Thursday Morning Musings

Our Presiding Bishop certainly has taken the lead in calling attention to the Episcopal Canons and Constitution in two ways: a warning letter to Bishop Duncan of Pittsburgh that if he continues in the way he has outlined that canonical action will be taken against him, and in inhibiting Bishop Bennison for not taking action to protect young people when he knew a person was sexually abusing one of them. At the recent Executive Council meeting she also received a report about the legal cases of congregations seceding from the Episcopal Church and trying to keep their property. She made it very clear that the Canons and Constitution make churches and dioceses an interdependent part of the national church. People may leave the church, but churches and dioceses don't.

Then I wondered how I could be so graced with material and spiritual and emotional wealth (the physical is up and down, but at least I have functional insurance) and others in my beloved circle are not. I'm selfish enough that I'm not gonna bankrupt us, but sharing is one of my earliest values. My Mom used to say that I'd give you the shirt off my back and the one off hers, too. I gave away most of her "things" when she died, but I kept the money. LOL It'll do more good when it grows a bit.

I thought I should write something very profound, but the most profound thing I realized during the night was that I was trying to use a 12-step program to replace church for me. Isn't working. I may continue in the 12-step program, but I really need a place to worship. I'd like one that fits with who I am and what I believe, but I'll take 11 am services in a huge church filled (at that service) with mostly those 10-20 plus years older than me rather than nothing.

Theological insights are not my forte now, just living, breathing, and enjoying the ocean and all the yarn I've bought over the past few months. I've started a felted hat, an afghan, and several scarves. Last night we wound (on my new yarn winder) a gorgeous rainbow colored rayon boucle - guess it will be jewelry first - lots of it, over 200 yards - hand dyed. Oh, so beautiful. And, the brightly colored mohair I pictured earlier, plus a brightly colored hand-dyed silk that is handing in my closet so that I see it every morning when I dress. It reminds me that I am beautiful and that I have the clothes to dress beautifully.

However, it's shower time before I can do that. Later, folks.

Meme from Eileen from Donald

Tell about me 10, 20, 30 (and for me 40 and 50) years ago

(Note: In each picture, I'm on the right)

Ten years ago I was 52, living on my own for the first time in a number of years, recently divorced, into the second year of starting Neighbors in Ministry (an ecumenical social service organization) which was finally getting enough donations to pay me enough for an apartment.

Twenty years ago I was 42 living in Fairhope, Alabama, near the Bay of Mobile, working for Ecumenical Ministries and in the process of discernment for the Episcopal priesthood (they ultimately turned me down). My best friend was an African American preacher named Rev. Dorch who volunteered with the organization. Together we visited all (I don't think he missed any of them) of the poor people in the lower part of Baldwin County and found them furniture and food and helped repair their homes and did all sorts of wonderful things for people. Plus, he invited me to preach at his home church one Sunday - my first time as Sister Moore - and I loved it. When I was readying to go to seminary (went without diocesan backing), I gave him my Mom's piano so he could learn to play. He couldn't read, but he could quote scripture and was getting a degree from a Bible college. People read him the material and he was eloquent. We had some lively discussions. I miss him.

Thirty years ago I as 32, about to be divorced from a man who had become a drug addict and dealer, with my own company (one employee - me) Margi Moore: Print Design. My biggest clients were Weyerhauser and the C & G Railroad. I did newsletters for both companies. I also had a couple of advertising clients and did some graphic design work for companies in need of brochures in Columbus, Mississippi. And, I was struggling mightily to make ends meets. I was involved in community theatre as a techie.

Forty years ago I was 22, living in Memphis, Tennessee, and working for Pepper Sound Studios in their advertising department. I was fired that year because they found out I was gay. I was also a drunk, a liar, and cheating on my partner. But, we had a delightful little Pug named Two Cents - so named because when we brought her home I said, "I wouldn't give you Two Cents for that d--- dog." She looked like a litte rat, but I cuddled her against my breast all the way home.

Fifty years ago I was 12, and living in Bermuda; my Dad was stationed there with the US Navy. It was one of the most wonderful times of my life. I had freedom of the island. I biked from one end of the 19 square mile island to the other, attended the local school, discovered God, had my first boyfriend, joined the Teen Club, attended my first formal dance with one of the best looking boys on base.

Sixty years ago I was 2, and, although I don't remember anything except my cat (and maybe only that from pictures), I know my Dad was an alcoholic, and we lived on the farm near Marks, Mississippi. We had cows that Mom got up before dawn to milk, and chickens and a garden where I loved to pull up the little carrots to see how they were growing.

So, that's some of who I am. Thanks Eileen for the retrospective.

A Surprise to Me

Eucharistic theology
You scored as a Calvin
You are John Calvin. You seek to be faithful to Scripture, and to harmonize difficult sayings. You believe that in the Lord's Supper those who have faith are united to Christ, who is present spiritually, yet in a real way.
Calvin 75%
Orthodox 50%
Luther 50%
Catholic 44%
Zwingli 6%
Unitarian 6%

Confession: I haven't read anything about Calvin's eucharistic theology, but, perhaps, he and I agree. In other theology lately, I have been leaning more toward the Unitarian style or even panentheism. I believe that no one has the entire key to God; we have a God of our understanding. Sometimes these understandings agree.

The vacation

We are home safe, although we didn't get here until after 1 am Monday morning. The plane from Charlotte was having mechanical troubles in Bristol, TN, and they finally combined two flights and got us to the terminal at 11:50 pm, then a long wait for luggage, which all arrived safely, and the hour drive to home.

I am having so much fun knitting. I made an entire scarf between Denver and here. And, I've made lots of fun necklaces. You won't believe the gorgeous colors and textures of yarn that I found out in Santa Fe. I went to two different shops - Oh, my. One of them looked very much like the sunset that we saw last night - deep purples shading to indigo to reds and oranges with just a touch of yellow. And, this particular yarn is mohair - thin center with much fuzz that lays together like a picture. I'm not sure that I can ever knit with it. It might just be a decoration! I also found some soy silk yarn, cotton and milk fiber, corn fiber - all so soft and such wonderful colors and variegated colors.










And, we saw a huge exhibit of pueblo pottery spanning more than a thousand years - 600 to now. Of course the more modern stuff has gotten fancier. And, one potter, Maria Martinez (a very famous one), had put together an exhibit of the materials used to make the pottery. Also in the same museum, we saw Spider Woman's Gift - a display of mostly ancient (though some modern) weaving - black, dark blue, red and white. And, the crosses that you see on native weaving are the symbol of Spider Woman - the shape of the ancient loom...not a Christian motif. My partner walked up to one case and said, "Oh, that looks just like you." A gorgeous cape of red, dark blue and white with shapes that just seemed to fit me. And, in the gift shop, we found a coral cuff bracelet that was one of the most magnificent pieces of jewelry I have ever seen. Of course, it was more than $500; so it's still there.

Then we walked over to the Folk Art Museum, where they had an exhibit of fiber art - beginning with some very ancient pieces of oriental weaving and clothing and continuing through to the native American use of corn shuck and other fibers. At the end of the exhibit, a small loom was set up with a sign asking that whoever wished should help finish the community weaving. So, I sat down and wove in my thread...a deep teal one and blended it into a dangling piece of another very light shade of green. What fun!

We had dinner with ten of the most talented women in Santa Fe - well, ten of the ones who are now in their 70s and 80s. Writers, painters, woodworker, photographer, sculptor.....what fun. And, we had a private room at the Pink Adobe where all of us were cold but we laughed so much and told wonderful stories. One woman had just returned from two weeks in Istanbul and was showing me a piece of gorgeous coral and amber jewelry. She had some surgery with anesthesia problems and couldn't always pull her sentences together in the right order, but we had a great time talking about Istanbul and Morocco, where she had spent a month. She's crazy and apparently always has been (even before the fiasco with the anesthesia); I liked her a lot and wished I could spend more time with her. Her partner is our age and a woodworker. One woman is writing and producing a musical.




Then in Denver, we had a session of "Stitch and Bitch" at our friends' house with about 10 women - both gay and straight. We sat around a did some sort of handwork - one person was a stained glass artist, and she brought her glass to edge with copper. One woman did her mending. And, one woman just came and visited. She was in the middle of a divorce and before the night was over, she had us singing a round of a song by Sweet Honey in the rock. As she got us started, she kept saying, Okay something's not right. I quit singing and kept time, then it was okay. Of course, I know I can sing, but the altitude, allergies and dryness worked their way with my nasal passages and ears. (Today I am breathing much better). I went to bed before everyone left.

We also had a smaller dinner on Saturday before we left - mostly people we knew from earlier visits. So much laughter and so many jokes. And, one woman captured my friend of almost 40 years and me singing "Spinning Wheel" from long ago. This all began because someone claimed she could make one boob rise and then another in time to a song. My partner said, "One boob up, one boob down" - that got Gin and me going with the song. So much fun. Again, we went to bed before everyone left.

I awoke early on Sunday morning and ate breakfast in the den with the wind whistling around the chimney. Then I heard distant thunder - a different sound out there than here - more like a cracking of the sky - not very loud but a tinkling punctuated crackle. A few minutes later the rain came down in a torrent. About 20 minutes later, my partner got up and came into the den and said, "It's snowing." Sure enough, by then, the ground was covered in snow! The roads were mostly clear - just a little slush when we went to the airport, but it was still snowing when we left. By the time we got on the plane, the sun was shining and the ground at the airport was drying quickly. We had a pleasant ride to Charlotte.

Then the long wait!

Here's a laughable: I asked my Denver friend to ship some things for me: my dirty clothes, so that I could bring the yarn I bought home with me. LOL Aren't I silly? But, I don't need the warm clothes here; so they might as well come in a box later. Maybe by then we'll be able to wear long pants.

It's partly cloudy here, but the ocean still sounds like the ocean, and I love it. I also saw a dolphin this morning - jumped completely out of the water!!

Oh, yeah, we also got to visit the artist who did the paintings we will hang over our mantle - both abstracts and to walk through their garden - an oasis in the middle of the desert where she has a pet squirrel who will eat out of your hand. All of us got to feed Cha Cha Ma.

I did not want to leave yesterday - the snow, the coziness of the den, the quietness of our conversations - but I am so glad to be home. The ocean does for my soul what nothing else has ever done.

More Brouhaha

The theologizing and satirizing and politicking and bickering had settled down just 10 days ago when I went on vacation. Now, California is saying that the recently-issued House of Bishops response to the Dar-es-Salaam meeting does not apply because it was not passed by General Convention. The Archbishop of Canterbury steps back either a millennium or several millennia to a position about the basic political unit of the Christian church through a personal letter to Bishop John Howe of Florida. The blogs are rampant with name-calling. The House of Bishops and Deputies listserv blithers on with dissecting the letter and the resolutions passed by California.

This church is in a bipolar state - highs and lows experienced by all sorts of divisions and sections. Perhaps a large dose of Depakote or some other anti-psychotic medication is needed to trim off the bottoms and tops of the emotional/theological spectrum. Personally, I am past caring what Akinola or the Archbishop of Canterbury does. If the Episcopal Church wants to ordain women, gays, lesbians, transsexuals, bisexuals, divorced people, dwarfs, giants, elves or others, it's okay by me. And, color is irrelevant as well. I think we need a purple haired bishop somewhere in the USA, just to balance the plethora of gold miters that seems to appear on every diocesan website.

So, we recognize the signs of a shift in the Anglican Communion and we try to have a hand in shaping the future of such a group. That may come to nothing. Meanwhile, we still have to be about the work of God...and I don't mean the wars and floods and multitudinous laws that appear in the ancient Hebrew scriptures. I mean the simple commandments: Love God. Love your neighbor. Feed my sheep. Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me. Do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God (yes, I know that's not in the New Testament.)

Most church-going Episcopalians are continuing to do just that, each in her/his own way - volunteering, giving money, writing letters, guiding and leading others in the simple treasure of doing for others. But, this controversy is going to affect these Episcopalians sooner rather than later. We are going to find ourselves suddenly missing people from our pews and potlucks. We are going to find our budgets for doing the work of God greatly diminished. We are going to hear of or be involved in legal disputes over property and money. This controversy will touch each of us.

The divisions that will happen as a result are not necessarily bad things to me. The same people will continue to do the work of God in the way that they believe is appropriate - the same ways they have always done. Individual ministries and churches may not have as many volunteers or large budgets, but this may force us to ecumenicalism/ecumenism ???. We may need to work with other denominations to form large enough entities with strong enough budgets to meet the needs of the places that are willing to accept our help. Strangely, we may find ourselves someday working with those who formed different churches and with whom we disagreed wholeheartedly. All doing the work of God.

May God bless us all. May the work that we do benefit the world and the Divinity.

Amen.

A Reader?

What Kind of Reader Are You? Your Result: Dedicated Reader You are always trying to find the time to get back to your book. You are convinced that the world would be a much better place if only everyone read more.
Obsessive-Compulsive Bookworm
Book Snob
Literate Good Citizen
Fad Reader
Non-Reader
What Kind of Reader Are You? Create Your Own Quiz

Went to the Indian museum this morning - probably not what it is really called - also to the folk art museum. Saw lots of fine weaving, pots, baskets - shopped this afternoon and got so tired walking back to the Inn.

Bought some beautiful beads, a beadspread, and a shirt. Then I made a fiber necklace to wear to dinner tonight. What fun!

Sleeping in tomorrow morning

Short travel notes

The aspens have been gorgeous. Spent last night in Taos and drove through the mountains across the Rio Grande at a point where it's about the size of the creek by our house - maybe smaller in some places.

Weather is cooler here, and I'm enjoying that, although the dryness is playing havoc with my nose.

In Santa Fe for three nights, visiting cousin. Going to the Folk Art Museum tomorrow.

Haven't taken a single picture. Sorry folks. Just didn't stop on the way.

Walked around the plaza this afternoon and talked to people.

Peace

Headed West

I'll be out West for nine days beginning tomorrow morning. I'll try to post some pictures from the trip on the way, but, if you don't hear from me, everything's okay.

Thanks again for all the prayers and support during the move and godson Bill's death and funeral.

Home Safe and Sane

Thanks for the continued prayers. I am home safe and sane. Bill's funeral was a good closure for the church family as well as for his extended family. The rector spoke a few words and then I gave the short bio, told a "Bill" story and a "Jenny" story and then others in the congregation gave their memories and reflections about Bill. An honor guard brought in the flag, played taps and presented the flag to Jenny, and then we buried Bill in the columbarium at the church he loved so dearly. After that we had a wonderful meal!!!

I spent a good bit of time running errands with the family (no car) and helping celebrate god-granddaughter Missy's 13th birthday on Friday.

I collapsed on Sunday and cried at length, had a quiet dinner with my hosts, and slept well. This morning I had breakfast with another friend, and then I came home (via a short stop at a thrift shop on the way).

The "Jenny" story I told was that on Thursday, she was visiting a neighbor down the street, in a community with lots of Hispanic people. Jorge came in, plopped a live chicken down in Jenny's lap and said, "This for you." Jenny called me and said, "Mom, is there some cultural thing I'm missing?" I laughed and said, "Yes, that might be a typical gesture of sympathy in a small Hispanic village." Jorge intended the chicken for dinner, I'm sure, but now they have it in a cage and the hen is named "Henny Penny". Jenny is noted for adopting stray animals. LOL

As I was leaving her house on Sunday, two young people on the porch with Missy said, "Goodbye Grandma". I turned and said, "Do I know you?" The young man hugged me and said "I'm Ashley's boyfriend." The girl hugged me and said, "I'm Ashley." I hugged back and said goodbye. Funny, when even your god children and god grand children's friends know you as Grandma!!! LOL

The trip was good and my stamina held as well as my sanity. Thanks to all of you for the prayers.

Traveling Mercies

Thanks to all who have been keeping me in their prayers as I made this weekend journey. The drive went well. My goddaughter Jenny is handling everythign well. We went out Friday night and bought some school clothes for her two girls and some birthday dinner for the youngest who turned 13 yesterday. I slept well. My hosts and I had a great morning chat; then I met my crack-addicted godson and his wife to clean out their storage unit - and we actually had a good time then had lunch together. I visited for a few minutes in their apartment and petted their cat.

On to Jenny's again and we went out to my favorite Mexican restaurant, where she ate something with enough peppers in it to make her cry, but she loved it. We talked for a long time - just the two of us and traded Bill stories.

Then, I came back to my host family, whose daughter is home from college this weekend, and enjoyed being in the middle of that chaos - had a good nap. The eulogy is now composed in my head, and I am ready for tomorrow's service, burial and reception.

Thanks for the strength of your prayers!
sharecropper

Slogging through

The listserv for the House of Bishops/Deputies had many posts today and last night following the statement from the House of Bishops meeting in New Orleans. I have been slogging through them as well as reading some headlines from newspapers in other cities and countries. No one can agree on exactly what the statement means. Clarity is not in the discussions. That decisions will be made for the Episcopal Church by General Convention 2009 is the only consensus that seems to be forthcoming - and even then some disagree.

Slogging is not something at which I am good. I like to leap tall buildings and stop speeding bullets. Over the years, I have learned that, if I have to slog, the resultant knowledge is generally not worth the effort I have put into it. So, I don't do much slogging now.

And, that's a lie. I am slogging through recovery from the very serious respiratory condition that I have had for some time. I've hit a plateau brought on by stress of moving, renovation of the house, my godson-in-law's death, changing doctors, losing weight (down to 183.5 today - Since May 17th, I've lost 13.8 pounds with Weight Watchers. My buddies have lost much more, but I'm slogging along with this also.

Today I met a new psychiatrist to prescribe medicine for my depression and anxiety - been taking meds for this for some years now - thanks be to God. But, she suggested a change - rather an addition - that makes 12 prescription medications I'm taking now. Bleah. I don't want to admit that I need more help than I have with my present medicine. I don't want to admit that I have bad reactions to just increasing the dosage of my present medicine. I don't want to admit that I can't control this episodic depression myself. I'm like a diabetic in denial. So, I took the blasted pill tonight after I checked it out on the internet. I'm not happy about it. I hear my Mom saying that I could make myself run a temperature if I were bored with school. And, I hear her saying that I have everything a person could want, and she doesn't understand why I'm not happy.

Well, I am happy. I am happier than I've ever been in my life. But, that doesn't have anything to do with my anxiety and depression. The episodic depression hits for short periods - 2 hours, 8 hours, 2 days, and then it's gone. Retail therapy helps; talk therapy helps; group meetings help, but sometimes, I just isolate and sit there staring at the computer screen solitaire game or out the window at all for which I should be thankful - feeling inert - dead to emotion. I can still make my gratitude list; I can still pray even if I feel it goes no further than the ceiling or the walls. I can even laugh or cry or hug or be angry - but the feelings are fleeting and don't go very deep.

Right now, I'm resigned to trying this new medicine. As I said, I don't want to do it. I hate taking medicine. I don't want my body to "fail" me like this. I don't want my mind, my control to "fail" me like this. But, the reality is that I probably need this medicine or some other to lessen the frequency of episodic depression. Bleah.

Okay, now I'm off the pity pot. I like the psychiatrist. I'm not as tired as I expected to be. I'm glad to have a bed, a partner, and two crazy cats (or is that redundant?).

Here are a couple of pictures of how the destruction before the renovation is going. Also discovered a large wet spot in my bedroom where the toilet is apparently leaking - don't know the extent of that damage yet - but we wouldn't have found it if we hadn't done this renovation. And, I got to slog a few blows with the sledge hammer today myself - so that felt great!


Kitchen going, going









Gone

Thanks be to God

The ocean is beautiful, and worse things could happen than waking up to the sound of waves lapping along the beach. However, the condo looks as if a cyclone had hit it with all the open boxes and things strewn around. Not that I care this morning. We have paths around the stuff. The beds are clean and fresh; the sofa is accessible; obviously the computer is set up and working again. We can get to the refrigerator and the trash can. What more do we need?

I've been thinking about types of spirituality and how different types of personalities gravitate toward one type or another (or more than one). I know a little (verry little admittedly) about several different types of spirituality, and I know that I wander among them - some fitting at one time and some another. I've used lecto divina (sp?), meditation, centering prayer, discernment prayer, music, silence, art, scripture repetition, memorization, sleep, floor scrubbing, knitting - all kinds of things to help me focus on being or being with God.

Today I'm so tired that I just think I'll let God seep into whatever parts of me that are open. The hectic time is over; rest time is here. In spite of this being Tuesday, sabbath time is here. The ease of the ocean waves erases my anxiety. I need nothing.

thanks be to God.

Moving

Arrrggggghhhh!

May Light Perpetual Shine Upon Bill

Bill at the Pentecost Picnic several years ago
At 6:30 am, my goddaughter called and said her husband Bill had a heart attack and died. He was in the hospital with respiratory complications and a long history of heart and respiratory problems. Four years ago they told us that he might live six months. I wanted to jump in my car and go racing the four plus hours to get to my goddaughter.

But, I was the only person in the shop today. If I had left, the shop would not have opened, and I would have failed in one of my promises. So, I went to work.

I made the appropriate phone calls for Jenny, my goddaughter, to our priest, to the pastoral care committee, and to the crematory. Her daughter Missy was having hysterics - age 13 going on 5 mentally. Her other daughter is in a juvenile psychiatric home and dropped the phone screaming when she was told. Her son is doing okay but very sad.

We are moving out of our house for remodeling (wish they were remodeling me, but I've heard that's an inside job). The movers are coming Monday to put everything into storage. We are moving Saturday and Sunday and Tuesday, etc.

I have appointments with two new doctors (my previous doctors moved out of town) on Thursday. Anxiety. Will they understand? Will they listen?

Jenny wants me there for the funeral; so when I got home from work, I found that they have set the funeral for October 7 at the regular 11 am service. It was Bill's favorite service; he loved the music and the communion. I sponsored him for confirmation and taught his confirmaton classes. I loved Bill; he was a Vietnam veteran suffering deeply from post traumatic stress syndrome. I've had to help intervene when he was having a bad flashback. I've listened to his wonderful stories of his youth - over and over again. I've talked with nurses and social workers and .... Well, you get the picture. Although Bill was older than me, he called me "Mom"; he was my godson, too. He was beloved of God.

Today when I talked with Jenny the television wasn't blaring in the background and Bill wasn't telling Jenny what to say to me. I miss that. And, I will miss Bill.

How kind of God, though, to help them choose a date for the funeral that will allow me to be there and to stay a few days. To comfort and be comforted. To cry with Jenny and hug on Missy. They are family. And a time that will allow me to do the things I need to do for me.

I admit that I still want to jump in the car and go to be with them. But, that would not be taking care of me, and I just jumped Eileen about taking care of herself first. I still don't have a lot of energy from my respiratory problems...and I doubt that I could even make that drive now as tired as I am.

Okay, I'm rambling. My apologies. Please pray for my godfamily.

Of Course I Could Be In NY not OCICBW

Some of this wild and crazy group of bloggers who found one another through MadPriest of OCICBW fame, are meeting in NYC on October 22. I can't be there, but you can find information here. Unformately, I don't the mad one himself will be there, but lots of entertaining people will be.

Just stuff I've been doing instead of blogging

Been busy this past week with my cousin and his family from Mississippi. Pretty nifty all around. Two years ago, I didn't think I had any family. Now, cousin, wife, son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter are visiting and treating me like royalty.

We got in some good seafood at the local places (though I'm not sure any of the seafood was local); the girls and I did some thrift shopping; they cooked venison for us one night....so good! And, they got in some beach time. The men went shopping at a couple of different "outfitters" shops and came home with shirts and shoes at a bargain price. We talked about family - seems I am the matriarch of the family now - the one left with all the stories about how granddad had an affair with his sister-in-law and no one in the family heard from them after that. And, the bootlegging! I saw the remains of the still one day when I was prowling about the woods. And, stories about our grandmother and grandfather. Cousin also loved my Mom and Dad; so I told stories about them, too. And, they told me about others on their mother's side of the family.

As we were driving along after thrift shopping, we saw a sign that said "Open Church" and comments that none of us had ever seen that as a name before. I opined that the church would probably try to change me majorly if I showed up at their door (this being a very conservative and fundamentalist area). Cousin's wife looked at me bewildered. Then I said, "You know, because I'm a lesbian." Her eyes got wider and she said, "You know, I never even think about that when I'm with you and her." We all had a good laugh because she's pretty fundamentalist, too. And, we seemed to agree that covenanted relationships are not really the subject of homosexuality in the Bible.

So, now it's back to packing to move out for the renovation. So far, I've done two dish crates of McCarty pottery - pottery made with Mississippi clay in Merigold, Miss. They have a website, but you can't see much of the pottery in the pictures. So here's a picture of some McCarty taken from the Oxford Floral Company site. Most of my pottery is the cobalt blue, which you cannot really see in this picture either (maybe up high on the back shelf), and, since it is already packed, I can't take a picture. I have lots of McCarty animals - many of them in the brown color with tinges of cobalt. I'll post some pictures once we are back in the house. I know you're gonna love the stuff.

And, I've played lots of solitaire computer games - found a new one called Snood, but my scores leave much to be desired.

Lots of friends, online and offline, needing prayers; so I'm praying a lot, sending virtual hugs their ways.

My partner has gone to a weekend conference in another city with an organization where she is not "out"; but she's enjoying the camaraderie with others who love some of the things that she loves.

So, I'm blessedly alone right now. Well, me, the cats, the birds on the feeders on the deck, the creek, the quiet. Ahhhhh.

Enough gossip. Hope each of you is having a good weekend.

Bsp Howe writes to his diocese

A letter from Bishop Howe to his diocese. Howe is a conservative who is striving to hold the church together. He is certainly a man of principle, openness and honesty, and I admire him even as I disagree with him. Please pray for him as well.

The Moment of Decision
…according to John
From the September, 2007 Central Florida Episcopalian

Dear Diocesan Family,

At the end of this month the House of Bishops will hold its annual fall meeting in New Orleans. The Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, and several members of the Primates’ Joint Standing Committee will be with us at the unanimous request of our Bishops. It is still theoretically possible there will be some surprises, but nearly every observer of the events of the past several years is convinced that a watershed moment is at hand.

In their meeting in Dar es Salaam in February the Primates asked the American House of Bishops to clarify the decisions of last year’s General Convention, which, in turn were The Episcopal Church’s response to the recommendations of the 2004 Windsor Report and subsequent requests from the Primates themselves. More specifically, they asked our Bishops to give “unequivocal assurances” that we will not consent to the election of another noncelibate homosexual Bishop, and we will not authorize or permit any (more) “same-sex blessings.” And they set a deadline of September 30 for our response.
Nearly thirty of our Bishops – myself among them – have given the assurances requested, but a larger number than that have said they will never agree to these requests, and more than a third of the Bishops have yet to declare themselves. (Note: The Episcopal Church has never officially authorized the blessings, but some Bishops have done so in their own Dioceses.)

Everyone hopes that clarity and understanding will be improved on all sides when the Archbishop meets with us, but I know of no one who expects that at the end of the meeting the unequivocal assurances will have been given by the House as a whole.

Archbishop Williams will need to consult with the other Primates to consider and evaluate whatever responses we will have given them. The Archbishop has recently said he is “hopeful, but not optimistic” that the Anglican Communion will be able to stay together after that point.

What this will mean for parishes, Dioceses, and The Episcopal Church as a whole is not yet clear. There is, however, increasing talk among several of our Central Florida clergy about the possibility of their declaring their “separation from The Episcopal Church” and their seeking “realignment” with some other Province of the Anglican Communion. They would hope to take as many of their parishioners with them as possible, and they would try to retain the property belonging to those congregations.

If they decide to do this it will be extremely messy, difficult, and costly in every way imaginable.

Both the canons of The Episcopal Church and the state law of Florida stipulate that congregational properties are held “in trust” for the Diocese and the national Episcopal Church. This means that even if every single person in a given congregation wanted to leave they could not simply “take the property with them.”

(You may remember my discussion at our Convention last January of the Church of the New Covenant in Winter Springs, in which we had precisely that scenario, and CNC ended up purchasing the property from the Diocese at “fair market value,” without interest, over a period of 30 years. But that agreement only came after we determined the Diocese had no alternative use for the property.)

I believe that in virtually every one of our congregations, even those in which the desire to separate is widespread, there are many who do not wish to leave The Episcopal Church or the Diocese of Central Florida. If those who desire to remain can become a viable congregation, that congregation becomes the continuing body of that parish, with a claim upon the property.

So: I foresee an extremely difficult period ahead of us, in which congregations may be pulled apart, and arguments over property become horribly distracting and costly.

I am committed to being as gracious and generous as possible to those who, for conscience sake, believe they must separate. But I am pledged to stand alongside those who, for conscience sake, choose to remain, and I am committed to the rebuilding of congregations and this Diocese in the wake of any such departures.

Pray for the Church.


Love to every one of you,
John W. Howe

Work, Renovation, Visitors

I worked all day today. All day alone in the yarn shop with lots of lookers, a few people who needed more help than I could give, a few people who knew exactly what they needed and where it was, a friend who brought me lunch, one woman who would be better off shopping at Wal-Mart or Michael's, a weaver who brought me fresh basil, and way too much time to look around the shop and discover new yarns and projects I'd like to try.

And, I was very tired at the end of the day. Going from being an invalid in February and March to working in September is a long way. But, it's so much fun. It's even more fun when I can help someone.

Then, I went to Weight Watchers, gained six tenths of a pound - understand why- emotional eating last week - fits of depression that I tried to fix with french fries or some other high calorie/high fat stuff. Not worried. This too shall pass.

Got the almost final figures on the renovation, approved the plans, waiting for the contract, got boxes for packing, notified the movers, have a list of things to do before we move to the beach. Must take all the stuff mentioned in the previous post to the recycling center.

First Cousin, wife, son, daughter-in-law, and four year old arriving this Sunday. They will stay at the beach since we don't have that much room in our house - and possibly not enough patience for a four-year-old, even if she's as cute as can be. Looking forward to seeing them so much. They are bringing venison and fish to cook for me. What fun!!! I can tell already that I may skip Weight Watchers next week. Tee Hee. We have thrift shopping to do, and stories to tell, and gossip to catch up on. And, just sitting on the porch at night talking or being quiet together. They're good folk, and I'm am thrilled that they think enough of me to visit. Last year, when I tried to make the trip to see them - well, I guess it was in the Spring - I got sick in Atlanta and couldn't go any further. Spent three days in a hotel room in bed before I could even come back home. So, now we get to visit.

And, the weather is cooling down some even though we may get rain from the tropical storm off the coast. It will be gone by the time my visitors get here.

And, the boat is fixed and my partner has repaired a good bit of the deck and will put up the handrails Saturday. Yahoo! Good for her!

And, I am still having brief severe bouts of depression - lasts 2-3 hours. Have an appointment with a new psychiatrist later this month. Will talk about this continuing episodic depression and see if I need to change meds.

I get so excited about everything that's happening! And, then I crash. Part of it is tired. Part of it is not eating right - I don't think cheeseburger and fries count as eating right. But, most of it is just a cyclic depression for me. Happens small time every summer, and about every 5 years or so gets a bit worse.

But, hey, folks! I'm okay. Every day is different than the one before it; so all I have to do when I get depressed is wait it out. Things will change. Thanks be to God.

Moving on to a different life

I threw away all my seminary notes (except my favorite Systematic Theology) today. I culled the books I had stored in the garage and am recycling a lot of fiction that I thought was irreplaceable - it no longer interests me. I did save all my Jules Verne books - not that they're valuable, but they mean something to me. I remember reading them when I was very young.

I did save all those folders marked "personal" or "pretties" or "humor" because the pieces of paper in them were too many and too small to sort while sitting in the garage. That's half of a small plastic tub. The very large laundry basket is filled to overflowing with paper to be recycled. I saved the folders so that I can put them on FreeCycle.


And, now there are two more filing cabinets full of my files and notes from seminary. I'm going to need lots of recycling bins...actually we have to take this kind of stuff to the recycle center; so I usually put it in paper grocery bags. But, I have three large plastic tubs ready for things that need to be stored in them instead of in paper boxes. And, I found my great-grandmother's wedding ring quilt. It's pink predominantly; so I don't use it. I don't much care for pink - unless it's a very bright hot pink. This isn't. Perhaps I'll give it to the cousins when they visit next week.

Also found the coverlet that Grandmother Moreland made from sheep they grew, wool they carded and spun, and then they weaved the coverlet. That's one reason I want to learn weaving - and I can do that where I work now. I'm so excited about it. However, I'll probably do more Guatemalan looking weavings than the traditional blue/cream of Grandmother Moreland - the prim old woman who let me comb her long white hair when I was only four or five. And, her brothers called her Nannie. Can you imagine? A 90 year old woman called Nannie? So, when I'm 90, I want y'all to call me Margi, okay?

And, although my hair is white, it won't be long enough to comb - short and curly. But, someday I'll pass along "Nannie's" small cedar chest - just big enough for jewelry to one of her great, great granddaughters.

Too many boxes in the garage are still marked as my "Junk". As you can see one is marked "Childhood Useless Junk". I'm not touching that box this go-round. That's for another day. And, if you can figure out everything on the other tub, I'll know what's in it. Otherwise, I guess that it is bandanas and scarves - on a day when I couldn't spell.


(Update at 5 pm: I went back and finished the two filing cabinets this afternoon. And, Yogi, I found our college annual! LOL Plus I have another laundry basket of recycle paper.)

But, the significance of all this cleaning out is that I feel myself shifting from being the seminary graduate/lay minister to being something new and different. I won't need the commentaries and the notes. I'll need different equipment and preparation. Although I'm not certain I'll be doing in this new life, I know it will be different from the past ones. What fun! A new discovery!

So, come along with me, the best is yet to be!

Another Meme

Thanks to Missy over at Missy's Big Fish Stories

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
I was named after my father's former girlfriend, Margaret Ann McDowell. I finally met her at his funeral, and she is/was a wonderful lady.

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED
Yesterday when I had an asthma attack while trying to pull morning glory vines off my hydrangeas. The temp was cool, but the humidity was high. So frustrating.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING
Thanks to many years of practice, I have nice handwriting - though it deteriorates as I get older or more anxious.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
boiled ham

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Godchildren - three or so - all adults with children - one is older than me

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yeah. I think I'm attracted to people like me.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM?
I've been known to.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS
Yes.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
Gah. No. That would send me into a panic driven seizure.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Cranberry Almond Crunch

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Sometimes

12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
Yes. I can lift and move a weight of about 100 pounds. And, I can get through most anything as long as I can cry afterward.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Vanilla

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Are they smiling - that includes the whole face and persona - real or fake smile.

15. RED OR PINK?
RED

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOUR SELF?
I am not as healthy as I would like to be, and I am limited in what I can do to improve that.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
Of those who are dead - my brother and my friends Bill, who taught me about codependency, and Alison, my seminary buddy. Of those who are living - Jennifer who listens and David who is so totally different than me but with whom I had long talks.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
Memes are for those who want to do them, but this is interesting.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Khaki shorts and bright yellow crocs

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
I just ate a Weight Watchers Toffee Crunch ice cream on a stick. Only 2 points.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
the whirr of the ceiling fan

22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Blue or Red - most any primary color

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
The smell of the ocean, fresh cut grass, fresh bread, roast turkey, clover

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My friend Paula

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Yes!!! She is a great friend.

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH
Don't watch much sports, but occasionally tennis or olympics stuff

27. HAIR COLOR?
white with a touch of mottled black/grey/white on the crown

28. EYE COLOR?
blue

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Turkey, cornbread dressing and cranberry sauce - but lots of others, too.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Happy endings!

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
No idea.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Blue

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Hugs are very comforting and easy to exchange

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Chocolate mousse and tiramisu

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND?
No idea

38. LEAST LIKELY TO Respond?
No idea

39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Eating in the Light of the Moon

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Native Alaskan Frog design, black on blue

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
Don't watch TV

42. FAVORITE SOUND?
I love you.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES
The Stones!

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Newfoundland

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I must have "listener" in neon lights on my forehead because people talk to me.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Clarksdale, Misssissippi

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK?
Everyone.

Awake, asleep, thinking, dreaming, visions

I'm awake. I wish i were asleep in that big bed with my partner. I am awake, however. Sometimes my brain just doesn't slow down, even with medication for anxiety. Perhaps creativity and wonder just slip into the place where anxiety was - and they leave no room for sleep. More and more ideas just keep flooding in. More ideas than I could ever embody, visualize or complete in this lifetime. How to pick and choose.

I think I'll choose bed with cool sheets and purring kitties and soft pillows - whether I sleep or wake.

Theology books - you pay postage

I have been cleaning out my bookcases. Here are some books that I don't need any longer. If you will pay postage, I'll be glad to share them with you.

Christology of the Later Fathers, ed. Edward Hardy
The Cost of Discipleship - Dietrich Bonhoeffer
"Toward Full Communion" and "Concordat of Agreement" Lutheran Episcopal Dialogue, III
Two Types of Faith - Martin Buber
The Problem of God - John Murray, SJ
Apologetics and the Biblical Christ - Avery Dulles, SJ
Models of Revelation - Avery Dulles, SJ
Metaphorical Theology - Sallie McFague
The Apathetic and Bored Church Member - John S. Savage
Activating the Passive Church - Lyle Shaller
Being Christian in the Age of AIDS

If there are other older theology books that you are craving, let me know. I don't preach or teach any longer; so I might be willing to part with more.

Book postage is usually small.

email me at marsmoore at suddenlink dot net or leave a comment on this post.

Ghost Ridin' Grandma

Got this from Eileen, and I want to do it. But, my Prius won't move without my foot on the accelerator. Bah! Shall I borrow my partner's red convertible for this?

Just a few words

The estimates are in on our house renovation, and the whole thing appears to be doable. Now, the question is "Do I want to renovate the house?" or "Do I want to go see the polar bears?" Maybe the polar bears in a couple of years.

Cohen's "Hallelujah"

This is one of the best covers of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" that I've ever heard.

Mom and the figs

Okay, Piscosours has a short entry about fresh figs, and that conjured up another image of my mother. She lived in a house on a hillside. The side of the house toward the back had a wall with fig bushes (trees) growing about 2 stories high. Now, Mom loved figs. She ate them fresh; she canned them; she made "strawberry preserves" from them using strawberry gelatin; she stewed them and ladled them over hot steaming biscuits.

But, my finest memory of her and figs is that one day she wanted to get all the figs off the bush before the birds got them. So, she got the boys at the cable company where she worked to bring around the cherry picker - you know, that lift thing that a person can stand and work on a platform. She climbed into that lift and worked her way around the fig tree - all the way to the top - picking off those wonderful figs that she loved.

Maybe I did inherit some "derring-do" from her, huh?

Ten Things Meme

I just rediscovered this meme and thought I would share it with you. You may participate if you wish. Using these categories, you follow each beginning statement with 10 different ending of your own...ten things. So here goes....

I have lived in Mississippi, Arizona, Tennessee, Alabama, South Dakota, Connecticut, Massachusetts, North Carolina, Florida, and Bermuda.

I have witnessed the protests at the court house following the shooting of Martin Luther King Jr in Memphis; St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Winston-Salem, NC, winning the trophy for best float in the PRIDE parade, the arrest of undocumented immigrants, the abandonment of a child by its mother at a soup kitchen, the face of a baby only 15 minutes old held in my arms (my nephew), the death of a close friend from AIDS, the space shuttle lift off in both day and night; the riots at Ole Miss when James Meredith was admitted there as the first black student; the counting of ballots at a city election; the death of a woman with Alzheimer’s from starvation because she no longer knew how to swallow.

I have heard Maya Angelou read her poetry; Peter, Paul and Mary/Joan Baez/James Taylor/Eric Clapton sing (not at the same concert); my father preach an excellent sermon while drunk; my mother cry; my best friend sing and play the guitar the day before he died; a cat purring next to me; a lion roar (albeit in a zoo); the sound of a jet boat’s exhaust/rumbling for almost an hour at which time I was ready to throw rocks at the driver; the trumpets on the organ in St. John the Divine when I was right in front of them; the silence in the eye of a hurricane; the laughter of children.

I have lost my fear of spiders (unless they are actually on me); my way while on a trip and driven an hour before I realized I was going the wrong direction; all of my immediate blood family; my godson to cocaine; my concern about what people think about me (most of the time); my respect for many super-stars; my desire for Coca-Cola every day; my faith in God for a while; two husbands to divorce; my desire to drink liquor.

I have found the love of my life; a happiness that I never dreamed existed; therapists to help me over the rough spots of memories and the problems they trigger in everyday life; medication that helps me feel well; doctors who care about my health and do things to make me well; great joy in riding a jet ski; peace in watching a creek and the ocean; that money can make a difference in people’s lives; friends/family of choice that make my life great; and music for all occasions.

I love bread; 70s rock music; my partner; our home; the little red Prius; thrift shopping; clothes, writing; two very spoiled cats who live with us; and people.

I can drive a semi; set type by hand; take award-winning photographs, make jewelry; tell stories; do fund raising; lift 100 pounds; cry in public; talk about intimate things with strangers and friends (their things or mine); stick to a budget.

I loathe gloating; cooked spinach; the smell of cinnamon; large cruise ships; lies; bass stereo sounds that vibrate my chest; war; stupidity; people who talk all the time; my inability to adapt to change sometimes; ?

I hope to skid into heaven laughing all the way; to do a bit more traveling before I’m too old and stiff to go; to maintain my friendships; the “family stuff” will have meaning for a generation without the stories; this thunderstorm cools off the temperature a little bit; to have a good night’s sleep;

I am trying to lose weight for the first time in my life; to choose my volunteer activity carefully; to take care of my health; to trust God; to be faithful in my promises to my partner and my friends; to be a good steward of all my blessings; to be grateful even when I’m depressed; not to scream at the cat when he irritates me; not to worry about things past or things future.

Reflections on Dear Mom

Liz Zivanov (on the HOBD listserv) discussed a dialogical sermon about “Where was God in the earthquake in Peru?” She asked some questions that are relevant to my thinking lately, and I’ve adapted them as a follow-up to my letter to Mom.

What is the motivation for the original question?
Well, that’s a bummer. I have to figure out why I’m feeling this way about Mom – not just because I actually felt that way then and allowed my perception of her messages to continue even though she’s dead. I have to figure out my motivation for writing and the source of the pain right now. Why am I thinking about her manipulation of me so many years ago? Why does that make me feel bad? Am I reliving the pain? In the retelling, do I let a little bit of go that doesn’t return? My motivation is to stop the pain – that’s also why I overeat and go on binge buying sprees (not big ones and usually in thrift shops). I want to stop hearing the messages that I internalized over the years. I want to close the gap between the way Mom acted and what she said. That’s part of the “hole in me”.

Are we talking about God’s justice or is there something else that’s going on (like, “That’s not fair.”)
Ooooooh, I wonder how long I’ve been blaming God for letting her make me feel lowly. Yeah, I realize that I can change some of that as an adult – letting her continue to make me feel lowly is not a choice, but I can do things to mitigate that. But, where is God in all this? Where was God when she made me listen to Daddy drunkenly rant and rave so that she could get things done? I don’t like the answer. I want to blame it all on Mom and God. But, the truth is that I know God was right there with all of us. God felt my horror; God cried in her dishpan with her; God sat on Dad’s shoulder and grieved for/with the addict. No, life isn’t fair. Humans have free will that is not always God’s will, and we can make life hell for one another – most especially those we love.

What are our expectations of God’s intervention in the world?
I do believe that God intervenes in the world, but I don’t know how or why or when. I don’t know how prayer affects God’s intervention if at all. I know there were times when I expected God to strike Dad dead for the harm he did to us. But, naw, didn’t happen that way. Pretty messy way Dad died, but not God’s fault – just the result of being drunk. My expectations of God’s intervention have decreased substantially over the years though I am still amazed when my prayers are answered. Even little ones like finding my keys or the directions to where I’m supposed to be.

Is God responsible for what happened?
No.

Is my tragedy worse because it was me?
It’s my tragedy and the pain of it is mine. Someone else may have more pain, different pain, less pain, extended pain, but it’s not my pain. My pain is real, was real all through my life and is reborn when certain events happen to trigger my memories. Don’t demean my pain because you think some else’s pain is worse. Don’t tell me about someone who had no feet if I have no shoes. That doesn’t put shoes on my feet. Wash my feet and massage them, and give me shoes if you can. Then go to the one with no feet and do whatever needs to be done, but don’t dismiss me and my pain because someone else’s may be worse.

Is there a difference between an Act of God and a natural disaster and God’s will?
I’m not sure how to define an Act of God, everyday miracles maybe, but disasters? I don’t think so. I don’t believe that God wills bad things to happen to anyone. I don’t know why we have natural disasters – some of our choices through the years have created climate changes that begat disasters, but things happen and we don’t always know why.

How do we view death in light of these questions and our faith?
I’m interpreting this question to mean the loss of something precious – the loss of joy – the loss of life – not necessarily the actual bodily death of a person. We die a little each time we recognize a loss. Recognizing my Mom’s humanity was a death for me. Praying the “Our Father” after listening to my Dad was a death for me – the death of God as male. Interpreting well-intentioned advice as a put-down is/was a death for me – the death of my dignity as a person.

But, God came to earth and lived as a human just like me. Think about his mother’s nagging at the wedding, his mother’s carping at him while he was preaching and healing. Think about his grief at the loss of his friend Lazarus. Think about God’s pain as a human. I do and remember that where I am, God is and has been. Where I go, God is there and has been there. So death is not the end. Tomorrow will be different.

‘Night y’all.

My Liberal Identity:

You are a Peace Patroller, also known as an anti-war liberal or neo-hippie. You believe in putting an end to American imperial conquest, stopping wars that have already been lost, and supporting our troops by bringing them home.

Take the quiz at www.FightConservatives.com

Thanks to Pseudopiskie

You're South Africa!

After almost endless suffering, you've finally freed yourself
from the oppression that somehow held you back.  Now your diamond in the
rough is shining through, and the world can accept you for who you really are.
 You were trying to show who you were to the world, but they weren't interested
in helping you become that until it was almost too late.  Suddenly you're
a very hopeful person, even if you still have some troubles.


Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

Dear Mom,

For some reason I hear your voice and my perception of your messages more in the summer than other times of the year. This year is no different. Whenever August moves in with brother David’s birthday on the first and your death date on the eighth, I get uncomfortable, frequently depressed and always more anxious. This year was worse than usual, complicated by loving visits from many friends and plans for renovation of our home.

I perceived your message to me to be that I was not worthy of anything better than the crumbs under the table. In fact, you asked me when I began dating my partner if I were “selling” myself. I figured you thought I was unlovable and unable to attract someone for anything more or less than sex. And, that was an anathema to. Certainly, this relationship is not about just sex although that was exceedingly fun in the beginning. Intimacy is perhaps the most important thing that holds our relationship together. Intimacy formed by touching and being near one another and enjoying many of the same things in life and having similar values and working together and talking about what’s important to us.

And, Mom, you were wrong. I am humble, not proud...at least not full of the kind of pride that you attributed to me because I was hard-headed and strong-willed. Neither of those attributes are hindrances to being humble. Humility is loving God more than anything else. It’s not that I have to give up loving good food or good times or good vacations or being happy or being assertive; humility is putting God’s work first in my life. And, I’ve always done that by loving others.

These past few months you’ve tried to tell me that these people were coming to use me and what I have now. Truly, I am blessed and grateful for all the things and joys of my life. But, the visitors were coming to see me and meet my partner. They love me/us. You may have been the only person to consider me unlovable. And, you were wrong. I have friends all over the country who travel great distances to be in my company, and whom I travel great distances to visit. We are friends; we are chosen family. I am loved and I love.

As for worthiness, I am not worthy. No one is. But, I have been blessed with God’s grace in having good things in my life. And, I/we use our assets well – to benefit those who have less – both corporately and individually – as well as to provide ourselves with some of the things of life that we have never had before. We have toys, some expensive toys, that other folk like to play with and we share happily. That’s one of the reasons that we have them – to share them with others – to make life a little better for someone who doesn’t have all the material things that we do. But, I do not need to be worthy. God has made me worthy of whatever comes my way – good or bad...and I/we have our share of the bad as well as the good. Life is not easy, not even when you have the material things of life. Life is still hard.

I know you loved me as best you could, but I am not the person you believed me to be. And, some of the things about me that you disliked were caused by your own messages to me. Messages like, “You’d better get a teaching license because you’ll never make a living as a journalist.” “You’ll never be successful in that job because you think you’re too good.” “You change jobs too often; no one is going to want you.” “You don’t have a degree and you don’t stay in one place long enough to be successful.”

You always said that I could be anything I wanted to be, but when I wanted to be someone outside your comprehension, I was wrong and was not going to succeed. I don’t know how you measure success now that you’re dead, but I remember your telling me that success of a woman should be measured by how good a wife she was, how good a mother she was and how good an employee she was. You always felt you didn’t measure up in any of those areas because Dad was an alcoholic, I was a free spirit, and you didn’t get the business perks you though you should have. And, I certainly didn’t measure up because I married someone who became a drug addict and seller and divorced him. I had no children, and I changed jobs often enough that success, indeed, was always just out of reach. Perhaps I did that so that I wouldn’t disappoint you in what I thought were your expectations of me.

Now about how my partner and I use our material resources. No, I don’t deserve a new kitchen. That’s not how life works. Few of us deserve what we get, thanks be to God. But, we have the resources to renovate this house and make it a delightful place, a refreshing place, a place that will provide space for happy gathering, peaceful times and the surrounding beauty that helps make those possible. So, get off my back about wasting money. In the first place, it’s just money. I know that you’ve had to bail me out of financial scrapes often during parts of my life, and I know that only a week or so before you died, you recounted to me the amount of money you had spent on me throughout my life. This renovation is not an irresponsible thing as your messages to me indicate. It will increase the value of this house when we sell it someday. The house will be more convenient and more beautiful. We and our guests will enjoy the reconfigured space. So shut up about wasting money. Anyway, it’s not your money that would be wasted; so bag it.

You always wanted me to make decisions for you, and I (having an opinion about almost everything except where to eat) was glad to do that. But, you considered whatever went wrong in any project or decision to be my fault. Not so. And, if things go wrong with this project, they won’t be my fault now. I don’t begat problems as you seemed to think.

Life is good. God is with us. You’ve always proclaimed that, but I don’t sense that you ever believed it. Well, I have news for you. Life for me is good. God is with me/us. Even in my deepest depression, I know that tomorrow will be different and that God is with me, whoever, wherever and however I am. I am a beloved child of God. I’d be a beloved child of God regardless of what I did or did not do, regardless of who I am or who I am not. I am me. God loves me. That’s it. So, will you please shut up.

I'm a train!!!!

Thanks to Pseudopiskie

You're the Lionel Christmas Train!

While you've gotten older and perhaps more cynical, you have
a better grasp on your childhood than most anyone else. After all, everyone
has their toys at any age, right? You enjoy going around in circles and
conversing with people who look perfect but don't have much to say. Though
you're a big fan of snow, you would also say that pine needles are a
favored kind of precipitation. Wherever you go, it feels like the most
wonderful time of the year.


Take the Trains and Railroads Quiz
at RMI Miniature Railroads.

Ant hills and mud puddles

The pipe dream is progressing from clouds to images to renovation. As a lark when I was bored earlier this year, I began to design houses. Then I moved on to redesigning this house. When my partner looked at one drawing, she said, "I like that; let's get an estimate." I was shocked. It was a pipe dream for me.

But, we began to look at the drawing, make changes, then called a contractor. He called in specialty subs to check things out. Drawings were made.

After calling the contractor, my anxiety soared because, of course, I take as little of my anti-anxiety medicine as possible. My depression got worse because of the heat and hot, humid summer. So I was a mess. I have worried over every little thing that has happened to any of my friends...excessively so. My therapist suggested an increase in my anti-depressant, and I decided I'd best take the anti-anxiety more like it is prescribed.

Yesterday, the contractor came back with a price. A reasonable price! So I was relieved. We could do it.

Then I began to add in all the things not covered by his contract - moving everything out of the house and storing it for three months, moving me and partner and the cats to the condo, possibly need a new refrigerator if this one is moved, what if the cost of the flooring (which we haven't picked out yet) is higher than we estimated, time and effort to paint (we're doing that), cost of the cabinets for the kitchen (think I'm using Ikea but not sure) - and the price soared. I was anxious again.

Then we began looking at financing options - what could be paid out of current assets, how much might be financed, where to finance. Then we came upon a way to pay for it that is reasonable and not too costly.

I'm still a bit anxious, but, as you can see, the anxiety fluctuates. By this afternoon, I will be worried silly again.

"it's cloud's illusions I recall, I really don't know life at all."

This morning, I'm fine. It's hot as blazes here, as in most of the rest of the country. I considered just going to Iceland for a few months but vetoed that because I couldn't take all my hobby stuff. Yesterday the heat index was 119 degrees - a humid heat when I couldn't breathe.

On the other hand, I got out anyway and lived to tell about it. At Weight Watchers weigh-in, I had lost six tenths of a pound - after all my binges, I still didn't gain. Tee, hee, hee. I ate a wonderful chicken salad for lunch with partner and our friend. All of us managed to continue losing a bit of weight.

My life has been a jagged line of ups and downs, and I'm trying to level off the sharpness of the peaks and valleys. Old habits die hard. Lately, I've been trying to make sharp peaks of things that are really ant hills (regular ants - not the fire ants we have in our yard), and I've exaggerated the lows into lakes instead of mud puddles. My conscious mind can't see what I'm doing. My therapist can. I'm seeing her again in a week. We're going to keep that sharpness down to manageable humps.

For all and any of you suffering from both depression and anxiety, I send my love and prayers. Mine really is mild. But, mild is painful. So I hug you and hope your peaks and valleys become ant hills and mud puddles.

Grief

You're a Ladybug!

Most people assume you're female upon seeing you, even though you
might very well be male. Don't let this gender-bending get you bent out of shape,
though... you just happen to exhibit the quiet dignity and soft demeanor that
people associate with the feminine side of things. Your favorite fruit is the
watermelon. For some reason, people think it's fun to sing about horrible things
happening to you and your family.


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I don't even know how to begin this - the picture and the word "Ladybug" are key. My Mom's nickname was Ladybug - a nickname becoming more and more common in the South. My hair stylist calls me that, and each time I think she's talking to my mother.

Guess by now, friends, you've figured out that I'm a pretty sensitive person, and, while I'm crossing this road of life, I do look both ways - backward and forward - never mind that semi coming 'round the bend to the left. So, when I took this quiz, I was startled to find that I am a ladybug.

But, I don't want to be like my mom - but I do want to be like my mom. I feel the same way about the Bible - can I pick and choose which part I want? I want to have my Mom's ability to multi-task. She could play cards, smoke, drink coffee, and cook a full Southern dinner for six all at the same time. I do really well to walk and chew gum at the same time.

As I was knitting the other day, I was saying a particular thank you with each stitch - some were for people in my life (past and present), some for those who make life easier for us, those who grow our food, for physical things like air conditioning. Then I kept going in a stream of consciousness sort of way - one name leading to another - God bless Momma and Daddy and David. Tears began forming and I wiped them away with the sleeve of my t-shirt. So, I changed tactics.

My therapist told me that I should journal about my anxieties and fears - and not do it on a blog; so I thought, okay, I'll do it with each stitch, taking longer with the stitch if the fear, anger or anxiety merits longer. So, I began with being angry that I cannot function at all in the heat/humidity we've been having. I was anxious about having had so much company that I might not have been the proper hostess. I was anxious about my relationship with my partner (unfounded). I was fearful about the proposed renovations to our home (well founded, but premature). I hated myself for the mess in my study. And, I went on with more personal things that I won't put on the blog.

Finally, I got to a point where the tears were blurring my stitches; so I quit knitting and cried a while. Cleansing tears. Relief.

And, so much grief that has been crammed into the "hole inside of me" that I cried for a while, a long while, sniveling, bawling, various forms of crying as I thought about the losses and potential losses (see, I really am good at looking both forward and backward). You know, there's not a blessed or damned thing I can do about any of them. I can't change the losses that have happened, and I can't prevent those losses that are to come. People will die. People will be born.

And, speaking of that, my god-daughter is a grandmother - a girl, born yesterday. Healthy. Does that make me a great grand godmother? Fancy name for one twice removed. But, I suspect that she is a great grand god-daughter! Hooray for Layla Irene Kurland. May God's light be upon her now and always.

And, there you have it folks. Life! the grief, the joy.

Water, sewage, trash, hazardous waste, recycling

I also read an article this morning about disposing of compact flourescent light bulbs, and how to clean up after them if they break. Now, most of us know that you can't just put them in the garbage, but what to do if your area doesn't have an accessible hazardous waste drop-off site. When we were moving here, I tried to dispose of small propane gas tanks (apparently left by the former owners) - the size used on a small camping stove - no place to take them unless they were empty. One government person suggested that I use something to open the valve and let the propane out into the atmosphere and throw them in the regular trash. Oh yeah, I want to poke something in that hole and be hit by pressurized propane - not to mention the explosion danger. What I did was find someone who had a small camping stove and gave them to her. I didn't know which ones were empty and which weren't.

And, you can throw away dried paint but not liquid paint. So, you set the bucket outside and let it dry out, then put it in your trash. I think I've missed the point on this one. If you can't send liquid paint to the dump, wouldn't letting the dangerous fumes and stuff evaporate into the air be harmful?

I think I don't understand some of our trash disposal and recycling. I keep reading, but different areas have different rules. Through taxes and utilities, we pay for recycling of glass, metal cans, plastic and newsprint. They won't take magazines and junk mail. We have to collect them and carry them to a separate site (operated by the same company that picks up our recycling). Likewise with yard waste, cardboard, packing styrofoam, etc. Our trash pickup is Pay as You Throw - put a sticker on your can for every three kitchen size trash bags - stickers cost $2.50 each.

We're told that washing a full load of dishes in the dishwasher takes less water and energy than washing them by hand. But, unless I use the drying cycle on my diswasher, I get mineral spotting on my dishes - some of which becomes permanent. So, I'm probably not saving anything by using the dishwasher except my sanity.

And, this brings up the subject of water. Our county water is very soft, very full of minerals like calcium and chlorine. It tastes terrible and upsets my stomach. We got bottled water and a dispenser when we first moved here. Then we noticed that our skin was itching all the time, despite lotions and changing soaps and all the usual stuff. One morning I was overwhelmed in the shower by the chlorine odor. So, we had a whole house water filer put in that takes out the chlorine and some other things. Finally, we resorted to a reverse osmosis system for one small tap in the kitchen so that we could cook and wash food safely. Yet, all the required reports for our county water system are good.

So where does all this water go? Into our septic tank. Our county offers residents in our area hookups to the county sewage system. This is somewhat misleading. What they actually offer (for several thousand dollars installation and a monthly fee) is a pumpout of your septic tank when it reaches a certain overflow level. For $100, I can get the septic tank pumped out by a local for-profit company.

We do what we can. We recycle everything that the recycling center will take; we wash only full loads of dishes and clothing. We drive our high mileage cars most of the time - hard to fit a sheet of plywood in one of them. But, I did put five people in my Prius recently for an all day outing. No one was unduly crowded.

Learning to conserve our earth's resources is not easy. I've worried so much this morning that I think I need a Twinkie, now.

Household CO2 Footprint

Well, thanks to Anne over at Green Lent we have a way to measure how our household compares with the average household in England. This calculator is set to British standards, and some conversion is necessary - like gallons to litres, dollars to pounds (the Google calculator does this very adequately - just type in like 700 gallons to liters in the Google search bar and the answer will appear in a window). And, the hob is your cooktop/stove. When I was in doubt, I guessed.

And, our household puts out 19.73 tons of CO2 per year. The average household in England puts out 10.22 tons of CO2 per year. This is a substantial difference. One problem is that we live out in the country, and, even if we did live in town, we have no public transportation at all. Well, we also own four vehicles - one high gas mileage car, one hybrid car, a truck and a medium-sized SUV. The latter two are used for special things - going to the dump, hauling around our friends who visit, making trips when lots of luggage is required. And, no, I can't justify having four vehicles. Someone once asked if we were running a used car lot. Bleah.

The calculator also asked about flying and one section included local (within the country) trips. Trips within the United States are vastly different. And, some questions - well, check it out.

What this told me was that our household probably uses more than its share of energy and puts out more than its global share of CO2. If this were compared on a global basis, I'm sure that the figures would be much different.

ACN votes for mediation

The Anglican Communion Network (ACN) which Bishop Duncan of Pittsburg attempted to lead out the the World Wide Anglican Communion altogether, has voted to suspend all litigation regarding property and to seek mediation with the Episcopal Church regarding what I would call "repatriation". Read the resolution here on the ACN website.

Much comment is happening on the HOBD listserv and in blogs throughout the world. Keep your ears open for reactions and comments.

I am impressed with the metaphor left in a previous message by David Charles Walker of those left standing alone (like Ephraim Radner) are like icebergs floating alone, which could be towed to a place needing fresh water and could create new growth.

Time magazine has an article about how the melting icebergs are feeding the whole aquatic ecosystem as they melt.

What a rich heritage we have that we could all share, forgiving one another as we are forgiven. There's a short video of Sr. Prejan on Episcopal Cafe that talks about one victim's father who could only repeat the Lord's prayer when confronted with the body of his child....forgive as we are forgiven.

Frayed Rope

Ephraim Radner has resigned from the ACN in a moving letter that was posted on the House of Bishops and Deputies listserve. Part of it is reproduced in this post by Fr. Jake.

As I have said before in other places, Ephraim was my TA at Yale Divinity School - very conservative, very rigid, but very honest. I applaud his standing up for what he believes is right and separating himself from those whom he feels are going too far.

Of course, what that leaves is one very lone Ephraim Radner with no place to stand in unity with anyone. He's already expressed his very conservative views and disagreement with the Episcopal Church; he allied himself with a group that seemed to share his beliefs. That group seems to be disintegrating somewhat.

The Anglican Communion now seems like a frayed rope: first, the end of the rope separated into two or three large pieces. Now those pieces have unraveled and the end has become very fuzzy. The rope is unusable for its original purpose - in this case, the strengthening of Christ's mission of healing, love and salvation. Unfortunately, this metaphor doesn't lend itself to the possibility of reconciliation. Putting fuzzy rope back to its original state means cutting off the frayed part and ensuring that the cut is sealed and the tightness of the rope is maintained.

I'm not sure what is needed to heal the Anglican Communion, but there are some very angry people and some very hurt people standing alone - like little pieces of frayed rope ends. I think only God can mend this one without cutting away the seemingly unusable part.