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