Come, all of you who have wandered far from the path,
who have separated yourselves from Love;
A banquet is prepared for you in the heart’s Secret Room.
—Psalm 114, Psalms for Praying
High up in one of our Douglas fir trees two branches form a vee-shape. We only noticed this because we first noticed that some bits of fir branches had piled up beside the garage. We only noticed these bits of fir branches because Barb had just swept up all the old branches that fell over the winter. After looking down and pondering these new branches it finally occurred to us to look up: that’s when we saw the nest.
As nests go this one is made entirely—in so far as we can tell— from the ends of fir boughs about ten inches long. This nest is big! And it is way, way up there in the tree. We have no idea what kind of animal (it doesn’t seem like a bird’s nest) built it. A squirrel family seems like a good guess but we really don’t know.
I got out the binoculars but they didn’t help much. The nest is just too high up in the tree. I thought about getting up on the roof but even that wouldn’t get us close enough.
Then, before coming to church, I took a walk around what passes for our "block" in Lake Forest Park. The air was warm, the sun was shining, and I guess, because I had been looking up at the nest I spent most of my fifteen minute walk looking up.
All around me birds whirled and called out to one another. In the process of walking, looking, and listening I became aware of this entire other world that literally passes right over my head every single day. What I’m realizing is that the world of the Spirit operates in much the same fashion.
For most of us we go about our days plodding along, and as we plod our mood shifts this way and that leading us down one path and then another, our mind grinds away remembering this hurt and that problem until thought by thought we end up in a galaxy far, far away from this very moment on planet Earth!
All the while the continual energy of God surrounds us, waiting for us to stop and notice; to smile at the beauty that surrounds us, to look deeply into a child’s eyes, to gently cradle a hand grown creaky with arthritis, to laugh deeply, to love with our whole heart, to give of our ourselves with grace.
I don’t know—perhaps the Holy Spirit built a nest in our yard—that’s what I’m imagining right now.
Meanwhile in the back of my mind I hear my Grandma Rudel as she attempted to put things in perspective for her two impatient granddaughters, Only time will tell.
Meanwhile, while we wait, we are given this earth and one another to love with whole and generous hearts, abounding in grace and forgiveness.
Now. Right now. Look up!
Laurie Rudel
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
...the deepest level of communication is not communication, but communion. It is wordless, it is beyond words, and it is beyond speech, and it is beyond concept. Not that we discover a new unity. We discover an older unity. My dear brothers and sisters, we are already one. But we imagine that we are not. And what we have to recover is our original unity. What we have to be is what we are.
—Thomas Merton
I’ve been playing around with a definition of church.
See how this feels to you:
Church—
a community of strangers
who become friends in Christ
with the intention
of being changed
by and for one another
and for the sake of the world
in the presence of God,
sustained and inspired
by the Holy Spirit.
As I’ve lived and played with this definition it seems to have a grounded quality, something lasting that calls me forward and supports my work in the present. I love that it sets out right away to acknowledge that really we are all strangers, one to the other, no matter how long we have known each other.
At the same time it acknowledges our friendship with one another through the energy of Christ. I also love how it notices the unseen presence of God which underlies our influence upon one another.
I also love the reliance upon the inspiration and guiding nature of the Holy Spirit which to me implies an openness to change, a spirit of discernment, and a willingness to move ahead when the way becomes clear.
As our Core Values Task Groups continue to meet we can test out this definition of church to see what is missing and take stock of what needs to be changed but for now I want to offer it up as working definition of what we are about together in this time and place.
As the world shifts and turns around us, as our literal fortunes rise and fall, we need "church"as sanctuary in which to find communion with others, reflect on the deeper meaning of our lives, and name our dependence upon God and one another.
—Laurie Rudel
Friday, February 27, 2009
Fruit Stand at the Corner
Sun-Kist navels the sign said
they meant oranges of course
but I saw instead
that ancient connection
of mother and child
that puckered place of our
beginning before first breath
infused with light and shining
Laurie Rudel
February 10, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Kindness: an action word
Life is short and we have not much time for gladdening the hearts of those who travel the way with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind!
-Henri Amiel
I had not realized until after the unexpected death of our mother, Betty Gallagher, early in the morning on Monday, November 10, that kindness is an action word.
My experience: While our family desperately hoped to arrive in Chico, California (where mom had lived for the past eight years with her identical twin sister) to see her one more time before her death, it was simply not possible. Instead of meeting at the hospital as we had imagined, we gathered at my aunt’s home, full of love, full of tears, full of stories.
As Monday unfolded we began to make plans to remember mom and take care of all the details associated with death. We decided to host a gathering of family and friends on Thursday late morning to celebrate her life and then invite everyone to stay for lunch. On Tuesday afternoon my cousin Barbara, who is about to retire from teaching grade school, called to tell us that the staff at her school would cater the lunch on Thursday. I promptly burst into tears.
On Tuesday Martha Dimmers, Chaplain at Children’s Hospital and friend of Queen Anne Christian Church, called to let me know that she and Peter Drury, former Pastor of All Pilgrims Christian Church and friend of QACC, would take care of worship on Sunday. Up to that point I had assured myself that I was fully capable of taking care of the needs my family and coming home to lead worship on Sunday.
On Wednesday Patty (my sister), Gary (my step-brother), and I invited the immediate family for lunch at the Sierra Nevada Tap Room. Mom and Auntie, sprightly ninety year olds, were “regulars” known by sight as “the girls.”
As usual we had a lovely meal and felt the table surrounded by love. We told more stories. We talked a little about what would happen on Thursday. Eventually Gary asked for the bill but our server was adamant: there would be no bill. This lunch was on-the-house, their gift to us in a time of loss.
On our way home we spent a little time in the Sacramento airport waiting for our flight back to Seattle. I was wrestling with a knitting project (my first two-color stranded knitting in the round) and in a fit uncorrectable mistakes I raveled the project back to the beginning probably for about the seventeenth time (I am not lying about that number!). It was a mess. Barb had wandered off for something and there I sat with a pile of tangled yarn trying to turn it all back into two balls.
An older woman sitting across the way noticed my distress and came and sat beside me. “Can I help?” She was dressed and looked pretty much like my mother! “Can I help?” By that time I had it more or less under control but she sat with me for a quite a while and held one ball while I worked on the other. “Thank you,” I said. “But I didn’t do anything,” she said. “You did more than you know,” I said.
When we arrived home in Seattle on Friday afternoon, Barb headed into work for a few hours. Our dear friend Maria Drury called. “I’ve made some lentil soup, may I bring it by?” So Maria, along with young daughters Rowan and Cora, stopped by to drop off everything needed for a simple meal and while we ate in grief, we also ate in love.
Kindness. In Micah 6:8 we are instructed to “seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our God.” I’d never thought much about the kindness piece of these instructions. Now I know: kindness is a simple action, unprompted, probably unexpected, and it makes all the difference in the world.
Laurie Rudel
Life is short and we have not much time for gladdening the hearts of those who travel the way with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind!
-Henri Amiel
I had not realized until after the unexpected death of our mother, Betty Gallagher, early in the morning on Monday, November 10, that kindness is an action word.
My experience: While our family desperately hoped to arrive in Chico, California (where mom had lived for the past eight years with her identical twin sister) to see her one more time before her death, it was simply not possible. Instead of meeting at the hospital as we had imagined, we gathered at my aunt’s home, full of love, full of tears, full of stories.
As Monday unfolded we began to make plans to remember mom and take care of all the details associated with death. We decided to host a gathering of family and friends on Thursday late morning to celebrate her life and then invite everyone to stay for lunch. On Tuesday afternoon my cousin Barbara, who is about to retire from teaching grade school, called to tell us that the staff at her school would cater the lunch on Thursday. I promptly burst into tears.
On Tuesday Martha Dimmers, Chaplain at Children’s Hospital and friend of Queen Anne Christian Church, called to let me know that she and Peter Drury, former Pastor of All Pilgrims Christian Church and friend of QACC, would take care of worship on Sunday. Up to that point I had assured myself that I was fully capable of taking care of the needs my family and coming home to lead worship on Sunday.
On Wednesday Patty (my sister), Gary (my step-brother), and I invited the immediate family for lunch at the Sierra Nevada Tap Room. Mom and Auntie, sprightly ninety year olds, were “regulars” known by sight as “the girls.”
As usual we had a lovely meal and felt the table surrounded by love. We told more stories. We talked a little about what would happen on Thursday. Eventually Gary asked for the bill but our server was adamant: there would be no bill. This lunch was on-the-house, their gift to us in a time of loss.
On our way home we spent a little time in the Sacramento airport waiting for our flight back to Seattle. I was wrestling with a knitting project (my first two-color stranded knitting in the round) and in a fit uncorrectable mistakes I raveled the project back to the beginning probably for about the seventeenth time (I am not lying about that number!). It was a mess. Barb had wandered off for something and there I sat with a pile of tangled yarn trying to turn it all back into two balls.
An older woman sitting across the way noticed my distress and came and sat beside me. “Can I help?” She was dressed and looked pretty much like my mother! “Can I help?” By that time I had it more or less under control but she sat with me for a quite a while and held one ball while I worked on the other. “Thank you,” I said. “But I didn’t do anything,” she said. “You did more than you know,” I said.
When we arrived home in Seattle on Friday afternoon, Barb headed into work for a few hours. Our dear friend Maria Drury called. “I’ve made some lentil soup, may I bring it by?” So Maria, along with young daughters Rowan and Cora, stopped by to drop off everything needed for a simple meal and while we ate in grief, we also ate in love.
Kindness. In Micah 6:8 we are instructed to “seek justice, love kindness and walk humbly with our God.” I’d never thought much about the kindness piece of these instructions. Now I know: kindness is a simple action, unprompted, probably unexpected, and it makes all the difference in the world.
Laurie Rudel
Saturday, December 20, 2008
In anticipation of a severe winter storm on Saturday evening
we have cancelled worship at church this Sunday, December 21.
Below you will find a service for you to use at home.
Please join us Wednesday for our
Christmas Eve Service at 5pm.
The Fourth Sunday of Advent
—meeting in our homes—
Hum a few bars of: O Come, O Come Emmanuel
Light a candle and call it Love
Prayer: Bodypsalm for the holidays
Remember each day is a hol(y)day,
Remember each day is a hol(y)day,
a place to recall presence.
No day is more special than the other, but you can breathe into each day differently.
Remember the simple things – a deep breath into all your cells,
the gorgeous limb of one branch, a place of connection
between a friend or a stranger.
The art of life comes to you everyday, unfolding from its skin
and asks for a greeting.
Welcome the unexpected
and have compassion on the expected.
Live with bold colors from a place of still silence.
Come back to quiet.
May the inside of your body be a zen garden.
Nap daily, for sleep is the sustenance of surrender.
Remember beauty walks before you, now just walk.
Incremental steps, even backward steps towards wonder.
Know you will not get everything done, said,
written, wrapped, made or thought of.
Celebrate incompletion and know that can be enough.
It is all about cracks of opening
into heart, body, mind, soul.
Make peace with the cracks and the interruptions,
for they are echoes of the divine.
Greet the ordinary with fresh eyes,
here is the fragrance of a day set apart.
Know you are held in a wider embrace.
Let the natural world hold you and give in to the weather.
Here you are called back to release.
Bare beauty on the back of December
and lend yourself to rest.
Sip small beginnings of calling yourself and
those around you to the juice of joy.
And drink from your own deep well
and spill when necessary.
—Celeste Snowber, December 2008
Sing a favorite carol!
Read: Luke 1:26-38
Reflect on what it means to say yes to an angel . . .
Pray . . . for those out in the cold . . . for emergency
preparedness workers . . . for utility crews . . . for all those
who cannot be with their family due to the weather . . .
for Ruth McLaughlin, mother of Lori Hutchings,
who hovers near death . . .
for your concerns and for your joys . . .
Drink and eat a little something
that brings you joy . . .
remember the immensity of Love
and call it communion
Sing another carol!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
A Voting Prayer by David Seidenberg
With my vote today, I am prepared and intending to seek peace for this country, as it is written (Jer. 29:7): "Seek out the peace of the city where I cause you to roam and pray for her sake to God YHVH, for in her peace you all will have peace."
May it be Your will that votes will be counted faithfully, and may You account my vote as if I had fulfilled this verse with all my power. May it be good in Your eyes to give a wise heart to whomever we elect today and may You raise for us a government whose rule is for good and blessing, to bring justice and peace to all the inhabitants of the world and to Jerusalem, for rulership is Yours.
Just as I participated in elections today, so may I merit to do good works and to repair the world with all my actions, and with the act of...[fill in your pledge]...which I pledge to do today on behalf of all living creatures and in remembrance of the covenant of Noah's waters to protect and to not destroy the earth and her plenitude.
May You give to all the peoples of this country the strength and the will to pursue righteousness and to seek peace as a unified force in order to cause to flourish, throughout the world, good life and peace, and may You fulfill for us the verse (Ps. 90:17): "May the pleasure of Adonai our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands for us; may the work of our hands endure."
With my vote today, I am prepared and intending to seek peace for this country, as it is written (Jer. 29:7): "Seek out the peace of the city where I cause you to roam and pray for her sake to God YHVH, for in her peace you all will have peace."
May it be Your will that votes will be counted faithfully, and may You account my vote as if I had fulfilled this verse with all my power. May it be good in Your eyes to give a wise heart to whomever we elect today and may You raise for us a government whose rule is for good and blessing, to bring justice and peace to all the inhabitants of the world and to Jerusalem, for rulership is Yours.
Just as I participated in elections today, so may I merit to do good works and to repair the world with all my actions, and with the act of...[fill in your pledge]...which I pledge to do today on behalf of all living creatures and in remembrance of the covenant of Noah's waters to protect and to not destroy the earth and her plenitude.
May You give to all the peoples of this country the strength and the will to pursue righteousness and to seek peace as a unified force in order to cause to flourish, throughout the world, good life and peace, and may You fulfill for us the verse (Ps. 90:17): "May the pleasure of Adonai our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands for us; may the work of our hands endure."
Monday, October 27, 2008
End of Sabbatical Reflection, October 27
What can I say at the end of this sabbatical time except, thank you.
I say these simple words with humble gratitude that my need for rest found open hearts and minds.
As these Sabbath days reverberate within me I find that monastic rhythm of reading, physical work, and silence during the day filled me with a gentle knowing:
What can I say at the end of this sabbatical time except, thank you.
I say these simple words with humble gratitude that my need for rest found open hearts and minds.
As these Sabbath days reverberate within me I find that monastic rhythm of reading, physical work, and silence during the day filled me with a gentle knowing:
- the energy of God seeks expression in the world;
- human beings struggle to attend the deep yearnings of the soul toward God;
- God’s love surrounds us and will fill us given the slightest opening;
- loving ourselves, loving our neighbors, and loving God just might be the purpose of our lives.
I am filled with gratitude.
I am ready to come back.
I missed you deeply and look forward to seeing you Sunday, November 2.
Laurie
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sabbatical Reflection, October 13
Last week, following concerts in Tacoma and Olympia and preparing to attend the Turner Lectures in Yakima, I missed my Monday morning writing time.
In the meantime I caught a cold and have spent some amount of time desperately trying not to cough while singing! I’m recovering and am grateful that this past concert series has concluded.
After this week at home, Barb and I fly to New Mexico on Saturday for a week of traveling with dear friends around the land we so love. We’ll be staying in Espanola, about half-way between Santa Fe and Taos. It will be the last opportunity to stay in the casitas owned by Jan Hart, my beloved watercolor teacher, who moved there some time ago.
One of the things I most appreciate about Jan is her capacity to flow with the intentions of the universe for her life (I’m not sure she would use the word God, but she might). Jan was trained as an architect at the University of Washington and taught there. At the same time she began a weekly watercolor class at a small studio just off Stone Way between Wallingford and Fremont.
I had become intrigued with painting while taking, oddly enough, a color theory class for weavers. As part of the class we mixed colors using poster paint. While I like color theory, I learned I really liked using a paint brush!
I found Jan’s flyer tacked to the announcement board at Daniel Smith, a local art supply store. I loved Jan’s class and kept at for a few years until Jan “knew” she needed to move to New Mexico. At the time she had been making frequent trips from Seattle to New Mexico to paint the desert landscape and always came home refreshed and renewed.
What I know, what we all know at some level, is that guidance comes to us in surprising ways. This is Jan’s story as I remember it. One day, a long time ago, Jan was in a drugstore. She picked up a paperback novel. She opened it at random and read these words, Heart, someday you will be a famous artist. She quickly closed the book and put it back on the shelf!
At that point, while she may have harbored artistic ambitions I believe they felt pretty far out of reach. But painting by painting she worked on her craft and her art so much so that she is indeed an accomplished artist who has shown her art work in Santa Fe art galleries and who recently published a beautiful book on watercolor technique.
Over the last few years, while living in Espanola and continuing to teach painting, she also began taking folks on painting trips to Costa Rica. Last year she “knew” it was time to move again. She purchased property in Costa Rica and in the new year will be moving once again.
What I love about this kind of “knowing” is that it incorporates head and heart, it gives energy to vision that allows one to “keep on, keeping on” in spite of setbacks and unexpected obstacles.
While attending the Turner Lectures last week, Sandy Messick (acting pastor during my sabbatical) and I shared a meal together. We talked some about the church and the work you have accomplished while I’ve been on sabbatical. As she talked I found my heart leaping for joy.
I love the emerging directions you are in the process of considering. I’m looking forward to nurturing a collective sense of “knowing” that offers helps us name our purpose and gives us extra energy to pursue God’s dream for us.
I am just about ready to return: two more weeks that will fly by, and then, I so look forward to basking in your presence. You are a beloved community.
blessings + peace,
Laurie
Last week, following concerts in Tacoma and Olympia and preparing to attend the Turner Lectures in Yakima, I missed my Monday morning writing time.
In the meantime I caught a cold and have spent some amount of time desperately trying not to cough while singing! I’m recovering and am grateful that this past concert series has concluded.
After this week at home, Barb and I fly to New Mexico on Saturday for a week of traveling with dear friends around the land we so love. We’ll be staying in Espanola, about half-way between Santa Fe and Taos. It will be the last opportunity to stay in the casitas owned by Jan Hart, my beloved watercolor teacher, who moved there some time ago.
One of the things I most appreciate about Jan is her capacity to flow with the intentions of the universe for her life (I’m not sure she would use the word God, but she might). Jan was trained as an architect at the University of Washington and taught there. At the same time she began a weekly watercolor class at a small studio just off Stone Way between Wallingford and Fremont.
I had become intrigued with painting while taking, oddly enough, a color theory class for weavers. As part of the class we mixed colors using poster paint. While I like color theory, I learned I really liked using a paint brush!
I found Jan’s flyer tacked to the announcement board at Daniel Smith, a local art supply store. I loved Jan’s class and kept at for a few years until Jan “knew” she needed to move to New Mexico. At the time she had been making frequent trips from Seattle to New Mexico to paint the desert landscape and always came home refreshed and renewed.
What I know, what we all know at some level, is that guidance comes to us in surprising ways. This is Jan’s story as I remember it. One day, a long time ago, Jan was in a drugstore. She picked up a paperback novel. She opened it at random and read these words, Heart, someday you will be a famous artist. She quickly closed the book and put it back on the shelf!
At that point, while she may have harbored artistic ambitions I believe they felt pretty far out of reach. But painting by painting she worked on her craft and her art so much so that she is indeed an accomplished artist who has shown her art work in Santa Fe art galleries and who recently published a beautiful book on watercolor technique.
Over the last few years, while living in Espanola and continuing to teach painting, she also began taking folks on painting trips to Costa Rica. Last year she “knew” it was time to move again. She purchased property in Costa Rica and in the new year will be moving once again.
What I love about this kind of “knowing” is that it incorporates head and heart, it gives energy to vision that allows one to “keep on, keeping on” in spite of setbacks and unexpected obstacles.
While attending the Turner Lectures last week, Sandy Messick (acting pastor during my sabbatical) and I shared a meal together. We talked some about the church and the work you have accomplished while I’ve been on sabbatical. As she talked I found my heart leaping for joy.
I love the emerging directions you are in the process of considering. I’m looking forward to nurturing a collective sense of “knowing” that offers helps us name our purpose and gives us extra energy to pursue God’s dream for us.
I am just about ready to return: two more weeks that will fly by, and then, I so look forward to basking in your presence. You are a beloved community.
blessings + peace,
Laurie
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sabbatical Reflection, September 29
Today I am thankful, filled with gratitude for another day of life; for warm sun (just one more day before fall fully sets in), Flickers scrambling about on fir trees, racing squirrels, and a body that can dance and sing and pray.
This week I want to carry this poem from Mary Oliver in my back pocket.
blessings + peace,
Laurie
MESSENGER
by Mary Oliver
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect?
Let me keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever.
Today I am thankful, filled with gratitude for another day of life; for warm sun (just one more day before fall fully sets in), Flickers scrambling about on fir trees, racing squirrels, and a body that can dance and sing and pray.
This week I want to carry this poem from Mary Oliver in my back pocket.
blessings + peace,
Laurie
MESSENGER
by Mary Oliver
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect?
Let me keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is that we live forever.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Sabbatical Reflection, September 22
One my persistent delights in life are public libraries. Barb can tell you that I will go out of my way to visit a new King County Library (our current system) whenever we happen upon one.
I remember how at age eight my mom took me to the old Carnegie Public Library on Market Street (now an antique store) in Ballard to get my first library card. The little yellow index cards asked for name, address, and phone number. At the bottom of the card there was a place for you to sign your name. At that time in order to get your own card you had to be able to sign your name. I’ve been checking out books ever since.
In the King County Libraries my favorite shelf is called “Paperback Picks.” There I often find books that I have wanted to read but never got around to putting on hold. My “Paperback Pick” last week was How Starbucks Saved My Life: a son of privilege learns to live like everyone else by Michael Gates Gill. I loved this book!
Each chapter begins with a quote printed on a Starbucks coffee cup. One that called out to me went like this:
The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life. – a quote from Anne Morriss, a Starbucks Guest from New York City
Something about this quote awoke a fierce feeling in me that went something like, YES! I want to be strong, committed, and clear!
The most immediate application of that thought led me to work really hard in the last week to really, really, really, learn my music for our upcoming Esoterics concert. I want to be confident and strong in my singing.
I took on this project because I was on sabbatical and had the time for it. I took on this project because I love to sing. I took on this project because I love to sing with Barb and it was something we could do together as part of our sabbatical time. I took on this project to support our director, Eric Banks, who has thrown his heart and soul into writing a unique piece of music.
But when it came to time to follow through and I looked at the rather arduous schedule again, I found myself wishing I was doing something else, feeling incompetent musically, and generally thinking I had made a big mistake.
What I remembered in this past week, I learned from InterPlay: we get into and out of trouble in little tiny steps.
Measure by measure I began to go over the music. Measure by measure I learned to sing in a new language. Measure by measure my musical confidence began to return.
I still have work to do but I have sent my “internal critic” on a little vacation to an island filled with lush palms, sandy beaches, and a really good book. She is happy for the moment, and so am I.
Laurie
ps: I hope you will come to one of our concerts. Check out The Esoterics website for more information on times and locations: http://www.theesoterics.org/
One my persistent delights in life are public libraries. Barb can tell you that I will go out of my way to visit a new King County Library (our current system) whenever we happen upon one.
I remember how at age eight my mom took me to the old Carnegie Public Library on Market Street (now an antique store) in Ballard to get my first library card. The little yellow index cards asked for name, address, and phone number. At the bottom of the card there was a place for you to sign your name. At that time in order to get your own card you had to be able to sign your name. I’ve been checking out books ever since.
In the King County Libraries my favorite shelf is called “Paperback Picks.” There I often find books that I have wanted to read but never got around to putting on hold. My “Paperback Pick” last week was How Starbucks Saved My Life: a son of privilege learns to live like everyone else by Michael Gates Gill. I loved this book!
Each chapter begins with a quote printed on a Starbucks coffee cup. One that called out to me went like this:
The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life. – a quote from Anne Morriss, a Starbucks Guest from New York City
Something about this quote awoke a fierce feeling in me that went something like, YES! I want to be strong, committed, and clear!
The most immediate application of that thought led me to work really hard in the last week to really, really, really, learn my music for our upcoming Esoterics concert. I want to be confident and strong in my singing.
I took on this project because I was on sabbatical and had the time for it. I took on this project because I love to sing. I took on this project because I love to sing with Barb and it was something we could do together as part of our sabbatical time. I took on this project to support our director, Eric Banks, who has thrown his heart and soul into writing a unique piece of music.
But when it came to time to follow through and I looked at the rather arduous schedule again, I found myself wishing I was doing something else, feeling incompetent musically, and generally thinking I had made a big mistake.
What I remembered in this past week, I learned from InterPlay: we get into and out of trouble in little tiny steps.
Measure by measure I began to go over the music. Measure by measure I learned to sing in a new language. Measure by measure my musical confidence began to return.
I still have work to do but I have sent my “internal critic” on a little vacation to an island filled with lush palms, sandy beaches, and a really good book. She is happy for the moment, and so am I.
Laurie
ps: I hope you will come to one of our concerts. Check out The Esoterics website for more information on times and locations: http://www.theesoterics.org/
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sabbatical Reflections, September 15, 2008
This past week Joan Dennehy, Pastor of Findlay Street Christian Church, and I flew to San Jose on Thursday and traveled south to Land of Medicine Buddha Retreat Center in Soquel, not far from Santa Cruz in the Redwood forests.
The night before I left, Stan Larsen (a member of QACC who died last December) came to me in a dream and held pine needles under my nose urging me to take in the scent. I took it as a good sign that Stan’s love of the out-doors (he continued to back-pack in the Olympics well into his 90’s) would be with me on this journey.
The retreat center itself is set on the side of a very steep hill at the end of the road. The Redwoods make our Douglas firs look like babies. During our time there the weather turned chilly and the sun barely filtered through the trees and costal fog.
Much earlier in the year Joan and I committed ourselves to attending this facilitator training event for SoulCollage ®. We both love art, we love collage, and we love deepening our understanding of self and soul and leading others along the path of mutual discovery.
Without exactly knowing what we were getting ourselves into we could sense that there was something here for us, so in March we took our hearts (and credit cards) and threw them out over the months to this past weekend in September.
The backbone of SoulCollage are pieces of mat board (usually 5x8 inch) covered over with a background image which in turn hosts another image (or images) that continue to amplify a particular energy.
The idea is to each card reflects one kind of energy of our souls that could be described with the words: I Am the One Who . . . procrastinates over large piles of paper, delights as a happy child, knows melancholy, finds joy in creating with my hands, brings forth fruit from the garden, and so forth. Each energy has its own card so that when you lay out all of the cards you have created it is like looking at a kaleidoscope of your soul!
The SoulCollage process also invites us to name and hold the larger energies that sometimes grab us (some examples might be: The Great Mother, The Warrior, Death, Resurrection, The Creator, The Fool,. . .).
In addition we also make cards for our allies, guides and challengers who have walked upon this earth (for me that list includes Barb, our families and friends, various teachers - some of whom I have studied with and some of whom I have read but never met, pets . . .). There is, of course more to all this than I can describe here but I want you to have a flavor of what we experienced.
The overall idea behind SoulCollage is that the Many (all the parts and pieces of ourselves) are contained in the One. For me, that One is the unity of God-energy that permeates all of creation. In creating SoulCollage cards we bring to consciousness various pieces of our life-energy and allow those parts to be recognized and given voice.
It’s like this: within us, at any given moment, there are a myriad of voices vying for attention: I want another cup of tea. No, you need to start the laundry. Monday is laundry day, remember? What I really want to do is finish that novel.
SoulCollage helps us have a sense of humor about it all and make it easier to choose which voice, which part of the soul, to bring forward in any given moment.
Throughout our time together Joan and I came up with lots of ideas about how to bring this back to our congregations. We hope that some folks in each of our congregations might be willing to sit down with us for a few hours. All we need are some old magazines, a pair of scissors, a piece of mat board, and some glue. It really is that simple.
Laurie
If you want more information check out the SoulCollage website: www.soulcollage.com/home/index.php
This past week Joan Dennehy, Pastor of Findlay Street Christian Church, and I flew to San Jose on Thursday and traveled south to Land of Medicine Buddha Retreat Center in Soquel, not far from Santa Cruz in the Redwood forests.
The night before I left, Stan Larsen (a member of QACC who died last December) came to me in a dream and held pine needles under my nose urging me to take in the scent. I took it as a good sign that Stan’s love of the out-doors (he continued to back-pack in the Olympics well into his 90’s) would be with me on this journey.
The retreat center itself is set on the side of a very steep hill at the end of the road. The Redwoods make our Douglas firs look like babies. During our time there the weather turned chilly and the sun barely filtered through the trees and costal fog.
Much earlier in the year Joan and I committed ourselves to attending this facilitator training event for SoulCollage ®. We both love art, we love collage, and we love deepening our understanding of self and soul and leading others along the path of mutual discovery.
Without exactly knowing what we were getting ourselves into we could sense that there was something here for us, so in March we took our hearts (and credit cards) and threw them out over the months to this past weekend in September.
The backbone of SoulCollage are pieces of mat board (usually 5x8 inch) covered over with a background image which in turn hosts another image (or images) that continue to amplify a particular energy.
The idea is to each card reflects one kind of energy of our souls that could be described with the words: I Am the One Who . . . procrastinates over large piles of paper, delights as a happy child, knows melancholy, finds joy in creating with my hands, brings forth fruit from the garden, and so forth. Each energy has its own card so that when you lay out all of the cards you have created it is like looking at a kaleidoscope of your soul!
The SoulCollage process also invites us to name and hold the larger energies that sometimes grab us (some examples might be: The Great Mother, The Warrior, Death, Resurrection, The Creator, The Fool,. . .).
In addition we also make cards for our allies, guides and challengers who have walked upon this earth (for me that list includes Barb, our families and friends, various teachers - some of whom I have studied with and some of whom I have read but never met, pets . . .). There is, of course more to all this than I can describe here but I want you to have a flavor of what we experienced.
The overall idea behind SoulCollage is that the Many (all the parts and pieces of ourselves) are contained in the One. For me, that One is the unity of God-energy that permeates all of creation. In creating SoulCollage cards we bring to consciousness various pieces of our life-energy and allow those parts to be recognized and given voice.
It’s like this: within us, at any given moment, there are a myriad of voices vying for attention: I want another cup of tea. No, you need to start the laundry. Monday is laundry day, remember? What I really want to do is finish that novel.
SoulCollage helps us have a sense of humor about it all and make it easier to choose which voice, which part of the soul, to bring forward in any given moment.
Throughout our time together Joan and I came up with lots of ideas about how to bring this back to our congregations. We hope that some folks in each of our congregations might be willing to sit down with us for a few hours. All we need are some old magazines, a pair of scissors, a piece of mat board, and some glue. It really is that simple.
Laurie
If you want more information check out the SoulCollage website: www.soulcollage.com/home/index.php
Monday, September 08, 2008
Sabbatical Reflection, September 8
It was a family-full weekend. On Friday grandchildren Maggie (6) and Ambrose (3) spent the night. Our evening outing took us to St. Edwards State Park where the play structure for children is outstanding! Built by community volunteers, they spent the vast majority of their time before construction talking to children about what they liked to play on and around.
Once the volunteers finished their extensive research the actual building of the structure went rather quickly. The result takes kids up and over and down and through a castle-like building. Around the outside of the castle children can swing on bars, walk on a balance beam, play in the sand, climb a rock wall and more!
In the soft evening light of almost fall children jumped and swung and played and swarmed all over the structure. I heard three languages in our time there.
After playing, with Happy Meals in hand for the grandchildren and Kidd Valley burgers for the Nana’s we sat outside Kidd Valley and watched the traffic whiz by on Bothell Way. Meanwhile Maggie and Ambrose were totally mesmerized by two brothers, maybe a year older then each of them, who cavorted freely around the out-door seating area bouncing off the shrubbery, the garbage can, the tables, and each other.
The father sat nearby. He stared off into space seemingly exhausted from a week’s work and unable to summon enough energy to connect, to teach, to do the hard-work of parenting. He uttered not one word to his (from my perspective) completely out-of-control children who off and on strayed (from my perspective) way too close to the busy street. Meanwhile Maggie and Ambrose stared with open mouths at that much mayhem so close at hand.
In all honesty, my heart went out to the dad. Who knows what was going on at work? Who knows, maybe both children are hyper-active? Maybe he chooses his battles wisely and this was not one of them.
On Saturday we dropped the grandkids off at home and took Great Aunt Gladys (102) to a Dahlia Garden in Sea-Tac. This particular garden is in the midst of a residential area. We drove up, got out, and looked at the small garden in the front of the house. Aunt Gladys was not impressed.
She had really wanted to see a Dahlia Garden in Tacoma that she had learned about while watching Martha Stewart. We could not find out which garden that was but found Sea-Tac Gardens practically in her own back yard – which was part of the problem – Aunt Gladys wanted to get out of the Burien area!
We wandered around in the front garden and could see that there were more gardens beyond the gate so we walked on in. From a distance we thought we saw three more rather small gardens. Still unimpressed, Aunt Gladys grumped a bit about how she had seen larger gardens elsewhere. Then it came into view.
Just over a small rise there were thousands and thousands of Dahlias. I have no idea of the acreage; suffice it to say that we did not get around the entire garden. We eventually talked with the owner of the garden who has propagated over forty varieties Dahlias. His life’s work is right there for all to see; beautiful Dahlias laid out row by row and dug up every fall. He does a mail-order business all over the country. Order forms in hand we marked off the ones we intend to plant next spring.
At first glance once can never know the true state of any given situation. From outward appearances we think we know, we make suppositions, we guess, we intuit . . . but unless we open the gate and walk into another’s life we cannot know the extent of the beauty and the pain mingled side-by-side.
For this week I want to remember one of my favorite benedictions by Henri Amiel:
Life is short and we have not much time for gladdening the hearts of those who travel the way with us. Oh, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.
Laurie
It was a family-full weekend. On Friday grandchildren Maggie (6) and Ambrose (3) spent the night. Our evening outing took us to St. Edwards State Park where the play structure for children is outstanding! Built by community volunteers, they spent the vast majority of their time before construction talking to children about what they liked to play on and around.
Once the volunteers finished their extensive research the actual building of the structure went rather quickly. The result takes kids up and over and down and through a castle-like building. Around the outside of the castle children can swing on bars, walk on a balance beam, play in the sand, climb a rock wall and more!
In the soft evening light of almost fall children jumped and swung and played and swarmed all over the structure. I heard three languages in our time there.
After playing, with Happy Meals in hand for the grandchildren and Kidd Valley burgers for the Nana’s we sat outside Kidd Valley and watched the traffic whiz by on Bothell Way. Meanwhile Maggie and Ambrose were totally mesmerized by two brothers, maybe a year older then each of them, who cavorted freely around the out-door seating area bouncing off the shrubbery, the garbage can, the tables, and each other.
The father sat nearby. He stared off into space seemingly exhausted from a week’s work and unable to summon enough energy to connect, to teach, to do the hard-work of parenting. He uttered not one word to his (from my perspective) completely out-of-control children who off and on strayed (from my perspective) way too close to the busy street. Meanwhile Maggie and Ambrose stared with open mouths at that much mayhem so close at hand.
In all honesty, my heart went out to the dad. Who knows what was going on at work? Who knows, maybe both children are hyper-active? Maybe he chooses his battles wisely and this was not one of them.
On Saturday we dropped the grandkids off at home and took Great Aunt Gladys (102) to a Dahlia Garden in Sea-Tac. This particular garden is in the midst of a residential area. We drove up, got out, and looked at the small garden in the front of the house. Aunt Gladys was not impressed.
She had really wanted to see a Dahlia Garden in Tacoma that she had learned about while watching Martha Stewart. We could not find out which garden that was but found Sea-Tac Gardens practically in her own back yard – which was part of the problem – Aunt Gladys wanted to get out of the Burien area!
We wandered around in the front garden and could see that there were more gardens beyond the gate so we walked on in. From a distance we thought we saw three more rather small gardens. Still unimpressed, Aunt Gladys grumped a bit about how she had seen larger gardens elsewhere. Then it came into view.
Just over a small rise there were thousands and thousands of Dahlias. I have no idea of the acreage; suffice it to say that we did not get around the entire garden. We eventually talked with the owner of the garden who has propagated over forty varieties Dahlias. His life’s work is right there for all to see; beautiful Dahlias laid out row by row and dug up every fall. He does a mail-order business all over the country. Order forms in hand we marked off the ones we intend to plant next spring.
At first glance once can never know the true state of any given situation. From outward appearances we think we know, we make suppositions, we guess, we intuit . . . but unless we open the gate and walk into another’s life we cannot know the extent of the beauty and the pain mingled side-by-side.
For this week I want to remember one of my favorite benedictions by Henri Amiel:
Life is short and we have not much time for gladdening the hearts of those who travel the way with us. Oh, be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.
Laurie
Monday, September 01, 2008
Sabbatical Reflection, September 1
By nature I am an instruction follower. I frequently read the instruction booklets that come with new equipment and I am forever going on-line to find about how to do things that I’ve never done before.
Last weekend we finished cleaning and pressure washing the deck. Then it rained. And it rained some more. And then it really rained. By the end of the week I could feel the mold creeping back. The instructions on the sealer told us we needed the deck to dry out and we needed 24 hours without rain after sealing and staining.
Discouraged, we scanned the weather forecast each day, and each day the forecast would drift from sun to chance of showers to sun. No matter how carefully we had prepared we could not control the weather!
By Friday, the weather report looked a little more hopeful and I nearly started sealing and staining but a “chance of showers” loomed for the afternoon and I so I worked on yet another house project – removing moss from a brick walkway: truly, in the course of this sabbatical the putty knife and I have become one!
Saturday morning, the sun was shinning, the deck was all dried out (it had not rained on Friday after all). The forecast predicted “very slight chance of showers” early Sunday morning: we went for it! By the end of the day we had finished sealing and staining the deck.
That night the slight chance of showers rained down. Puddles formed on the deck. The sealer remained nearly as wet as when we left it Saturday afternoon. By today, Monday, it is slightly drier and I live in hope that all will be well.
It got me thinking about life in general. You can do all the planning and prep work possible, internalize all the directions and follow them, and if the conditions are not right – it doesn’t matter. Knowing when to move and how to shift becomes an art in itself and we don’t always get it right.
As I’ve worked, my mind has been freed to think about church and its purpose, as well as my life and my purpose. Scraping away at accumulated “smutch” between the boards of the deck or scraping off accumulated moss on bricks I can sense that I’m also removing a sort of plaque that had built up around my soul. I can feel a certain joy beginning to return to me; a tiny bubbling up of simple purpose.
This Sunday we attended worship at the Ananda Community, a blend of east and west that comes out of the tradition of Yoganada, founder of Self-Realization Fellowship. Barb had been active in this community for a number of years and she was able to re-connect with her teachers from that time.
Each worship service we attend offers something of interest and I find myself also longing for our dear home – Queen Anne Christian Church. Thank you for these days of labor and reflection.
Laurie
By nature I am an instruction follower. I frequently read the instruction booklets that come with new equipment and I am forever going on-line to find about how to do things that I’ve never done before.
Last weekend we finished cleaning and pressure washing the deck. Then it rained. And it rained some more. And then it really rained. By the end of the week I could feel the mold creeping back. The instructions on the sealer told us we needed the deck to dry out and we needed 24 hours without rain after sealing and staining.
Discouraged, we scanned the weather forecast each day, and each day the forecast would drift from sun to chance of showers to sun. No matter how carefully we had prepared we could not control the weather!
By Friday, the weather report looked a little more hopeful and I nearly started sealing and staining but a “chance of showers” loomed for the afternoon and I so I worked on yet another house project – removing moss from a brick walkway: truly, in the course of this sabbatical the putty knife and I have become one!
Saturday morning, the sun was shinning, the deck was all dried out (it had not rained on Friday after all). The forecast predicted “very slight chance of showers” early Sunday morning: we went for it! By the end of the day we had finished sealing and staining the deck.
That night the slight chance of showers rained down. Puddles formed on the deck. The sealer remained nearly as wet as when we left it Saturday afternoon. By today, Monday, it is slightly drier and I live in hope that all will be well.
It got me thinking about life in general. You can do all the planning and prep work possible, internalize all the directions and follow them, and if the conditions are not right – it doesn’t matter. Knowing when to move and how to shift becomes an art in itself and we don’t always get it right.
As I’ve worked, my mind has been freed to think about church and its purpose, as well as my life and my purpose. Scraping away at accumulated “smutch” between the boards of the deck or scraping off accumulated moss on bricks I can sense that I’m also removing a sort of plaque that had built up around my soul. I can feel a certain joy beginning to return to me; a tiny bubbling up of simple purpose.
This Sunday we attended worship at the Ananda Community, a blend of east and west that comes out of the tradition of Yoganada, founder of Self-Realization Fellowship. Barb had been active in this community for a number of years and she was able to re-connect with her teachers from that time.
Each worship service we attend offers something of interest and I find myself also longing for our dear home – Queen Anne Christian Church. Thank you for these days of labor and reflection.
Laurie
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sabbatical Reflection, August 24
I love it when things just work out and flow with the mysterious meanderings of the universe.
Sunday we attended worship at University Christian Church, the church that shaped me as a child and young adult. Their new pastor, Rev. Janetta Cravens Boyd, began her work there in August. We enjoyed meeting her and greeting old friends, some of whom I've known now for over forty years.
In the tradition of many a church-goer and in addition to the order of worship, we also held in our hands the Sunday afternoon shopping list: Dunn Lumber, Seattle Paint, and Home Depot. We had carefully created this list Saturday evening while sitting in the sun on our newly pressure-washed deck. Each item on our list would move some project forward, the most important one being sealing and staining the deck.
But before we could go shopping we also engaged in the fine “after church ritual” of lunch. In this case we stumbled upon Ivar's Lake Union take-out just west of the freeway bridge. We sat outside, warm and cloudy, with our salmon chowder and fish and chips. Just as we finished the rain began. We dashed to the car and drove one block to Dunn Lumber to get the sealer/stain: no luck, one gallon in stock. We looked at each other and kind of lost heart about the rest of the list. Let's go to Trader Joe's and pick up a few things.
Cheese, vinegar, tea, chocolate soy milk, crackers . . . we turned the corner and there we saw our friend Martha Dimmers, with all three children and two shopping carts. We briefly blocked the aisle and learned that Stephen was ill. Martha had assured him that she would be fine on her own with the toddler twins, Gabriel and Genesis, and five year old daughter Carys. And indeed she was fine. With the twins in one shopping cart, she had her helper Carys - the envy of every five year old dressed in a lovely pink tutu - pushing the other cart.
We offered to help and Martha told us no worries, Carys is a good helper, all will be well. In a moment of sheer insanity we all believed this and went our separate ways. Half-way down this aisle, Barb turned to me and said we have to help Martha, you finish our shopping, and off she went.
Our check-out went quickly and so we hung out with the children while Martha negotiated the check-out line.
Earlier this weekend Barb had read the book Sleeping with Bread, that details a simple exercise to end each day: What brought you life today? and What was deadening to your spirit? I'd like to do this, she said.
We began on Sunday night: What was life-giving? We both answered that the most life-giving part of our day revolved around unexpectedly meeting Martha and the children at Trader Joe's.
The Spirit of God blows where it will, we are told in scripture. And sometimes, despite all our careful planning, life finds a deeper, truer, more blessed flow and we find ourselves blown to just the right place at just the right time.
Laurie
I love it when things just work out and flow with the mysterious meanderings of the universe.
Sunday we attended worship at University Christian Church, the church that shaped me as a child and young adult. Their new pastor, Rev. Janetta Cravens Boyd, began her work there in August. We enjoyed meeting her and greeting old friends, some of whom I've known now for over forty years.
In the tradition of many a church-goer and in addition to the order of worship, we also held in our hands the Sunday afternoon shopping list: Dunn Lumber, Seattle Paint, and Home Depot. We had carefully created this list Saturday evening while sitting in the sun on our newly pressure-washed deck. Each item on our list would move some project forward, the most important one being sealing and staining the deck.
But before we could go shopping we also engaged in the fine “after church ritual” of lunch. In this case we stumbled upon Ivar's Lake Union take-out just west of the freeway bridge. We sat outside, warm and cloudy, with our salmon chowder and fish and chips. Just as we finished the rain began. We dashed to the car and drove one block to Dunn Lumber to get the sealer/stain: no luck, one gallon in stock. We looked at each other and kind of lost heart about the rest of the list. Let's go to Trader Joe's and pick up a few things.
Cheese, vinegar, tea, chocolate soy milk, crackers . . . we turned the corner and there we saw our friend Martha Dimmers, with all three children and two shopping carts. We briefly blocked the aisle and learned that Stephen was ill. Martha had assured him that she would be fine on her own with the toddler twins, Gabriel and Genesis, and five year old daughter Carys. And indeed she was fine. With the twins in one shopping cart, she had her helper Carys - the envy of every five year old dressed in a lovely pink tutu - pushing the other cart.
We offered to help and Martha told us no worries, Carys is a good helper, all will be well. In a moment of sheer insanity we all believed this and went our separate ways. Half-way down this aisle, Barb turned to me and said we have to help Martha, you finish our shopping, and off she went.
Our check-out went quickly and so we hung out with the children while Martha negotiated the check-out line.
Earlier this weekend Barb had read the book Sleeping with Bread, that details a simple exercise to end each day: What brought you life today? and What was deadening to your spirit? I'd like to do this, she said.
We began on Sunday night: What was life-giving? We both answered that the most life-giving part of our day revolved around unexpectedly meeting Martha and the children at Trader Joe's.
The Spirit of God blows where it will, we are told in scripture. And sometimes, despite all our careful planning, life finds a deeper, truer, more blessed flow and we find ourselves blown to just the right place at just the right time.
Laurie
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