The Blessing of the Crone: Beyond talk of Motherhood

As the heat was turned up here in the Pacific Northwest today, we turned our calendars to the month of May.  It is a month that I greet with mixed emotions.  I have for many years now.

Walking into the stores, turning on the television, browsing the status feeds on Facebook or unfolding the weekly paper, we are greeted with reminders that the day is quickly approaching when we will celebrate those who are able to conceive and give birth.  I am well aware that this day, this month, this holiday has different meaning for different people.  I know the history and the way the day has taken shape in recent years.

For many, Mother's Day is a time of celebration.  For some a time of grief.  For others a day that brings up difficult memories and shines light on unhealed wounds.  For some it is a reminder of how far along the journey towards healing they have already come.  For many it is a day of remembrance, reconciliation and pondering.  For me, it is blend of all of the above.

This evening I joined a group of women to discuss a book by Marion Woodman -- Dancing in the Flames: the Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness.  One thread of the conversation examined the striking differences between how our elder women were viewed in ancient societies, (and are still in some cultures today) and how they have been viewed by western society over the years.  Woodman uses the term "crone"  reaching deep into our collective consciousness to retrieve an ancient definition -- a wise woman, in the midst of reconnecting to the earth, to nature, to the Divine, to herself and to all of humanity.  I was blessed to find myself in the midst of a group of wise, elder women, several of whom have embraced the term crone with gusto as a term referring to themselves.

I am deeply grateful for this elder age group.  While many of my contemporaries, and those within a decade of me on either side, are wrapped up in the world of mothering, the crones and I are in a similar state of being.  We are both in the realm of self-examination.  We find ourselves contemplating and redefining old dreams.

In some ways, between my the miscarriages of my children over a decade ago, and my thirteen years as a nanny, I feel a bit like my years of "mothering" have drawn to a close, despite my age.  That season of life is not a present reality.  I have much more in common with the women with silver hair than I have in common with my own age group.

Although my heart sometimes still aches for the season of mothering, I am finding myself more and more content to simply be.  I am in an in-between time.  And I am thankful for the women who have come before me. I am thankful for the communion of the wonderful crones.

Beloved,

You know my heart of hearts, my internal wrestling, and the stretching that has come in my identity over the last decade.  I offer all that I am, and all that I desire, to the wisdom of Your competent hands.  I trust that You will continue shaping, stretching and molding me in every stage of life.  

Thank You for the presence of precious crones in my life.  Thank you for the comfort that they bring.  Thank You for their wisdom.  Thank You for the way they reflect Your light.  You shine through their hearts, their eyes and their silver hair.  When they speak, I hear Your voice.  For all of these gifts, the blessings of the crones, I am deeply grateful.

My Daddy is Dying

It seems so strange to type such a title for a blog post.  I haven't posted in a while, despite spending much time at the computer.  I told myself it was because I had other things to do.  That was partially true.

This month, however, a reality check came in the form of a note about my dad's last doctor's appointment.  And this week I have been ill, so have had a few days at home by myself to reflect and to realize how much I have been running without realizing it.  Last night while I was at home with the kitties, I found myself overwhelmed with sadness.  I finally broke down and sobbed.

I have known for a while that things were changing.  I know that my daddy's mind has been swiftly leaving him.  Moments of clarity and recognition are getting further and further apart.  The formerly egregious extrovert that used to greet total strangers in the store with great delight has turned inward -- now hardly able to engage in even a simple conversation with his closest family members.

My heart was nearly cut in two when the news of his body's loosing battle was announced a couple of years ago.  I packed up my husband and cats, wrapping up seminary with a shorter degree than I had originally set out for, and moved back to our childhood town so I was sure I would have some time to be with my daddy before the final day came.  This past year has been a gift, even if it has been filled with gut-wrenching sobs over the news of dementia settling in.  We are pretty sure that the treatment for the original illness has increased the speed of this mental decline exponentially.  It may have even caused the dementia.  Which is worse -- the original disease or the side effects of the treatment?  Both cause death of one kind or another.

Now, a brand new cruel beast threatens to steal my daddy away.

I do not know what to say in my prayers.

I have talked, a bit, about my daddy's decline.  It is very difficult to talk about.

The feelings are so raw and the reality so strong that the words get caught in my throat.

People are uncomfortable with silence.  As I am struggling to formulate my thoughts, attempting to find words, they often fill the silence with their own.  When I do find the boldness to speak, their discomfort becomes more evident.

They shift in their chair.  They look away.  They find something in the room that needs tending or they change the subject or fill the remaining silence with empty platitudes.

Sometimes they shift the conversation so that it focuses on a grief they have experienced in the past.  They may well be trying to sympathize, but somehow their grief becomes the focus of the conversation.  My feelings get lost -- fading into the background like something unwanted, unloved.

I do not fault them.  They just don't know what to do.  They think they must say something.  They don't know how to sit in the presence of pain.

The pain of watching someone you love battle an illness that is slowly eating their body away is horrendous.  Seeing the very same person's mind slipping like sand through your fingers on a windy day is worse.  This pain is present every day.  Sometimes it is a dissonant background note in the seemingly large orchestration of everyday life, and it is easily ignored.  At other times, the pain arises as a solo, demanding full attention, center stage.

Today it is the latter.

Death makes people uncomfortable.  Grieving, even more so.  Few people know how to be with someone who is watching a loved one die.

My daddy is dying.  Fast or slow, death is surely coming.  I am distressed; and I feel utterly alone.

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. 

Fire, Ashes, Prayer & Healing on Ash Wednesday

Today I had a different experience with the imposition of ashes than I have for several years.  The words spoken with the ashes were not of mortality and returning to the earth.  Instead, as the sign of the cross was drawn upon me, these words were spoken:  "Hear the Gospel and believe."

Photo by Trista Wynne

The Gospel -- the Good News, dear ones, is that we will not be separated for long by the chasm of death.  We will all be together once more on account of the birth, life, death and resurrection of our Beloved, the Christ.  The Good News, dear ones, is that the whole world, which now aches and groans in pain and brokenness, will be filled with peace, love, new life and wholeness.  There will be no more death, no more tears, no more suffering, no more pain.  Each person will live in comfort and no one shall make anyone afraid, for all needs everywhere will be satisfied.

This evening, during our Ash Wednesday service, we received small pieces of paper at the door when we entered the sanctuary.  After a reading from Isaiah and the pastoral meditation, we wrote down our transgressions, our fears, our strife, our pain, our laments and our hopes, our dreams and joys.  As we gathered to receive communion, we laid our written burdens down in a bowl at the base of the cross.  With empty hands now, we received the bread and wine with which we remember our Beloved Christ, then we received the imposition of the ashes upon our foreheads.

Returning to our seats for a time of reflective prayer and penitence, we prayed for one another, for ourselves, and for God's creation.  We offered our confessions and prayed for healing from all sin.  The papers which we had brought to the front were soaked in oil and were then lit on fire.  

Photo by Trista Wynne - @ Murrayhills Christian Church

A great and glorious flame consumed our fears, our sin, our hopes and all which we had confessed.  That burning bowl of confessions put off quite a bit of heat as we prayed!

Photo by Trista Wynne - @ Murrayhills Christian Church

Tears, Fears & Pondering the big "D"

4 a.m. -- Woke up from a nightmare about my parents' death.  Tears are flowing freely...

My dream brings a number of questions to light. Like, who do you call, exactly, when your parents both have DNR wishes? Do you still call 9-1-1 and have them send the police and a coroner? Which pastor do I call? (Mine or theirs? Both?) What about their pets? Who do I call to take care of them? How do I manage the situation if I have the kiddos I nanny with me? (We all go visit them a couple times a week.) How do I contact my family members? How do you share something like that over the phone?

Who am I in this situation? Daughter? Chaplain? Will my family look to me for spiritual guidance? Will my pastoral presence matter to them? Will I be so overwhelmed with grief that I can be of no help to them? Will they resent me for that later?

I guess we all have to deal with questions like these sooner or later. Now is simply my time. I'm mentally preparing and processing in the dark of the night. Fear, I realize, has very little to do with the reality that they might pass from this life to the next at any point. The part of the dream that made it nightmarish was my anxiety about the "what next" or "what now" questions swirling about. I post because I figure that gaining some insight will help to calm those fears. Then I will feel more prepared when the time comes...

Lightening my Spirit

This evening, Beloved, I spoke with a very dear friend about life, death, cycles of rebirth, dementia, Alzheimer's, cancer, suicide, depression, care-taking and the like.  I shall contemplate the details of our conversation for quite some time...

For now, I want to note how much taller and broader and lighter I feel.  The tentacles of the dark shadow that has been looming for several months seem to be receding.  I almost felt as though I were growing wings while speaking to my dear sister in Christ.  She certainly lifted my burden of sorrow.

It seems that few people are able to discuss death and loss as realities of life.  Either they become disconnected and talk simply about the facts, which removes them from the situation emotionally, or they become so involved as to become a further hindrance to my grief process.  Few have been able to listen deeply, to be vulnerable with their own experiences and still refrain from "stealing the show" or comparing their grief to mine in a way that turns the conversation towards them.

It is hard to find compassionate, pastoral listeners.  But You brought me to three this week.  One in particular remained with me long into the night.  She is the reason I am writing.

I am blessed beyond words by our conversation and time together.  I am very grateful that You have brought us together for these days following Christmas.  Like the tiny snail here, I feel a bit like I have been brought to a safe haven.

Photo by Trista Wynne

I am surrounded by people who know me intimately.  They are providing me with emotional and spiritual shelter in the midst of the storm of grief.  Thank You, Beloved, for giving me a bit of new life and for lightening my spirit during this time of communion with Your peoples.  Amen.

In the Midst of the Wailing in Ramah

Today, at the church we are attending, the annual children's pageant took the place of the sermon.  I'm sure it's been planned for months to have the children lead the Sunday where we light a candle for Joy, but the timing, in light of the recent tragedies both here in Portland and in Connecticut, was uncanny.  The children were the only ones who could bring joy to the service today...

I will confess that the children's voices were not all perfectly on pitch.  Some of the angels lost their halos or had their wings turned sideways or upside down.  One of the kings nearly lost their treasure as they fumbled with the long robes on the steps.  And yet, it was all perfect.

As the young child playing Mary cradled the Jesus doll in her arms, and the older child playing Joseph helped her lay the doll in the manger, my mind was taken back to the story of old. While shepherds and astrologers and angels rubbed elbows and tried to stay balanced near the altar, an older elementary child held up a gigantic star high for the congregation to see.  And I was very moved.

Photo taken at Murrayhills Christian Church
16 December 2012

Tears stung my eyes as the children sang "Joy to the World" as only they can.  And then their time in the front was done.  They took their seats to the sound of a collective deep breath.  We had all been moved, for the Spirit of God was present.

A recent seminary graduate proclaimed the Lord's presence and invited us to the Great Table where all are welcome.  We shared a lengthy time of silence, and I wondered how many people were thinking about the time of Jesus' birth and the darker side of the wise men narrative...

For the Victims of the Clackamas Town Center Shooting

Dear Lord, we pray for all who were at the Clackamas Town Center this afternoon. 

What a horrific situation! Having been married to a man who worked in malls for over eleven years, I am deeply grieved for the families and friends of the shooting victims. No one thinks when they go to work or make a quick trip to the store that it will be the last thing they do... 

We lit a candle for peace this week, Lord. We pray for mercy and peace.

Comfort the grieving. Hold the shocked close to Your heart. And show us, Lord, how we can help, and how we can prevent such tragedies in the future. 

Lord, have mercy! Christ, have mercy! Lord, have mercy!

In a Sea of Questions

Beloved,

Today my husband lost his job.

I haven't a clue what to say.

I am floundering in a sea of questions.  Tumbling in the dryer of life.  Flattened by the steamroller of sadness.

What will we do?

What will You do?

Dear Lord, have mercy...

Ebb & Flow: The Rise and Fall of the Stormy Sea

Beloved, 

Watching someone you love slowly fading away is very difficult... 

The intense tumult of emotion resting just beneath the surface is something I fear few would want to endure. I don't even want to endure it myself. But if I don't say that I'm hurting, I am attempting to deceive myself and You, and failing miserably at both. 

"Incoming Storm" - Photo by Trista Wynne

A storm is brewing! Lightning! Thunder! Waves crashing overhead! The boat is sinking! Everybody out! 

With one last breath I cry: “I am strong! This will not take me! I will not sink quietly into the deep!”

Dreaming of Home

Then I considered all that...hands had done
and the toil...spent in doing it,
 all was vanity and a chasing after wind,
and there was nothing to be gained under the sun.
~ Eccl. 2:11 ~

Yesterday, in the wee hours of the morning, I dreamed that my husband and I were looking for an apartment complex, looking for a home where we belonged.

Photo by
Matthew Wynne

We began near many large, elegant looking buildings where sports cars gleamed and jewels were strewn about well-manicured lawns.  Gardeners baked in the sun.  Maids wilted on front porches.  Striving, oppression and emptiness were there.

We drove to the darker side of town.  Oil can fires burned bright.  Dogs barked and fought.  Distant sounds children wailing echoed off the barren walls.  Striving, oppression and emptiness were there.

The road curved.  Nearing a forested area with deer peacefully enjoying their bits of grass, we came to a stop by a little apartment housing made of dark, well-weathered cherry-wood.  The keys were drawn from the ignition and our feet reached for the bark chips on the ground.  Hand reached for hand.  There we stood, taking in the serenity around us.  We breathed in deeply and walked towards the buildings for a closer look.

A Cry for Justice, Mercy & Steadfast Love

God,
Why do You allow the torture, abuse, rape and disposal of Your children?!  Why are Your poor creatures going through the same without a voice?! What were You thinking when You put humans in charge?  We have ruined Your good creation while You keep Yourself at a distance remaining safe and untouched.

Where are You?!

Why don't You intervene?  Will You look upon the plight of the poor, the child, the victim, the animal and take notice of them?  Or will You ignore our cries for yet another generation?

Rouse Yourself!  Wake up!  Turn and see and hear!  Come to rescue us from one another!  Come and rescue us from ourselves!

Searching for You outside the Church Walls

Ah, Lord,

You know my heart!  I just want to find a community that lives out Your love and proclaims freedom and peace.  After the church visit that I have recently had, my heart is saddened, but still, I continue to search for you.  Surely it shouldn't be this hard to find unharnessed love!

Why should I have to look any farther than the church that claims to be following You, Lord Jesus?  Why must I look beyond the people who claim to know You in order to find justice, peace and steadfast love?  I just don't understand.  I wish I could take people at their word, and that the one who claims to be a Christian would walk in Your way: loving You with their whole being, and loving their neighbors (with a wide definition!) as much as they love themselves.

Joining together of Old and New: Praying for Healing and Unity of the Generations in the Church of Christ

"Strong Roots" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Beloved,

My heart is downcast within me.  I miss my time with my grandma, and I long for encouraging interactions with the elder generations around me.  You graciously have provided me with several neighbors with whom I am interacting on a regular basis who are in the generation before me, and we learn so much from one another.  I do, however, long for the wisdom and encouragement that came from my grandma.  With her I felt safe and accepted for who I was.  I was never afraid to admit a wrongdoing or a mistake, for we could often laugh together about something similar she had done when she was my age.  She had many stories to tell me that brought history to life.  I always learned something new when we were together.  She deeply valued our relationship as well. 

My stories and adventures brought her great joy and she was always delighted to hear about the new things that I tried.  We even had many adventures where we tried new things together.  New recipes and outdoor exploring sites came forth out of our mutual desire to learn and to grow.  She saw You in me, and she listened attentively as I explored the truths that Your Spirit was speaking.  We prayed together often, and she opened up Scriptures to me in exciting, tangible ways through her life stories.  We were respected, valued and loved.  Perhaps this is why, even though we didn’t see one another every week, when we were together, it was as though we had never parted.  I look forward to the time when we will be reunited together in Your Holy Kingdom, when all things are made new in the fullness of time.

"New Breath" - Photo by Trista Wynne

My heart is downcast, though, because relationships like this are hard to come by in Your Church today.  The elder members neglect to encourage the younger generations and neither group respects the other.  I see the need for something new for Your Church to enter into the future, but know that You have not equipped me for building or sustaining; You have created me as a visionary, a dreamer, a creative spirit whose exuberance and delight in You might inspire others to bring forth this new thing that is percolating on the edges of the present day.  And so, dear Lord, I invite others to join me in the following prayer so that we might enter into this glorious future well-equipped for the mission work that You have given Your peoples to accomplish.  We pray for unity and healing so that the world may know that You are Love!

We pray, dear Lord, that you might bring the generations throughout your Church together so that the younger generations might receive encouragement and mentoring, and the older generations might feel appreciated and valued.  We pray for healing of the wounds which each party has inflicted upon the other.  Wherever we have contributed to these wounds, we pray for grace and forgiveness.  Grant us the wisdom and the courage to join together, to share our stories and to listen prayerfully to one another so that together we can enter into the blessed future that You are preparing for your worldwide Church.  We pray for denominational and generational borders to gently fade so that a new, vibrant, united Church might be seen and that, as Your Beloved Son prayed, we might be known by our love of one another. 

"Beauty in New Life" - Photo by Trista Wynne

May You, O Lord, raise up from among us prophets and visionaries, builders and activists, and developers of sustainability.  May we work together so that future generations will look back upon our time and see Your Sophia-Spirit moving through what we pray, say and do together.  May it all be for our Beloved's glory in Christ Jesus.

Empowered by the Holy Spirit, we pray this in the name of Jesus the Christ, and we desire Your glory above our own.  Amen.

Poured out for All: Mary’s Gift and Steadfast Devotion

Beloved,

As I smooth a sweet smelling lotion over my dry, cracked hands, I consider Mary of Bethany and her tender gift of adoration, compassion and grief.  On account of her outpouring, the whole room was filled with a fragrant perfume.  It must have clung to everyone who was present!  Like the cedar smoke of a campfire lingers on our skin, clothes and hair, this heady perfume must have remained with everyone in Your presence for days.

"Rising Smoke" - Photo by Trista Wynne

How long were You scented with Mary’s oil, Beloved?  Did it linger on You as You traveled?  Did the smell turn heads as You walked past?  What would they have been thinking?

Was the scent still with You in the upper room as You gathered with the disciples and their families?  Did any of the children ask about it?  Did they breathe You in as You laid Yourhands on them in blessing?

Perhaps the aroma of Mary’s anointing was waning as You entered the garden.  Or perhaps, in Your deepest anguish, as blood sweat and tears mingled, her simple gift drifted up to comfort You.

Oh Beloved, if only Mary had been with You in the garden!  She would have held You while You shook.  She would have let Your tears fall into her hands instead of onto the cold, hard ground of the olive grove. 

But maybe her gift was enough.  Maybe it gave You the courage to finish what You knew was Yours to accomplish.  Maybe she was there in her own way.

A simple gift, an extravagant gift, this wasteful, wondrous, gift of devotion and service was poured out for You.  And then, You, in turn, were poured out for us all.  Mary of Bethany will always be remembered, as will You.  The gift was a beautiful thing indeed.

Battling the Beloved: How my Heart is won back when I Turn Away

Hello Beloved,

Much is on my mind, not for worries, but mostly for contemplation. At the forefront, though, is the sermon preached by our dear friend and pastor in Beaverton, where we found ourselves beginning Spring Break this weekend. The sermon on trust, the songs about being clay in Your hands, and their combined calling to release ourselves into Your arms for Your purposes – these are the images on my mind this evening.

Towards the beginning of the service, when the song entitled “The Potter’s Hand” was being sung, I found myself unable to join in the singing. This was odd since it is a favorite song of mine, but my spirit was heavy and I was grieved over the lack of connections and deep friendships in our lives since we followed Your call to move up here to the Seattle area. I didn’t feel particularly willing to become just anything or anyone at that moment in time. You know, Beloved, how I sometimes battle with You in spirit. Thankfully, Your Spirit is kind and compassionate, and gently worked throughout the rest of the service to remind me how much I am valued and loved even by that dear community which is several hours away from us.

"Softness of the Beloved" - Photo by Trista Wynne

The prayers of the people, the sermon, the strong embrace of our dearly loved minister of music, and lengthy hugs from the children (now teenagers) whom I used to nanny for – these all worked together to soften my heart. By the time we were invited to Your table, I was able to let go of the false pretense of control over my life. I simply acknowledge that in this part of the journey, my life and the life of my husband are truly in Your hands. I want to trust You; Lord, please help my lack of trust.

Empty or Full? – A Lament and Prayer for Corporations, Countries and Church

Ah, Lord, as I consider the large entities and the individuals who are being hurt or overlooked by them, I wonder about the state of the world… Why does the “healthcare” industry build more and more edifices to glorify themselves while the community clinic struggles? Why does the mega-church continue to grow while the small church, which cares for the community, suffers? Why does the corporation grow and the family shop fail? Dear Lord, why is it so?

The large entities have nothing of lasting value! They are impersonal, greedy, self-serving gluttons feeding on unsuspecting prey. The victims don’t even run and hide from the heartless beasts awaiting their souls! They wait in lines impatiently hurrying to be devoured whole!

They are like animals without sense! Or worse, they are zombies devouring one another on account of the infection of the corporations they serve! Who will wake them from their stupor? Who will save the next generation from their clawing grasp? Who will speak for You and free these zombies from their infection? Who will come and heal the poisoned land and clean the polluted water? Who will bring equity and break the shackles of greed and power? Who will restore shalom throughout the earth? How long, O Lord, must we wait for our salvation? How long until all peoples can hear Your voice? Won’t You send a messenger again? Won’t You release Your Spirit of Truth to speak throughout the nations? Won’t You heed the cry of broken peoples, the wounded, the deprived, the poor, the senseless, the lost and the empty who think they are full?

The Egyptian tyrant has fallen; good! But who will take his place? Does the military have any more compassion than he? Will an elected official have integrity and pursue peace? Does our government provide any hope for the rest of the world desiring freedom? Do we know what we’re doing? What do You think as You watch this unfold? Will You intervene and bring a hopeful future to this people longing for light? Are Your seekers prepared to follow Your lead?

What about South Sudan, Lord? Are You working in their midst as this country prepares to be birthed? Will Your desire for peace and justice and love and equity be heard in this newest of countries? Are Your followers called to a particular action for them?

How, O Lord, are we to work for peace, justice, equity and love throughout the world when we don’t even have it at home? Our own country is found to be lacking when it comes to the simple task of providing everyone with food, clothing, shelter, security, medical care and psychological, emotional and spiritual support. Why, then, do we think that we can tell othe countries how they ought to act? Lord, who do we think we are?! We are not You!

Your Church (worldwide) however is called to act on Your behalf. Are we acting in ways that show the world what You desire? Can the world look at us and see You?  Or are we, like helpless plants, simply frozen in winter, longing for spring?

"Longing for Spring" - Photo by Trista Wynne

O Lord, I know that I am an imperfect being, but I do desire to be likened unto You. And many others in Your Church, who are also imperfect beings, are also desiring to be likened unto You. Dear Lord, although we cannot attain this perfection as individuals, I do believe that You are in the midst of granting it to the entire gathering. I pray, Lord, that through Your immense love and mercy, we might all learn how to reflect You, or rather, to become so transparent that You would easily be seen. In order for this to happen, Lord, I believe that we need to empty ourselves of the desire even to exist, because in this desire, we serve our own desires instead of Yours. Help us, Lord, as an entire community across time and space, to be willing to be emptied and to let You fill us with Yourself.

What would “church” look like if we really acted as though You were with us and not far removed from our midst?  For now, we, like the little rosehips above, are simply caught between seasons, half-frozen in the winter of waiting, but desperately longing for the warm spring-breath of Your Holy Spirit.  We wait with Jesus’ name on our lips, whispering prayers for Your grace.  Maranatha!  Come, Lord Jesus, and stir us to newness of life.

Welcome Home: On the Communion of Saints Past and Present

“Welcome home!” This was the greeting I received from one of the beloved elder women at St Thomas’ Episcopal this morning as we gathered for the mid-week Eucharist. I was deeply moved in my spirit by the heart-felt greeting and warm embrace of the wonderful woman in red. “Where have you been?!” she exclaimed, “we’ve missed you!”

What a greeting that was! Having been absent for two weeks on account of a disabled vehicle, I was quickly swept into open arms after open arms and greeted with prayers and blessings for peace. Part of that is incorporated into the service in the passing of the peace, but the emotion behind these greetings was far more than I had anticipated, and I was overwhelmed by the hospitality of this simple community gathering. One might have thought that I had been out of their midst for several months.

Oh Lord, what a blessing these people are to me! What a compassionate, prayerful, loving community you have placed nearby! How open and inclusive they are!

Ah, Beloved, they reflect Your light into the world and they bring out the God-flavors in me. O Sophia-Spirit, thank You for breathing into them. Through this mid-week Eucharist gathering, I am reminded of Your love.

"Papa's Love" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Thank You, Papa, also for my dear professor at Fuller, who that same evening, paused from his work to listen to my concerns regarding direction and call, and who approached Your throne of grace together with me. Bless this wonderful, dedicated, compassionate being with even more wisdom, grace and compassion than this one already has, and help them to accomplish all of the tasks they have before them. May they be filled with assurance and peace as the term continues to rush forward.

Thank You, Lord. Thank You for the joyful smiles and laughter and snuggles of the little child I was able to be with, who joined You in the realm of eternity six years ago today. All of us who are left surely do miss him, and wish we could see him growing up, but for whatever reason, this will not happen here on the earth…

I think of the welcome that I received from the blessed woman this morning, and the grace, peace and compassion extended to me by my professor this evening, and I know that You have been working through them all. If I can feel Your presence so strongly through others here, I wonder how awesome it must have been for that dear child to come into the fullness of Your presence. “Welcome home!” that dear one must have heard, “we’ve missed you!” What warmth and grace and love must emanate from You for that little one!

If we who remain here have such strong feelings of love and longing, how much greater must Your desires be for those who do not allow You to embrace them! Oh Lord, You must be so anguished by so many people. I pray deeply for their restoration into Your presence so they might feel Your love! I know that You reveal Yourself in many ways to many different people groups in a variety of cultures, and I know that You uniquely revealed Your relationship to us as Papa-God through Your Beloved Christ, and that Your Sophia-Spirit is dancing among us even now to make this revelation clear. There are many, even in the churches that bear Your name, who do not understand what this relationship means for us, nor for the world around us. Oh, Beloved, let us hear Your heartbeat tonight. Let us climb up and snuggle You, and allow ourselves to be snuggled! Help us all to rest well in Jesus’ name, amen.

On a Hardening Heart: Pondering a Change of Direction

Dear Lord,

My heart is growing more rigid today. Is this of You, in preparation for separation or transition, or do I need to address something? If I am growing more rigid in a way that is not of You, I pray for a softening of heart and new visioning for the future.

I release all that I am and all that I have and all that I am doing into your care, admitting once more that it was never really mine to begin with. Only let me live to Your glory.

Ah, Lord, is this where You want me to be? Does it allow me to be doing what You would want me to be doing? What have I chosen a paper on a topic that would cause me such grief?!

I think that it’s because I know that it breaks Your heart like it breaks mine. And You, as the Beloved of all people who calls even simple folk like me in the darkest parts of the night to come hear Your heartbeat, You speak to my heart concerning the depth of Your passions, and I often cry Your tears.

Your peoples are crying for justice; O Lord, I hear them! Your peoples are crying for mercy; O Lord, I join in their plea! Your peoples are crying for Your Kingdom; O Lord, let Your Kingdom shine!

Papa, our Papa-God,
who hears our cries in heaven,
may Your Kingdom come
     be evident here and now
     and everywhere throughout the earth!

May Your name,
which is above all names
     be praised forever more!

*****

Ah, Lord, You bring me to the Lamentations of Jeremiah, and I have prayed them all as my prayer this evening on behalf of all who suffer and groan. In the midst of the suffering, several verses stand out as words of trust and hope, and I pray that I might be able to speak these words with truth and conviction. Your steadfast love endures, O Lord, and in the midst of everything, even during severe reprimand, this much remains true throughout eternity.

Teach me, Lord, and all of those who are called to minister in Your name, whatever You would like to teach us through these words of lament and hope. My spirit continues to lift this prayer and to be in dialogue with You, even as I prepare to enter my slumber. I do want to be Your servant, for You are a loving, compassionate and just Master, my Love!