Morning Coffee

Beloved,

Today the sun shines brightly here in the Pacific Northwest, and the wind cuts cold, slicing through  the hand-made cap upon my head, finding just the right pathway through the neckline of my jacket in order to touch that shoulder that aches a bit when the seasons change.  So, I bundle up a little tighter, pour myself a cup of coffee and wrap up in a thick blanket to sit on the patio rocking chair to listen to the birds sing the last few praises before they travel south to avoid the winter storms.  I can see my breath.  Steam from my coffee fogs up my glasses.

Breathing in deeply, I feel the cold air rush into my lungs.  It remains there, pausing for a long moment, growing warmer as oxygen moves into my bloodstream.  Taking its place, the toxins, the used energy, are returned to my core.  The chill has completely dissipated.  I exhale slowly, wondering if you can feel what I feel, and see what I can see.

My Morning View - Photo by Trista Wynne

The branches of the trees in the green space are now exposed.  Waving proudly in their nakedness, they are not ashamed.  If only I could be so bold!

My lips have lost their moisture now - stolen by the frigid wind - that rascally thief!  The warm liquid soothes them, if only for a moment.  My coffee is losing its comforting properties to the same bandit that wicked away the softness of my skin.  I do not care.  I am here with you.  For this moment, that is enough.

Vacuuming, Planting and the Intangibility of Ministry

In the last couple of months, a good portion of my time has been dedicated to helping to develop a contemplative prayer service on Wednesday nights in my worship community and aiding in the guidance and supervision of religious development of senior high youth in an inter-religious fellowship.  Online development of blogs, social media networking and the planning and implementation of worship services all take time.  The effectiveness of this spent time, however, is not always able to be quantified or evaluated.  The support of ministry is somewhat intangible.

During this time frame since my weekday job came to an end, I have used a large portion of my time in soul-searching, the tending and healing of old wounds, evaluation of my intended career pathway(s) and filling out applications and online inquiries for job postings that look like they may be fulfilling for me.  Since I have not yet found a position that fills these weekdays, much of my free time has gone towards housekeeping and self-care.  Just as the support ministries listed above, neither of these things are really able to be evaluated.  Although a clean house is nice, it doesn't stay that way for long.

While vacuuming this morning, my soul once more was directing its attention to our Creator.  I was inquiring about the direction in which to travel to bring economic security to our household (although my husband is working full-time, I need to bring in at least a partial income to supplement what he provides while I await my ordination and, hopefully, full-time ministry work).  Continuing in my housework, I simply watch and wait on the Beloved's response.  The Spirit had something to say today as the vacuum passed to and fro on the office carpet.

All is intangible, She whispered.  All that I have called you to in this time is preparing you for the intangibility of ministry.  You plant the seeds of faith in every kind of soil that I place in front of you.  You preach and teach, you hold the hands of the wounded and broken, you guide and advise the peoples who are looking for direction, you pray for everyone you see and hear, and you point people towards My work in your midst.  But that is as far as your work can go.  Everything else is up to Me.

My thoughts turned towards the bulbs I planted last fall and those that I added to the soil this fall.  Not all of them will sprout.  Some have already been stolen by the squirrels who need a little extra sustenance for their winter nests.  Others simply do not have the DNA structure within them to support a full blossom in the warm months.  A couple of them have already started to sprout and their tiny shoots will be frozen over when the winds of winter blow through.  I have no control over any of those factors.  Granted, I can cover the ground with chicken wire or stones to attempt to thwart the advances of the squirrels, and I can insulate the tender shoots with peat moss and leaves to try and protect them from winter's effects.  But, in these preventative measures, my options are limited simply on account of our dwelling in a rental property.

Planting in my Garden - Photo by Trista Wynne

I understand why some church leaders and certain personalities are drawn towards the tangibility of membership numbers and financial contributions.  These things are quantifiable.  They can be judged and thus give some people a goal towards which to proceed.  We've saved x number of souls this month and baptized y converts, some might boast.  Our staff includes more people than you have attending your congregation, another might say.  Competition sets in and self-assurance soars -- that is, until the numbers begin to decline and self-identity begins to spiral downward.

The ministry that Jesus calls me to is not one that appeals to that sort of power jockeying.  My identity can not be based on such things.  I have come to learn that my self-image needs to stand on its own, content to be dwelling in the arms of our Beloved.

Perhaps this is why I have been called into this time of transitional rest.  As my soul and mind are gently healed from the wounds of old and I am working towards ordination, I am called to lay my cares and concerns into the hands of the One who is guiding my path.  I am simply called into Relationship.  This is my preparation for ministry, so that I can firmly say with the apostles of old:

For my part, I am going to boast about nothing but the Cross of our Master, Jesus Christ. Because of that Cross, I have been crucified in relation to the world, set free from the stifling atmosphere of pleasing others and fitting into the little patterns that they dictate. Can’t you see the central issue in all this? It is not what you and I do—submit to circumcision, reject circumcision. It is whatGod is doing, and he is creating something totally new, a free life! All who walk by this standard are the true Israel of God—his chosen people. Peace and mercy on them! (Gal. 6:14-16, The Message)

A Pleasant Pumpkin Day

Pumpkin Carving with the Youth

It's been a very pleasant, pumpkin-filled and quite beautiful day today. I am offering thanksgiving for the continued gorgeous sunshine, for the gift of the harvest season, for the fun of fellowship in my spiritual communities, for reconnecting/date-time with my husband and the gift of musical endeavors book-ending the day.

My husband helps his
brother on the trampoline.

Last night, my brother-in-law stayed with us.  He is always a joy to have visit!  Since he views the world through a very different lens (developmental delays and visual impairment) we are reminded to slow down and to enjoy the simple things in life, like the feel of a giant stuffed tiger, the gift of balance on a trampoline, the vibrations of the bass through a small amp and the smell of a pumpkin spice candle.  A gentle rap-a-tap on a hand drum, the springiness of a slinky and a little music (played either at his hands or ours) will keep him happy for hours.  The joy of our Beloved is certainly evident in my precious brother-in-law.  For him, I am incredibly thankful.

Murray Hills Christian Church

Worship at my home church this morning was awesome. It was great to have the whole worship team back together again -- the first time we've *all* been together since the beginning of the summer. (One day I'll get a picture of the whole team to share here.) We were blessed by a wonderful harvest display near our baptistry. Between the surrounding beauty, the presence of a tiny new baby in our congregation and the worship team's heart-felt harmony this morning, I felt deeply connected to You, Beloved.  Thank You for Your presence in our midst!

My youth aren't afraid to
get their hands a little dirty.

My guitar was left at home for my kitty to curl up with and I was off to hang out with the wonderful Unitarian Universalist Senior High Youth I co-advise this year. We carved pumpkins and talked about Halloween traditions and family endeavors. The group joyfully welcomed a new friend into our midst and got our hands quite dirty!

Pumpkin smashing
at the Green Dragon
Killer Pumpkin Brewfest

After lunch, my husband and I headed to the east side of Portland for the Killer Pumpkin Festival.  We watched the smashing of giant pumpkins by the highest bidder, took in the sounds of the Oompa Band and sampled several different delightful pumpkin brews.  Some of our local brewing companies make great pumpkin beer!  I am thankful for the joy of this time with my husband.  Doing something completely unexpected, like swinging a sledgehammer at a pumpkin on a stump and sampling some new tastes is certainly a blessing.

Deep belly laughter filled our afternoon together, and then we returned to our church for worship team practice.  Later we had the sanctuary to ourselves, just us and our Beloved.  I played my guitar and my husband played the drum set.  We played with all of our might - a wonderful gift of freedom since we usually practice our music in our apartment and are always considerate of our neighbors.  Body, mind and spirit were united in glorious, freeing worship together.

Your Spirit, Beloved, was palpably present with us today.  I am deeply thankful.  I am truly blessed.

Lamentations, Lazarus and Life

On this, the fourth day without our precious Camille-cat, my thoughts turn to Lazarus.

He's four-day-ish.  Voices from the past echo through the centuries.  He's begun to decay; the smell will be terrible.  He's without the hope of life again.  He is completely untouchable.  He is truly dead.

Deep grief overwhelms me as I see in my mind's eye the dear woman, a beloved disciple of Jesus, collapsing into a heap on the roadside.  Jesus has just returned from ministry in another town.  He has been healing the sick, feeding the hungry, returning the lost to their families, and in the midst of his ministry elsewhere, his beloved second family has been overcome with the grief of death.

Lord, if you had been here, my beloved family member, whom you yourself loved, would not have died!  The words of Lazarus' sister resonate deeply in my heart today.  Why were you so far away?!

My tears of lament this morning mirror my soul-sister's from so long ago.  Enough to cloud my vision, but not yet enough to leave the dry salt stains on my cheeks, my tears instead turn to aches and pains.  My muscles and joints feel weak this morning as I sit on the back patio watching our elder cat exploring the world without her little sister.  My heart and stomach feel heavy today.

Lord, if only...
Lord, if only...
Oh, Lord...

When we are weak and do not know to pray,

the Spirit steps in and articulates prayers for us

with groaning too profound for words.

(Rom. 8:26)

Saying Farewell

It is with deep sadness that I share this photo of our sweet Camille (the beautiful black cat with brown undertones) playing outside.  She, in this picture, was pouncing on a leaf that had just fallen from the trees behind our apartment.  She has been enthralled with the outdoors this year as she has spent the majority of her life as an indoor-exclusive cat.  We were happy to finally have found a place where the cats could come outside with us in the evening hours after work.

This morning when we woke up, we found Camille lying on the floor having trouble breathing. She was having a heart attack, as we found out from our vet a short time later. Camille took her last breath at 9:10 this morning. She died in my arms being showered with love. We brought her home to say our farewells and let Spokes smell her and say goodbye to her younger sister.

Through tears, I painted the kitty coffin our vet had given us. Camille was wrapped in a snugly blanket, hugged and kissed. We placed her favorite toy - our feather duster - in the little coffin with her. Then we buried her in the nature area behind our apartment. She spent countless hours observing the birds and ducks playing there from her window perch. Now she will rest with her nature friends.

Camille has been our baby for most of our married life. Next month would have marked her tenth birthday. She will be missed terribly.

Beloved kitten, may light perpetual shine upon you. May you be found pouncing in green pastures and climbing tall trees without fear. May our Beloved Creator stroke your soft fur and hold you close until we meet again. 

Thanksgiving for Fruitful Vines

Photo by Trista Wynne

Good evening, Beloved ~

On my heart tonight are the thickets of blackberries just behind our apartments.  Out of all of the wonderful smells we encounter in Your creation, the smell of ripening blackberries is one of my favorites.  Even our kitties enjoy the sweet scent!  I don't fully understand why the vines must be covered in such rigid prickles, however, when I reach in to help myself to this delicious fruit.

I wish they were more like the strawberry bushes with smooth, thin strands.  But perhaps then they would not be strong enough to hold such large, juicy fruit.  But what purpose do the thorns serve?

My mind wanders back to our church home up north, where lots of blackberry brambles covered the grounds. Every spring, the wild rabbits would use these thickets as a hiding place in which to build their burrows and bear their young.  The thorns serve as a natural deterrent to predators, protecting the little bunnies until they were strong enough to hop about on their own.  So, even though the thorns serve no good purpose for me, perhaps some of your creatures offer thanksgiving and songs of praise for the gifts of the blackberry brier.

Wild Waves & Soothing Sands: Trysting with Beloved at the Coast

Written at the beach during my discernment retreat, the following excerpt from my journal and photos reflect  my deep experiences with Beloved...

"Crashing Wave Untamed" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Beloved,

Thank You for meeting me at the beach this afternoon!  Thank You for this secluded spot -- a little nesting area for You and me to share.  Thank You for the sound of the ocean, the rhythm of the waves, the cleansing and peace that comes from being so close to the edge of unharnessed waters.

Oh, what a tryst we had!  You are indeed my First Love!  I long for you unceasingly.  When I get a little taste, all I can think of is when I can next receive the falernum nobele, the very best of wines, from Your navel again.  

Your left arm rests under my head; Your right arm encircles me once more.

Signs of New Life

Beloved ~

As we journey through the middle of the winter time, I have found it hard to remember the light of your love.  My soul has often felt like it was swirling in a thick fog or meandering about in the darkness, lacking direction and confidence.  Such have the months been since graduating from seminary and asking what is next.  Here, though, in these last few days, it seems that your Spirit has been stirring and opening new doors.  I have now sold my second painting: "The Tree of Life".  A shining reminder that You are in the midst of making all things new, I feel like you have affirmed my pathway of artistic and creative endeavors.  I am filled with peace.

Painting, "The Tree of Life" by Trista Wynne

In the same day, as I opened the door to walk onto our back patio, I noticed that the bulbs I planted shortly after we arrived in this place are now beginning to sprout!  I am so very thankful for these signs of new life and promise.  These simple signs remind me of your presence, even in the swirling questions regarding my purpose and the reasons for moving back to my childhood hometown.

The questions remain, but at least I don't feel like You are very far away.  Even if I have to continue waiting, I am comforted in the reminder that You are here, in the shadows and fog.  You are watching and waiting right alongside of me.

Perhaps that is the reminder that you gave during the epiphany so many years ago -- a sign of your love and light, your very Presence wrapped in human flesh, shining in the midst of the dark night.  You are not so very far from any of us, are you?  For all of these signs of new light and life, thank you.

Photo by Trista Wynne

Christ is Risen! Alleluia!

Ah Beloved,

Today we celebrate Your resurrection from the grave! We lift songs and dance and all kinds of exuberance as we remember all that You have accomplished through Your birth, life, death, resurrection and ascension. We look forward to the time when You will come again to complete Your new creation. Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus! Amen.



Although the audio quality is a little low, (a simple voice recorder was left in the pews while we prepared to lead this song) I still think you'll enjoy it. The worship team, bell choir, organist and choral groups of the church all worked together to craft this 2009 version of a familiar Easter hymn. Special thanks to the people of St Peter's and Frankincense for their love and prayers over the years. We remember our time together fondly.

The video here visually walks through Palm Sunday and the slowly darkening week we have just been through. Beginning with the palm fronds, then progressing through images of fall, and the bitter cold of winter, I wanted to remember through pictures the journey of Holy Week. The sun sets and photos from a local cemetery remind us of the sad day when our Lord was crucified, died and was buried. These images soon give way, following a burst of lightning, to the glorious joy of new life that we find in the resurrection.

A brilliant display of springtime color reminds us that we are in the season of growth. We now find ourselves looking forward to the delightful days of summer, just as we await the fullness of time when all things are finally made new, and there is no more pain, sorrow, loss, war or bloodshed. We are in an in between time, somewhere between light and shadows, living as fully as we can in the here and now while always keeping a watchful eye for the unfolding of the glorious Kingdom of our Beloved.

Blessings to you all on this most holy of days.

Happy Easter, 2011.