Category Archives: observation

life basics, Meditation, observation

Weighted

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Weight is taking up a lot more space in my mind than usual. I bought a kitchen scale last month because weighing baking ingredients is more accurate than measuring them with cups and teaspoons. My doctor’s scale found a few extra pounds on me, so I’ll be more careful about how much I eat until they are gone. Helping my son’s college friend move reminded me that box size isn’t as important as what’s inside. When I write, and when I speak as a teacher or tutor, I weigh my words carefully. Weight matters.

Heavy. Light. Evenly distributed. Out of balance. Over. Under. Feather and paper: these mean something specific when they refer to weight. And weight means something for me physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Since the weight of things is on my mind, I’m trying something new. I am going measure it all with a spiritual scale.

My physical weight determines whether I feel comfortable in my clothes and it affects how my body works. Spiritually, it tells me that I need to be more mindful of how I care for my soul’s home in this world.

What weighs on my mind is usually is something I choose, and definitely something I can change. Am I spending too much time preoccupied with matters of little weight? Am I giving more time and energy to what makes me world weary, or what carries true meaning? Centering prayer is a good way of lightening and rebalancing my mental content.

I think weighing my emotional baggage on a spiritual scale is a good way to let go of whatever is useless or harmful. Resentment is a burden that adds nothing to me or the larger world. Anger, jealousy, envy – such vices are so heavy to carry.

I want to walk lightly through this adventure that is my life. Every so often, that means dropping some weight…

Tipping the Scales

Easter, Meditation, observation

Continuing and New

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In an average church, on a run-of-the-mill rainy yesterday, something routine and new happened. I joined sixty others in a confirmation service, promising to guide and support five teens in their newly claimed adult faith. And those five teens promised to guide and support me in mine. I’m sure hundreds of confirmation services were held yesterday, and in each something new came into being. Services like this reveal a holy truth: All the ordinary people who sit in the pews and the ordinary ones who don’t will be transformed and renewed by the holy, ordinary lives of these five teens.

These five teens will soon realize (if they don’t already) that the true spiritual guides aren’t necessarily the ones with the highest education, the paid ministry, or the most volunteer hours. Some are in their church and some have never set foot in any church. They might be hard to spot. Just as true: many adults may miss seeing in them the holy prophets and spiritual guides because they still walk high school corridors. But I know and I trust that these five young people can and will wake up each day with the ability and opportunity to hallow this world of mine. And because it’s true for them, it’s also and always true for me and every other soul.

The earth was renewed yesterday, the earth is renewed today. The continuing advent of unique renewal is alive and well.

Easter, gratitude, life basics, observation

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.

 

Biblical Reflection, Lent, Meditation, observation, Prayer

A Closer Look

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It’s the second half of Holy Week. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday stand between me and Easter – the path through the dark woods of my soul. I didn’t grow up in churches that observed these dark days; we went from Palm Sunday to Easter, sometimes with a Wednesday Bible study of the crucifixion, sometimes not. The sanctuary and Sunday school room crosses were always empty: why would anyone put the risen Jesus back on the cross? The resurrection already happened and there was no going back.

I understand why my childhood churches had no crucifixes, and why they emphasized celebration and victory rather than the suffering of Jesus in the garden and the grisly way he died. I can’t say that the people in those churches were any more or less faithful, any kinder or colder – the path of faith runs through all neighborhoods. But I do think something of the human condition was skipped over rather than faced – not about Jesus, but about the rest of humanity. While I hate to admit it, I doubt I’d do any better than the flawed, fragile people who stood by while Jesus died. Most everyone ran away, avoiding the whole scene. A few women and John the beloved disciple managed to stay and hear the final few words from the cross. This reveals more about myself than I usually care to see or admit. I’m no better than anyone else, and I’m just as likely to run away as anyone else. Given the right circumstances, just enough fear for my life, I would betray Jesus, too.

Holy Week isn’t a time to indulge in self loathing: it’s a time to take a long, hard look at myself – faults, strengths, and the whole mixed bag I call my inner and outer life. If I’m honest about what I see, I’ll ask for God to hold my hand as I walk this world. If I’m not, I just might fool myself into thinking I can make the walk alone.

Take my hand, O Lord, and walk with me through these dark days and nights. I need you. Amen.

Education, life basics, Meditation, observation, Prayer, Theology

Why Worship?

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A Holy Week offering from Bill Albritton

During this week, I ponder why we worship and what my faith is really about. In confirmation class, we are focusing on the two main creeds we use in our worship service. One, the Nicene Creed, is communal in that we use the plural We. The other is personal, using I as in I believe in God… What do I mean when I make such a declaration?

Saying We believe in God or I believe in God says we have a relationship with God. In other words, God’s existence doesn’t depend on my belief that God exists. It’s a whole different statement than I believe God exists.

I find this very meaningful as I prepare for Resurrection Sunday. In class, we ask ourselves: why worship? One of the answers stared us in the face – a chapter title from J. Gamber’s My Faith, My Life: A Teen’s guide to the Episcopal Church. Chapter Five is Worship: Responding to God’s Blessings. We are giving our hearts to God and declaring our thankfulness for our relationship with the most gracious One. And, as in many relationships, it grows stronger when we spend time together. Maybe that’s as good an answer as any.

life basics, Meditation, observation

For the Food We Eat

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Thank you for the world so sweet, thank you for the food we eat,

Thank you for the birds that sing: thank you, God, for everything!

My husband and I went to Trader Joe’s yesterday to buy the usual items: meats, rice cakes, chili peppers, and oats. I’ll walk to Shaw’s for Cabot mozzarella and local free eggs tomorrow, and I’ll stop by the Market Basket near my son’s school for the 10 pound bag of King Arthur Flour. Sometime soon, I’ll order vanilla beans and put them in a bottle of rum to make vanilla extract. Seeds and plants will arrive at my door from John Scheeper’s and Burpee’s garden companies. I’ve noticed how much shopping it takes to put food on the table only because I decided to write about it. I didn’t realize how much shopping I do for life’s basics until I gave up buying life’s extras for Lent.

I can get everything I need at my local market and wheel it home in my metal basket. I can order any number of pantry staples and exotic spices with a click of my mouse. I have the means to put healthy food on my table, and I have the time to enjoy the whole process: creating menus, making grocery lists, shopping, cooking, and eating. All these daily blessings I take for granted.

Today I am thankful for the grocery shopping that I have to do. When the lines at the register are long, I will give thanks. When the grocery bags are heavy, I will rejoice. When I buy food for the community food pantry, I will be grateful.

I hope I remember that grocery shopping is a blessing when I start writing about something else…

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gratitude, life basics, Meditation, observation

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.

Biblical Reflection, gratitude, life basics, Meditation, observation, Prayer

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.

Biblical Reflection, life basics, Meditation, observation, Prayer

Hospitality On A Plate

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I don’t watch Master Chef any more. It’s not that I don’t love a good cooking competition. It isn’t the quality of the cooking, the expertise of the chefs, or the contestants. I just got sick of the yelling, the swearing, the demeaning comments, and the this-isn’t-me-chef-I-can-do-much-better groveling. Not just one of the judges, but all of them reacted to failed dishes as if the cook created the fiasco just to insult their palates. Tears, shame, anger. All over a culinary attempt gone awry. The meanness of it all killed the entertainment value of it for me.

I’ve worked in many restaurants over the years, and worked with many chefs and cooks. Swearing doesn’t bother me, and I don’t find the off-color humor insulting – it’s just the culinary environment (and I’ve got quite a colorful vocabulary myself). But there’s a difference between this kind of back and forth among the staff and what goes on in front of the camera: the one is hospitable, the other destructive. Both end in fantastic food on a plate, but one nourishes the soul while the other shreds it.

Eating and drinking are necessary, life-sustaining daily acts. Preparing a special meal or enjoying one at a favorite restaurant is meant to be a gift of nourishment and hospitality. Nowhere do I see this truth in the judges and their treatment of the home chefs. Perhaps it’s really there, just edited out to increase the drama and ratings. Perhaps honest advice and criticism without an insult wouldn’t get good ratings. Perhaps it’s all just part of the media game. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. But something’s gotten lost.

In many cultures, hospitality toward family, friends, and strangers is a sacred practice. In scripture, being hospitable to anyone who sits at the table was considered a faithful act. Who knew what angels we might entertain, disguises as strangers?

Angels or not, I don’t want my zeal for producing a delicious meal to turn a life-sustaining activity into the soul’s punishment.

Gracious God, make my heart hospitable and my table the same. Amen.

Biblical Reflection, life basics, observation

That Scent in the Air

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Burnt peanut butter cookies. Butter drenched English muffins. Cinnamon sugar toast. Each of these has a distinct aroma, and each one evokes a very specific memory from my childhood. The cookies: me at five, pressing a sugared fork on dough, baking with my mother. English muffins: me at four and six, having mid-morning snack in my grandmother’s warm kitchen. Cinnamon toast: having breakfast with my sister and brother before walking to my first grade classroom.

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I’m not the only one who has such aromatic memories. When I made peanut butter cookies in the church kitchen one morning, slightly burning the bottoms, several people stopped by, drawn by the scent in the air and their own memories – a taste of childhood long since left behind and a recollection of someone who loved them, long since passed on.

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There’s a grace that’s hard to explain in the gift of food and the loving hospitality of another. I feel it every time cinnamon hits a buttered toast and every time I take a loaf of bread out of the oven. It’s life-sustaining, being food and all, but it’s also soul-sustaining, being so wrapped up in the loving care given to me and the loving care I offer others along with the plates and glasses.

Is that why Jesus invited himself over for dinner at the houses of those who most needed someone to accept their love and hospitality? Is it why he sat at table with his beloved disciples before his crucifixion? Was breakfast by the sea more than fresh fish with friends?Could it be that Jesus wants me to catch the scent of holiness whenever I offer and accept food?

Perhaps the kingdom of heaven is the kitchen – it would explain why everyone always gathers there, regardless of the home or host.

Dear Lord, be present to me this day in the breaking of bread, the warmth of the oven, and the scent of soup simmering. Amen.

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