Time is Irrelevant

If you're willing to check in, hello again! What a drought in writing. I have an excuse, as you know if you've read this space in the last six months. That's right! Robert and I have been together for six months.

The older I get, the more I realize time has little true meaning. Hard to believe it's been six months. And yet, we knew we were in love in just a few short days together. Sometimes the weeks apart have seemed like years. Time flies; time stands still. For us, it has done both. So this blog can withstand a little "time away" and still be viable, I have decided.

I experienced time's mysterious movements in a special way this week. Answering the phone, I heard a hesitant male voice ask if this could be someone named Carol? I said it not only could be, it would be and he chuckled. You probably won't remember me, said he, but my son died of AIDS 15 years ago and you spent a lot of time with us in the hospital.

Well, did I remember! Of course, I told him. I could never forget you. You and your son were unforgettable. He was calling to ask my advice about another situation, but we moved way beyond that topic, recalling his fine son, him updating me on the rest of his family and offering sympathy for my husband's death. We remembered when his son and my mother were in the same nursing facility. We noted that if that young man had been diagnosed with AIDS more recently, he would probably still be alive. I told him of Robert and the fun and challenge of living so far apart. He rejoiced with me and said how much my presence had helped in those awful days of pain, fear, and ultimately death. For us, no time had passed. We might have talked last week, we were so open and comfortable together. At least three times he offered to end the conversation, saying he didn't want to take "too much of my time". He couldn't possibly "take" too much of "my" time and on we talked!

Eternal Life is where time has no meaning--where all is right now. I was given a small foretaste of Heaven this week. I am deeply grateful. Not enough time to get ready for Christmas? It doesn't matter. It truly doesn't.

A Different Point of View

I know. I haven't written recently. Love takes time!!!

Little dog, Tessa, has taken to using the front yard for her toilet. Not sure why. Maybe she was tired of the scenery in the back. I have noticed the difference, too. This is me, thinking: "Oh, this is how the front yard looks in the morning. I never noticed how pretty that birch tree is. I need to work on the front garden. I can see the mist over the grass in the park across the way and the sun light sparkling on the dew in my neighbor's yard. It's very pretty out here. I didn't "see" this before in quite this way."

Seems a good metaphor for my changing point of view in life. The glow of being in love has softened my inner being. I attribute this change to the prayer life Robert and I experience daily. Even when we don't feel much like doing it, we pray, morning and evening. And always it brings us closer to God and one another and to ourselves. We learn, we marvel, we question, we wonder, we ponder, we puzzle, we give thanks, we celebrate, we stand in awe. The discipline of beginning and ending the day intentionally opening ourselves to God's ever-present Presence has changed us, given us a rhythm, a continuity, a remembering of who and Whose we are. The tone of our conversation, even of our voices, changes after we've done the prayers. We see things from a different point of view and we observe how that seeing has affected those around us, those we know and love and total strangers.

As I write, it is the most beautiful Michigan morning--cool, sunny, crisp. There is a hint of the approaching autumn, that loveliest of seasons in my opinion. May you see life through the eyes of Love today, through the Eyes of God. May your point of view be a deep blessing!

Remember to breathe, laugh, look and listen!

"What is this thing called Love?"

You've heard the saying "be careful what you wish for", implying that if it shows up you might be sorry. First of all, I am NOT sorry! Falling in love with Robert is one of the most wonderful things that has ever happened to me, second only to being married to Norris and giving birth to the wonderful Melissa.

We often wish to be happy. I am happy. Is it easy? Is it stree-free? Am I totally comfortable with it? No. No. No. Two months ago I was tooling along, mostly accepting the widowhood status, joining the fitness center, enjoying my friends and spiritual direction practice, kind of "fishing" for a new man in my life. I was independent, could come and go as I chose, didn't have to please anyone but my dog and two cats; I had freedom.

Now I'm a "prisoner of love". Now there is someone who cares. Now there is someone for whom I care. Decisions aren't made lightly. My time is not just my own. Now others miss my presence. Now I don't know if I'm coming or going. Now I don't know if I want to stay in Lansing or move to Santa Fe. Now he doesn't know either. Now I pray with him morning and evening, even when I don't feel like it. He does the same. Now I try to think of ways to surprise and please him; he does the same.

Why is it so hard to change? Especially when the change promised is the best thing you can think of? Because we're creatures of habit, I guess. Because we like security and predictability, I guess.
Because we're a bit afraid of the new, I guess.

Would I have things any other way? Not a chance! I am grateful to my core. This "thing" called love is exciting, stimulating, creative, delightful, sometimes painful, always a deep joy! May God help us to change, to fall into love, to touch the other, and through that touch, help to heal the world.

Summer Solstice

As I write on this beautiful June evening, the longest hours of daylight in the year, I listen to a collection of songs which I received in the mail today from a wonderful man. He has become so dear to my heart in just a few short months, after we connected in an e-course on The Spirituality of Gratitude. And each of us has become increasingly grateful for the other and for our growing relationship.

Today I had tea with a friend who has gone through a terrible physical ordeal. She struggles to come back to who she was before or to find a new direction, filled with conflicting emotions and uncertainties.

After she had shared her story, I felt it was OK to tell her about the "new life" I'm experiencing. After over five years of learning to be independent, of living alone, of surviving without my partner of 40 years, of suffering deep loneliness, God has opened the way to another love, one that is rich in every way, with God at the center. New love doesn't cancel the old, of course, but it brings discovery, hope, fun, delight, opportunities, joy, gratitude.

I could see how the radiance of my face was infectious; how my friend began to smile and how her eyes sparkled. The love he and I have found is spilling over into other lives, as each of us desires to be more patient, more trusting, more gracious, more pleasant with everyone we encounter, with all life. It is a privilege and joy to share our happiness with you, whoever reads this.

Jesus said, "I have come that you may have life and that you may have it more abundantly." May you find life ever more abundant, friend, even in the midst of all the fears, concerns, wonderments, changes, confusions. Love is stronger than all of it!

A Sweet Day of Gratitude

You know how teachers rejoice when they see a student succeed or reconnect with one years later and receive appreciation? Well, today I really felt like a spiritual director with a history--not of students, of course, but of precious persons who have chosen to sit with me over time, sharing prayer, silent meditation, their struggles, their special relationships, their fears, their surprises of Grace, their awe, their love, their very souls.

I attended the Ordination of a young directee to the Methodist ministry this afternoon, in Adrian, where I was born. In fact, I was baptized in the United Methodist Church there. Years later, I began trekking there to retreats, experiencing the beauty and grace of Weber Center and the Adrian Dominican nuns.

But today was a day to observe and rejoice. The Bishop preached an inspiring sermon, the music was lovely, and I was moved as I stood to support him during the formal laying on of hands.

Confidentiality does not allow me to use his name, though he probably wouldn't mind folks hearing about the commitment he made today--one that he knows will not be easy or make him materially rich or allow for much leisure time. I was so proud of him. And when I met family members, they all knew who I was, said they'd heard about me, said how much I had influenced him. Really? I didn't know that. Of course we know it was the Spirit that touched him, but I was definitely involved. :)

At the reception, I connected with a dear friend, Bob Roth, a pastor in Ann Arbor. At a critical time in his journey we spent a couple of years meeting for direction. As we stood talking, he spoke to another pastor, who looked at me wide-eyed, then threw her arms around me. Another former directee, one whose first child (now in college) I blessed in utero as his mom sat on my living room couch. She and Bob told the newly ordained how much their time in direction had meant to them.

Upon arriving home, I found a phone message from yet another former directee who had managed to finish an exhausting and very challenging physical event. She called to thank me for my prayer support. Opened the email and there were messages from two current directees, one reporting on a recent trip and saying thanks for my prayers; the other from one who had had a good retreat experience.

I wonder why God does this sometimes. Why would I receive "messages" of love, confidence, respect and gratitude from SIX different ones I have loved through this ministry, all on the same day--a day, incidentally, when I skipped going to my own church? :)

What a grace to be surrounded with that love and respect! A real affirmation of a calling to a significant ministry. Not a ministry that is publicly noticed or lauded; not a ministry that pays much money; not a ministry that many are even aware of; but a ministry that offers precious intimate understanding and support for anyone seeking a deeper relationship with God and with his or her self. I am so proud to be a part of this ministry, so grateful to give and receive the love of good and sincere people.

I guess this post is pretty much "all about me", but I hope you who read it will be blessed somehow and will realize that whatever you give with a loving and generous heart is received by God and others and it does make a difference.

Vanity, vanity

Why must my upper arms be flabby and look all wrinkled and bumpy? This is of utmost importance to me today. Because there's nothing else in all of creation to be concerned about, is there? Oh, well, I suppose a few impending disasters. But how could any of those put me into such a snit as seeing how the new clothes I tried on yesterday showed those ugly old arms? And I feel sure I'm the only 68 year old woman in the world who looks this way. :)

It's almost that bad and that sad. I'm disgusted with myself--for caring, for letting my arms get that way, for allowing my ego to be so easily distracted, for having the audacity to think I am a fairly spiritually deep person. Huh! Nope. Just a human being, darn it. I wanted to be perfect; I needed to be perfect. Otherwise no one would love me, right?

And even though I thoroughly believe God loves me, why do I still fear people don't? From the outside view, many would say I am successful and popular, even beloved by some. But stand in a women's clothing store looking at my less than perfect image in the mirror and I fall off into a pit of self-contempt. Well, it's humbling. It truly is.

So I have no wisdom or piety to offer today. Just an admission that I take two steps forward and one step back, like everyone else. But then, when I think of it, that sounds like a dance, doesn't it?
Maybe life really is a dance, eh?
Hope I can just manage to stay upright.

Oh and by the way, the bird in the porch light nest is a robin!!!

And then I looked up!

And there it was! Birds had built their nest on my porch light.
I know. It happens all the time. But not to me!

For several days I wondered why all this long dead grass was decorating the front porch. I assumed it had blown there. Twice I swept the porch and before I knew it, there was all that stuff again. Even as I write, it sounds like I was pretty dumb, or to be nicer about it, unaware. But, finally, I looked up and there it was! I can't see into the nest, of course, but I have caught sight of a bird whipping past my kitchen window. Can't identify it yet, though my guess is it's a house sparrow.

This comes at a time when I have been particularly drawn to birds, especially the eagles in Decorah, Iowa, where a live web cam allows me to be a "peeping Carol" whenever I want to. I witnessed the 3rd eaglet as it opened its egg and have watched with delight as the parents carefully nurture these three less-than-beautiful children. Seeing them, it's hard to believe they will grow into the magnificent birds their parents embody. At the site, I learned that these eagles mate for life; that their former nest was destroyed by a storm in '07; that this 5-6' wide and deep nest is 80' up in a tree. I've watched the parents trade off: one on the nest, the other out hunting. Of course some of the unfortunate hunted look yucky as the eagles rip them to shreds, but this is the way of nature. I learned that on the farm as a child. Sometimes the nest looks pretty bloody and messy, but in no time the parents have cleaned house and all looks fine again.

Meanwhile, at Fenner Nature Center, kids from a local school class are spending the week experiencing something called Annie's BIG Nature Lesson.
From their website, here is the Mission of ABNL:
The mission of Annie's BIG Nature Lesson is to immerse children, teachers, and parents in the beauty and wonder of the natural world; to engage them in authentic scientific investigations by observing the local ecology, drawing and writing; to nurture citizens who value and protect natural resources; and to build a school-community partnership that inspires responsible environmental stewardship.

And so while I was there yesterday, I talked with the Director, Margaret Holtschlag. We soon discovered that she had known my late husband, Norris, for whom a special fund for nature education is named at Fenner. She told me of how she had encountered him once out in the park somewhere, taking pictures, of course. She didn't remember the conversation, but said she'd never forget the look on his face. It communicated beyond words his passion for nature and photography. Oh yes, my husband, the contemplative--the one I used to think wasn't very "spiritual". Needless to say, Margaret and I quickly bonded.

I was helping with data entry for Bill Earl's Fishing Event, something collaborative instigated by a good friend of the late Bill Earl, who loved fishing. On three consecutive Saturdays in May, 50 kids each time, at three locations, will be taught how to fish and given a free fishing pole. Each event is nearly full. It was fun to see how the kids are coming from outlying communities, as well as Lansing, how there are lots of girls signed up, as well as boys. There was a set of triplets even!

Well, how does all this hang together? I'm not sure.
I'll leave that for you to ponder, dear reader.

I give thanks for rain, though I am mighty tired of it.

Remember to breathe, look, laugh & love!

Spring by Mary Oliver

At this time of life, I find poetry often expresses the inexpressible longings in my soul. A friend just sent me the following Mary Oliver poem. Somehow it says enough for today.

May you allow New Life to fill your soul, dear reader!

Spring

Somewhere
a black bear
has just risen from sleep
and is staring

down the mountain.
All night
in the brisk and shallow restlessness
of early spring

I think of her,
her four black fists
flicking the gravel,
her tongue

like a red fire
touching the grass,
the cold water.
There is only one question:

how to love this world.
I think of her
rising
like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against
the silence
of the trees.
Whatever else

my life is
with its poems
and its music
and its cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness
coming
down the mountain,
breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her –
her white teeth,
her wordlessness,
her perfect love.


- Mary Oliver

Looking out the window this morning, it is difficult to feel cheerful. It is dark, gloomy, wet, muddy, cold, and rather ugly. And besides, now that the snow has melted, I have a back yard richly decorated with dog turds. Even the dog doesn't like to walk out there!

Of course this means SPRING!!! And for that, I can feel very cheerful indeed. New life is bursting forth, in spite of the ugly weather. In the yard, crocuses (or is it croci?), daffodils, and hyacinths are displaying their leaves. It is a miracle. This is my 68th spring (or is it 69th?) and I am still startled and surprised. What is happening? Will there be leaves on the trees again? I've forgotten how that looks. Can I go outdoors without a coat and boots again? I've forgotten how that feels.

A number of loved ones have opted for a reprieve in warmer climes, not having to look at all this, at least for a few days. And I understand. I would like to join them. And yet, and yet...even without that respite in the south, I intend to celebrate and appreciate as best I can. "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof."

Mother Earth has been restless of late. I think she's angry and who can blame her? We humans, so arrogant and insistent on having our own way, are reminded, violently, that "mother" is in charge. It shakes us deeply, it breaks our hearts, it takes lives, it ruins lives, it changes everything. No matter how much I desire the loveliness and beauty of spring, the earth will do what it is meant to do, whether I like it or not. So today, at least, I choose to like it, mud, turds and all.

To date or not to date: that is the question.

Sorry I haven't written in so long. Guess it was all that pea soup that did it! Actually, the ongoing pain in my mouth is a big factor. Turns out it may be neuralgia, since the dentist can find no cause or cure for it. Acupuncture next.

Anyway, I got crazy this week and signed up for a couple of online dating services, something I never thought I would do. Not only that, I also committed to working several hours a week at Fenner Nature Center. So I could be dealing with slime either place, don't you think?

This week I did the animal care, which involves feeding, watering, cleaning tanks, and bathing certain ones. The feeding is the really fun part: the green frog gets 10 live crickets; the snapping turtle gets two live earthworms, the garter snake gets four, etc. With some guidance, I bathed two box turtles and the poor little garter snake, who hates the bath, but has an infection in her touche (did you know they had one?) and has to be bathed daily. I had never handled this type of animal, though I grew up on a farm and have some "tolerance" for the realities of life. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it and how quickly I began to feel affection for these strange creatures.

Then I was asked to go through a large scrapbook, choosing articles about past maple syrup events. Most of the photos were taken by my late husband, who was a fixture at Fenner anyway, and so it was a bit of a sad journey, but good.

Which leads to the other thing: men. There is only one man in my life whom I feel truly drawn to, but he lives very far away and it appears we don't have a future. So, I'm trying to be brave and see who is out there, preferably someone a little closer geographically. I must admit it's kind of fun answering the questions, as well as reading about some of the men.

Lent is fast approaching, so do you think I should give up anything? I'd gladly give up this constant pain, of course, but perhaps it is teaching me something. I've agreed to lead four discussions, a quiet day and do a book review, all in March. Oy! I may have to give up men for a while longer!

Meanwhile, I pray for my seriously ill niece-in-law and for all the precious ones who are trying to find freedom and some sort of equality, be it in the Middle East, around the globe, or right here in America.

And I'm learning to be grateful--every day, trying to continue the "flow" of blessing. May it flow to you, as well.

Making Soup

Two days ago I started making split pea soup. It began with water, peas, ham hocks, onion and seasonings. After a long simmer, it went into the fridge. Yesterday I took the meat off the bones, skimmed fat off the broth, added carrots and celery and let it simmer for several hours. The aroma permeated the house. I like the smell even better than the taste!

My dad loved to make soup and put in everything "but the kitchen sink". Any little left-over this or that, he'd throw in. It was always delicious.

This reminded me of something I heard Mark Shields say on The News Hour the other evening:

Last week we saw a white Catholic male Republican judge murdered on his way to greet a Democratic Jewish woman member of Congress, who was his friend. Her life was saved initially by a 20-year-old Mexican-American gay college student, and eventually by a Korean American combat surgeon, and this all was eulogized by our African American President."

This country CAN be a delicious "soup", with all sorts of interesting combinations. Of course any cook knows that some flavors don't mix so well. The analogy doesn't really hold from here on. Because we Americans are already in this soup--all of us together--whether we like it or not. What kind of soup do we want it to be? Palatable, at least, I hope. I pray.

Meanwhile, I'm going to be eating pea soup for the foreseeable future. Just a little warning for those of you who might be near by!

I'm grateful for another day.

Winter reflection on compassion

It is snowing huge lovely flakes and I'm grateful I have a warm home! The other evening, after dropping a friend off at her place, I drove up Larch Street past the Volunteers of America shelter. It was bitter cold and windy. Suddenly I felt, viscerally, the reality that there are people, lots of them, with no place to sleep tonight. Not a new awareness, certainly, but a stark reminder that in this "proud" country we are content to allow millions of people to suffer, apparently because we believe it's each person for him/her self and if "they" would really try, they wouldn't be in this mess.

There's probably some truth to that. We are responsible for ourselves. At the same time, there is not one person on the face of this earth who got where they are simply on their own. We are intricately woven into the fabric of other lives--ancestors, family of origin, teachers, childhood friends, abusers, decision-makers, kind and caring others, mentors, bullies, and on and on. It is all too easy, and oh so self-satisfying, to think we "know" what makes another person tick. And the best part of judgementalism is that it distracts me from my own failings, weaknesses, mistakes, indecision, passivity. No matter how disappointed I may be in myself, there are always those others who, by comparison, are worse.

Still, every major religion encourages compassion, mercy, justice, community. How do we justify the trifling amount of private and public money that goes to care for those who need it most, be they elderly, disabled, children, whatever? We spend a god-awful fortune on defense, so sure that if we are "big" enough, no one will hurt us. No problem, folks. We're doing it to ourselves. I expect those who hate us are laughing to see our intentional trip to destruction. Sadly, how we treat "the least of these" is one of the most obvious signs.

Well, that's my first rant for 2011. I expect it's not the last. May we keep awake, aware, and compassionate in whatever ways, large and small, are presented to us.