Category Archives: gratitude

Treadful Time?

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The air is thinner, no longer able to wrap me in heat and humidity. Storms and shortening days have transformed the green canopy over my head into scatter rugs at my feet. It’s happened every year at the change of seasons, but this year something else is going on. For the first time, it feels like a change of life season.

I first walked these streets fifteen years ago, but the life I was living then has fallen away just as surely as the leaves at my feet. I walk this beloved world in a middle age that will soon transform me into an elder – God willing. I am a falling leaf, transformed by age and experience from green to…what?

Years ago, my son Colin’s third grade teacher asked him to answer this question: As a leaf on a tree in Autumn, would you want to fall first or last? Colin chose first, somersaulting and turning on his way to earth. It’s my turn to answer that question now – not just metaphorically, but tangibly. Will I hang on to the stage of life that has brought me so much, or will I let it go, willingly and gladly jumping into the next colorful and grand adventure?

Today, I choose to jump. Knowing that I will return to the earth, accepting a different perspective and place, I will let time take me where it will. Because I don’t think Time is an angry, muddy boot that grinds me into an unforgiving eternal pavement. I believe it’s a brisk wind, carrying me to my resting place when I cannot get there on my own. And if the foliage I see on this walk is any indication of life’s truth, it’s after the fall that my life is revealed in all its color.

To every thing there is a season…Ecclesiastes.

For the Living

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The white colonial on the corner of Park and Main has changed hands two or three times since I moved to Wareham. With successive owners, the clapboard has been repaired and repainted. The parking area is resurfaced and apartment doors replaced. The old stone wall remains the same, but the weeds are pulled out of it regularly. It’s a nice old house, but the really amazing thing is the yard.

Grass grows in the front, and lovely plantings welcome visitors up the walk. There’s an antique bicycle with petunias growing from its basket, bright flowering vines, birdbaths and feeders. From the sidewalk I can see a child’s climbing set, vegetable beds, and an arched walkway that must look amazing from many of the windows. There’s room in the yard to play croquet or badminton; there are also places to read, cook out, or grow pumpkins. Whoever planned and created this outdoor space made a place that serves everyone living there or visiting – and it’s beautiful to boot.

I’m sure if I took a close enough look I could find flaws – weeds, bare patches, damp corners. But that’s true of everything that lives and breathes. Beauty isn’t the same thing as perfection, especially where people and animals live, work, and play. The beauty of this yard is intended for the living of life, not for observation. I say a prayer of thanks when I walk by, for the creator of this place and the Creator of all places.

Blazing a Trail

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I was out the door before 8 this morning, heading down the street in my sweats and sneakers. It’s only my second morning walk since the school buses started picking up kids. As much as I love my summer days, I love this return to the rhythm and pattern of my daily activities. Walking is one of my favorite constants – it keeps me healthy, it lifts my spirits, and it connects me with the town I call home.

This morning, I walked past trash bins on High street and counted more than a dozen cars in the downtown Dunkin’ Donuts’ drive-through line. Engines rumbled, birds chirped, and snatches of songs snuck out of car windows. Then, across the street, I saw the river. Between the old shingled Victorian and the fire station, a dazzling sun made it a fiery yellow path, turning eddies and waves into liquid gold. Even the surrounding marshes caught the light, making reeds sparkle and rocks glow. I never thought I’d walk into something like this.

Stunning. And something I would have missed if I hadn’t been out and about this morning. I am so glad I didn’t miss it. I understand why people describe holy encounters as blazing, blinding light. I just hope I am equally stunned when I happen upon God’s illuminating presence – and that I have enough sense to look for it among the houses and byways of this place I call home.

(Walk of Life, Dire Straits, Brothers In Arms, Warner Brothers,1985)

Yes

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Raise your right hand.

Will you faithfully execute the duties of your office to the best of your abilities and in accordance with the laws of this municipality, the state of Massachusetts, and the laws of the land?

If so, say yes.

I’ve said yes three times now. It’s the swearing in part of joining a municipal board – in my case, the Library Board of Trustees. Everyone who takes a public office makes the same promise, even if the words vary from place to place. At reappointment or reelection, these words are said again, and the promise to serve with honesty and integrity renewed.

Some people think it’s a little silly to stand at the town clerk’s counter, right hand raised, and make a vow of service. What could possibly tempt unethical behavior or criminal activity in a three year stint on a public library board? There’s no way to take over the world from such a place, and there’s no one offering big bucks for voting a particular way on library policy. I’m not one of those people.

I know the power of words and I respect the power of promises made. Saying something out loud in front of witnesses has an effect. Will it stop someone bent on personal gain at any cost? Probably not. But it will help the average well-meaning citizen let go of personal opinions and preferred activities if better ways are offered. It’s an ego check – a promise to uphold the good of the many over getting one’s own way.

Vows like this one are plumb lines, keeping the foundations of town departments solid and strong. Imagine what the world would be like if everyone who swore the oath kept the oath…

Lord, help me keep the promises I’ve made. Guide me in my actions, that good many come of them. Amen.

Love and Cherish

A friend of mine was married for many years before her husband wanted a divorce.

“Don’t you love me?” my friend asked.

“Sure, but I want a do-over before it’s too late,” he said.

Her take on the whole thing: we may take for granted someone we love, but not someone we cherish. Somewhere along the way, her ex forgot the worth of all the qualities that were unique to her and all the shared experiences that made their life together precious.

It’s been years since we spoke of it, but I haven’t forgotten it. Cherishing is remembering the holy and unique characters that make up a person. It is seeing in that familiar face the infinite mystery of life, even after years of living together. It’s recognizing that life didn’t have to bring me this family and these friends, and being thankful that it did.

We Will

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Will all of you witnessing these promises do all in you power to uphold these two in their marriage?

We Will.

Along with standing as the bride walks down the aisle, this is where the guests at a wedding do more than observe. This vow is made countless times in churches, restaurants, and on beaches every Saturday, but how often do those of us who make this promise give it even a second thought? In the Cleveland Botanical Gardens, at my niece’s wedding, a whole bunch of us were given the chance to take this promise to heart.

Instead of moving right along in the service, the minister had the bride and groom face the gathering of family and friends:

These are the people who will help you grow together. They will be there when you need them, he said. Remember them. They love you.

I don’t think anyone expected such a statement, or the chance to see the bride and groom face to face during the ceremony. We looked into their eyes, accepted the weight of our promise, and the privilege of honoring it. I count it an extraordinary blessing – and considering the number of people who continued to talk about this part of the wedding into the next day, I am only one among many.

Thank you, Grace and Tommy, for the honor of making such a promise. Thank you, Dave, for the blessing of a face-to-face that brought new meaning and strength to this vow.

Promises, Promises

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Something new is coming into the world today. In front of family and friends, two people will come together and promise to live a life in common and to walk through this world together. They promise to celebrate their blessings together, share burdens, and each include the other in their plans, dreams, and griefs. Sometimes the sheer magnitude of these promises gets lost in lace, flowers, champagne, and romantic music – all lovely things, but trivial in comparison. The word marriage doesn’t seem nearly big enough to hold such promises, but I guess it does just as well as any other word.

I offered and received those promises almost twenty-three years ago. Through half a dozen moves, graduate school programs, raising children, and doing our best to serve God and neighbor, I’ve had the blessing of a loving companion. It hasn’t always been easy and we haven’t always been our best or kindest, but it has always been a grace and blessing.

For Grace and Tommy, I wish a wonderful wedding and a love rooted in compassion and humor. I have no idea what adventures are in store for them, but I know they will be uniquely their own. Blessings for the journey!

Trying to Remember

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Remembering now his work of redemption, and offering to you this sacrifice of thanksgiving:

We celebrate his death and resurrection, as we await the day of his coming.

[Prayer C, The Book of Common Prayer. For complete prayer, click “prayer C” above]

There have been so many battles over the word sacrifice when it appears (or doesn’t) in a communion or eucharistic prayer. On the Roman Catholic side, sacrifice; on the Protestant Reformed side, no sacrifice. The big question that governs the whole argument: is the sacrifice of Jesus a one-and-done or does it recur every time there is a Mass/Eucharist said? The Anglican church split the difference, choosing their words carefully to allow believers on both sides to worship comfortably together – a clear example of valuing practice and compromise over theological clarity.

I was a lot more invested in this theological sticking point in seminary classrooms than I ever was in church or at prayer. I’ve seen people with superb theology that haven’t a lick of compassion or gratitude. I’ve seen superb theology lead to a love for humanity that accomplished extraordinary things. I’ve seen the same in people without a single interest in theology. Right theology doesn’t seem to be the guiding factor in a life lived with love or without. I think remembering might.

If I remember the love of God seen so clearly in the life of Jesus, I just might try to love my neighbor and myself in that same way.  If I see in his death and resurrection the inevitable return of all beings to the love of God, I just might see holiness and blessing in every single day of my life. If that’s not something to celebrate, what on earth is?

Giver and Gift

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And so, Father, we who have been redeemed by him, and made a new people by water and the Spirit, now bring before you these gifts. Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit to be the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ our Lord.

There’s a sentence that’s sometimes said before the offering is taken up. The gist: whatever we offer to God comes from what God has given us. At such words and at such a time, this most basic question must be asked and answered: is it the gift that matters, or the love that the giver expresses in the gift?

I think love determines the answer to this question most of the time. If I’m the receiver, it’s the giver that determines the answer: any gift given by a beloved is a worthy gift (how many parents have refrigerator artwork that is beautiful only to their eyes?). If I’m the giver, it’s the gift I offer: is it something that is an expression of love and sacrifice?

There isn’t a single thing in this universe that I can offer to God that isn’t already God’s own. But offering something, finding a way to give my love a concrete vessel, is something only I can give. If I give it as one among many, I am bound to those who also offer their hearts and gifts to God.

For some inexplicable reason, that’s more than enough for God.

[For the complete prayer, click “Prayer C” above.]

New World(s)

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She knows she passed two of the exams and will find out about two more soon. The fifth will take some work. Her reward: a high school equivalency diploma. Such a small piece of paper, such a tremendous difference. Opportunities requiring that piece of paper open up for her; better jobs and possibilities for ongoing education are hers.

But something else is happening, something invisible to most of the world. Her internal script is being rewritten. The one that names her Drop-Out, Quitter, Incapable is discarded. Hard Worker, Graduate, Capable, and Dedicated are the new adjectives found in the new script. She is made new again.

I believe miracles happen every day, but I don’t notice most of them. But God has let me see this one, and my world is forever changed because I’ve beheld it.