Thoughts on the Economy and Spirituality

Our income will be cut by 20 percent in the next few months because of the declining value of our retirement portfolio, which is half of what it was a year ago. Amazing, isn't it, that something so amorphous as a portfolio, which really isn't on paper at all but in a computer bank several places, could affect our lives so profoundly? Paper money has baffled me from the beginning. When they recalled the silver certificates of one dollar bills, I realized that the actual one dollar bill had no meaning at all except that which "the economy" gave it. And, it actually costs more to manufacture a penny than it's worth. You can sell pennies for scrap metal and make more money...except that I suspect the law prohibits that.

Back to our declining income. I admit that "I see, I buy". Usually it's yarn or clothes, sometimes books, occasionally beads. However, I already have so much that I don't need more. My therapist says that sometimes I'm trying to fill the "love tank" because I don't get the responses I need from those who love me - not that they don't love me enough, but I don't recognize their ways of expressing that love enough to fill up my needs.

I know that my partner loves me, and I know that God loves me. Whose love am I missing? Both. Do I fail to see/hear/know God's love for me? How does God show that love to me? How does my partner show love for me? Why don't I recognize it? Why do I feel compelled to do things that "make me feel good" to supplement love?

Of course, you know that I don't have answers to those questions. And, you may be wondering what declining income has to do with recognizing love. For me, I spend money if I don't recognize love...partner's love, God's love, friends' love. In a month, I will have much less to spend, and I will need to be able to recognize that love more and more.

I am minded of Janis Joplin's "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." If I have love, then losing income won't matter so much. We will have enough for our basic needs and more. My concentration could be on filling my basic need for love by perceiving how much I am loved.

My prayer is that I learn to recognize expressions of love and let them fill my heart and soul and mind and body.

Minimalist Structure, Maximum Effect

Today's retreat for our flowering LGBT Ministry was much better than I expected - in fact, not what I expected at all. Led by a wonderful man who has been affected by the discrimination shown LGBT people, the retreat proceeded from why we joined the group originally to how the group has/is changing/is being now to what we are about to naming the group ---- and only then did we consider structure. We decided on a steering group with leadership functions instead of positions. Of course, functions have names - a coordinator because someone has to be named for contact, a finance person to handle money, a scribe to handle minutes and a communications person to handle getting out the word about the LGBT Ministry. We decided that four people were not enough; so the fifth person volunteered to help do the work in the steering group. No votes were taken except for the name and that was by consensus.

I even volunteered to be the communications person for the group...so I have all the big worksheets to transcribe and send to the group. I like doing that. Since I spent about 20 years in advertising and public relations, I should be able to do that job well. And, I can do most of it from home without worrying about being somewhere early in the mornings (which I don't do well).

This minimalist structure and the cohesion of the group will lead, I believe, to having a maximum effect on the ministry actions that we hope to attain. We are writing a mission statement that will help guide our work - welcome, ministry, action. Our first effort is hosting one of the Thursday soup luncheons during Lent.

Much emphasis was put on membership in the group being OPEN. No requirements for doing other things in the church, no requirements that you be a member of the church, no requirements that you be Christian, no requirements except respecting the dignity of all people, which is in our baptismal covenant. I like that. All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome in this place.

We had eucharist at the end of the retreat work, and I thought, "This is my church. Someday I may move into the church building across the street, but, for now, this group, this confederacy is my church."

I bless God for giving me such an appropriate community in which to worship.

Christ Church across the street

Spirituality and Structure

After Jesus death, the 12 male apostles didn't take long to form a heirarchy with Peter and James vying for leadership. Peter was the apostle to the gentiles and James stayed in Jerusalem. Both died as martyrs. Their followers should have learned from that that heirarchies just don't pay; however, during that first century or two the Christians, as the began to be called, seemed to be heavily into S&M. People kept getting thrown to the lions or tigers or whatever hungry beasts the Romans could find - mostly because they claimed that Jesus was King. Other terminology might have suited them better. Maybe they could have practiced expansive God-language, a choice that more and more liberal churches are using now.

When I took CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) in seminary over 15 years ago, the model was to be abusive of your peers in sessions - because we learn from pain. No, no. My group agreed up front that we would not be abusive toward one another, that we would work together to help each other learn the best ways of being pastoral, of being the hands and feet and mouth of God in helping people. And, we did. We did not set up the heirarchy of the leaders being in charge; we saw that they were teachers and learners just as we had some things to teach them and were willing to learn from them.

Structure in the organized church seems to mean business-like goal-setting, heirarchies, and formal meetings. Much good is done in the world by these organizations. Even evangelism in the mega-churches is done this way. However, some studies show that one to one invitations work better than anything else. Word of mouth is better than advertising. Smiles at the door are better for getting people to return than ushers who seat people formally.

Spirituality is done now with spiritual directors instead of people journeying together. While our teens are encouraged to be leaders within their groups, they meet the full force of structure when they are invited to diocesan conventions - mostly as observers of how to do it right. Delegated authority quickly becomes heirarchy, even when it's rotated every few years. The position holds the power, and some of that power rubs off on the person who holds that position. More often than not those people who have held the position in the past are elected again when they become eligible. That's structure. Leaders form positions, groups set mission statements, goals and actions. When someone strays from the structure the positions gently encourage the person to return. If the person does not return, the structure goes on.

About spirituality in structure: very seldom works, especially for the loners. We loners often have a spirituality that is inclusive and works in mysterious ways in all sorts of directions. We understand structure and organization, positions and goals, but they don't apply to our understanding of spirituality or pastoral care or being with God. We stray or we rebel. We are left to wander or we are kicked out (either in reality or ignored until we leave).

More about spirituality: Being with God is what spirituality is all about. Conveying that experience to others and helping them find it is pastoral care. We do it every day of our lives. Being alone with God is wonderful, but we also need to be with others who understand spirituality as we do. So, we go to church and we tolerate the heirarchy, the structure, the organization until it overshadows our souls. Then we feed elsewhere. Balance is hard to find.

Lord, help me find balance.

When things work right

Gratitude. This morning I made a long gratitude list as I lay snuggled in my comfy bed with two cats, listening to partner's coffee making and the birds chirping. When life is comfortable we can make gratitude lists. When life is uncomfortable, we seldom can think past our discomfort to make such lists. However, when a friend called this morning with a migraine, I was deeply grateful that I don't have them any more. No matter how much pain I have with my restless leg syndrome or the fibromyalgia, I don't have migraines.

I rinsed out the sink with the sprayer and thought about how much water I was "wasting" when some people do not even have safe drinking water. Our water doesn't taste good but it's safe. I want to help others drill wells so that they don't have to use river water or search for springs that may have gone away.

The owner of the store at Merchants joked with me this morning - spring must be getting in his blood because he's been glum all this winter. And, I'm grateful. We joked about the upcoming bike rally here in May and looked enviously at the bike riders who were buying gas and water for the day. And, I was grateful for the smiles and the joy of those who were enjoying our beautiful day.

I walked to Merchants - just two houses away - something I could not have done six months ago. And, I was grateful, even though I only lasted six minutes on the treadmill this morning.

My grocery list is made, and I know I have enough money to buy everything we need and probably some extras. My goddaughter struggles each month to feed those in her household - buying in bulk, looking for mark-downs and out-of-dates, and going around to various churches seeking food. She has no car and getting over to the church where she can get "angel food" boxes is now impossible. Buses don't go there. and, I'm grateful for good food to eat.

However, several nights ago, my restless leg syndrome would not be quieted and I slept little - up and down - heat, stretching, more medicine - finally still enough to sleep, but exhausted, about 4 am. I'm not sure how thankful I was then. I had a warm house, warm clothes, computer games, two loving cats, and plenty of room to walk around. In retrospect, I'm grateful.

Perhaps next time I have troubles, I will be grateful for the blessings that I do have instead of focusing only on my problems...but I doubt it.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference - and the mindfulness to be grateful at all times.

The Parish Retreat

I always take several deep breaths before I begin a blog entry and they usually end with a large sigh. I'm confused, ailing, bewildered, angry, happy, but always having some large emotion. Tonight I'm reflecting on the parish retreat of this past weekend.

Large church, partner attends, I don't. She talks about many people, and I have faces for most of them now. But, they seem a generation before me or a world away. Most have grandchildren. Most have been married many years or are widows. Many really are an older generation. But, even the younger ones have families. Many of them still work every day. Most are doing okay financially even in this crisis.

They were pleasant people. The music was good and reminded me of my long-ago Cursillo experience. In fact, some of the music transported me back to that time, and I could lay to rest the discomfort that has continued for so many years. I'm not attending to please the bishop (he wasn't there), I'm not seeking ordination, I didn't have anything to lose at this retreat - only to gain.

The program likened our journeying to an Appalachian hike - the trailhead, the base camp, the decisions about directions, the barriers, the hope, the going forth. I've never hiked, but the symbolism made sense. And, he said several key phrases and words that brought my current spiritual/worshipping self to mind and challenged me to find answers.

We stayed at our condo about a mile from the retreat center, and I slept through the Saturday morning part...a much-needed rest after working three full days last week- three very busy days. The retreat was good for me, but superficial. I was not moved in any deep way.

However, as I discussed it with my therapist this morning, several good things that happened arose in our conversation. My putting away the pain from Cursillo, my not feeling threatened by any hierarchy, my dreams not depending on someone's opinion of how I acted at the retreat. I was present and smiling for my partner.

Too Much

Our Lenten reflection last night was about poverty and wealth, about having too much or too little, about using what you do have wisely and compassionately. As we reflected on how much we have and how many people starve, we became humbly grateful and renewed our desires to use our resources to make the world a better place.

Yet, these desires must be taken in the context of the whole person, the situations in which we live, the ability to affect change in the world. Mother Teresa said something about the fact that she could only love the world one person at a time. We can only make small changes one by one.

I am unable to go to another country and build houses or help with clinics or teach new skills. But, I can give to the fund which makes loans for people in those countries to begin their own businesses and become self-sustaining. I can make baby hats for babies all over the world. I can make food for volunteers who help others build homes. I can do one small thing at a time.

In 1948, over 50% of the wealth (don't know how this is measured) was resident in the United States with about 6.3% of the world's population. The idea then was to keep at least that proportional disparity so that we would be a strong nation. In spite of the economic woes current, the USA is a strong nation. Many call the USA a Christian nation. If that were true, how would we go about making the world a better place - as a nation. We give food and aid to other countries. We make war and destroy infrastructures in other countries (and let our own infrastructures degrade and become outdated and dangerous).

Do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.

If more and more of us would do that as individuals, then corporately, we could become the strongest nation in the world as well as a truly Christian one. I'd like to see some politicians, bankers, and CEOs wearing those bracelets: WWJD?

Fellow blogger is visitor

Okay, I know I haven't posted much lately. Went to Chesapeake with partner to her conference and bought yarn while visiting four yarn shops - thanks to Mapquest for getting me around. Then came home with stomach virus. Stomach still sensitive and my appetite is not.

But, wonderful, wonderful, Shel of Some Disagree with Mom is visiting. What a great time! We're reading blogs and making videos (see on Shel's blog) and taking pictures and making the cats not jump in her lap - they really like her and talk with her. Introduced her to our little town and my running buddy Paula today.

She and partner are going to church tomorrow. Probably too early for me, but we'll see.

So, I'll be back later with deep thoughts, Southern ponderings, and strange musings.

Super Bowl and Contemplative Weekend

I'm not watching the super bowl. Someone always wins, and the players always get those much prized gold rings that show the world they really are worthwhile. The value of those rings might dig several wells in African villages in dire need of potable water. And, someone always loses. That's what happens in a two-team match.

Contemplative Weekends should end on Sunday at noon - and usually do. But, I'm lazy; so I'm still at the beach and somewhat bored. Okay, now I've done all this reflective writing and mind-mapping and reading. Now what? I cancelled my therapy appointment in the morning because I don't think I can get there in time, and I just want to let all this rest for a bit.

I've been knitting on a piece of that multi-stripe afghan that I began over a year ago. This stripe needs about another foot. Green centipede - six foot long. And, I've been crocheting petals for a lariat necklace. And, I started a bath cloth.

I've read all of Joyce Meyers that I can take for one weekend. I even turned on the television to see how far along the Super Bowl was and maybe catch one of the commercials, but I couldn't find it. What I found was a documentary on polygamy, and during the time I watched, all the first wives had been very unhappy with the addition of the second wife. All claimed to have gotten over it, but I just wonder why they weren't smiling.

I'm listening to the surf. Sigh. I'm ready to go home.

Contemplative thoughts about myself

Balance, things that bring you joy, fears, etc. That was my marching orders from my therapist last Monday. Now that I'm alone at the beach, I'm spending way too much time thinking about myself (Lee, that's directed thinking. When I'm alone in my mind without direction, I feel like I'm alone with an insane person.)

I've tackled mind mapping about creativity, love and balance. Now I want to work on fears. I've written some notes that ended in fears, but with mind mapping, you jot down words or phrases all over the page and then you link them. And, we're not really talking about fears of spiders (which I'm not) or things like that. We're talking about fear of being rejected so much that you don't do things - you know, the kind of things that therapists like to talk about.

Interesting. When I follow a thought to its logical conclusion, nothing is so bad after all. I always feared being a bag lady because I know how uncomfortable those homeless shelter beds really are...and I hate sleeping on the ground. But, we may all be homeless soon if the mortgage companies keep making idiotic loans; so why worry about just me. We'll all be in it together, and like penguins, we can huddle for comfort...at least until the domino effect happens.

And, like most of us, I have always wanted to be loved, remembered and contacted. The internet advertisers and the bulk mailers have shown me how much I am love and how much they remember that I bought something from then sixteen years ago that they contact me regularly asking if I need birth control medicine. Mind you, I'm 63, have had my tubes tied long ago and passed through menopause at least 20 years ago.

Did you know that, although men need prescriptions for their hormonal drugs like Vi...and Cia...., women can get a pharmacist to concoct a hormone cream that stimulates their desire for sex? No prescription needed. And, with all the medicines that we take nowadays (especially anti-depressants) that could be a much-needed service. I have the name in my little red book just in case.

As you might imagine, laughter and humor are two things that bring me joy. So, keep on truckin' friends, Laugh, know you are remembered and loved (or I wouldn't bother writing this blog), and check out your local pharmacies for the hormone cream.

A Reflective Weekend

Yes, dear folks, I'm alone at the beach with the ocean outside the door and supposedly reflecting on the wholeness of me. The past has chiseled away at my well-being, and survival habits that should be extinct are being routed away. I could go on and on and on about how my childhood and the abuses of poverty, emotional abuse, rape, alcohol, aloneness, co-dependency and lots of other things have contributed to who I am today - and I will do that at length if anyone wishes. I still have a lot to say about how this all made me behave and misbehave.

However, my therapist is tired of having me blame my anger, depression and overeating on my childhood. Methinks and she indicates that the adult me must take some responsibility for Life. I've been procrastinating for over forty years. She claims I'm stuck.

Remember the book about "Forgiveness" - well, that was supposed to help me see where my current aberrant behaviors were once survival tactics. And, I was supposed to find alternative ways of relating to the triggers for those behaviors. Well, the list of "abuses" and "unfortunate experiences" was long. I even put it on an Excel spreadsheet and listed who was to blame, what I felt, how I reacted then, what makes me feel that way now, and how I react now. I was supposed to add that column about alternative behaviors - and I sort of did, but sort of didn't. Bleah.

Then, it was "If Buddha was stuck", and I began it, only to realize that I was reading the same stuff in a different cultural mode.

The latest edition of Grapevine was about being stuck. I picked up Joyce Meyer's magazine tonight and read as far as being stuck. Then I turned to a new journal with guided entries and my first symbol was about being stuck. So, there it is. January was stuck month.

February is apparently unstuck month. Really, I've been quite content and lethargic with being stuck. Boring occasionally but basically conserving of energy. Unfortunately, my C-PAP machine, some new medication, a bit of exercise, and I'm feeling more energy. Bye, bye, energy excuse. Today the doctor prescribed antibiotics for what is possibly a long-term sinus infection. Bye, bye health excuse. My therapist promised to bring some new worksheets on Monday about being whole - looking at the big picture - integration - moving forward - coming unstuck.

Sigh. So, here I am. Guided journal in hand. "If Buddha got stuck" in hand. Previous journal in hand. The Excel spreadsheet in hand. And, my hands are full of fork and tiramisu. So far I've eaten three of them today, and a piece of pizza. Oh yeah, and a bowl of cereal. Avoidance? Who me? I'm just using one of my soon to be extinct survival techniques. Pray that 15 plus years of therapy is enough to feel whole and not just to fake it.

Pondering Pain

Does pain equal suffering? In the Bible Paul makes a big deal of suffering. Jesus, however, tries to dissuade his disciples from wishing they could be equals with him - or at least one on his right and one on his left - because he knows what suffering will ensue. Pain is a part of that suffering. Physical pain, mental pain, emotional pain, financial pain.

Pain is - well - painful. It hurts. Yet, we can become so inured to pain that we can ignore it - at least for a while. Dull aches, legs that twitch, backs that throb or mental/emotion anguish that goes on and on and on. After some length of time, we can function over and around that pain. We shrug it off as a part of life, like lost loves, deaths in the family, taxes, war.

However, that pain is with us and saps energy that might be used of other things like work or pleasure. We don't realize that we're missing some important things in life until one day, we just don't want to get out of bed. We have no meetings; we have no lunch dates; we have few internet friends; our hobby supplies are gathering dust; the exercise equipment isn't even plugged in. Then, someone asks - what brings you joy?

Yeah, right. Joy. We sing about that at Christmas. Joy to the world. Then we get a bit sarcastic and think about all the war and terror and wonder when the joy went. If we reflect on our own lives, we don't even know what brings pleasure any longer much less what brings joy.

So, we begin.

My life is full of beginnings. My fiber projects are so numerous that I can't keep track of all of them. I make some calls to friends and promise that I will stay in touch - until next Christmas I remember that promise. Several weeks ago, I said I wouldn't start another fiber project until I finished something already begun. Didn't happen.

But, I did finish this beautiful scarf with variegated red yarn - or did I post this already? LOL

And, I've acknowledged that my pain drains me. Adapting to my life situation with fibromyalgia will take a lot more time. My new C-PAP seems to be helping - too soon to tell. Until now, I've been suffering. Since I have a name for my pain, I don't feel as if I'm suffering. I hurt, I ache, but I'm okay...and I'm going to better.

A charming bit of fiber antiquity

Some time ago a person gave my boss an old sampler book of crochet pieces - most of them made with thread so tiny I cannot see the pattern. Many of the samples are so aged that they are deep cream and have stains. But, a couple of them stand out - one has red thread in the center - still so bright that I wish I had a scarf that color -of course, red is my favorite and I already have five or six red scarves. Another has shades of red and green mixed with what must have been white. Another is a seafoam green, and one is a soft brown. The individual pieces are sewn onto what feels like a linen fabric, and the pages are secured with a handmade metal fastener.

I've found that by scanning the pages of this booklet I can see some of the stitches I thought were impossible, and I'll be transcribing these pictures (some of them) into directions as the year goes on. My goal is to have completed as much of the sample book as possible by the end of the year.

Knitting at the beach

While I have been watching the ocean and listening to its waves on the beach, I've been doing handwork - crochet and knitting. We received a shipment of Lamb's Pride wool at the shop the day before I left, and I snatched up two skeins of variegated red on the way out. Here's the scarf I've begun with it - an older Noro yarn pattern that I found free on the web using short rows to make triangles. We also got the yarn in purple in worsted and bulky - so pretty.

And, before I left, my friend Nita gave me a bath mat that she had crocheted from double worsted Peaches & Creme cotton. It's much brighter than the picture shows - made with Gumdrops for those of you who know the P&C colors. So, I crocheted a couple of bath cloths for myself. The first was a bit lopsided, but the second turned out nicely. Well, almost anyway. Someday I shall learn how to crochet squarely. The mat is about 18 x 24 and the cloth is 9 x 12.

I also started a baby hat with Vanna's Baby Soft acrylic in blue - doing it magic loop - have about two inches done so far. And, cast on a Ty-Dy shawl in shades of blue, green and purple...only a few rows done yet.

The body is better; I get my C-PAP (machine that keeps me from having sleep apnea) next week; I'm getting over this virus and coughing; I have a great job; I have a great partner; and I'm so blessed that I spend a lot of time in prayers of thanksgiving. May 2009 bring the same joy for you.

More than watchmen

Each night partner and I say together the antiphon at the end of Compline from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer: Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping, that awake we may watch with Christ and asleep we may rest in peace.

Last night as I lay awake I wondered about that word "watch". For us Americans, "watch" is a passive verb. We follow action with our eyes, and in sports, we get excited as we watch and we cheer or boo. But, we are minimally acting. We are watching others act.

Photo courtesy of APOD/NASA, Tunc Tezel photographer
Psalm 130 finds us aching for God just as watchmen on the walls of the city do for the first dawning light. They squinted their eyes, looked away, looked back, spotted the first glow of sunrise - and then they acted. They sprinted away to the temple to tell the priests. People awoke to greet the daybreak. Watching was an active occupation followed by alerting the right ones who then provoked real action among all people.

I am not very active right now, but watching is something I can do. I can scrutinize the workings of the world and alert the right people when I see (another word for watch but with different connotations) wrongdoing or something about to go awry. I can be a watchman (please pardon my gender here for I am following the words of the psalm that I love). I can scan the internet. I can listen when I am out. I can read books, magazines and newspapers. I can listen, and sometimes I can even watch television. I can deliberately set out to "watch" the world with Christ, analyzing what is happening by Christ's saying of the two great commandments: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind, and Love your neighbor as yourself.

If I learn that someone is ill, I can alert the clergy and send out a message to our prayer chain. If I read an article that speaks of actions I believe are wrong, I can call the appropriate authority - government, board of directors, managers, corporate headquarters and I can write a letter to the editor with a different viewpoint on the same topic.

While I may not have the same effect on the population that the watchmen of old had on their world, I can have some effect. As Mother Teresa said about loving the world - one by one.

Neighbor kills bear

Yesterday I went to the little service station/grocery/burger counter two doors down to get lunch. A pickup truck pulled out just as I approached leaving the only open parking space to me. (and, yes, I could have walked, but I'm lazy) As I approached the doors, I glanced into the back of a small pick-up truck parked at the gas pumps. Something black was bulging over the top of the truck bed. A 400 pound black bear was there - dead, tongue lolling out of its mouth. With the exception of two small propane tanks, this bear filled the bed of the truck.

I would rather have seen my first eastern North Carolina black bear alive and at a distance, but I certainly would not have wanted to be up close and personal with this Goliath. I grabbed my cell phone and got a picture - which I am not printing here. I wanted to be reminded.

I ordered my burgers to go and went back outside to talk to the man who shot it. He said that the bears had been eating his livestock and his neighbors' livestock. What would he do with the bear? Eat it. Nothing would be wasted. He lives about a mile down the road from me.


















Picture is borrowed from Animal Trial.

We live on the edge of a large national forest where some minor logging is permitted and hunting is permitted, but the dirt roads through the forest show a few hiking trails and lots of trees - no human habitation - not even litter. The bears in eastern North Carolina have flourished and grown huge and hungry. As their habitat grows smaller - even with a large protected forest - they grow more numerous and food is scarce, especially in years when winter comes late. The bears are normally in hibernation by now; however, our warm weather has delayed their usual habits and they are hungry. They seek food; black bears are omnivorous. The grasses, berries and small animals are gone now. So they find fenced animals that are easy prey. And, the owners of these animals hunt them in return.

I took the picture with my cell phone to remind me that all of us are responsible for climate change. I am responsible for the death of this magnificent creature. And, corporately with the entire world, we are responsible for changes in this Earth this make species extinct before their time. I want to see polar bears live before they are gone from the north and live only in zoos. I want to see our black bears survive in this habitat.

My prayer is that I be made more conscious of my impact on the world and our climate so that others may live.

Chistmas Past

Let's see; my childhood memories of Christmas are very scarce. The tree was always in the living room, which had no heat; Christmases were cold in Mississippi during my childhood. Santa came fairly early on Christmas Eve; David (My brother) and I waited in the warm kitchen while Mom put out the presents. I don't remember Dad ever being there...not before he went back in the Navy nor after he came home. I remember three presents during my younger years (before age 16) - a blue bicycle, a pair of clip-on skates, and a pair of drum majorette boots (no, I was never in the band, but I loved boots and still do - three pair now and counting - of course, two pair are red). Often during the summer as we cleaned out the two tiny little closets by the chimneys, we found Christmas coloring books and small items that Mom had put away and didn't remember - so we had Christmas again. I know that I received dolls for Christmas because Mom kept them and made clothes for them. She enjoyed them much more than I did. My Aunt Virgie worked in a factory up North that made doll clothes, and so I got boxes of dolls clothes of all sizes and sorts. I still have one little kimono jacket that is pink on one side and blue on the other. Probably fit a small baby doll.

Then, we moved away from the farm to Slate Springs, David was killed in an accident in the Gulf of Mexico, and that Christmas was very strange. Mom and my sister-in-law, Sue, drove to Memphis (about four hours) to buy Christmas presents. I stayed at home. Marty, my nephew, was at his sitter's house. On the way home from Memphis, Sue hit a horse on the interstate and destroyed the car. Mom's head hit the windshield (this was before seat belts) and she had a concussion and a large cut. They were taken to the hospital in Water Valley, MS, and someone either brought them home (a good samaritan) or maybe Mom's cousin went to get them. Anyway, they got home in the early morning hours. None of their purchases were hurt, and most of them were wrapped. I got a swing coat with a "mouton" collar, and inside the box were fragments of the windshield glass from the wreck.

Christmases didn't make a big impression on me again until Mom bought her house in Columbus, MS. It was a rambling 9 room house, and she invited her step-sister and family each year for dinner - and anyone one else who wanted to come. Huge meals and lots of games were the order of the day. The two step-nephews were a bit younger than me - though it doesn't seem so much so now - and I watched them grow from boys to men through the Christmases at that house. One year, Mom bought Santa Claus gifts for my ex-husband's new family, and I watched those girls enjoy their presents in front of her fireplace. Each year, Mom bought a dozen little wind-up toys for each place at the table - and we had races and much laughter after the pecan and chocolate pies were finished.

My second husband and I split our Christmas times between our Moms, but we always spent some time at my Mom's house and that's when the family gathered. One year, we elected to stay in New Haven while I was in seminary. Our friend Donna came to visit. We went to New York City and played all day and into the night. Driving down the street with the sunroof open, taking pictures as we stopped at traffic lights; dashing across streets to the big Christmas tree while Loftin drove around blocks. Sadly, when we arrived back in New Haven, Donna found that her mother had died that day. Judith, who was just returning from the midnight service, brought us communion and did prayers for her mother.

This Christmastime, Donna is burying her father - some 17 years later. Please remember Donna and her family in your prayers. Her father really missed his wife, and I am glad they are reunited - and with the Westies that he loved so much. May we also find that joy after death.

In 1988, our neighbors gathered for a tree-trimming party - the first one. And, I realized that we'd be going to seminary the following year; so I bought my first miniature Christmas tree and Hallmark miniature ornaments. I have a miracle story about that little tree's ornaments, but I'll save that for the day after Christmas.

Since I've been with my partner, celebrating 10 Christmases now, we've had a tree trimming party each year - with lots of good food and friends. Our family now is "chosen family", those friends that we would call sisters and brothers - except for our delightful - well, actually her delightful son, who will be here in a few days. Homemade Chicken Soup was at the other end of the table. um um good.

A voice crying in the wilderness

There's a voice crying in the wilderness; Prepare the way of the Lord.

Great sermon on the topic at this blog.

The wilderness is where people went to seek their calling, to find their names, to discover their strengths (and probably weaknesses, too). From the wilderness stumbles John the Baptist, obviously having been there a while since he's wearing clothing of hides. He's rough and uncombed and possibly dirty - the kind of person that we would cross the street to avoid. And, he's undoubtedly been doing some kind of mind altering substance because he's proclaiming that God is coming to the wilderness. Right, John. We hear you. You're still high on whatever you found out there, but you'll be okay in a bit.

So there by the river that is a separating place from the wilderness and the real world, John starts dunking people in the little bit of water flowing and proclaiming that they are born anew, their sins washed away. Right - that dirty sludging water is gonna cleanse sins? I think not.

But, I'm wrong. God does come to the wilderness. Jesus, the Christ, is baptised by John in that slinky bit of water and the world is changed forever. God announces that the Beloved Son has become both divine and human - sharing our world, using the outhouse, putting on his robe the same way that the money-lenders and tax collectors do. Jesus got irritated with his Mama, left his Daddy's work, went wandering around the country. Then, he started teaching in synagogues, and everyone thought he was crazy, including his family. Jesus died as all humans die - although some humans are privileged to have less stressful deaths.

Now about this wilderness. I've been there a number of times - looking for Godot 'cause he never showed up on his white horse to rescue me, finding myself, looking for love in all the wrong places, blinded by the light and wandered off the road, reeling drunk at age 30 and lying in my own vomit, seeking ordination, racking up debt in seminary (a wilderness all its own). I've spent a lot of time in the wilderness trying to stop the pain.

But, you know what: God was in that wilderness with me because others prepared the way. God walked beside me until I was ready to leave the wilderness - every time I left it. And God walked beside me every time I entered that wilderness again. Those times when I did not feel the presence of God did not mean that God had left me alone. Nope, I just lost the sense of being worthy of God's presence.

I still haven't stopped the pain - not the emotional or physical pain, but I'm not in the wilderness right now. God still walks with me. And, yes, I ate those five cookies tonight because they did for a few minutes what I won't let God do for me - they stopped the pain. God has blessed me by taking away my desire to drink, by giving me a one true love, by gracing my life with a ministry of caring for people. I still carry the pain, and I still seek unhealthy ways of ameliorating the pain.

We all go down to the dust, and I may carry my pain to the dust, but I will know that God has walked with me and helped me bear that pain all the days of my life. Perhaps my pain will help prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness so that others may feel God's presence as they stumble along the path of seeking.

Your Quirk Factor: 62%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

How Quirky Are You?

A little more history

Hmmm, seems some young folks are following my history and asking questions, and I answered some of them on the phone, but there's a big gap there.

Sister-in-law Sue, nephew Marty. Marty was deaf. Sue worked nights at the Coffee Cup. Sometimes Marty was left alone all night. Sue was unmarried and got pregnant - 1965. Mom filed suit to get custody of Marty. Sue married an Air Force guy who needed someone to take care of his kids. The baby was born and is mentally about 2 years old. She was beautiful and her name is Darcy. Her father was a very good looking drug addict who died before she was born. Darcy lives with her sister Dena now in Clarksdale, Miss.

The Air Force guy retired and they moved to Rochester, New York, where Sue stayed until his kids were out of high school. She spent a summer with Mom and me in Columbus when Darcy was about 2 and Dena, her next child, was a baby. Dena is bright and wonderful. They went back to New York, but eventually moved back to Mississippi. Sue married once and divorced. Marty committed suicide on July 4, 1996. Sue died in the operating room while she was having an ulcer repaired/removed. They are both buried in the cemetery with the rest of my family in Slate Springs, Mississippi.

However, between that part of the story and where I left off at college....Sue had another child and gave him up for adoption. Mom said he had red hair. I think that was the summer of 1964.

Make a snowflake

Here's a wonderful site where you can clip and cut to make your own snowflake.

Advent Calendar From Trinity Wall Street

Christmas is coming

This is my annual winter soup-making day. Chicken and veggies.

What I've done - some of it at least - and some of these things are weird
I took this from Pseudopiskie.

What I've done... (in bold)

1. Started my own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than I can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sung a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched lightning at sea
14. Taught myself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child - does fostering a child count?
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown my own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught myself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David - the one at the Ringling Museum in Florida
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had my portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job - for being a woman and again for being a lesbian
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had my picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Ridden an elephant

Thanksgiving and Christmas

I've already given thanks for my many friends, virtual, at a distance and up close. So, partner and I celebrated Thanksgiving by making 53 jars of apple butter. We bought the apples as we passed through Virginia on the way home from Cleveland. Um, um, good. This stuff is dark and tasty and well stirred - we spent three days getting it all done. And, other than being tired, we had lots of fun doing it together.

The letter from the doctor summarizing my visit to Cleveland Clinic said exactly what I expected, and I'll be making an appointment with my primary care physician here to sort out all the details of follow-up. However, the Requip XL seems to be working well. I tried taking the Cymbalta at the same time and slept all the time; so we'll have to work out a lower dosage or a different schedule.

But, Christmas is officially on the way. Tomorrow is the first Sunday of Advent. Next Sunday, the second Sunday of Advent is our tree trimming party - I've been doing it for 20 years - minus the three Christmases at Yale when we didn't have room for anything but a miniature tree. I think this is the 9th one that we've had together.

We'll have homemade chicken/vegetable soup - well, stew really - with garlic bread, cheese dip, spinach dip, fresh veggies and chips for dipping, cupcakes from the best baker in town, salted and praline pecans and other nuts (besides our guests), shrimp platter, and probably some other things as well. We invite the guests and provide the food; they decorate the tree. Usually everyone leaves with a goodie bag, but this year they are getting white crocheted stars about 2 inches in diameter - my design and my handiwork. In years past I have made hot chocolate mix, but everyone's on a diet or diabetic or something; so I'm not doing that this year either. Traditions change as we grow and change ourselves.

This year, I'll have to go through the ornaments and put away some that aren't as special - just so we'll have room on the tree for them. Partner has some from her childhood, and I've collected many from my special friends over the years; so we have far too many for one tree even if it is seven feet tall. Jimmy always helps put on the lights, and Laura's birthday is always near the party date - right on this time. We've invited some newer friends from partner's various activities.

Partner has been practicing her piano playing and made up a songbook of carols for us to sing. One of the church's good singers will be here; so we'll have someone to help lead the singing.
Paige plays while friends sing in 2004















Christmas Tree 2004 with Stuart still decorating it.




















As I write this, I remember the many years of tree trimming parties and think of all the friends who helped put up the many decorations. Godson John in Chattanooga and his friend at the time, Libby. My student worker Andrea. Other college students. And, before that were high school students whose faces I still see in my mind and pray for when I do. Neighbors and co-workers, church friends, volunteers in the non-profit where I worked. And, Mom's 75th Christmas when all the family and friends crowded into her home for the last gathering in that house - the tree was so big that we had to walk around it in the living room. We laughed and told family stories, ate good food, opened many presents, went outside and played frisbee in the street, played cards and ate some more.

We'll have an interesting mix this year of friends from many areas of our lives: church, gays and lesbians, boating, 12 step program, and kite flying. Should be interesting.

Home from Cleveland Clinic

Hi, Folks. We are home safely with some good suggestions and unexpected diagnoses - all of which are good and not life-threatening. I'll post more about that when i've rested.

Basically, fibromyalgia, exercise asthma (if any asthma at all), possibly vocal cord dysfunction, microbacterial spots in lungs (haven't changed in a long time), sleep apnea (getting a c-pap machine), restless leg syndrome (changing to extended release Requip which is just out), changing from Prozac to Cymbalta since Prozac has been shown to exacerbate the RLS. All doctors think that, if I get sufficient and efficient sleep, I will be much better, easier to lose weight, able to exercise. Also got a shot in my hip for bursitis.

More later - or maybe not until we see what the changes do. I have other things to write about. Thanks for prayers.

Report on the trip to Cleveland

We spent the night in Beckley, WV, with a light covering of snow on the ground and enough on the bushes for me to make a very small snowball, which disintegrated in flight.

Today we drove through rain, sunshine, sleet, snow, and mixtures of all...like a food court at the mall, the weather changed in a matter of yards sometimes. The little Prius drove like a dream in the changing weather. It was a bit slow going up the mountains we had to cross in West Virginia, but going down the mountains, we coasted and put all that power into the battery of the hybrid. It was strange to be going 70+ miles per hour and see the gauge registering at 100 miles per gallon. LOL We are expecting some accumulation of snow here tomorrow.

We arrived about 3 pm and checked into the hotel. The shuttle bus will pick me/us up here and take us to the correct building in only a few minutes, and shuttles run frequently. The restaurant downstairs is very expensive but good food. We met a couple who had been here before - several times all the way from Southern California - and their confidence level is high. We also talked about grocery stores and other places to eat. There are hospitality shuttles that will take us to the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame, other attractions like Nordstrom and other stores. Probably not any yarn shops on the list though - and just as well.

Partner and I are both tired, but I'm glad we drove - I could bring enough choices of knitting to satisfy any length of time that we may be here. LOL - one whole bag of yarn, computer, books and stuff.

My appointment is tomorrow afternoon, and I'll post an update then.

How much do you spend?

Legos, legos and knitting needles

2008-07-31 at 11-46-39
Originally uploaded by brellachild

I love this, and I still have all the legos from my craze a few years ago. Don't know about doors and colors, but I know I have castle stuff. Maybe I can do something for my crochet hooks or all my collection of medical pens (you know the kind the drug reps give out and will quit having in 2009). What else could I store in something like this!!! Jennifer, I need your help.

Omnivore's 100

I nipped this from Whorled Peace Handspun Below is a list of 100 things that every good omnivore should have tried at least once in their life. The list includes fine food, strange food, everyday food and even some pretty bad food - but a good omnivore should really try it all. Don’t worry if you haven’t, mind you; neither have I, Don’t worry if you don’t recognise everything in the hundred, either; Wikipedia has the answers. But, I didn't check Wikipedia - I just ignored the things I didn't know.

1) Copy this list into your blog, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Italic any items that you would never consider eating.

The Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

angel wing begonia

Dear Anonymous who left the comment on the picture of my grandmother's angel wing begonia and did not leave an address for follow-up,

I have seen some begonias similar to this at plant stores. Lowe's usually has at least one of this type (maybe not exactly like this one) every year. I would suspect they are only found in the southern plant stores.

This is a cane begonia and eats a lot of plant food, water and light. Most state plant laws prohibit individuals from sending plants via mail across state lines, otherwise, I could send you a clipping to root.

I did not take care of the plant much during this winter or summer and it has bloomed only once, but I expect it to be beautiful again next year.

Good luck.

Clothes

Too many and not enough of the right kind. The problem with being a sale freak is that you end up with lots of black t-shirts - dressy ones, regulars, printed, embroidered and not enough that match the pants you have. The mix and match separates are okay, but seldom do I find matching tops and bottoms of the right sizes. So, I end up with pants that fit but don't have matching tops or even contrasting tops of the right kind, or tops that fit and leave my bottom hanging in the breeze without appropriate pants.

Today, I sorted through the pants again - having changed sizes when I lost a bit of weight with Weight Watchers, and prowled through the larger size pants that partner had left when she lost 40 pounds. I found one pair of jeans and a pair of non-cotton knit pants that look halfway decent. And, I found a whole tubful of turtle necks and mock turtle necks. Now, I don't know how many of them fit or are fit to wear, but I'll bet that I find at least one black one with the tags still on it. The white ones get stained and wear out quickly.

I did send a whole tubful of stuff to the thrift shop. I really like some of the short-sleeved t-shirts that I sent away, but I do think that two tubfuls of short sleeved ones is enough.

We bought me some blouses yesterday to wear and some black pants. The only colors available in my size this year are black and brown, and I hate brown. Now I have good black pants, working black pants, knock-around black pants and almost worn out but still comfy black pants. And, I have various colors and stripes of blouses/shirts to wear. So, I guess I'm set for the winter and my trip to Cleveland Clinic later this month.

But, the real topic of today's blogging is the excess of clothing I have when little of it goes together. Being mis-matched is the bane of people like me who shop the sales and whose tops and bottoms are not the same size.

cat blogging

Heath,weighs about 16 pounds. Sorry about the bright eyes. I lost my good photo editor when I changed computers, and I've been too lazy to download another.











Cliff weighs about 10 pounds

When the both decide to sleep on top of me, I wake up. LOL. How else.

crocheting

This is my own five-point star pattern made in various yarns - Skacel glittery stuff, worsted and double worsted Peaches N Creme, Peaches N Creme Article 960.

The garland at the back is chain 10, add three 4dc clusters and repeat until length desired.













Close up of the double worsted Peaches N Creme star.












Snowflake chain made with worsted Peaches N Creme. Pattern from www.redheart.com






sharecropper's five point crochet star:
Chain 1
Round 1: chain 3, 2 dc cluster in first chain, chain 3 *3dc cluster in first chain, ch3* repeat from * until 5 clusters, join in 2nd chain at beginning.
Round 2: *sc, dc, trc, picot, trc, dc, sc* in each 3 chain space, join, and leave tail for hanger.

Picot: chain 3, sl st in first chain.

A crafty woman

Yesterday and today at work I used a mask when straightening or putting away yarn, and it helped greatly with my breathing. What a difference in the way I feel tonight - and I checked in and bagged a huge box of Plymouth yarns today! As I was leaving work - already a half-hour later than scheduled, our UPS lady came with a big box and said, "Ok, just turn around and go back in." So I did. I like our UPS lady...and I love unpacking boxes of yarn. Besides, this had some yarn that I had requested in it - to make Christmas presents - at the bottom of the box, of course.

Oh, I love the colors and the different textures. Right now, I'm working with Misti Cotton/Silk - what a great yarn. Making a scarf as a Christmas present for a friend of mine...ribs with a single off-center cable. Slow, but pleasing.




And, I'm on the second ball of Knit one Crochet Too's Ty Dy in a rainbow color, tropicale, making a shawl for another friend. This works up as a DK weight cotton in beautiful stripes. This is over half done, but up to over 120 stitches per row now. It's about 10 inches deep...don't know how long.

Besides that, I'm crocheting in between knitting - can't knit too long at one time. But, I'm making stars for package ornaments and rainbow flowers and potholders and hot pads. And, if you're on my Christmas list and you don't want a potholder or hot pad, now is the time to speak. Otherwise, thou shalt be ecstatic when opening such a hand-made gift. Some are peaches N creme cotton (worsted and double worsted) in various ombres (that's multi-colors for those of you who don't use this yarn), red, green, and a couple of other colors. Also using superwash wool because wool is such a great insulator. No, if you're allergic to wool, I'm not making potholders for you with this...only hotpads that you don't have to handle much.


I'm really excited about the stars, and I'll try to take some pictures this week. And, for anyone who crochets, I'll add the star pattern.

No energy

No energy. Not really, really sick. Just very tired.

Thinking about those people who were saints in my life: my Aunt Clyde and Uncle Lester who loved me without condition. He made me a wooden stove that was wonderful when I was 7, right after Dad went back into service. She made me clothes and took me to vacation bible school and let me be her "page" at Eastern Star. Big Auntie and Uncle Jake, who lived down the road from us and invited us to watch television every Saturday night so that Mom could see Lawrence Welk. Uncle Jake and I lay on the sofa and watched until I got too big for that. Big Auntie would pick tiny little butter beans and shell them and cook them for Uncle Jake and me. She let me play in her living/dining rooms where she had lots of fascinating stuff that I could pick up and handle and pretend with. Grandma Woods, whose grandsons were David's friends, and who let me eat cold biscuits at her kitchen table and watch her cook on a wood burning range. We never told my Mom that because she didn't think the kitchen was clean enough. And, Grandma let me play her old pump organ even though I didn't know a note of music, I learned how to pump and hit the keys and what all the stops did. And, I got to bring the bunnies in the house, one by one, and play with them through the house, making a big circle with the bunny happily hopping along and waiting until I could catch up to continue our romp. And, Caroline and her one armed husband, whose name I've forgotten, who cooked me turtle soup and made me eat on a white cloth at the sewing machine rather than at the table with them - 'cause it wasn't fittin'. Caroline also cooked on a wood burning range and her biscuits were better than Grandma Woods. And, Mrs. Pettijohn, the town librarian who entertained me many days after school with stories and with books she had chosen for me. She let me read anything I wanted to read in the library, but I could take home only books she thought Mom would approve. Mrs. Eason, my fifth grade teacher, who believed in me. She gave me the best part of the Christmas performance that year. But, Mom couldn't come to watch because her boss' twin sons were also in the class and had parts - so the boss and his wife came to the performance. Mrs. Eason taught us songs and took us on trips and made us think about life and the earth. She disciplined us and made us work hard. Mrs. Denton, who taught Latin (and had also taught me in sixth grade) and who probably instilled in me the idea that I could go to college. She encouraged me and praised my work. For the first time, I was in a class with people who expected to go to college - all of them; I guess, I assumed that I would go also - even though we had no money for college. When I finally graduated, my aunt wanted a picture of my degree so that she could hang it in her house - the first one of our family to go to college.

These are a few of my early life saints. Who were the saints in your life?

Forgiveness and Pain

The Shack is an intriguing theological novel, stringing together Biblical rhetoric with dialogue to fit the author’s personal theology. My personal theology fits comfortably with much of the book. Towards the end, forgiveness is mentioned, emphasized and commended …though the book centers on love. (More info on The Shack)

Tonight I had planned to be at a meeting that will probably form a chapter of Integrity for our diocese. The potluck meeting is being held at the Ministry Center of Christ Church, a place where I am not comfortable. Not in the ministry center, not in the parish hall, not in the nave. The Episcopal Church has way too much organization and hierarchy for me – not to mention factions and power plays. Church politics. No thank you.

Yet, I am an Episcopalian through and through. (click on the logo to go to the Episcopal Church home page) I believe in the real presence of God in the Eucharist. I love the music. I feel joyous when I “pass the peace”. I believe in the priesthood of all believers, in healing, in prophesy, in communal worship, and in community. Like magnets turned the wrong way, Christ Church and I repel each other. My discomfort is gut-wrenchingly real, and the hierarchy has made it clear that my kind need to be neither seen nor heard.

This church, like my parents, is not suited to enhance my growth into the person that God wants me to be. The hierarchy is kind and loving – but not the kindness and loving that I need. My past experience with church hierarchy has much affect on me. I remember the pain though the anger has dulled.

My questions tonight are: why should I keep going back to a place (the Episcopal Church) where I am hurt? And did the scripture that commended us to forgive seventy times seven mean that we forgive the same pain and hurt that many times? For me, these two questions are connected. Common sense tells me to stay away from places where I get hurt. Don’t put my hand into the fire again and get burned. However, if I forgive the past hurts each time they overwhelm me, will I not be hurt again? In many theological discussions that relate to therapy, I am cautioned that forgiveness does not mean forgetting or discarding watchfulness.

Forgiving the larceny of the church hierarchy is something I must do on a fairly regular basis. They have taken away my trust, increased my fear, failed to give me guidance, misunderstood and debased who I am and the work that I have done in loving God’s people. Their anger, distrust, misjudgment, and rejection have worked in me resentment (which I work through each time), distrust (which I discard and try again and again), anger (which I’ve learned not to take out on those I love), and a sense of failure (which is probably not true – no one can take from me the love I’ve experienced in ministry, communal worship and community).

So, I am not present at this churchly meeting. My voice will not be heard. My fear of being hurt is too great to chance another time. Maybe after another 490 or 4,900 forgivenesses.

Loneliness verus Solitude

The topic at the meeting was loneliness versus solitude. I was silently knitting throughout the meeting. Then we went to my favorite restaurant for one of my favorite meals with a couple of friends. It was good.

However, today is bright and warm and sunny here at the beach. Everyone is at the Kite Festival just down the road, and I’m not. I’m pondering the difference between loneliness and solitude, and I’m thinking about how my drunk era perceived that. So long ago that much of the pain is gone (thanks partially to some recent therapy), remembering what I felt at 18 and those years until I turned 35 when I quit trying to drink. My last drunk was about 1975; I woke up one morning on the bathroom floor lying in my own vomit. Not only was I hung over but I was lonely.

When I began drinking, beer was new and exciting, gave me a rush and a voice that I’d not dared to have before. I still didn’t have many friends, but I had some kind of oomph that had been missing before the drinking began. Loneliness was my constant companion…before and after I began drinking. I had no friends…except a couple of sort of boyfriends.

My first semester of college in the dorm was possibly drink-free – too many new things and too little opportunity. Then I moved Mom and Marty to Columbus where college was located and became a day student. Then, I met the Air Force guys. They had access to booze and cars to get away from home. Yet, so many nights I spent in the darkroom and taking pictures – not drinking. Separating the time when I was drinking without getting drunk and the time when I stayed drunk is difficult. But loneliness and needing to be loved played a big part in the drinking.

Escape from home – from Mom (who wanted to live her life through me), from Sue and Marty (screaming sister-in-law and deaf nephew), from the poverty. That escape drove me to places where I could find beer (Budweiser, thank you) or the scotch that Pete had taught me to drink. Irene taught me to play snooker and gave me free beer for coming out to her place and bringing in customers. The guys bought me beer at so many different juke joints in Lowndes County that I can’t remember all of them. One was a night club out in the boonies that was split in the middle, the left side was for whites and the right side was for blacks. The live music was often on the right side, but the doors between (through which only staff passed) let us all enjoy and dance to the music.

I used sex as an escape, too. Between the booze and the sex, I wonder that I’m alive. Solitude was not in vocabulary then. I was lonely, bone-weary lonely, longing for someone who would accept me for who I was (never mind that I had no idea who I was anyway)…just someone who didn’t try to remake me. With a few drinks, no one wanted to remake me – just to make me. So that went quite well.

For a few years anyway. A lot of miles, houses, apartments, jobs and people between that time as a day student in college and the morning I woke up and realized that drinking was not getting me what I wanted. (I’ll fill those in later.) Every time I took a drink, the top of my head felt as though Mt. Vesuvius was erupting inside it. I kept patting the hair to make sure that it was still present. So, I limited my drinking to a scotch and water with a meal. That worked for a while, but I began having horrible headaches and hangovers with just one. So, I’d have a sip of someone else’s beer occasionally.

The loneliness grew, even as I married once, then again, though the second marriage helped abate the direness of feeling so totally alone somewhat. We had lots of kids in and out of our house and they helped.

Now, I sit here in solitude. The ocean is coursing its way back out to the depths as low tide is here. The waves are soothing. I can breathe deeply and not cough. Yet, my partner and people I know are down the beach, laughing and talking and watching what few kites can stay aloft with such little wind. I could join them. I have no desire to join them. I wonder if I’m depressed.

Solitude beckons me often. Sometimes loneliness creeps in, and I wish I’d taken the time to make more friends. Who would they be? So, I am alone – not in perfect solitude, but in comfortable boredom and occasional busyness. My partner is wonderful, and I cannot imagine living without her, but I don’t want much more than that lately.

wild ocean

Here's a picture of the ocean today! Our condo building is on a high dune about 20 feet above the beach scarp (which you can't see) but about 25 feet above the beach you can see. Aren't you glad I make sense all the time. LOL Underneath the condo is parking; so we are actually on the second floor - very safe from most hurricanes and waves, but we don't put anything down here that we would hate to lose in a hurricane.

The Kite Festival won't be doing much today with the wind so strong and from the wrong direction. All the kites would run into the Sheraton today not out over the water.

I'm snug inside - although the temp is warm; the wind is strong - whistling around the door.

as seen on OCICBW, Wounded Bird, Some Disagree with Mom

College Days

I was/am a photography bug. When I discovered that I could take pictures, go to the darkroom and produce prints, I was ecstatic. I did a lot of natural light photography - indoors...well, hey, I couldn't afford a flash then, and the ones that belonged to the school were big mallet-looking things that attached to the side of the camera. So, I would go to the "Goose" (the college snack bar and gathering place) and take pictures of my friends as they sat around tables in the afternoon and evening.

Claire (sorry, Yogi), Angie, Pete, Janie, Bill, Ruble, George

Then, I'd crawl through the always unlocked window of the basement photo lab and develop and print the pictures - taking them back to the "Goose" before my friends left. Always black and white (color developing was just coming along), always grainy, usually given to the folks there. But, I smelled of developer and fixer all the time. My hands were a mess because I never used tongs. My clothes were often dotted with white spots when I forgot to put on the apron and got excited about what I was doing.

Some of those photos still exist with me.

Karen tries a vine

This group would often pile into cars and go riding - in the afternoons usually - out to the back side of the gravel pits. We could wind our way through the narrow dirt roads and be completely out of sight of the world. We drank beer, played ukes and guitars, and danced to music from the radios. I'm sure my view is idealized now, but this photo has done that for me.

We occasionally went at night to a different gravel pit and went skinny dipping or just sat on the huge mounds of gravel - never thinking about the avalanches that could occur.