Waking Up Grateful

I went to the Diocesan Clergy Retreat recently.  Brother Curtis from SSJE was our leader.  I love him.  Each day we were there he looked us each in the eye, and in his gentle, soft voice, thanked us profusely for our work as clergy, encouraged us in our ministries and told us how very loved we are.  How often does someone say such things to you?  I just wanted to bring him home and have him read me a bedtime story every night.

One practice Curtis encouraged us to work on is to thank God at bedtime, not only for the day past, but for our whole lives - in effect - to say thank you and goodnight to God as if we knew it was our last chance to do so - to "pray a completeness," as if our work was over and done.  And then, if by some stroke of good fortune, we find ourselves still alive in the morning, to wake up and receive the new day with gratefulness and joy.

It's a popular thing to do these days to make a gratitude list - writing out at least 10 things that you can honestly say you feel thankful for each morning:

1. I'm grateful for my warm bed
2. I'm grateful for the good breakfast I'm about to have

etc.

The retreat brought the gratitude list idea to a new level for me. I realized that I'm often and easily grateful for those things that are obvious and pleasurable.  Who wouldn't be?  However, there's a gratefulness in me that I don't always tap - a deeper gratefulness that I truly do have inside - which is a kind of buried, dormant gratitude. 

I remember when I was a teenager I broke the toe next to my pinkie toe on my right foot.  The pain of that broken toe disrupted all of my usual activities - from walking to sleeping.  I remember thinking, "Wow - you don't know how important a little toe is until it's not functioning!"  I know that if tomorrow I were gasping for breath, I would realize how much I took my easy breathing today for granted.  I know when the recent hurricane took our power for three days, I realized how much I take unspoiled food, light, and warmth for granted - things I normally have in abundance every day and night.  Curtis' words made me think about how I'd rather notice and really appreciate the gifts I've been given without having to lose them first. 

So I'm working on taking careful notice of the many basic and important things God has given me today.   Through doing this, I've also begun to notice that a real, profound and powerful gratitude is already there inside me to be mined and felt all the time.  And mining this treasure out of my own depths puts me in touch with how much God loves and supports me today - right now!  (Which feels a whole lot better than resenting what I think I should or could have and don't.)

Mining this deep gratitude helps me receive the day "as a gift rather than a given," as Curtis put it, and it also keeps me from worrying so much about what to do with this day, or worrying about what might happen in the course of it.  In the state of gratitude, everything that comes along during the course of a day is also a gift. 

Working on uncovering your deepest gratitude is a wonderful thing to do during Thanksgiving week.  I've found myself far less concerned with making the perfect meal or writing the perfect Thanksgiving sermon this year.  Instead I've been working on unwrapping each hour as a new gift to be savored and have found this gratitude practice to be as satisfying as a Thanksgiving feast.

Connections on the Road

So I'm up in NH on vacation, and I go out of our dirt road and onto the minor highway that leads to the big city of Keene.  There is construction work being done, and I need to stop to allow the traffic going the other way to proceed first.  The man holding the stop sign is eating an apple, and leathery tan after a summer working on hot asphalt.  He watches me approach, and I can tell he is glad that I slow down and stop at a respectable distance, heeding his sign.   I, too, appreciate how he is carefully keeping his eye on the man at the other end of the construction area, who, like him, is also holding a sign.  My flagger makes double sure that the other guy has turned his sign from the side that says "Slow" to the side that says "Stop" and that all the oncoming traffic has come through before turning toward me and switching his sign from "Stop" to "Slow."

As I pass by him, I lift my hand from the steering wheel and nod my head - the classic NH car greeting.  He nods his head and subtley waves back.  A silent thank you and greeting between two strangers on the road.  Later that day, while coming back down our dirt road, I have to pull over to let another driver pass (the road is too narrow for two cars astride) and the other driver and I exchange the same NH car greeting.

"Who was that?" my niece from Boston asks.  "I don't know," I answer.   "Why did you wave to her? she asks.  "I don't know," I say again, "That's just what you do up here in NH."

I drive down the Merritt Parkway these days - or Route 95.  There is no nodding and acknowledging my fellow drivers there - even on the quieter streets of my suburban CT town.  Clearly, by my niece's reaction, they don't do it in Boston, either.  Until finding myself greeting people on the road twice today, I forgot how I used to do it all the time when I lived up here.  And I'd forgotten how people not only notice each other through the windshields, but acknowledge each other's presence - and even express gratitude for the job they're doing on the road or for being courteous on the road.   Where I live now, if I bother to look through the windshield of a neighboring car, I'm more likely to see the driver wrapped up in a phone call or yelling at another driver in frustration or focussing on how they needed to be somewhere 5 minutes ago already.

Of course, I must mention that I was driving my mother's car with NH plates.  I happen to know that  out-of-staters are not often privvy to these insider interactions.  There is a certain tribalism in these behaviors - a kind of "I acknowledge you because you're part of my tribe."  But I'm now enough of a world citizen to feel like anyone on the road is a part of my tribe in some way or another - wherever I'm driving.  As I again experienced the cammaraderie of the NH roads, I felt a pang of loss, and the lack of some of the tiny, weblike and often intangible ties of interpersonal connection that once exsisted in my, and every, community.   People didn't ignore each other.  They noticed each other - and acknowledged each other.  Thanked each other, even.

So rather than just mourn the way things used to be,  I've decided I'm going to bring my old, and yet updated, NH car habits back to CT next week and start smiling at other drivers and raising my hand in greeting and see what happens.  I wonder if others are as hungry for small connections with others within community as I am.   Why don't you join me?

Effort

So, I was watching the Memorial Day Parade go by on Monday while sitting at our church's bake sale table.  We'd decided to show some hospitality during the parade, which goes right by our front lawn.  We had a bake sale and we gave away free hot dogs, offered parking and put out chairs for people to sit on.  This hospitality had taken a group of people considerable effort to plan, and and many people took the trouble to bake.  As I was watching the parade, I was struck by the considerable effort it must have taken not only to plan the whole parade but also for each group marching in it to get ready for the event.  Even those guys who drive the funny little cars wearing funny little hats - they have to maintain all those little cars and drag them all the way here from Milford - and I thought of all the effort they make in raising money for really worthy causes.  It also took the parade goers effort to pack up their lawn chairs and picnics and get to the parade before the road closed.  And lots of people had also put considerable effort into planning and having picnics and cookouts back home after the parade was over.

And then I thought, it's really interesting how people get up and do stuff.  Instead of planning this whole elaborate day, it would be a lot easier just to eat, sleep and watch television, but here we all are out enjoying a great day and a great parade together. 

Today as I write this, the church is abuzz with people getting ready for our big GLOW Festival tomorrow.  This event has taken monumental effort on the part of many people in and out of the church.  I hope (despite the forecast of rain) that people will make the effort to come tomorrow and hear the lecturers who have planned their presentations, see the exhibits our vendors have prepared, hear the music our performers have practiced and eat the food our cooks and bakers have made.  A great deal of effort has gone into creating this one day festival of health and wholeness for the Trumbull community.  Why did we bother? 

I think at the heart of this question is our human desire - and need - for community.  We need to get together, enjoy each other's company, create things, share things, and reach out and help others.  This is the reason there are family meals, non profit agencies, civic organizations, churches, mosques and temples, governments and towns.  Human beings have the need to be together instead of just alone on their own couches.  And I believe that God calls us to come out of our own holes and be together like this - to work together as one body for the healing of our communities and to find ways to share God's love with those who need it most.

And that is why when we do come together, make an effort, and create a community event like a parade or a festival, we usually feel more nourished than depleted when all is said and done.  Sure, it can tire us out, but it is also what makes life worth living.

I think our society has largely lost sight of the value of community and the pursuit of the common good.  That may be a subject for another day.  But today I want to give thanks for people who get up off the couch and do stuff for the good of the whole.  Thank you!  I really enjoyed the parade!

New Life

So, this morning in my sermon I talked about how Jesus had said to his disciples before his crucifixion that in a little while they would not see him anymore, but then in another little while they would see him again.  They didn't know what he meant, so he went on, telling them that they would soon come into a time of suffering, but that it wouldn't always be that way - it would be like a mother who knows her difficult hour has come and must endure great travail, but then afterward, no longer even remembers her anguish when the joy of a new life arrives.  He said, "You will have sorrow now, but I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice and no one will take that joy from you."

As I was preaching those words, I was thinking about my nephew and his wife up in Massachusetts, whose baby was due on Thursday.  I hadn't heard any news yet, and I was wondering if things had moved into the travail stage yet - and was hoping that maybe they'd already come into the joy part.  After the service this morning I received word - little Eric arrived yesterday - strong and well and everyone is doing fine.  New Life!

It's a new life for his mother, no longer having to carry the baby inside her 24/7, but now needing to carry him in her arms and feed him every hour or two 24/7.  It's a whole new life for his big sister who will have to adjust from being the only one to being the older one.  It's a new life for my nephew, now having both a daughter and a son to love, care for and play with.  And it's certainly a new life for Eric.  I wish I could remember what it felt like to take my first breath and meet my life on earth for the first time!  I'm sure it was quite a shock in some ways.  But at the same time, arriving into my mother's arms for the first time must have been a wonderful moment.

Like all human lives, I know already that Eric's life will have its share of anguish and travail.  And although we are offered new life every day, that doesn't mean our lives won't include both sorrows and joys.  As my new little great nephew's family moves into their new life together today, my prayer for them is this: Trust God in everything, and stay as close to God as you can every moment.  You never know what a day will bring, but whatever it brings, trusting and relying on God brings a joy that no one will be able to take from you.

Blessings upon you, little Eric.

Resurrection

There’s way more to resurrection than just maybe heaven someday.

Resurrection asks me questions:

How will I live a resurrected life?
How will I choose to greet people?
What will I make time for in my day?
What will I allow to fill my day and my mind and my heart?

Will I respond to life out of gratefulness
or remain blocked by resentments?

Will I notice the sometimes subtle
but life giving gifts that are mine every day?
Or will I only notice what I had when it's gone?

I wake up in the morning, resurrected 

After the death of sleep I am given a new day.

With each inhale, I am resurrected

After the death of an exhale, new life enters.

A friend and I reconnect, resurrected

After the death of misunderstanding, new love is found.

I sit down in the quiet to pray, resurrected

After the death of losing my center, new peace.

All day long, every day, I am invited into resurrection.

There’s way more to it than just maybe heaven someday.

Every moment is an invitation into new life.


Into resurrection.

Good Friday

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

Jesus has been there.  Jesus knows

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

My God, My God, why did that test come back positive?

My God, My God, Why can’t I seem to make my life work?

My God, My God, why is my daughter on drugs?

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

My God, My God, why does he hit me?

My God, My God, why can’t I find another job?

My God, My God, why can’t I stop drinking?

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

My God, My God, Why don’t my children call me anymore?

My God, My God, Why am I losing control of my life?

My God, My God, why did she have to die?

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

Jesus has been there.  Jesus knows

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

God - in God’s own self –

knows that in our places of deepest grief and deepest despair,

we get no satisfactory response to our desperate why’s –

there is only the painful silence.

My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?

But because God – in God’s own self – has been there and knows
We are assured that no matter where we find ourselves
Even at the lowest, darkest, deepest rock bottom,
we are never alone.

Jesus is there with us.
Because Jesus knows.

Spaciousness

It probably comes as no surprise to anyone at all familiar with the Episcopal Church that Holy Week is the busiest week of a parish priest's year.  There are five significant services this week - and they are all unusual, once-a-year events that take more planning than usual.  This year at Grace we're having a vigil service - the first vigil that we've had here in a very long time.  The vigil is a fancy and complicated service with all kinds of extras - a bonfire, candles, incense, chanting, lots of different readers, baptisms - the bishop is even coming to celebrate the service with us this year, along with our neighboring clergy.  It is the first vigil I have planned myself and I have been overwhelmed by all the details.  I have been in a bit of a panic, to tell the truth.

Today I finally put the finishing touches on all the ends I considered to be loose around this big service in my own mind, and I feel much better.  And the calm that has come over me has been a reall gift.  Because now I feel ready to travel through Holy Week in a way that I am open to receiving - not just giving.  I don't think it's only priests that can fall into the trap of managing their work, or their lives, in such a way that you become separated from it - almost as if you're watching yourself and what you are doing instead of actually being present and participating in it.  Have you ever had that feeling in your life or work?  I have, and of all weeks, Holy Week is not the week I want to feel that way.

Because the truth is - Holy Week is not primarily the busiest week of the year.  It is the holiest week of the year.  It can be a spiritual portal into new life - if I allow God to work in me.  Why would I want to be preoccupied with what I think my work is when God wants to work through me?  All the preparations we do at a church for Holy Week are not for ourselves.  They are for God.  And God is for us.  So really - what is there to worry about?

So I am glad I was able to get enough details settled today to allow myself the peace and the space to be able to receive - to listen - to rest - to contemplate - to hope - as this week progresses.  I pray the same spaciousness for you. 

If you'd like to experience the beauty of our Holy Week liturgies, you can find the schedule here:

http://gracetrumbull.org/templates/System/details.asp?id=47651&PID=767044

On a Day Late in Lent

Spring officially arrived two days ago, but this year it has felt like spring for a while already.  This picture of our intrepid concrete-defying daffodils was taken two years ago - on about April 16.  This picture proves how early spring is this year because the flowers look like this today on March 22.

A few years ago Steve and I were in San Francisco in early March.  The flowers were blooming, the fields were bright green and the farmer's markets were overflowing with local produce.  We'd flown out from JFK in some pretty dismal winter weather, so the contrast was striking.  My first reaction was to be uncomfortable with it.  "This is not very Lenten!" 

You see, I have lived in New England all my life and I have become accustomed to how Lent falls in the gray and chilly time of year - the time of year when the snow has gotten hard and dirty and the sidewalks are gritty and things just look - well - dead.  When the first crocuses finally start to come out - sometimes up through a late snowcover - and the soft green grass begins to bring life back into the gray landscape it gives Easter an added layer of meaning. 

So while I've enjoyed the beautiful weather lately, I realize I've also been feeling a bit cheated out of the yucky late winter weather that makes the spring so sweet in comparison and gives Easter a literal new life feeling.  And because of this, I can sometimes be a bit like the Lenten version of Ebineezer Scrooge or something. Spring? Sunshine? Daffodils? Bah Humbug!

What is wrong with that picture?  Today it's 75 degrees and sunny with a gentle breeze and I'm sitting in my office resenting it?  So at about 4 this afternoon, I realized I was nursing a stupid resentment and I went outside, took off my shoes and sat on a bench and enjoyed sitting in the sun.  They say it's going to get cooler again soon.  So I'm going to enjoy this day while I can and practice some gratefulness for small things. 

Yet, to add another layer to this onion, there is something very Lenten still at work here.  One of the reasons I know I have a Scrooge-like attitude toward this warm weather is because I know that the bigger picture of this lovely day includes the reality of an overall change in climate and the ominous environmental implications it reveals.  I've noticed many people's discomfort with this obviously drastic change in the weather, and it seems that we all feel powerless to do much about it.  So we say things like, "What a beautiful day!" but then kind of shrug and say, "It's so strange, isn't it?   Weird.  Almost unsettling."  We are hovering on the edge of acknowledging that the root cause of this early spring is perhaps the result of a collective character defect of our society - of our wastefulness as Americans and our disregard for the planet. 

There's a nice prayer in the prayer book.  I think it expresses the better intent of those Biblical words, "dominion over," which has always given me some measure of discomfort. 

Almighty God, in giving us dominion over things on earth,
you made us fellow workers in your creation:

Give us wisdomand reverence so to use the resources of nature,

that no onemay suffer from our abuse of them,

and that generations yet to come

may continue to praise you for your bounty;

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

I guess that through pondering all this, I'm coming up with a new way to describe what Lent is all about.  It's a time when we intentionally invite our discomforts to lead to more than just resentments or denial.  It's a time when we have a chance to allow our discomforts (and life gives us no shortage of those...) to lead us to a deeper discovery of God's will for us.  May you have a blessed Lent which brings you deep into the heart of God and prepares you for a new and transformed life this Easter.