Category Archives: gratitude

The Stores Not Shopped

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Sid Wainer’s, Barnes & Noble, L.L. Bean, Ikea,  and Trader Joe’s are my favorite places to shop. I also love going to the King Arthur Flour Baking Center for a class and some time in their store. I can spend hours in used book shops, pulling out dusty hardbacks and reading their faded inscriptions, loving words penned by strangers I’ll never meet. In the past few weeks, I’ve shopped for groceries and bought a book that my older son needed for a class. I found a pair of Land’s End pants and a winter jacket for my younger son, replacements for the ones he outgrew this winter. My husband and I picked up a few hardware necessities at Lowe’s, and I replaced the necessary toiletries at CVS. But that’s about it, because I’m taking a shopping break for Lent this year. It’s not a crazy or drastic change – I’m still buying food and I haven’t extended the shopping hiatus beyond myself. Until Easter, I’m living with what I have and living without what I don’t.

Here’s what I’ve found so far:

I don’t  miss buying stuff. I’d rather have an uncluttered home than a lot of possessions.

If I don’t go into stores that do not sell necessities, I won’t be tempted to buy the little extras.

I have a better idea of what I already own, and how much of it I don’t use. Spring cleaning this year will involve sorting through clothes outgrown or rarely worn, and I’ll donate the kitchen gadgets no one uses.

I’m not one to spend a lot of money shopping, but I’m surprised how many things I buy without much thought or appreciation. When Easter comes, I’ll return to Ikea for housewares and I’ll pick up a book at Barnes & Noble every so often. But I’ll try to be mindful about whatever I buy, everyday necessities or occasional splurges – more aware of the value of things and less likely to mistake an extravagance for a necessity.

 

Over a plate and a glass

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I went to a funeral today. I didn’t know the man who died, but I’ve known his daughter for years. She is a gift to the town I call home, a sure and steady force for common sense and community service. Today was a chance to offer her my condolences, and to offer a prayer of thanks for the life of her father.

After the church and graveside prayers have all been said, family and friends stay together for one last holy act: sharing a meal. There are stories and memories best told over a loaded plate and a full cup, heard  most gratefully over the scrape of forks and clinking of glasses. This meal that honors a life and its loss isn’t just a nice extra. It is the first act of a family who will gather together and continue to grow, not with but because of the one who is no longer present.

I’m a stranger to the family, so I did not share their meal and stories today. But sometime soon, I’ll chop onions and carrots for soup and make a loaf of bread. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine. I’ll offer these small things to a daughter who buried her father, and I’ll tell her that I am thankful for the man who brought her into this world – a delight to God and a gift to this world. Could I say such words without the food? Perhaps. But they seem easier to say and easier to hear over a plate and a glass than on their own.

One For The Blog

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As far as I know, I was the only bartender who went to Princeton Seminary in the ’90’s. Either no one else had tended bar, or no one else would admit to it. It’s too bad, in either case: my time behind the bar gave me admission to the inner and outer lives of so many people. I have no idea how many secrets they told me – fears, hopes, embarrassments, family troubles, and a handful of come-to-Jesus stories. All these treasures given to me in exchange for a Beefeater, a Bud, a Cabernet, and a tip.

Grandpa Pete drank himself to death, so my parents didn’t have alcohol in the house much – just a glass of wine on Thanksgiving, a New Year’s toast, and a six pack when relatives came over to paint, paper, or repair. My husband and I enjoy wine and beer at home and the occasional mixed drink in a restaurant, but we aren’t exactly heavy hitters. We’ve both seen too many lives ruined by excessive drinking to tip the bottle too often. In moderation, alcohol loosens tongues, encourages self-disclosure, and is a sure sign of hospitality; in excess, alcohol is an excuse for verbal abuse, physical intimidation, and violence – the power of fermentation.

I enjoy having a glass of wine while I make dinner. I treasure the times my husband and I lingered at the table after dinner, splitting the last glass of rioja by candlelight. Wine in hand, I delve deeper into the grace of the moment, and I’m more aware of the wonders of food and companionship. It’s not a necessity, but it’s surely a nicety.

There’s truth in wine (In vino, veritas). Jesus shared wine with his closest friends and his betrayer, and the coming of the Holy Spirit looked to all the world like a bunch of early morning drunks. It’s a marvelous thing to let loose and see the world through more appreciative eyes. It’s a terrible thing to drink away reality and excuse cruelty with a bottle. Hidden compassion and undercover violence are both given out with that drink. Which one do I choose?

Lord, keep watch over me. Amen.

All Work and No Play

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…makes Johnna a dull girl. Doing a good day’s work isn’t the same as cramming two day’s worth of work into a single marathon workday. I want to be a hard worker, not a workaholic…

…and I’ve been busy for days – leading classes, working on library projects and programs, hosting a dinner for twenty last night with my husband. With a blizzard keeping me home today, I could have gotten a jump on several writing projects, summer garden plans, and packed away all the dishes from last night’s party. But my husband and son are also home, so we did some computer work and filled the bird feeder. We got the most of the post-party work done, putting furniture and dishes back in their usual places. But we also played a couple of games, took a daily news quiz, and went outside to feel the snow and wind. For the first time in my life, I saw lightning and heard thunder while walking in a blizzard – amazing and scary and unforgettable. 

Had I done more work today, I’d have lived a lesser life. Sometimes the blessing is in the work I’ve left undone.

Taking an Active Step

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Readings: Psalm 146:5-10; 2 Peter 3:11-18; Luke 3:1-18

5 Happy are those whose help is in the God of Jacob,

whose help is in the Lord, their God,

6 who made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them,

who keeps faith forever;

7 who executes justice for the oppressed; who gives food to the hungry.

The Lord sets the prisoners free;

8 the Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; the Lord loves the righteous.

9 The Lord watches over the strangers; he upholds the orphan and the widow; but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.

10 The Lord will reign forever, your God, O Zion, for all generations.

Praise the Lord!

The psalmist is human, subject to life’s vicissitudes as are all of us.  In the Psalter we read that he experienced heartache, anger, frustration, fear, even numbness.  We sense that he felt these emotions deeply.  Many of us are experiencing deep emotion as we grapple with the tenor of the recent presidential campaign and try to recalibrate our lives to a reality that we either wish to ignore or want to believe doesn’t exist.

Yet Psalm 146 is an expression of the psalmist’s optimism.  “Praise the Lord, O my soul!”  he starts in verse 1 and ends “Praise the Lord!” in verse 10.  It is a hopeful message.  He continues in verse 5, “Happy is he who has the God of Jacob for his help.” 

He exhorts us in verses 7-9 to remember the oppressed and marginalized, feed the hungry, help open people’s eyes [to iniquity], assist strangers, relieve the pain of loneliness in others.

My law partner and I had a conversation about how to react to the election.  We acknowledged how easy it is to descend to the depths of despair at the nation’s seeming lack of a moral compass.  But it was he, who is not a religious man, who suggested we react positively by doing something to advance the human condition.  Whether by writing a check to the Anti-Defamation League, the Southern Poverty Law Center, or some other charity that is a force for good, or getting personally involved in charitable work, such an act would help lift us out of the fog and into the divine light the psalmist sees.

God allows us to immure ourselves in the hell of our choosing; or we can live into the circumstances that have been wrought, meet the challenge, and choose to do something to move humanity forward to that Omega Point that the great mystic Teilhard de Chardin saw all of creation converging upon.

Vaclav Havel, who knew his own form of government oppression, wrote, “Hope is the deep orientation of the human soul that can be held at the darkest times.”

Let us continue to pray for our president, our president-elect, our Congress and our Supreme Court, those venerable institutions in which we necessarily place our national trust.  And then let’s take an active step by doing something to advance the human condition, being a force for good in society in an outpouring of love, hope and peace in the name of the Prince of Peace.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Offered by Bryan Fredrickson, contemplative, lawyer, seeker of the Christ Child.

If not for a stranger…

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Readings: Psalm 146:5-10; Ruth 4:13-17; 2 Peter 3:11-18

Happy are those whose help is in the God of Jacob,

whose hope is in the Lord their God,

The Lord watches over the strangers;

he upholds the orphan and the widow…Psalm 146:5, 9

“[The Lord] shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age; for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has borne him…” They named him Obed; he became the father of Jesse, the father of David. Ruth 4:15, 17

There seems to be more fear in the air these days. People who are a different hue, who speak another language, and who wear scarves in a different way are looked at with suspicion rather than healthy curiosity and care. It’s almost as if we’ve decided that those who are like us will invariably bring positive things to our lives and the others negative things.  Have we decided it’s acceptable to preemptively assign ill intention to anyone we don’t know or don’t resemble? Do we only want blessings from those who look, speak, and act just like us?

I hope not. In my life, blessing has been just as likely to come from an unexpected place, an unknown person, a stranger. My most fervent prayers are usually answered in ways I cannot anticipate. Surprise is always involved.

This shouldn’t surprise me, though. David ruled and served Israel by the grace of a Moabite widow whose love and care took her far from home and safety. A stranger in her mother-in-law’s land, Ruth blesses the nation with her faith and her child, Obed.

What would have happened if Naomi and Boaz hadn’t welcomed the stranger? Where would they be without Ruth? Where would we be?

Lord, help me to welcome the stranger, care for the lost, and see in their eyes your love. Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Things Handed Down

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Were he still alive, my father would be 76 years old today. With his birthday being so close to Thanksgiving, it’s a simple thing for me to remember him with deepest thanks. Because of him, I am a part of a loving family. I didn’t choose them and they didn’t choose me, but this unplanned life has been nothing but a blessing.

My mother is 76 years old. Because of her, I am a part of a loving family. I give thanks for such a blessing every day.

The same can be said of all those who came before me, unfamiliar names on a family tree that handed down my particular genetic pattern. How can I be anything but thankful  – to those with me, to those who came before me, and to the God who made us all?

Marc Cohn, The Things We’ve Handed Down, The Very Best of Marc Cohn, 2005

Thanks for the Inconvenience

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My husband and I were up late on Monday assembling our new Ikea bed. After measuring the room and trying several different models, we chose a Hemnes. We threw in the four large underbed storage drawers, making the bed a space saver as well as a comfortable place to sleep. All the boxes fit in the car, the directions were easy to understand, and we managed to get the whole thing together before midnight – quite an accomplishment for two spatially challenged individuals.

My husband was the first to notice the problem. While the bed fit into the space beautifully, there wasn’t enough room on the sides to pull the drawers out. Either we give up the storage drawers or we reconfigure the room for the first time in five years.

We haven’t decided what we’ll do yet. One way or the other, it hasn’t turned out the way we thought it would. It’s certainly not a devastating dilemma, just an inconvenience and an opportunity to choose storage or furniture placement status quo.

We’ve been laughing about the whole thing these past couple of days – an unexpected blessing courtesy of our spatial shortcomings. The chance to enjoy inconvenience together doesn’t happen so often that I don’t recognize its benefits.

Teach me to treat all that comes to me throughout the day with peace of soul…

Prayer at the Beginning of the Day, A Manual of Eastern Orthodox Prayers, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1991, p. 20

Big Blue Marble

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The Earth’s a big blue marble when you see it from up there

The sun and moon declare her beauty’s very rare.

Big Blue Marble theme song

It’s a little over two miles from where we parked to the end of canal. With sunny skies and a brisk breeze at our backs, we set out for the farthest point on the Cape Cod Canal path. A few cyclists, the odd fisherman, and a handful of other walkers shared this extraordinary place and time with us.

A cormorant fanned her wings, standing on a seaweed covered rock; seagulls caught updrafts, skillfully hovering in place. Almost invisible sparrows emerged from the sea grass just a few feet away from us. We left the Sagamore bridge at a bend in the path before we could see the beacon that marked the path’s end. Spiderwebs filled the spaces between the breakwater rocks, sheltered from the ocean currents, blowing sands, and gusting wind.

We spoke a few words out on the breakwater, sharing a few amazing particulars in the vast beauty of ocean, sky, and land. Most of the time, we listened to the wind and water, two small creatures keeping silent before the mystery of nature.

On the walk back, we gathered up the pieces of our everyday life we’d left along the way. Lunch ideas, guesses on when we would get back to the car, and afternoon plans were reclaimed as the bridge and traffic sounds reappeared. The couple of hours spent walking settled into place, a piece of the day among other pieces. Time moved us along its path.

But our walk wasn’t just a way to get from one point to another, and it wasn’t just a photo opportunity – nothing so common as either of these. When the blindness that prevents us from seeing the beauty of this place is healed, when we know we are a part of Life’s story, and when we bow down in gratitude for our small and fleeting part in it? It’s a walk in Eden and a glimpse of heaven.

I am grateful beyond words.

In the company of friends

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All who live and visit here shall be friends.

Kindliness and harmony shall be the watchwords.

Welleran Poltarnees, A House Blessing (Seattle, Washington: Blue Lantern Books, 1994) p. 6

For the past few Halloweens, friends have come for dinner, relaxing, catching up, and enjoying the visiting witches and ghosts that brighten our door. There were ten of us this year. For some, it’s the latest in a long line of Halloweens spent together here or there; for others, the first time. But it would be quite a trick to tell them apart. It was a room full of good listeners and good storytellers, with a natural give and take among those who were meeting for the first time and those who’ve known each other for decades.

When the last friend headed home, I looked around the room with its candles, books, origami bats and pumpkins. I cannot say why, but I knew that something of God’s presence had come to dinner. The kindness of friends, a time set apart, a little something to eat and drink. Just your garden variety encounter with the love that binds the universe together found in the company of friends, family, and holy strangers at the door.

halloween 2015