  Kind of scary.  Kind of exciting.  Certainly intriguing. 

Steve pointed out that many of the people there were probably MIT grads who hold down serious tech jobs by day, but who enjoy serious tinkering in their spare time.  Obviously many of them were brilliant.  And some of them were also, well, a bit odd.  I mean, how many people do you know that rig up a recycled bike to look like a golden trojan horse and ride it around for fun - or, for that matter, spend 13 years constructing a life sized Moustrap game?  But what was so wonderful about this event was that everyone there was full of unusual ideas - some recycled from the past to be expressed anew for today - some new ideas based on new technologies and understandings.  They were curious people, engaged people - inventive people!  These were not people who sit around for hours just passively watching  other people's ideas on TV.  These people were fully alive with invention - fully engaged with creation!  They were not consumers, but co-creators of the future.



Bo powers a kinetic sculpture made of old toys and recycled objects



The Maker Faire would not be everyone's cup of tea, I suppose.  I imagine my mother's reaction would be to look slightly uncomfortable and say something like, "Well, those people are just way out."  But I enjoyed being among them, even when I couldn't understand them, because it felt exciting to be on the edge of the new - on the edge of change - in the presence of people who are actively engaged with major paradigms right as they are shifting.  Most of us spend our time well back from that edge, watching it (or judging it) from a distance.  But I thought it was wonderful to be able to spend the day with a group of mad inventors not only willing to look out over the edge, but willing to participate in God's ongoing process of creation.

So since last weekend, I've added something new to my prayers:  God, take me out of my own element today and open my eyes and my heart and my mind to something new and unfamiliar.  Show me the wonder of your creation, and make me inventive enough to engage it with enthusiasm as your co-creator.  Amen. 

Bo co-pilots this inventor's RC plane made from recycled insulation

A Full Calendar

So last week, this week and for the next few weeks, both the church calendar and my personal calendar are so full, there's barely a space left.  Our Godly Play program begins next week and we are setting up the new room, which has to be ready for tours by this Friday.  We have our church wide yard sale on Saturday.  Consecration Sunday is October 3rd, and there is a different task to be managed in the office for that every week until then.  And we're planning a gala first anniversary celebration of our Recovery Eucharist on October 1.  Add to this, our boys are transitioning back into school and homework, we've had tickets for an all day family event in NYC this Saturday for months, my mother in law had a birthday up in Vermont last weekend to get to - well, you can see, this is a very full time in my life.  (If you read my post from June 30, you know I refuse to name myself "busy.")

I guess I'm stopping for a moment in the midst of all my activity to blog in order to remind myself that even though I am moving fast these days, I am NOT like that guy on the picture up there - running and running until I forget why I'm running.  Just because all these things happen to be coming at once doesn't mean that I have to get lost in it.  There are very good reasons we're doing everything we're doing this fall, and I believe God has called us to do it.  So as for me, God gets me up in the morning and leads me through each day, and despite my spinning brain, it seems that by the grace of God, there is always time and space for everything that most needs to be done to get done.   I have to let go of the rest and trust it'll get done another day if it's really important.

As my husband was busy building shelves for the Godly Play room with his cordless drill, he explained to me the difference between his new lithium battery and his older battery.  Well before it ran out of juice completely, the drill with the old battery would begin to slow down.  It would lose more and more power and be less and less useful until finally the battery died.  His new drill with the lithium battery makes it so that the drill works perfectly well at full power the entire time there is any charge left in the battery.  Then suddenly, when the battery reaches the end of its charge, the drill just suddenly stops.  The new lithium battery makes the work completely efficient until the battery is done.

So this is how I'm looking at things these days.  When my calendar is this full, I am on lithium battery mode.  I may not get the chance to slowly wind down at the end of each day.  I just go and go until I can go no more, and then I have to stop and fall into bed.  But yet, in the dark of the night, God still recharges me and makes me ready for the next day.  And you know, there are much worse things than fully using up - right to the last drop - all the energy God gives me each day.  I go to bed knowing my day has been full of life and, if I am lucky enough to wake up in the morning, tomorrow will be, too.  Soon enough, I'll have more open space for rest and relaxation and unscheduled time.  Right now, I need to fill my full days with creativity, trust and a different kind of relaxation - a relaxation into God's assistance - even as I move at a lithium charged pace.  With this attitude, I am able to appreciate the many gifts such 'full calendar times' bring.

Creating a Positive Space

The Church enjoying the Garden Party at the Rectory on Sunday

My kids (and I) have always enjoyed a video game called Sim City. In it, your job is to set up an area for people to live and work in - you zone it, put in water pipes and electricity and sanitation - and if you create positive space, all of a sudden the Sims just start moving in. It's a riot to watch these little virtual people set up businesses and build houses.  If you've created a good space for them, the city thrives and the Sims are happy.

Ron, Kim, Donna, Elsa and Alison

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John, Elsa and Nat

My parents were great entertainers.  They often had either a few couples over for dinner or a whole bunch of people over for a party.  I remember watching from the top of the stairs in my pajamas or peeking around the corner as they laughed and visited in the livingroom.  I also remember my mother fussing and preparing for her parties for days on end.  As a child, that seemed to me to be her job - to keep the house neat and clean, shop for needed supplies, cook vats of food, bake tons of sweets and prepare the house for guests.  Everything would be ready for a party well in advance - even the table would be be set the day before the party with pressed linens and the good china and crystal.  I got the impression from all this that entertaining was a really big deal - and a ton of work.  Something I would certainly never have the time for.

 

Parishioners who've been at Grace more than 50 years
and less than one year.

But I've discovered that I really like having people over.  And happily, I've learned just lately that entertaining doesn't have to be done the way my mother did it.  If I want to enjoy time with friends, it doesn't really take all that much effort to put something together.  If your main goal is to have a spotless house and really impressive food, well, it's going to take some time.  But if your main goal is to set up some positive space for people to enjoy each others' company, well, there's really not much to that.  Just give them some lemonade in a punchbowl, buy a bunch of cookies and put them out on plates, put a few chairs out on the lawn, and just watch people begin to have fun.

It strikes me that this is becoming my whole approach to being a church, too.  Create a positive space where people feel free to enter - not fussy - not perfect - just open and willing to receive.  Although quality liturgy is important, church is not just about clever sermons, impressive anthems or typo-free bulletins.  Although good programming is important, church is not about providing the perfect program for everyone. 

Elsa with John and Kim, who announced

that they'll be getting married at Grace next year.
Bob and Chris in the background.

I think it comes down to just putting out something for people to eat and drink and creating a comfortable, welcoming and positive space for people to come together, encounter each other and hopefully encounter God in the process. 

Oh, and when God provides a perfectly sunny day it certainly doesn't hurt!

Discovery

So I've had a 2010 parking sticker for Seaside Park since this spring, but I had yet to go there.  So many people had told me it was the greatest beach around.  "Oh, yes, Seaside Beach is beautiful!" they'd tell me.  But I had my own preconceived notions.  How beautiful can a beach on the Long Island Sound be?  I'm accustomed to the beautiful open waters of Maine.  So far my experience of Connecticut's shore has been sadly lacking.  And Bridgeport - that's an industrial port city.  How can there be a beautiful beach in an industrial port city?

I love the ocean, so I kept thinking about that sticker in my glove compartment.  "I should get down there to check it out," I'd tell myself.  But my summer's been full of all kinds of activity.  And I kept allowing myself to be discouraged by the drive through Bridgeport, which I imagined would take forever, since I feel like it takes forever just to get to St. Vincent's Hospital, which is not that far into the city and right down the road from here.  I also kept telling myself it would be too hot, or the place would be too crowded, or that there were other more important things I had to attend to first.  So I didn't get there all summer.

The view of the sound from the beach

But today I happened to have this gloriously sunny morning free, and I decided that since my dog, who likes walking in the woods, is up in NH, maybe I'd finally take myself down to Seaside Park to check it out and take my walk there.  ("Is it long enough for a good walk?" I wondered to myself.)  So I headed straight down Park Avenue, because someone had told me that that's the easiest way to get there.  Just go south on Park Avenue all the way to the end and there you are.  I was surprised that Park Avenue seemed much easier to navigate than Main Street, and I got there in only about 15 minutes.

The jetty out to the lighthouse

Well, if you've ever been to Seaside Park, you know what I found.  There are 325 acres of nice lawns and ball fields peppered with tall, mature trees, three miles of beautiful, clean beaches, and an impressive rock jetty that leads out to a picturesque light house.  The park was designed in the 19th century by Frederick Law Olmstead, who also designed Central Park in NYC, and was developed and promoted by PT Barnum.   There are bath houses, snack stands, bike paths, pretty statues, beautiful ocean vistas and, my favorite, lots of ocean rocks and shells.  In short, it is beautiful there - even more beautiful than people said it was, and by far more beautiful than I ever imagined it would be.

My piles of rocks

Best of all, I found a spot to pile rocks.  (for more about piling rocks, see my post from April 29)  This is one of the most centering and relaxing activities I can think of, and I really miss being able to get to Kittery Point Beach to do it.  Until today, I hadn't found a place in CT that felt inviting for rock piling.  I was home!

Miles of Beach

And I thought to myself that this discovery of mine is kind of what people go through with faith.  Other people can tell you all they want about how wonderful it is, but until you really decide to go there yourself, you'll never know what it's about.  You can harbor lots of preconceptions about what faith is like, and your preconceptions can keep you away for a long time.  Your life can also be so full that you don't end up taking the time to go there.  Other things just seem more pressing, and your faith takes a back seat.

Memorial to those lost at sea

But once you finally do go, you discover a beauty that pretty much takes your breath away, and you want to go there again and again.  You find things there that remind you who you really are.  You find your home.  You wonder why it took you so long. 

I sure am glad I took the time to check out Seaside Park.  Trust me - it won't be long before I'm back there again.

Practice

Well, I haven't written in weeks.  I really like my blog, and enjoy writing it.  It's kind of like keeping a scrapbook.  I enjoy having my camera with me to snap pictures of things that strike me as beautiful or thought provoking, and I like coming home and taking a few minutes to write about what I experienced.  I started this blog last spring, and have posted about once a week or even more since then - until July.   With vacation and other schedule changes, I got out of practice and here it is a month since I last wrote.

It strikes me that most things of value in life require practice, whether you're talking about learning how to play an instrument, becoming good at a craft, or learning how to be a good spouse, friend or parent.  Doctors and lawyers and other professionals call their work their "practice," because skill and wisdom increase with repeated experience - or practice.  And of course, people of faith put many spiritual practices into their lives - doing things like praying, worshipping, studying and performing acts of service regularly - in order to get closer to God and deepen in their faith.

While it takes effort to practice, practice adds up and you get to keep it under your belt.  Though you get rusty when you fall out of practice, you can, with renewed effort, get back and pick up your practice again.  Take running for example.  This summer has been wicked hot, as we say in NH.  Since the heat hit, I have not run three times a week as I did last spring, and I think if I tried to run a 5K tomorrow, I'd certainly have to walk some of it.  But last week, I started walking regularly again.  I don't know if I'll be running like I was last spring any time again soon - or ever.  But I am now back to enjoying the feeling of moving my body down the trail, even if I only break into a run every now and then.

I have often set ambitious goals for myself in life (like running in that 5K last May.)  So I think it's important for me to remember that practice is different than achievement.  Practice is not the means to an end - it is the way I live my life everyday. 

My oldest son, Orion, was a magnificent cello player throughout his youth.  In fact, when he was in high school, he began working with a world class cello teacher who told him he had what it took to be a professional orchestral cellist in an elite orchestra.  "But," the teacher said, "you're going to have to practice 2-3 hours a day for the next two years to get ready for conservatory.  Not many people have this opportunity - or your talent - but I can help you do it if you decide it's what you want."  Orion was deeply impacted by his teacher's invitation to be a cello star, and he began working very hard.  He did practice 2 -3 hours a day that fall, even though you could tell it was like pulling teeth for him some days.  Finally that winter he said to me one day, "I know not many people have this opportunity, but this just isn't me."  He decided a life as a classical cellist was not what he wanted.  Now he spends his time doing a different kind of music.  He is a songwriter and guitarist with his own band.  (http://therockefellerfortune.bandcamp.com/) 

Practicing the cello 2-3 hours was a monumental effort for Orion - something that took incredible self will to maintain and something that made his life feel like it was not his own, but someone else's.  But once he made the switch from classical music to indie folk/rock, he never stopped practicing.  His guitar was practically attached to his body and now he probably plays 2-10 hours a day without giving it a second thought.  Though obviously Orion's practice still takes effort, it is no longer a struggle.  Instead, practice is part of who he is as a human being.  And as a result, his music just keeps getting better and better.  In the end, I admired that he gave cello as a profession a good try, and I also admired that when he realized it wasn't right for him, he let it go. Giving things a try and letting things that are not working go are both important skills we will all be invited to practice over and over in life.

I'm learning more and more every day, in my own practice of life, that forcing myself into a discipline I think I "should" be doing or sacrificing today for the hope of some future goal I think I "should" reach is not what I'm called to do either.  The way I want to practice my life is to willingly engage with the world and live as only I can  - discerning every day how to be more and more what God created me to be.  It often takes quite a bit of effort to joyfully follow God's will for me - it is a practice that often stretches and challenges me. But the more I practice, the more it becomes just who I am.

Vacation

I just returned from two weeks vacation. Naturally, people have been asking me how my vacation was. I find myself having a hard time giving a short answer. The bottom line is that I think I learned alot about rest and fun and play over the past couple of weeks, and I came away from my vacation with a new commitment to having more of those things in my life.

I spent the first week of my vacation at the lake house in NH I've been going to since I was 2 years old. My mom still spends every summer up there. The picture above is the view from the porch at sunset. My entire extended family gathers there for the 4th of July, so the first weekend was loud, hectic and fun. Then the rest of that hot, hot week, I did pretty much nothing than relax. Sure, I took one trip to Keene to get groceries, and I made and cleaned up from meals, but other than that, I pretty much spent most of my time just sitting on the porch reading "World Without End," the can't-put-it-down sequel to "Pillars of the Earth." I don't generally take the time to read novels except on vacation. When I was not reading, I was making friendship bracelets. I like to make some for everyone each summer, and also make a bunch for myself, which we wear all summer until they're too ratty to be presentable anymore or just fall off. I also spent a lot of time sitting down on the beach under a sun umbrella with my feet in the water and a lemonade in my hand. I floated in the water a fair amount. I swam. And everyday, either early in the morning or in the evening, I took a kayak trip out to the beaver cove to have some quiet time alone, which was probably the most rejuvinating part of the whole week for me. I felt sorry we couldn't stay the full two weeks in NH this year, but we had to get the boys home to prepare for their trip to Scotland.

Our boys sing down in Norwalk with a fancy Chorister program, and right now they are in Scotland for two weeks, singing in cathedrals. This is a wonderful opportunity for them, and I'm thrilled they're able to go. But the second week of my vacation was spent at home because the boys had to go to two rehearsals a day, and the packing list had to be procured, and the suitcases all packed and ready to go. So the second hot, hot week of my vacation was spent driving back and forth to Norwalk in heavy traffic on the Merritt Parkway, shopping in crowded stores and then watching Robin Hood movies and Scotland travelogue videos each night. I did some gardening, I made and ate good food, I made some more bracelets. It was still a change of pace. But by the end of my second week of vacation, when the boys were packed up and went flying off to Europe, I was more than ready to come back to my regular routine.

So how was my vacation? The truth is, at first I was disappointed by it. It wasn't an exotic getaway like so many of my friends and colleagues seem to take. It was just visiting family and spending time at home. I still prayed every day like I usually do. I still made meals and cleaned up. I still took care of kids and did laundry. So even though I was relieved of my church duties for two weeks, in many ways, it seemed to be just two more weeks of my regular life instead of a 'real vacation' - whatever that is. Upon reflection about my mixed feelings about my vacation, I've come to a few realizations.

First, I'm grateful that I live a congruent life. My vocation and my home life weave in and out of each other all day, and because I love my work and it's such a part of me, sometimes it's hard for me to know when I'm working and when I'm not. I'm not the kind of person who slogs off to work on Monday and just waits all week for my real life to begin on the weekend. I realized that I don't actually want to save up all my fun and relaxation for a vacation that is somehow apart from my day to day life. Sure, a trip to Bali would be great, but since I'm not in the position to do that kind of vacation right now, I can remind myself that I have the ability to experience a sense of 'real vacation' each and every day. The peace I felt out in the beaver cove in the kayak is the same kind of peace I enjoy each morning when I sing Morning Prayer in the church. The enjoyment of a relaxing and healthy meal is something I can also gratefully do everyday. I could even read a novel every now and then! I realized that I can intentionally claim a little rest every day. After all, Isaiah says, "In returning and rest you will be saved."

The other thing I realized is how important it is to put play into my life. The downside of having an intense job that weaves in and out of my whole life is that sometimes I never stop working. My mind can interpret anything I'm doing as part of my vocation. So I've realized that I need to intentionally take blocks of time that are not work - blocks of time that are simply play. Making friendship bracelets, for example, is play for me. It serves no purpose whatsoever other than it's fun to do. I found I felt sad when I had to get back home and stop sitting on the beach making bracelets for hours on end. But who says that I can only play when I'm on 'vacation?' I can put at least a little bit of play into each day so that when 'vacation' comes I am not so play starved.

So I'm now saying to myself that my vacation is not over yet. I am committing myself to a little rest, a little fun and a little play every day. So next time you see me and ask me how my vacation was, I'll tell you that so far today, it's going great!

Willingness

On Sunday, fifteen of us went on a field trip after church down to St. John's in Stamford, where we met with Linda Clapp of the Godly Play Foundation. We wanted to learn more about what Godly Play is all about. I've got to say, having a third of our active congregation say yes to going on a field trip that was a forty minute drive away on a 90 degree day that would take up an entire Sunday afternoon was both impressive and encouraging to me. It's not that all of these people want to get involved with teaching young children. But all of them are willing to entertain the possibility that they can help get this new project up and running at Grace by this fall. They are willing to learn what it's all about and willing to see if something about it calls them to get involved. They are willing enough, in fact, to give up a whole afternoon to just come and see.

There is something wonderful about being willing. I've been encouraging my boys to try out "yes" more often in their lives - as in - how do you know you don't like avocadoes until you try them? Before just immediately reacting to something new with a no, sometimes it's good to pause, think about stretching your usual boundaries and be willing to be open to a new perspective. You might discover you've been missing something you really love.

So to get back to being willing to take a whole afternoon to check out a new church project that everyone knows will take a lot of effort to enact: usually when you ask people to give up a whole afternoon, let alone potentially take part in an ambitious new project, they react almost fearfully - "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly add another thing. My life is so hectic, I don't have room for even a tiny thing more." It seems life is unmanageably busy for most of us these days. In fact, if you're not wildly busy, it almost seems like there's something wrong with you. A few years ago, I decided that when someone asks me how I am, I'm no longer going to respond by saying "Busy!" Because I don't want a busy life. What I want is a full life.

Sometimes choosing to get involved in a new project brings wonderful gifts into your life - a nourishing new fullness. Often, when you get involved in a challenging yet satisfying new project, you end up feeling like you're getting much more out of it than you ever put into it, even though you've given a whole lot. But you've got to be willing to come and see. If you just automatically say no to new opportunities, you may be missing out on a rich fullness that would make all the busy-ness of your life simply pale in comparison.

So I am so very grateful for the willingness of these 15 people to just come and see - to check something new out enough to see if anything about it calls to them. I'm really glad they tried out "yes."

Promises

Just a few days, really, after planting seeds, little sprouts began to come up in my garden. Here are the beans










Here are some radishes














Here are the squash, melons and cucumbers










Here is the corn














Here is the tomato and pepper bed, all planted with young plants that are already looking pretty vibrant and happy in their new digs












I find myself going out to the garden several times a day to just stare at it. It seems that everyday something new begins to sprout up. It's amazing to me that all I did was to put together some good dirt, add water and seeds and voila - vegetables! I don't know why I shake my head in wonder and almost disbelief. It has happened just as nature and all the gardening books have always promised. All I had to do was follow the steps of putting together a garden. It was a lot of work, I will admit, and maybe that's why although I've always wanted a garden like this, I never quite got around to it before. But because this year I took the steps I needed to take to get the garden established, the impossible dream of growing fresh, organic vegetables is becoming a promise fulfilled right in my own front yard. Granted, there's still a lot of growth yet to go, but each day, I see more progress.

Last Tuesday night at the big book study meeting at our church that I attend each week, we got to the paragraph that states the step 9 promises of AA (step 9 is when you make face to face appointments with people you have harmed or resented in your life and make earnest amends for your past behaviors toward them.) The paragraph says:

"If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will sudenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves."

What amazing promises! They must seem like an impossible dream to someone in the throes of addiction. I know that about 20 years ago, when I was at my lowest point in life, living a life sorely affected by an alcoholic, I would have read such promises and shaken my head in disbelief. Freedom? Happiness? Having no regrets? Finding serenity and peace? having no more feelings of uselessness and self pity? The fear of economic insecurity will leave me? How could any of that ever, possibly come true for me?

But as amazing as such things would have seemed before I started my healing journey, I have since learned that by no means are these extravagant promises. I've learned that when I accept and acknowledge that my life has become unmanageable and take the first small step toward recovery, then the next and the next, always seeking progress rather than perfection, things do change. What is most important is to admit that "God is God, and I am not God." When I began to move forward in that kind of humility, I found that at some point when I paused and looked back, I saw very clearly that my life was no longer the same sad life I was once living. And I realized that the promises had actually begun to come true.

Go to the lumber store and get boards to build some boxes. Get some good compost. Mix it with peat moss and vermiculite so it will soak up lots of water. Put it in your boxes and separate it into sections. Keep it moist. Add seeds. Build trellises for the climbing plants. Protect the beds from animals. And you will get vegetables.

Turn your life over to God, trust God will take you better places than you can take yourself, allow God to remove those bad habits or reactions or life strategies that are not working, and trust God has better ways for you to be. Make intentional amends for your past errors and live a new way, and you will find a freedom that you never thought would ever be possible.

Again from the Big Book: "Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them."

God certainly promises us wonderful things. And wonderful promises like these are certainly worth working for.

Potential

Here they are, in all their glory - my square foot gardening beds. I've been dreaming of making gardens this way for a long time, and I'm very excited that after a lot of heavy prep work, they've actually materialized on my lawn and are all ready to plant. The only thing left to do, besides planting the seeds and seedlings themselves, is to make some wire cages to protect the seeds and seedlings from squirrels, birds and deer.

Look at them - all neat and orderly and ready for duty. There is a lot of potential in this small space. Using this intensive system, I could get lots and lots of fresh vegetables out of these gardens - potentially all our vegetables for the summer. But I am also well aware of what could go wrong. In fact, my sermon on Sunday included a lot about this garden and what it means to have hope. (that sermon is here.)

So I'm not putting my hopes just in the potential of this garden. My hopes are already soaring in joy just in just having these empty beds in my yard. I think there is the potential for much more than vegetables for me in tending this garden, and I am really looking forward to the whole process as it unfolds.

Commitment

This Saturday, the Episcopal churches of the Bridgeport deanery had their confirmation service with our new bishop, Ian Douglas. There were dozens of people there, making a conscious and intentional and public affirmation of their faith. Some were being confirmed, and some who had already been confirmed in a different tradition were being formally received into the Episcopal tradition. Our friend Chris from Grace Church was one of the people who was received. Chris started coming to Grace Church last fall, and something just clicked for him. I believe God called him here. This just seems like the right place and the right time for him to take part in the life of a church community, and we are so grateful to have him among us.

Chris felt called to make it all official, and here he is, with his Mom, the bishop, me, and Nikki, one of the priests from St. Paul's where the service was held. His sisters were there, as were a number of Grace Church people. We were all there to witness Chris' new commitment to his faith and to the church. Afterward, we all went back to Grace Church where we had a beautiful pot luck lunch to celebrate.

We all know Chris cares about the church and is going to be among us for the foreseeable future. So we really didn't have to give up a Saturday to go to a two hour long service with the bishop, and Chris didn't have to get all dressed up and drive his family all the way down here, and we didn't have to make all the fuss of putting on a luncheon and Chris' sister didn't really have to make the most beautiful cake any of us had ever seen, either. But you know what? It was really, really important to do these things. Because it's important not just to notice someone's commitment, but to publicly recognize and celebrate it. Chris' commitment is something the entire church (Grace Church and the whole Episcopal church) needed to respond back to and acknowledge and formally notice.

I talk a lot about how the current model of church in our country is unsustainable and about how it needs to change. I talk a lot about how we need to discern what God is calling us to do together and how we need to find new ways to enter into God's mission in the world. I talk a lot about how people of faith have to walk the walk of discipleship and not be complacent and content with 'social club' churches. I talk a lot about how people need to step up and respond to God's call to us. But talk is cheap. Without commitment, none of this will ever happen, and our church will just be one of many that will die away over the next few decades.

So I am moved by Chris' commitment to our little church community, and I was thrilled to have him take part in the whole fancy ceremony of being received as an Episcopalian by a bishop dressed in full regalia. And I was also thrilled that our church showed up to witness Chris' commitment and that we came together on a beautiful Saturday afternoon to have a party, when certainly, there were other things we could have been doing. Because we were walking the walk that day. We showed up to put our feet where our thoughts and mouths are. We were being the church together.

Wisdom from the Woods 4

There are paths on both sides of the river. On one side is the groomed rail trail used by joggers, bicyclists and leashed dog walkers, on the other is the rustic trail, used by nature lovers, mountain bikers and unleashed dog walkers. The rustic side sticks closer to the edge of the river, and when I'm walking on this side, sometimes I get a glimpse of something on the other side that I wish I could get a closer look at. But unless I want to take off my shoes and socks, roll my pants way up and risk slipping and getting wet, there is no good way to get across the river and remain dry anywhere except for this one bridge.

Bridges are important. Sure, you can always be an adventurer and try to find your own way across the river. One of my boys was saying, as he jumped from rock to rock trying to navigate his way across without the bridge one day, that "bridges are for woosies." This statement was made right before he fell in and got soaked on a 45 degree day. All I know is that taking the time to go out of my way and walk down to the bridge is always a sure path to the other side.

I can think of a lot of bridges in life that have helped me to get from the side I'm on to the side I need to get to. The church has been one, so have the 12 steps. Whenever I've had a good friend hold my hand through a rough time or a teacher who's shown me the way - their help has been like a bridge for me, too. Even though I've spent plenty of time in my life jumping fruitlessly from rock to rock, trying to forge my own way and often getting pretty wet in the process, I've had to accept that sometimes a bridge is the only good way to get across a divide in my life. A bridge is not just for woosies. It is for anyone who's serious about getting over to new territory. And we all need help in life, especially when we're headed into the unknown.

So I am grateful for all the bridges that have helped me across in life and for the ones before me that I have yet to cross.

Wisdom from the Woods 3

When the river is squeezed into a narrower and narrower channel and when the riverbed gets rocky and unpredictable, the water doesn't hold back in fear of what's around the next corner. It doesn't dig in its heels and resist either changes or pressure. It just picks up speed, moves together closer, and keeps going forward with the flow. I want to feel as loose as water when my life gets rocky and unpredictable and I'm feeling squeezed.

Wisdom from the Woods 2

This picture does not do this tree justice. It shows how tall and strong it is, but it doesn't show its most remarkable feature - the root system. The tree's roots are a number of feet away from the edge of a cliff, and its trunk travels horizontally across the cliff to the very edge. What you see here is the tree seen from below the cliff, where it has eased out over the edge a bit before turning to grow upward toward the sun. Despite its height and strength, this tree is actually in a pretty precarious position. Its roots are shallow and not centered directly under the tree itself.

And somehow, the tree knows the iffy situation it's in, because the little leaves you see at the base of the picture are many little tree sprouts growing right out of the tree's bark at its base. I stopped and looked at this sight for a few minutes. It seemed to me that the tree was developing a "plan B" for itself. If a storm comes and breaks that tree off at its most vulnerable spot, the tree has 'thought ahead' for itself to make provision to carry on in a new life.

I've visited many people on their death beds who at the last minute realize that unfortunately they've waited too long to say something they really wanted to say or to do something they really wanted to do, and now it's too late. They'd either avoided the important stuff or life had just swept them up and they never got around to it. I think sometimes in life you've got to be like this tree and intentionally sprout some new beginnings, even when things seem to be going well enough right now. Sometimes you need to intentionally take action toward a new tomorrow even when you don't think you have time or you'd rather just avoid doing it for some reason.

Tiny little sprouts of action are how whole new trees can take root in your life - even if your roots don't have the advantage of deep, rich soil. So thanks, tree, for reminding me to take some active steps toward my highest hopes today.

Wisdom from the Woods 1

I love to spend time near water. I'm very fortunate that right behind my house there is a beautiful trail by a river. I love to spend time there, walking by the edge of the river or sitting on a rock watching the water flow by. It immediately calms me down and opens me up to the Spirit. Yesterday was Thursday, my sermon writing day, and enticed by the beautiful weather, I decided to take a pad of paper with me into the woods to write my sermon by the river. Here's a picture of my pad with my foot next to it, sporting the hot pink sneakers I got to run the Bishop's 5K - which is tomorrow! OMG - why did I ever think I could run a race?! If I ever needed the river to calm me down, this would be the week.

Anyway, I found myself doing a lot more contemplating than writing. Writing a sermon by hand is a romantic notion I often think I aspire to (after all, my first and most respected mentor wrote all his sermons by hand, claiming that it gave him the neccesary time and room to really think about what he was saying), but the truth is that I really prefer writing on the computer. I learned to write papers with pen and paper, a stack of index cards and a typewriter, but I've been utterly and completely converted to computer writing. I like the creativity of being able to edit things on the screen, move sentences and paragraphs all around and change things as I go.

But taking my pad of paper out into the woods served my deeper purpose well. It slowed me down. In fact, it slowed me down so much that it was at least three hours before I came out of the woods again. I discovered that I had my camera in my pocket and enjoyed taking lots of pictures of my favorite spots, which I think I'll share here over the next few days. My time in the woods centered me as it always does, and made me wonder, as I always do, why I don't spend time there more often. Oh, and I did come up with at least a basic outline for the sermon...

It is a really healing and rejuvinating thing to put something beautiful into your day, as is finding some time for a little solitude. Whenever I take the time to go down this lovely trail, I am blessed with both at once. Isaiah wrote, "In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength." I couldn't agree more.

Taking the First Step

I've been a regular attender of Al Anon for 6 months now and have also been working the steps with a big book meeting right here at my church once a week. This whole thing has been a gift to me that I never would have seen coming, but it has been a very good thing in my life at a very good time in my life. I'm not sure what shows on the outside from all the good work I've been doing in Al Anon, but I've experienced many wonderful changes on the inside. I've been able to let go of some things that had been bothering me as well as a number of things I hadn't even realized were bothering me. Today, I am more honest, trusting, humble and at home in myself than I was just six months ago.

Living the 12 steps has required me to let go of doing some things the way I've always done them and to intentionally find a new and healthier way to live day by day. It has required me to examine my perceptions and let go of some assumptions about myself and others that I've held for a long time and that weren't helping me in life. Rationally, that seems like a very simple thing - to let go of what isn't helping you. But the tricky part is that sometimes I don't recognize an unhelpful pattern I'm holding on to. I'm just so darn familiar with the way I've always done things that my lifelong habits have become kind of comfortable. And I've carried many of my old perceptions around with me since I was very, very young, so the things I do that aren't working for me often just seem normal to me. Because my old habits are such a deep part of me, nothing will change until I take that first step of somehow seeing my life from outside the box of my own thinking and my own perceptions. I was pondering this in the car one day when I saw this billboard down in Bridgeport:



Here's a bad habit in all it's familiarity. "Hi there buddy - you know me - I'm the cigarette you smoke when you're caught in traffic. You light me up and I calm you down - we're partners you and me. We always travel together, right? We always help each other through the tough times." Whoever started this anti smoking campaign really understands that old habits can become like friends that you reach out to for comfort when things are stressful. And from the inside, that old habit really does seem like a good and reliable friend. From the outside anyone can see that your "friend" is giving you cancer or emphysema. But that's not how it feels from the inside.

The billboard then suggests that you need to 're-learn' frustration in a new way - without using that old habit to get yourself through it. And I thought - that pretty much sums it up. Living the 12 steps means re-learning how to react to life without relying on old habits and old assumptions, or just mindlessly repeating predictable knee-jerk reactions. It means opening yourself up to a new way of experiencing the world that may be quite different than the way you've always experienced it. The Zen Buddhists describe this as having beginner's mind. Jesus said it's like receiving the Kingdom as a little child.

In the old fable, it was a little child that cried out that the Emperor had no clothes. I feel like my life in the 12 steps is helping me to be more like that little child - more able to see and name what I really see instead of seeing only what I think I'm supposed to see. I believe it was Pablo Picasso who said, "It takes a long time to grow young."

It's hard for someone like me to admit that I don't have it all together all the time. But I've discovered that by taking that first step and allowing myself to recognize when something isn't working, I leave room for something or someone outside of my own busy head to give me true and helpful guidance toward deep peace.