Category Archives: action

Cloudy..,With a Chance of Meatballs

08 Friday May 2020

Posted by in action, fear, food, grace, Uncategorized

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satisfies you with good…

One of the effects of all the orders to shelter in place these past weeks has been the turning our attention to FOOD, in many ways–how to get it, who has access, whose recipes are being shared, and what satisfies.

On the creative/coping side, I have been delighted to receive recipes that people are sharing, pictures of fabulous concoctions that friends are experimenting with, reminiscences of old family standbys with a whimsical twist for this shelter in place. I myself, having abandoned the culinary arts in our house to the more talented for years, even I have even baked muffins for the last two weeks–for nourishment and for delight! The endeavors of those baking bread, creating interesting drinks and one-step cakes and casseroles make me happy when I see them on Facebook! I only wish I could taste them!

At the same time, I am daily aware of the epidemic of food scarcity and accessibility in the world due to the Covid-19 epidemic. Food banks and soup kitchens are running out of supplies more quickly than they can be refilled. Grocery stores cannot keep their shelves stocked. The lines of cars driving through stations where food is being shared go on for miles. And I am brought up short: what for me is entertainment, fun and nourishment is a gift of my privilege, and it calls me to find ways to act in ways that make sure that all God’s humans can find adequate food. I scour what I read and see for opportunities, and there are plenty to which I can give, deliver and for whom I can pray.. This week these doors opened: Bread for the World, a church pantry, a disaster fund, and an acquaintance that was suffering with no food herself! And today the city councilman provided a list of local food sources open for business. All of them gave me a chance to share from my bounty what I have been given.

Throughout Lent and Eastertide I have been seeing clouds as a metaphor for these time through which we are living–not in clear, sunny skies, but with the pandemic afoot in the world, in a sky with shadows, unpredictable, looming, sometimes even threatening. And the clouds remain! Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is a children’s book by Judi and Ron Barrett, the title of which seems to me, to describe part of the way I am living right now, we all are living, right now. All of the clouds of this upsetting time of our lives are evident: confinement, disappointment, loss, fractures of class and race in our culture, inept government, poverty, vitriol, meanness, uneasiness and anxiety, Yet I hear again the words of the Psalmist:

She sets her table before me in the presence of my inner enemies. She anoints my head with the oil of Her blessing. My cup of joy overflows! (Swallow’s Nest. Marchienne Rienstra)

Therefore, I continue down this path we are walking, “in the shadow of death” without fear, knowing that neven as the clouds continue, there a chance of a table…with meatballs, or cheese and crackers, or brownie torte…as we go. I pray for the Grace to live into that as I recycle that Grace to those I am given to care for!

Living a Word: Sanctuary

18 Wednesday Jan 2017

Posted by in action, beauty, sanctuary, Uncategorized

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Many bloggers and columnists advocate people of the journey to choose a word for the year ahead, and this year, in the wake of so much upheaval all round, my word has become SANCTUARY–to find my sanctuary in the Holy One, to be sanctuary from the storm and to offer sanctuary to the vulnerable and unprotected. The word and the intention feel big, daunting, yet absolutely necessary, since so many in the world are so fragile, so at risk and have so few resources for unknown roads of 2017.

So it was with joy when yesterday morning I got a phone call from my daughter in between appointments, asking if she could come to hang out at my house for awhile; “I need shelter,” she said. I agreed to her coming with alacrity, and for a few moments between tasks, we gave each other sanctuary–from traffic, weather, anxious cares and heavy sorrow. As the day unfolded, I kept remembering that mini-moment of sanctuary. What does sanctuary offer? what does it bring?

I am musing on those questions this week, as all over the universe things quiver and shake. The conversations into which I am invited nearly always have a shade of anxiety about how the world is turning–an earthquake, a bombing, a rupture, a parade of resistance. I do not believe that being and acting as sanctuary stops any of those disruptions, but I see that having some sanctuary–a place where it is safe to be who one is, a place without agendas to be accomplished, a place where all is well for the moment–can be an agent of healing and restoration. It is no wonder that Jesus invited his beloved ones to “Come apart and rest for awhile,” in the midst of a challenging and hostile environment.

So this year I will be reflecting on how I live in sanctuary and provide sanctuary for others. I know some elements: warmth–physical and spiritual; shelter–from noise and from harassment;  genuine welcome; and, I have come to believe, beauty. It is January, yet in my front yard white and purple irises continue to bloom. Other flowers pop up here and there. The gifts from the Advent and Christmas season bring illumination to new corners on the wall. New pictures of loved ones smile out at whomever is gathered. Familiar quilts and blankets, scented candles and delicious aromas make everyone feel at ease as they take respite here for the moment.

So I am living into claiming and being sanctuary while at the same time, I gather my resources that energize me to do justice in and for the places to which I am called; to love kindness and let it be the dominant tone of my words and actions; and to walk humbly with Holy One, learning what true sanctuary can mean for me and for the world. I have much to learn, but I am energized for the living of it!

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A Tune for All Seasons

25 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by in action, listening, open heart, peace, singing

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Some tunes seem to thread through my life. “Finlandia” by Jean Sibelius is one of them. I first knew it as a personal, contemplative song:

Be still my soul, the Lord is on thy side./Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain,/in all thy ways, God faithful will remain.

It comforted me, resourced and filled me when I felt very alone.

I then learned the tune as a rousing hymn to action:

We rest on Thee, our Shield and our Defender/ we go not forth alone against the foe./Strong in Thy strength and in Thy keeping tender/ we rest on Thee and in Thy name we go.

A call action in a military mode, in which my part of the community saw a need to defend ourselves and our beliefs against the enemies, waiting to attack us.

But we are in a different time, a more connected world, with much more expressed pain and rage, a much closer view of what is human behavior at its worst, and a continual call to imagining and being Christ’s peace in the world. So these words by Lloyd Stone and Georgia Harkness fill the tune today, my birthday, when I am in the process of recuperating from surgery, when I am given more confinement–but also more space–to actively and contemplatively give myself to the healing of this world in which I live, in which my children and grandchildren more and have their being, the world that God created, redeems and loves.

..hear my prayer, O God of all the nations, myself, I give thee, let thy will be done. 

Advent II: Love, the Bird

06 Sunday Dec 2015

Posted by in action, children, compassion, paying attention, waiting

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Birds, though you long have ceased to build, guard the nest that must be filled. Even the hour when wings are frozen God for fledgling time has chosen. People, look east and sing today: Love, the Bird, is on the way.  (Eleanor Farjeon)

As I look eastward out my window in the morning, I have a host of birds that entertain and intrigue me–mockingbirds, wrens, crows, the busy hummingbird quite in love with the fig tree next door, who drops in often, and if the wind is right, seagulls come screeching through. One morning we were even visited by an adolescent hawk, resting mid-flight on her way to somewhere. But even in our temperate climate, there seem to be fewer birds aloft than in spring and summer months.

According to the carol, the Advent task is guarding the nest that must be filled. This week my heart longs to know how to guard and protect the nests for the little ones in our world who are at risk. We are closely connected to our neighbors in the east in the towns of San Bernardino and Redlands. Beyond the colleagues who were slaughtered last week, I am in grief for the children whose nests have been permanently upended because of  that day–the 6 month old child of the shooters, the little ones who were left without a parent after the shooting, the learners who endured hours of lock down while the sorting out process continues, the neighborhood gaggles of young people who now have been close up and personal to the effects of terror. How am I called to be a protector of nests and the ones who inhabit them?

I am reminded again and again how in both testaments of the Bible, there is a call to protect, to care for, to be advocates for the widows and children. A friend here is part of an interfaith coalition of people who are are becoming advocates for undocumented immigrant children shipped in from the border, awaiting in warehouses for the judicial process to grind its wheels. And I support with energy the many gatherings of faithful ones who labor at feeding the hungry children, housing the homeless ones and providing for the well being of so many vulnerable ones. In the movie “Mary Poppins” the most poignant plaint is from the Bird Woman on the steps of St. Paul’s Cathedral, singing “Feed the birds, tuppence a bag.” How am I to feed the birds this Advent?

 The promise is that Love, the Bird is on the way this Advent. In a very provocative book, Consider the Birds, pastor Debbie Blue writes about the appearances and meanings of birds in the Bible. Some are metaphors, some are illustrations, some are even names for the Holy One. When I am praying for Love, the Bird, to come quickly, I have in mind one not named in Scripture, but one from the Celtic tradition, who is the symbol for the Iona Community, the Wild Goose. I am told by members of that community that she was chosen as a symbol of the Holy Spirit; they were drawn to her because the wild goose is known for going where it will, like the Holy Spirit, and sometime it makes what seems to us to be a great mess. Certainly I don’t know how and when the Spirit is coming among us, but I believe she will, and I feel sure that in guarding the nests of the little ones, some neat and tidy ways of societal organization might be left in a mess.

Even so the Spirit and the Church cry out: Come, Lord Jesus!

The whole creation pleads: Come, Lord Jesus!

And meanwhile, I am paying attention to the places where I can guard the nests that need filling and care and feed the little birds that are here in this world.

Down to Earth

19 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by in action, body, earth, presence, wisdom

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FirstMushroom15LastIrises15All of my life of the Spirit takes place in my body planted in the physical world where I am rooted. As much as I would love to waft far and away above earth’s lamentations, I find myself often, much like Winnie-the-Pooh floating with his balloon, being thumped along the cold and bumpy ground, because I am a human being in a created body that is made of dust, and to dust I will return.

My intention to be peace is interrupted by an urgent phone call from a neighbor needing assistance. My vision of resting in the Spirit gets cluttered with the trash that the dog has strewn all over the back yard. My song of praise is cut short by the sounds of sandblasting next door. My prayers intended to be incense rising are more often overridden by the stench of garbage spilled on the sidewalk. My words that I crafted to be like apples of gold is a setting of silver are drowned out by the yammering rhetoric of both public and private pundits of politics. How do I keep my attention on the Holy when there is so much that might distract and divert it?

My new drought-resistant garden has been a teacher to me about my earthliness this season. Its variety and its beauty are continual surprises each morning, but not all the surprises are welcome ones. Suddenly one morning, a year after the lawn has been taken out, all the earth in the front yard has been replaced, completely new plantings have taken root, I find a wild invasive mushroom blooming. It is not edible, nor is it useful; it was not what I wanted, but there it is. It needs to be removed. Attention must be paid! The garden is not Eden, it is made from dust, as I am, and not everything that grows there is beautiful or necessary. I turn aside to take care of it before I continue to glory in the beauty of the irises that proliferate.

Maybe this is the next teaching: the same earth that spawned the mushroom also provided the nourishment for the fabulous flowers! The spiritual lesson is to be awake, attentive, and discerning. What is mine to notice? what is mine to act on? what is mine to savor and thank God for? what is mine to prune, to tend and to water? I find I need to be more mindful; I cannot just send up a prayer and hope it all turns out right. My spirit need to act in concert with my hopes and dreams.

In these freshly troubled days of reflection after the murders at Mother Emmanuel Church in Charleston, SC, I am asking myself what and how do I need to act in order to contribute to a cessation of violence and hatred in this country. Every sound bite I hear, every op-ed piece I read, every pastoral letter I receive offers a different piece of advice. The fabric of this world, this nation, our people is so tattered and torn. I am brokenhearted and baffled. So I am back to the discerning prayer until Wisdom comes.

I also am reminded too that I am earthen–we have this treasure in clay jars (2 Cor.4:7)–and I am limited, fragile and imperfect. So The Solution to the Evils in the World does not rest on me alone. The discerned actions that I will be led to take will be ones that participate in the clarification that it is God who is able to do more than I can believe or imagine to redeem this crisis, both the immediate one in South Carolina and the deeper, more tragic sin and brokenness that springs out of this evil in the world. So we do not lose heart.

As I wend my way though the dusty paths I am called to wander today, I pray for compassion, for wisdom, for courage, trusting the Word of the Holy, that what is required is that I be faithful to the call of Christ to be just and to be merciful, and to be creative, discerning and energetic in living out my earthbound journey of Spirit.