I've been visiting Robert in Santa Fe for the past three weeks and will be here three more weeks. Santa Fe and New Mexico in general, are intriguing, unique and very different from the culture I lived in for 68 years. I can say I'm starting to get used to it and yet, I also feel a bit of a stranger here.
What is it about place that is so significant to our beings? For 10 years Ghost Ranch, just a short drive north of here, has been a "sacred place" for me. There I have been inspired, affirmed, and challenged by God's manifestation in countless forms. On the surface, I don't feel like it "fit" there. I am not a hiker, an outdoors person, a fan of Georgia O'Keefe. The land is strange, rather foreboding, and one is struck with how very "old" it is. In 2000, when my friend, Kathy Swearingen, first encouraged me to send a teaching proposal to the Ranch, which is a 21,000 acre camp and conference center, I could not imagine they would be interested in my offerings. I had to figure out what to even offer. Eventually, I proposed "Abloom in the Desert: A Retreat for Women", which was accepted for 2002 and which I repeated four years in a row. What a thrill it was to spend a week with incredible women from around the country, to assist them (and myself) in growing more aware of God's Presence--within, in relationships, in community, in the earth, and in the world.
I returned in 2007, taking a year off when Norris died, to be a worship leader and peripatetic spiritual director/friend to whomever I encountered. In '08, I spent the month of April at Casa del Sol, the spiritual center for the ranch, as a resident spiritual director, and bonded with beautiful people with whom I still have contact. Then came another opportunity for leading. In '09 and '10 I led co-ed retreats at Casa del Sol in which we explored finding our home, our dwelling place, in God.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
The time has come!
It's definitely time to write. No apologies. I'll just get right into it.
In a few months, I will be moving to Santa Fe, NM, to make a home with Robert! We are both excited and committed and scared. What a thing to do at our stage of life. And yet, it has become more and more clear that we want to make a life together, not just "drop in" on one another's existing lives.
This became most clear in June when we endured the horror and grief of the death of my dear niece, Laurie.
How we could have done it without Robert's gentle but strong support, I really don't know. He became more than my love; he became part of the family.
And so now I'm leaving them. Or so it feels. I can rationalize all over the place about phones and emails and Facetime and visits. The fact remains, however, that things will never be the same again. I am choosing to leave my daughter, who means the world to me, my friends, the church, the community in which I've been active for almost 50 years, the state in which I have dwelt for 70 years. It's a hell of a lot to let go of and some days it feels just dreadful.
I am going to a new place with a "new" person, with whom I share the deepest spiritual, emotional, physical, intellectual ties. We both sense God's call to this union. Maybe someday we'll even make it legal! There is a sense of great adventure and opportunity; a chance to start over in some ways, while retaining that which is truly important.
The witness I want to make in this post is that we are trusting in the One who is in all things, but contained by no thing--the One who loves us and guides us and accepts us as we are; the One who blesses abundantly and invites us to bless as reflections of that One! We place our hope and trust in God in spite of the darkness of this world, in spite of the relatively short time we have left on this earth. We are taking a stand for Love in all its wonder and depth and power.
Your prayers and blessings will be most appreciated!
Breathe, listen and love!
In a few months, I will be moving to Santa Fe, NM, to make a home with Robert! We are both excited and committed and scared. What a thing to do at our stage of life. And yet, it has become more and more clear that we want to make a life together, not just "drop in" on one another's existing lives.
This became most clear in June when we endured the horror and grief of the death of my dear niece, Laurie.
How we could have done it without Robert's gentle but strong support, I really don't know. He became more than my love; he became part of the family.
And so now I'm leaving them. Or so it feels. I can rationalize all over the place about phones and emails and Facetime and visits. The fact remains, however, that things will never be the same again. I am choosing to leave my daughter, who means the world to me, my friends, the church, the community in which I've been active for almost 50 years, the state in which I have dwelt for 70 years. It's a hell of a lot to let go of and some days it feels just dreadful.
I am going to a new place with a "new" person, with whom I share the deepest spiritual, emotional, physical, intellectual ties. We both sense God's call to this union. Maybe someday we'll even make it legal! There is a sense of great adventure and opportunity; a chance to start over in some ways, while retaining that which is truly important.
The witness I want to make in this post is that we are trusting in the One who is in all things, but contained by no thing--the One who loves us and guides us and accepts us as we are; the One who blesses abundantly and invites us to bless as reflections of that One! We place our hope and trust in God in spite of the darkness of this world, in spite of the relatively short time we have left on this earth. We are taking a stand for Love in all its wonder and depth and power.
Your prayers and blessings will be most appreciated!
Breathe, listen and love!
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Ghost Ranch says I have a blog. Spiritual Directors Network says I have a blog. My email signature includes my blog address. Yikes, I thought! Maybe I should post something on my blog. After all, even though the title of the last post was "Time is Irrelevant", it *has* been almost a year.
Can that be true? Have I had nothing worth saying for almost a year? Nah! I've said lots--on Facebook, in person, in emails, in gatherings. Anyone who knows me would not describe me at "speechless". I wonder if writing blogs has dwindled somewhat as more and more means for social interaction on the internet become available. In my case,I have to say it's been sheer laziness. At least twice a week I have THE most insightful, inspiring idea to share with the world. And then, nada. I do nothing about it. So now you've heard my confession and I'm trusting you've granted me absolution and we can move on together.
Tomorrow is the first day of Advent, the time when Christians around the world reflect on the people, the actions, the challenges that led up to the birth of Jesus, the Christ. We're asked to search our own hearts, prepare a way for our God, walk with Mary as she lives out the consequences of saying "yes". I know there are countless stimulants out there to distract us. AND, I believe we don't need to let that be an excuse to avoid once again returning to Bethlehem.
Here is my favorite Advent poem, by Madeleine L'Engle, one of the greatest writers of our time.
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
Can that be true? Have I had nothing worth saying for almost a year? Nah! I've said lots--on Facebook, in person, in emails, in gatherings. Anyone who knows me would not describe me at "speechless". I wonder if writing blogs has dwindled somewhat as more and more means for social interaction on the internet become available. In my case,I have to say it's been sheer laziness. At least twice a week I have THE most insightful, inspiring idea to share with the world. And then, nada. I do nothing about it. So now you've heard my confession and I'm trusting you've granted me absolution and we can move on together.
Tomorrow is the first day of Advent, the time when Christians around the world reflect on the people, the actions, the challenges that led up to the birth of Jesus, the Christ. We're asked to search our own hearts, prepare a way for our God, walk with Mary as she lives out the consequences of saying "yes". I know there are countless stimulants out there to distract us. AND, I believe we don't need to let that be an excuse to avoid once again returning to Bethlehem.
Here is my favorite Advent poem, by Madeleine L'Engle, one of the greatest writers of our time.
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
Don't forget to breathe, laugh, love!
Thursday, December 8, 2011
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.
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.
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