Author Archives: Johnna

About Johnna

I am a Christian educator and writer.I have worked in churches, denominational offices, and seminaries. I have a PhD in Theology from Princeton Theological Seminary, with a focus on Practical Theology and educating in faith. In 2010, my book, "How the Other Half Lives: the challenges facing clergy spouses and partners," was published by Pilgrim Press. I believe that words can build doorways that lead to encounters with God through the Spirit.

Wish You Were Comfortably Numb…

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There is no pain. Do you think you can tell heaven from hell? All in all, it’s just another brick in the wall. Pink Floyd lyrics are amazing, but add the music and they are mesmerizing. Existential angst and a peek at the darkness that lives inside every human heart shoot through the music and I greet them. Their presence within me is released, if only for the few minutes between opening chords and final notes. They are true to life, a truth that sitcoms and Hallmark movies do their best to deny or cover up.

But they aren’t the only truths, nor the deepest ones. They aren’t the final word, nor are they the ultimate narrative of a life well and deeply lived. In the end, it’s love and a benediction that close the book of life. Amen.

Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd – on the top ten:

Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd

Only Ten…

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Not artists or songs, but albums. Sitting in Crackskull’s cafe in Newmarket, my brother Scott asked the question: what are the ten best albums?

It seems like it should be easier to pick ten albums than ten songs or artists – that the extraordinary ones would rise to the surface simply because I recall fewer of them than either artists or songs. Turns out, not so – at least for me. Some of my favorite songs are buried in albums whose other tracks I barely remember; some artists outshine the music they sing in some inexplicable way, dear to me for their overall artistry rather than a particular album.

Then there are the genre issues: how can I choose ten from classical, jazz, classic rock, metal, grunge, punk, broadway, folk, country, soul, and so on? If the music was created before albums, does it count? What about Live in Concert or Best of collections? And other questions: do I choose my favorites, or the ones I consider the best even if not my particular favorites? Should I choose ones that evoke a particular time, profound because of an association to particular places and people?

Scott’s question has stuck with me for two weeks now, and I’ve been sifting through albums that whole time. Whether I want to or not, I’m already on my way to answering the question.

How about you? What are the top ten albums?

On my list so far: Six Evolutions – Back: Cello Suites by Yo-Yo Ma.

This is the first in Top Ten-ish…

When to call it quits

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There are still a lot of items on my moving punch list, and numerous items on my calendar that narrow down when I can get them done. Then there are the usual chores that have to be done if I want to keep my living space from descending into dusty chaos. Things to do, places to go, people to see must be done, gone to, and seen. But just as important are the spaces in between all that – the places where joy and love shine, and grief and sadness find their way into prayer. Stillness offering unexpected refreshment and a glimpse of the wonder that surrounds.

And, if I’m lucky, the presence of a kindred spirit.

Playful Magic

Knowing When

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Most of the curtains are up, most of the boxes are emptied, and the majority of what everyday life requires is in place. There are still quite a few things on the punch list, but none of them need to be done RIGHT NOW. So there’s a new jigsaw puzzle set up on the table in the living room, and I spent an hour reading last night.

Sometimes, time is better spent without getting things done. The work can wait – sometimes, the rest cannot…

Resting

Reminders

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I had my work space all set up in a cozy nook on the second floor. The window offered a lovely view of the street, which becomes a mountain view once the leaves fall off the trees across the street. That spot also gets the best light in the house, and is the one place that is perfect for growing plants. But that spot isn’t big enough to provide a work space and a growing space. So I packed up my work table and bookcases and moved them into a spare bedroom.

It was a journey of thirty-five feet, but it took four hours and a bit of rearranging to get the space in good order (I snapped this picture about halfway through the process). With such a short distance to travel, I was surprised at how dislocated everything got. It took me almost as long to relocate everything in the new work space as it did to set it up in the first space.

In the grand scheme of things, this little move up a hallway doesn’t amount to much. In the present, this little move doesn’t feel as little as I thought it would. This dislocation and relocation are small tremors that barely affect my life, not full-on quakes that throw everything into chaos, and I should not confuse the two. Perhaps one of the gifts of this mini-move is a chance to put such things in proper perspective.

The work space is all set now; the table is in front of the window, so I get a lovely view of the side yard. I have yet to set up the plant space. I’m sure that will involve some dislocation and relocation as well…

Upkeep

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With two cats, two humans, a couple of plants, and workers in to finish this and that project, the floors require a lot of cleaning. It takes at least an hour a week to run the vacuum over all the upstairs and downstairs floors; it’s up to almost three hours when I wet-mop afterward. Throw in bathroom cleaning, laundry, dishes, dusting, and neatening and it’s an eight hour commitment every week to keep things in decent shape. Those eight hours of work aren’t making any noticeable difference: their effectiveness is only noticed in their absence. When there are no clean towels or dishes the value of such upkeep becomes visible. That upkeep is a necessary part of a life well and fully lived.

The older I get, the more I think daily prayer is the spiritual equivalent of keeping the house clean and in order. It doesn’t seem to get me very far and rarely produces obvious results, but things go quickly downhill in its absence. I need it to live a meaningful, full life. Over time, daily prayer has changed my spirit’s home, deeply and incrementally. I doubt I’d ever be at home in the world and in my own skin without it.

How about you?

The Eighty/Twenty Rule

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Odds & Ends

Light bulbs, curtain rings, shelf liner, a couple of cleaners, and some paper bags – a bunch of stuff that didn’t make it into the more organized boxes. It took me a good two hours to pull them out of the box and put them in their proper places. Once this box was empty, I moved onto another full of thrown together things. It took another couple of hours.

A friend of mine who was a professional mover said that eighty percent of the packing and unpacking takes about twenty percent of the time; it’s the last twenty percent, the catch-all boxes and thrown together piles, that takes eighty percent of the moving time. That small percent of odds and ends consumes so much time and effort. Is it worth all that effort for these few things? Hard to say. I don’t think my life would have suffered much if I’d just thrown these items away.

Sometimes it seems like the same eighty/twenty rule applies to people – the high maintenance few taking a lot more time and effort than the lower maintenance many. Unlike items in a box, it’s clear that they are worth every effort – the lost, the fragile, and the difficult are treasures that we cannot discount or discard without incalculable loss to our inner and outer lives.

He told them this parable. “Which of you, if you had a hundred sheep, and lost one of them, wouldn’t leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that was lost, until he found it? Luke 15:3-4

Moving Home

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In the past twenty-two months, I’ve called four houses home: the place my husband and I raised our two sons in Massachusetts, a rectory built for the previous priest, a rental with a view and good neighbors, and the newly renovated original rectory. I still have boxes to unpack in this new space, and there is a list of things left undone that need attention. I’m still figuring out what life here will look like – and how these changes in location and configuration have reconfigured both my inner and outer lives…

If you’ve the inclination, feel free to unpack a few boxes with me – and a few of your own as well…

Philadelphia Row Houses by Colin Fredrickson

Above All

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We don’t pray for a lack of conflict only, but an abundance of well-being.

We won’t settle for tolerance, and we will do the hard work to love our neighbors, strangers, and life forms beyond our knowledge.

We won’t stop at the folding-our-hands praying: we will move on to the roll-up-our-sleeves praying.

We will remember that our lives are connected to every other life on this planet – and maybe beyond.

We will live out the truth that nothing can separate us (and everyone else) from the love of God; we are beloved and unique, and our value is not measured against the lives of others.

We will pray for peace throughout the world, and we will choose to be a peaceful presence in our own small part of it.

We will, with the help of God and neighbor, live in peace.

Jane Goodall
Feeroozeh Golmohammadi

Can Anyone Hear Me?

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Goodall Prayer

Are my prayers heard by a loving creator who continues to create and sustain the life of this universe? Am I talking to myself, trying to convince myself that there’s more than emptiness and random encounters involved in the life I live and the life that surrounds me?

A yes to the first question brings peace and the strength to make of my life something holy.

A yes to the second is a doorway to a profoundly anxious loneliness.

I trust in the Great Spiritual Power. How else can there be so much love and beauty among all the heartaches and pain?