Happy New Year

The snow falling outside is beautiful--huge flakes--and once again all the world looks pure and clean, at least here in mid-Michigan.

I have to take my dog to the vet this morning, which means fasting. She doesn't understand why she can't have her breakfast and I feel like a big rat! Am hoping we can find out why she's having seizures or at least find something to mitigate them.


It's New Year's Eve. I always wonder about all the hoop-la. For me, it seems more a time for reflection, maybe a bit of melancholy. And then tomorrow? Another new beginning and high hopes.

My most unusual New Year was spent in Los Angeles in 1965-66, when Norris was assigned to cover the MSU Spartans at the Rose Bowl. We had been married just a few months. I had never been on a jet plane, never been further west than Wisconsin, and felt like Cinderella staying in a lovely suite at the Los Angeles Biltmore. In fact, one night we attended a party in the suite where John F. Kennedy et al stayed during the 1960 Democratic convention.

I remember going to Disneyland, meeting Walt Disney, Bill Cosby, and couple of big name media people whose names now escape me. We sat in the official reviewing stand for the Rose Parade. Just amazing! Although sitting there for 3 1/2 hours without a potty break nearly "broke" both of us. :) Arthur Godfrey and Bess Myerson were in the CBS booth just above us. And a few rows down sat Earl Warren, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

On Christmas Day I spoke tearfully to my parents back in Michigan. Christmas in California just didn't feel like Christmas to me. We spent that day with some folks who had a nice car and we toured the greater LA area, visiting Marineland of the Pacific, driving through Hollywood, etc.

On New Year's Eve Norris and I slipped into a little gazebo-like bar behind the Huntington Sheridan Hotel in Pasadena and had a romantic drink together. The smell of flowers hung in the air and at times it seemed we were in paradise. However, reality was very real and we seemed to run each day from one photo shoot to another. It was exhausting and Norris did the work of three people, something he often accomplished. When we arrived home on Jan. 2, we were both very relieved to be here and not quite ready to return to work the next day. But what an opportunity it was and cost us very little.

Well, that was 43 years ago and this New Year's Eve is much different, but not that bad, as Garrison Keillor would say. I am grateful for the year past, the learnings, the adventures, the opportunities for love, the dear ones, both living and dead. May we all plant our feet firmly in the soil, lift our spirits beyond the clouds, and be part of making 2009 a great year. Yes, we can!

On the 4th Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

The big question of the day is this: Is Christmas Day the FIRST
day of Christmas or is the 26th the first? If the former, Christmas season would end the day before Epiphany, Jan. 5. If the latter, Epiphany (Jan. 6) would count as the 12th day of Christmas. Now, I realize this may not concern you overly, dear reader, what with everything else there is to be anxious about. But I think it's very important. Especially, since 9.9 Americans out of 10, don't even know that Christmas BEGINS on Christmas Day. including most Christians. :)

Actually, I find it quite artificial trying to fit into the church's calendar when the culture is so counter to it. Yet, as I grow older, the shallowness of much Christmas-ing causes me to prefer following the ancient tradition. Because that tradition puts the emphasis on the birth of Jesus, the Christ. It is calming, sobering, and hopeful. It is not about getting, or even giving, as much as it is about acknowledging and thanking God for the awesome mystery and wonder that surrounds this Jesus baby.

We seem to think the holiday is about us--especially our families and other loved ones. And of course it does flow over into loving acts and gifts. But I look at the children singing in our kids' choirs, at their gorgeous clothing (especially the girls), at their parents or grandparents taking pictures or video of the"performance" as if it really is just about them. (One friend told me of a particular Christmas Eve service at a local church which was preceded by 45 minutes of musical "performing" and continued in the same vein throughout the service, with even the Scripture readings being cut short to have enough time for the performing. The congregation was more audience than participants.)

There is a fine line between singing in praise to God and singing for the aggrandizement of the musicians or the director. In the parish I attend, that line tends (at least with teens and adults) to stay on the side of praise. But with the little ones, not so much. I'm not blaming the children or their leaders. The adults in their lives are so smitten with them they can't even offer themselves to God without being preened over. They are being taught, over and over again, that they are the center of all that is, instead of God.

Well, if today is the 4th day of Christmas, and if my true love was actually here with me, I guess I'd be given 4 calling birds, whatever they are, and asked to stop my rant. So I will! May your Christmas be filled with gratitude to God and joy in offering yourself in service to the One who gives us ALL!

Love, laugh, listen, look, and breathe!

Our Island Home

Forty years ago today the Apollo 8 astronauts sent us this photo of our home and blessed us with words about "In the beginning..."
I remember how bleak the world seemed that year. Our daughter was a toddler and we feared for her future. I guess I still do. Perhaps 'twas ever thus.

The quote below was in a NYTimes column commemorating that significant, humanity-changing event. And even though he speaks as though all humans are men, I think his words are timeless.

“To see the earth as it truly is,” wrote Archibald Macleish on Page A1 of The Times, “small and blue and beautiful in that eternal silence where it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the earth together, brothers on that bright loveliness in the eternal cold — brothers who know now they are truly brothers.”

In the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer there is a phrase in one Eucharistic prayer that speaks of God creating galaxies, suns, moons and "this fragile earth, our island home." It's hard to think of earth as fragile when one is "on" it. But looking at that beautiful little planet from afar, those words become believable.

We Christians believe that the fragile little One who came as God Incarnate is still the Christ of the Cosmos, living, loving, urging us, and all the universe, to turn toward our Creator and come home--to God, to ourselves, to our brothers and sisters, to this island home. Come home to redemption and resurrection to real Life. Come home to compassion, true stewardship, cooperation, acceptance, peace. Now is the time, if there ever was one. Forty years from now, when beings look at earth from space, what will they see?

In these full days, don't forget the One who gives you every breath you take. Breathe. Look. Listen. Laugh. LOVE!!!

Make a Smilebox greeting

Warm and safe inside

Looks like we'll have a white Christmas this year for sure. As I write, I glance out the window above my desk and watch a fine, but persistent, snow both falling and blowing. It's a "wintry mix", they say. Whatever it is, I'm grateful to be safe and warm inside. I think our society really loves snow days. All the schools in the tri-county area were closed. Rather nice, too, since it's the last school day before Christmas break. How else can we stop, reflect, prioritize, listen to our deepest spirits, pray, rejoice in the magnificent blessings that surround us? Of course, if you happen to be homeless, unemployed, chronically ill, in prison either internal or external, it's not so easy to feel "safe and warm inside" or to rejoice.

Today I want to remember especially a woman named Audrie. Her funeral is today and I'm sad not to be there. Audrie has always had family struggles and stresses, as long as I can remember. Not to mention serious and long-lasting health problems. She and Norris got on particularly well and when we three were at the same service at church, we all made sure to give and receive hugs. Audrie was the best hugger I ever knew. She was warm and generous, full-bodied and sincere in her offers of affection. I'm glad she lived to see an African American chosen to be our President. She would be very pleased, I'm sure. Thank you, Audrie, for your rich laugh and warm personality and for your unconditional hugs! May your spirit find joy beyond measure.

Think I'll stop and write a check to our local food bank. God bless us--every one!

Another year of surviving--even living

Well, I have survived three years alone. It hardly seems possible. There were so many months when I wondered how I ever would make it without Norris and our closeness for over 40 years.I'm too tired tonight to say anything very profound. Just that M and I put up the tree and tried to do the lights the way he always did. We toasted him, remembered the sorrow of his last year of life, but also remembered his strength and reliability and his genuine love for us both. We cried some and laughed a lot. And when we hugged, I felt his arms around us both.

I no longer "expect" him to come back. I am grateful for the life he and we had. He gave a great deal; he received a great deal, as well. Except for his deep and well-founded concerns for the world in general, he really was a pretty happy man.

I am grateful for all the ways in which God has helped me through this valley. I am thankful for the men and women who love me and let me love them in return. Being widowed is very, very hard; but this year I finally feel that I not only will survive till it's my time, but I will live, as fully as possible.

Here's to you, Norris. May your spirit soar like an eagle!

One good way to save energy

My latest rant: Americans are too clean. Quit washing so much! Think of the energy, water, and time you'd save if you didn't take a shower every.single.day!!! OK, if you're dirty and sweaty, that's one thing. But if you aren't, why not take what we used to call a "sponge bath" every other day or so? Or apply a little strategically placed talcum powder.

And why do you have to take L-O-N-G showers? Norris used to say I could take faster showers than anyone he knew. Well, you get in, you get wet, you soap up, you rinse off. What else is there to do? Washing hair adds a bit, of course, but that doesn't have to be done every.single.day either.

I know, dear reader, you are probably shocked and appalled. But really! It's been proven that Americans are more vulnerable to disease because we're too darned clean. We need to build up some immunity; get a little tougher; be a little more natural. We are members of the animal kingdom, after all. Lots of people don't shower daily, or drown their bodies in powders, lotions, and perfumes. And they seem to be loved--by someone!

Furthermore, except for your underwear or a nasty spill, you don't have to throw everything you wear each day into the laundry. If you hang it up and let it, er, "air out", you can wear it again; maybe even three times. Think of the water, soap, natural gas to heat the water, and electricity you could save if you wore musty clothes once in a while!

We're using too much water; too much natural gas, too much soap, shampoo, etc. which pollute the water, too much electricity. So what can you do to help save the earth? and your life?

BE DIRTY!!! And don't forget to breathe--and laugh!!

Tom Merton, Angel Unaware?

Today is the 40th anniversary of the untimely death, at 53, of Thomas Merton, aka Father Louis, a remarkable Trappist monk who seemed to have written down almost every thought he ever had. He published 70 books, as well as quantities of letters, articles, etc. I have one large volume of just peace and justice type letters he exchanged with countless notable people--famous and not.

Why am I drawn to him and why do I call him an angel? Well if this wasn't the "irrational season", I probably wouldn't be crazy enough to tell you. Maybe 20 years ago, long before I knew much about TM, as I call him, I was driving somewhere early one morning, when suddenly I became strongly aware that he was sitting in the passenger seat. The "vision" wasn't physical, but still I just knew he was there and I couldn't imagine why. I certainly hadn't been consciously thinking about him or desiring anything in particular. I don't think I'd even read any of his books. His presence felt safe, intriguing, somehow reassuring. Lots of time passed, I did read several books, and then again he seemed present. One morning I was putting on my makeup and felt sure he was watching me, leaning against the door frame, one foot crossed over the other, arms folded, a broad smile on his face. OK. Have you written me off yet?

Off and on, over all these years he's "shown up", sometimes at my request, but often capriciously. I began to see him as my guardian angel, though I have no real idea what that means. Still, it felt nice. Once when I made a solitary retreat in a hermitage down the road from Our Lady of Gethsemane, his monastery, near Bardstown, KY, I felt fearful at night--isolated, no telephone, no covering for the window in the door. Every night, as I lay in bed, scared, I asked him to protect me and immediately fell asleep.

The strangest thing happened once a couple of years ago when I was meditating. The thought came to me to look in a certain Merton book on a certain page. I don't remember what it was. I thought, "Well, I've really gone over the edge now!" But after the prayer time, it kept bugging me, so I finally found the book and opened to the page. In the midst of that page, he mentioned being someone's guardian angel!!! He referenced a specific person , but there was the term, guardian angel. There, where I would never had found it otherwise, among the many Merton books I own and the millions of words! How could I not believe we have some sort of spiritual bond?

The last time I went to his grave site at Gethsemane (I've been there several times), a retreatant, sitting under a tree, watched me and when I moved away and walked past him, he asked if I was a Merton fan. Before I stopped to think, I said, "Oh no, he's my friend." The man's face lit up and he asked if I had known Merton. No, I said, not in this life, but we are definitely friends. And I'm sure the spirit of TM is "friends" with countless other souls.

Here is part of a tribute to Merton from Joan Chittister, another amazing person of God. In part, she wrote:

Once upon a time some disciples begged their old and ailing master not to die. "But if I do not go, how will you ever see?" the Master said to them. "What is it we can possibly see when you are gone?" one of them asked. With a twinkle in his eye, the Master answered, "All I ever did in my entire life was to sit on the river bank handing out river water. After I'm gone, I trust that you will notice the river."

The lesson rings true: What teachers teach us while they live is one thing; the quality of what they leave us to think about the rest of our lives is another. Thomas Merton was a fascinating, engaging, offbeat, charming and provocative personality, true. But what he directed the world to see was far more than the mystique, the mystery of the cloistered life. He left us things worth thinking about for a long, long time.

Merton saw the world through a heart uncluttered by formulas and undimmed by systems. He taught more than piety and asceticism for its own sake. He taught concepts that flew in the face of tradition then and fly in the face of culture still: the sin of poverty, the moral imperative of peace, the rectitude of stewardship, the holy power of nonviolence, the sanctity of globalism and essence of enlightenment. Merton sowed seeds of contemplation that led to action---an often forgotten but always bedrock spiritual concept.

In Jewish spirituality, for instance, two concepts dominate and are intertwined: The one, devekut, translates as "clinging to God" or contemplation; the other, tikkun o'lam, translates "repairing the world" the work of justice. One without the other---contemplation without justice, clinging to mystery without repairing the real world---is unfinished, the tradition teaches, is dark without light, is grand without great, is soul without body.

Contemplation, Merton teaches us, is learning to see the world as God sees the world. The contemplative sees the world through the eyes of God and the real contemplative is driven to respond according to the mind of God for it. Clinging to God, in other words, generates the passion it takes to repair the world.

Whatever my personal experience may or may not mean, I am grateful for a brilliant and faithful man who sought God and taught us to seek and find, as well. May his spirit continue to bless, even as I pray he rests in peace.

A Quiet Winter Day

Today turned out very differently than I expected. Last night, too.
I planned to go to a concert, but my friend and I didn't want to go out. This morning instead of going to church, I held and comforted my poor little dog as she went through her monthly (almost to the day) seizure. The social engagement I had at noon was canceled. Was I blue? Not really. I enjoy the opportunity to hole up in my cozy domain on a very cold day.

I spent several hours on the early stages of categorizing thousands of my husband's slides, such as the one above. Seeing the various winter photos reminded me of the amazing accident he had almost a year before his death. He was down by the Red Cedar River taking pictures (what else?) late one extremely cold afternoon in January. No one was around. He stepped off the trail onto what looked like solid snow, but wasn't, and fell on his back in snow and water. He was there at least half an hour, unable to get up, calling for help, no one nearby, daylight fading, unable to reach his cell phone. He felt sure he was going to die alone in the cold.

Suddenly Nathan appeared--a slender teen on his bike, who just "happened" by. He struggled for some time to get Norris to his feet, then helped him stumble to his car. Once there, he called me and I FLEW down there to get him. Meanwhile, once the call was made, Nathan jumped on his bike and disappeared. Fortunately, Norris had gotten his name and remembered it.

Our daughter and her friend arrived, we bundled our dear man, desperately shaking, in a blanket and rushed off to the nearby hospital. They took him right into ER, warmed him up, gave him fluids, and checked his body for signs of frostbite. Except for two small spots, he was
all right and they sent him home. (This all happened just before he was about to begin chemo-therapy for lymphoma.)

But here's the most amazing part of the story. Nathan went home and said not a word about his heroism. When I contacted his mother a few days later, she had no idea what I was talking about. You see, Nathan was home-schooled and that late afternoon he decided, for no particular reason, to take a bike ride. She wondered why he would do that on such a bitterly cold day, but he was almost out of high school and she wouldn't/couldn't really stop him. She noticed he was gone quite a while and that when he returned, his cheeks were bright red. But he said nothing of how he had saved a man's life. How grateful we were and always will be to that young man, whom I'm sure the Spirit led to take his bike out just when he did.

So the pictures brought back those memories today, as I sat here with my little dog and two cats. And of course I missed Norris, but also remembered what a character he was, what fun he was, how courageous he was. And I am grateful once more.

Have a wonderful new week! And please don't let Christmas become too overwhelming, if you can help it--especially if you're a mom. May you find the Light in your darkness.

Open my Eyes

As long as I can remember I have known this old hymn "Open my Eyes that I might See":

Open my eyes, that I may see

Glimpses of truth Thou hast for me;

Place in my hands the wonderful key

That shall unclasp and set me free.

Silently now I wait for Thee,

Ready, my god, Thy will to see;

Open my eyes, illumine me.

Spirit divine!

Open my ears, that I may hear

Voices of truth Thou sendest clear;

And while the wave-notes fall on my ear,

Everything false will disappear.

Silently now I wait for Thee,

Ready, my God, Thy will to see;

Open my eyes, illumine me.

Spirit divine!

Open my mouth, and let me bear

Gladly the warm truth everywhere;

Open my heart, and let me prepare

Love with Thy children thus to share.

Silently now I wait for The

Ready, my God, Thy will to see;

Open my eyes, illumine me.

Spirit divine!

It was the opening prayer focus for a quiet morning at church today. Led by my dear friend, Steve, it was just a simple, quiet three hours--time for the four of us who came to re-collect ourselves, to remember who and Whose we are; to meditate on the significance of Advent, of Mary's "yes" to God's invitation. Nothing spectacular occurred; we all just spent the morning where we chose, doing what we chose to do or not do. But when we gathered to reflect before leaving, there was a noticeable difference in each of us: our countenances, our voices, the joy that couldn't be hidden, the tenderness with which we hugged one another. We spoke of "holding the center", helping to keep our dear world from flying apart, just by our act of faithfulness and open awareness. Not ours, alone, of course; but yes, ours, as well. I am grateful for the opportunity and that I was willing to accept it. I pray each of us can find at least a few minutes of quiet reflection during these demanding and concerning days.

May you look, listen, breathe deeply. And may you notice and celebrate laughter and love!

The Irrational Season

I wrote this last year and am re-posting it, because, well, I like it!

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason,
There'd have been no room for the child.

I love this little poem by Madeleine L'Engle, a zany and brilliant woman who wrote copiously and with great joy. I thought of it and her as Advent began. The Cathedral Church of St. John the DIvine in New York was rededicated Sunday, finally restored after a disastrous fire in 2001. Madeleine worked for many years in the library at the Cathedral. As well, my mother-in-law went to missionary school on the grounds of that magnificent church. When I saw it for myself in 2002, I was overwhelmed with its beauty and magnitude. I can only imagine how it looks today, sparkling and open--"a house of prayer to all people"--as it proclaims itself to be. (That's Biblical, by the way.) And as an Episcopalian, I know how wondrous the liturgy Sunday must have been. With all its faults, I do believe the Episcopal/Anglican church's greatest gifts are beautiful liturgy and, usually, inclusiveness.

Madeleine came here to speak years ago, when my daughter was young and a huge fan of her children's fantasies. We had the privilege of escorting her. What a kind and fascinating woman! She delighted in children and encouraged M. to hang on to her imagination and nurture her creativity. I'm grateful for Madeleine L'Engle, God rest her soul. I'm grateful for all people, especially women, who have the courage to put what they have to give out where others can access it. By the way, she was turned down by publishers for years before finally being accepted.

In this "irrational season" put away your doubts, your skepticism, your false humility. Let love bloom bright and wild. Make room for all that wants to be born through you. God asks; let us answer "yes"!!

Look at the beauty; listen to the music; laugh at yourself; love with all your heart; breathe in the Life that keeps your feet on the ground and your soul in flight.