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.

Ah, Tax Day!

Last night I found myself standing in the procrastinator's line at the post office.  The majority of the people who were mailing in their checks for the state department of revenue wrestled with the stamp printing machine, trying to figure out what kind of printed stamp to buy in order to receive the "postmark" of the 15th of April.  Three different people tried three different options, running up small bills on their credit cards before they figured out which option was the correct one.

As the line grew longer and began to snake around the lobby, one might have expected an attitude of grief or anxiety to pervade the atmosphere.  A funny thing happened, though.  Among the folks waiting in line as the seconds turned to minutes and quarter hours and so on, jokes about the drabness of color on the walls or the need for a clown or balloons began to bubble up.  No one was impatient with anyone else.  And when the discovery was made regarding which option was necessary to get the date printed on the stamp, great rejoicing erupted.  The person who made the discovery, (with the help of at least three other people looking at the screen with them) was so delighted that they had finally figured out the system, they stayed to help nearly half a dozen other people behind them so the process could move faster from there.

We discovered that you had to buy three stamps at a time, so those who had only one or two envelopes that needed the date-stamped postage shared with those who had been standing in line behind them.  Wishing one another a "happy tax day", we worked together to lift one another's moods and each person in the line helped the person or two behind them to navigate the silly machine.  I was struck by the presence of the joy and compassion in that small, whitewashed government office.  Christ is sometimes found in the most unlikely of places.  For me, on tax day, Christ was found in the little post office in my hometown.

Ah, Beloved,
You have a way of popping up unexpectedly.  Your Spirit of compassion is present in places we might not think to look for Her.  Surely you surprise us with your grace when we least expect it to come our way.  During this Holy Week, I pray that everyone might catch a reflection of You in our fellow human beings, in the love of our animals or in the glory of your creation.  May we all be captivated by your Spirit of grace and compassion, and may we strive to make Her presence felt more palpably everywhere we go, in Jesus' name, amen.

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.

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.

Release into Beloved's Arms: A Body Prayer

"Shibashi: Gazing at the Moon"
Photo by Matthew Wynne

Sometimes, dear ones, I get all tangled up in knots, and it is difficult to connect with God.  Wondering what the future holds, furrowing my brow at things from the past, feeling lost and tumultuous in the present -- these things all change my body's posture.  With muscles tense and heart shut tight, I dig my heels into the ground, preparing to wrestle with Spirit.  In moments like this, I cannot love the Lord with all my heart, soul, mind and strength nor can I love others as myself.  Love, like all emotion, is all bound in the knots within.

In times like these, I speak to my body.  I find it extremely helpful to connect mind, body and spirit together in preparation for the Presence of Beloved.  In one of these times I recorded this meditation poem, a body prayer, in my journal.  May it wash over us and transform our posture so that the Beloved's presence might be made known.

Earnest Anticipation & Fulfillment of Lifelong Dreams

I have earnestly longed to share this meal with you!

These are Jesus' words as he lifted the bread above His precious head during the final Passover meal of his ministry.  These are the words I will speak early tomorrow morning as I lift the bread and wine at the altar in Murrayhills Christian Church.

How long I have waited to share this meal with you!  I have dreamed of this very moment from the time I was three years old. 

This is what has been going through  my mind ever since I was asked to lead communion and to speak the words of institution over the bread and wine on this day.  I have an almost child-like giddiness bubbling up within my spirit as I contemplate the honor I have been given by being asked to preside at the Table.  Like the great women of old: Miriam, the first worship leader of Israel after the Exodus; Hannah, the barren woman giving thanks for the gift of a child of promise and prophecy; and Mother Mary, giving thanks for the salvation of all humankind, my spirit is filled with songs of praise and joy at the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

Eucharist - A Meal of Thanksgiving - Photo by Trista Wynne

As I pray and consider the Scriptures etched in my heart, my imagination fills out what might have been going through Jesus' mind, the things He wanted to say but couldn't for one reason or another, on that evening so many years ago...

You don't yet know the importance of this meal.  You've been celebrating it all your lives, and yet the Spirit of God still has more light to shed on your hearts and minds.  Our Beloved in Heaven is working, even in this very moment, to bring the Kingdom of Peace and Love to the earth through you.  And it starts here, with this bread, with this wine, with the sharing of this meal.  The Kingdom of God begins with you.

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

Praise for Rest

Beloved ~

Thank You for this wonderful weekend filled with music-making, fellowship, rest, photography and peace.  Thank You for time with my family, time with my husband, time to myself, time with other musicians, time with other theologians, time with spiritual guides, time with our snugly kitties and time with You.  I am deeply grateful for this time.

I loved watching the kitties dart about in the chilly sunshine outside on our patio, and soaking in the sunny windowsill above the heater afterwards to warm up.  I loved playing silly games with my husband for several hours last night while we reclined together on the couch.  I loved meandering though the Chinese Garden in Portland earlier today and taking pictures with my husband along the way.

I loved having time to sit and rock in mom's rocking chair, reclining by my daddy's side and sharing funny memories together while they had their milkshakes and we had our burgers.  I loved sharing our gifts of music on Saturday and Sunday mornings to help Your peoples to worship You.  I love having people with whom to make music and share stories and consider Your works and words and love.

This four-day weekend was truly a blessing!  And Your sun shone through almost all of it.  For Your light I am incredibly grateful.  For this time, I am thankful.  For the people in my life, I am deeply thankful.  For the time I had with You on a long walk yesterday, I am very thankful.  For my degree which arrived in the mail this weekend, I am thankful.

I am simply thankful.

The Calling of Your Light

Beloved ~

The sun is shining brightly today, something it hasn't done in months.  Week after week, the dark clouds have hovered, threatening rain, reflecting the heaviness and teariness within me.  Today, though the clouds have parted; gentle breezes have carried them away, perhaps to some weary land desperately in need of moisture and shade.

Although the clouds have parted, my weariness remains...

Photo by Trista Wynne

A branch blocks the light, keeping our bedroom from being filled with the sunshine.  I'm tempted to run outside with a hacksaw or to break it off by hand.

My soul needs the light.  My eyes need the light.  My body, my heart, my mind need Your Light.

The light remains outside.  The sunshine's rays are filtered by the tree branches, only partially reaching my eyes.  And yet, even in this half-light, I am being comforted.  I find a smile beginning to tug at the corners of my mouth and my lungs filling a little deeper with Your Spirit.

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 Child's Eucharistic Celebration

Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone.  You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.  Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart.  Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.  Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. (Deut. 6:4-9)

This morning, the preschooler that I nanny, who has just celebrated his third birthday, celebrated his first Eucharist.  We weren't in a church building.  There wasn't a lot of music or long prayers or chanting.  Instead, his father and I were eating breakfast with him and watching the birds outside the window.

A Cup of Contentment

As I continue my summer vacation, or more precisely, as I begin to relax into the atmosphere of an unhurried relaxation period, I find myself re-entering contemplation.  I was never very far from it, but there are times in the school year when contemplation must be placed to the side and a paper must be written despite not coming to a satisfactory conclusion.  The more schooling I receive, the more I am aware that I have an insatiable appetite for learning.  There is always more room to grow, and always deeper to dig.  Perhaps no paper is truly ever finished.  Time constraints and word counts place limitations on our expression, but each new class stimulates my mind and heart in ways that intimacy and passion arouse the body.  What a precious gift it is to be able to attend seminary!

Some people will ask me when I will be done.  I've even caught myself wondering this from time to time.  But graduation is not the goal.  Ordination is not even the end.  No.  Even those things are just marking places of new beginning.

A Lovely Visit

Beloved,

You have created us to be in community, to find friends and to be in relationship with other human beings.  I am so blessed to have been visited by one of your beautiful daughters this afternoon.  In all the months that it has been since my husband and I have been away from the church we attended for several years, this was the first time that one of the congregants have contacted us directly and asked to simply get together.  What a joy it was to have her over!  And what a delightful surprise for her to bring me flowers and cookies, too! 

Summertime Serenity

Beloved,

As I delight in the freedom that comes from accomplishing all that needed to be done before the end of the term, I also bask in the light of the sunshine. Thank You, dear Lord, for this vibrantly beautiful day! Thank you for the stretching kitties basking in the light. Thank You for the fluttering sparrows and burrowing bunnies that my neighbor and I saw on our walk today.

On the Presence of God in Community: A Prayer after Conversation

"Simple Offering" - Photo by Matthew Wynne

Thank You, Lord, for blessing others through my simple act of baking this afternoon. Thank You for honoring my work even when I felt lethargic this morning. Thank You for soft, sweet kitties and warm snuggles and friends to talk to. Thank You for quiet time this evening to be with You.

Thank You that I can honestly come to You in all of my emotions, with all of the concerns, frustrations, excitements, confusions, disappointments, fears, delights, sadness, joys, anxieties, tumults, loves, passions, laments and praises. Thank You for hearing our concerns for our families this evening. Thank You for acting even before we could know what You are up to in all of the situations we have seen, heard, discussed, lamented and rejoiced about in Your presence.

We leave these things in Your care, for You are fully capable of handling each one. We also desire to be active participants in Your Kingdom, Lord, so if You would like us to interact with one another or have a particular role in any of the concerns brought before You today, please help us to discern the next concrete steps to take. And if we are to simply wait and watch You work, please grant peace and encouragement. Let Your Sophia-Spirit flow like rivers, bringing justice, mercy and steadfast love in all things, and may we, like Jesus, pursue the things which make for peace and bring You glory.

Good night, Papa; let us sleep in Your peace. Amen.

A Child-like Faith: Seeing our Beloved Everywhere

To detach the walking from the destination

is in fact one of the best ways to recognize the altars you are passing by all the time.

(An Altar in the World, p. 56)

This quote from Barbara Brown Taylor makes me think about meandering home after the elementary school released us when I was a child. I knew that eventually I would get home, but was in no hurry to do so. The house key was safely in my pocket, so I could get in whenever I arrived. But for my young little mind, the journey itself held much more promise than the destination.

"Childhood Discovery" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Those leisurely walks home were filled with great discoveries: hopping frogs, curly potato bugs, slimy slugs, beautiful butterflies, singing birds and much, much more! Everywhere I stepped I found something to captivate my attention. No rock was left unturned, no branch went without feeling the weight of my tiny body, and no creature was ever harmed along my journey where every place was sacred.

How quickly we forget this child-like faith! How easily we neglect the everyday altars of our human existence on this precious, watery planet! How often we ignore the little things while in search for our ultimate goal or career or relationship!

Oh, Beloved, You are present in so many ways already here in the earth. Help us to see You in the many ways You seek to reveal Yourself! Help us when we become frustrated that our journey is taking longer than we expected. Remind us of Your beauty and faithfulness and grace and love present in the little altars of everyday material. Help us to once again become incarnational and to embrace the world around us with love, for You are present in many ways. Amen.

Letting the Bread Rise: A Reflection on the Life of a Theology Student

Photo by Matt Wynne

To be a student of theology is to be countercultural. In a world where technology advances by the day and races are clocked to the thousandth of a second, we are called to sit. While electronic organizers remind us of upcoming appointments and birthdays, and our latest gadgets keep us on our toes, ever advancing us to the next thing to be done and the next checkmark on our list, the theology student waits. Or at least that was how it appeared before I entered seminary myself.

While making bread this afternoon, (the dough for which is currently on the rise) I have been reminded of my countercultural status. You cannot rush bread-making; so too flows the process of developing theology. So also will effective ministry be.

Once, when Jesus was asked to define the Kingdom of God, after looking around for a moment, His eyes landed on a woman teaching her children how to make bread. As she added the yeast to the flour, she hummed a little tune with minor notes sprinkled throughout, and she recounted the story of the Great Exodus, when the bread had no time to rise. Her hands were strong from her labors, and they gently reached down to sooth a fussy infant as she left the freshly-formed dough on a sun-heated stone to rise.

The Kingdom of God, Jesus said, is like the yeast which that dear woman just added to her flour mixture. It is already present, as I AM in the world, and the Spirit of the Lord will stir up inside of you all, and then a season of waiting will come. The yeast is working within the dough as it rests; so too will it be in the Kingdom.

This time of waiting and letting the Kingdom rise among us is often more difficult than it seems. Since we live in a culture that values activities, commitments, pledges and busyness, taking a step back is difficult. The seminary student has one foot in the world of activity, one foot at home with family and spouse or loved ones, one hand in the ministry of their worshipping community and another holding a pen or flying over the keyboard in attempt to make the deadlines for their assignments.

Still, in the midst of it all, taking a deep breath, closing our eyes, and tuning our ear toward our Beloved, resting our head on His chest, listening to Her heartbeat, is the most crucial thing of all. As we enter into the rhythm of the next quarter, it is this heartbeat which guides our lives as shepherds. In these times of waiting, the yeast of the Kingdom will work its way into every aspect of our lives, and when the time is right, people will come from all over town to taste and know that the Lord is good.

You cannot rush the making of bread, nor the savoring of good coffee or the complexities of delightful wine. Neither can we rush the Spirit’s work within us, much less in another being. May we, as we begin another term of study, remember to pause, to breathe, to savor, to listen, and may the Kingdom of God rise within, among and around us through the power of the Holy Spirit, in Jesus’ name, to the glory of our Beloved, amen!

Transitional Objects: Sacred Union & Longing in the Grief of Life

"Sacred Union" - photo by Trista Wynne

In All our Losses, All our Griefs: Resources for Pastoral Care, Kenneth Mitchell and Herbert Anderson discuss the benefit of transitional objects in easing the pain of separation and loss. We are often given a blanket, teddy or other stuffed animal to help us transition when we are children being weaned from our mother’s presence. Just as these transitional objects bring us comfort as children, so also are comforting objects incredibly helpful in times of grief.


I remember that when I was a young girl I had a large stuffed panda bear that remained near my bed at all times. When I felt afraid, such as when I had a bad dream, I would curl up in the soft embrace of my large panda bear; I often also brought my quilted blanket and when I was all wrapped up, a sense of security infused my being. It was a soft, warm place where I could cry or pray or look at a book, and I always was able to get back to sleep or face the rest of the day after having quiet time with my panda.

When I was preparing to go away to college and leave my childhood home, at first I thought I wouldn’t want anything from my earlier years, but when I found that my dad had brought one of my favorite stuffed animals named Kerby along for the car ride, I was quick to place it on my shelf. Truth be known, it ended up being snuggled with for the first several months that I was away from home. Gradually Kerby spent more time on the shelf than next to me, but his presence proved valuable for helping me get to sleep in a strange new place where no one and nothing was familiar.

Several years later I received a large stuffed bear for Christmas from my mother in law. It was a joyful addition to the random collection of stuffed animals that my husband and I had acquired for and from one another during our years of courtship. This large, soft bear ended up serving the role of transitional object when I could no longer hold the child I once had nannied. When I had fretful dreams where the child was out of my grasp, or where I was being pulled away from the child, I held the bear and was usually able to get back to sleep. If I came home from work and my husband was still on the clock, the bear helped the tears to flow freely. Over several weeks and even a few months, the bear served as an object of comfort and connection to the one I could no longer hold. Gradually my dependence upon this bear to sleep lessened and the nightmares dissipated. After several months, I found myself only reaching for the bear occasionally, and later, usually in moments of joy when I was remembering the child. As I gave the bear a hug, I would pray that my Lord Jesus would wrap that child in His strong arms and let that child know how much they were loved and missed from this side of eternity.

A couple of years prior to that, when I had miscarried, my mom crocheted me a prayer shawl. She made it with several strands of yarn together so that it was very soft and very warm, and I knew that she had prayed for my healing, safety and blessing with every stitch. She and I had both crocheted several prayer shawls for others, so I knew the intensity of the love that went into this blanket. Whenever I felt lonely, depressed or discouraged, I found that wrapping up in this shawl lifted my spirits and gave me comfort.

The sensation of grief leaves one feeling very cold and the brokenness on the inside of the heart feels jagged, so a blanket helps to bring warmth and softness and renews the spirit. Soft, soothing objects like teddy bears or clothing that was once worn by our loved ones provide a tangible connection to the one for whom we long, and they ease the burden of sorrow, even if only for a few moments. The respite from our grief allows us to breathe more deeply and clears our minds of the chaos that tumbles around inside.

Our Lord Jesus knew the burden of grief and separation. He wept openly when His family friend, Lazarus had died, and was deeply moved in compassion for his close friends when He knew that He was about to be betrayed and sentenced to death through a flawed justice system. Even though both of these deaths led to resurrection, Jesus knew that there was great pain in separation from our loved ones. I believe this is why we have the Lord’s Supper.

After a sacred final meal with His close friends and their families, He took bread, broke it, gave thanks and gave it for all to eat, telling them to remember His body every time they felt, cut, tasted and internalized bread together. And He shared His cup of wine, looking forward to the coming days when, as the prophets of old said, the mountains will drip with sweet wine, and the land all around us will be abundantly fruitful with justice, mercy and steadfast love and faithfulness. Whether or not we fully comprehend the meaning of this final meal, and whether we share it often or only on rare occasions, this meal gives us communion with our Lord, with each other, and with all peoples who at any time in any place have called on the name of Jesus.

This simple meal of bread and wine is for us a transitional object, serving as a connection point where the sacred and mundane all come together, where we all receive comfort, sustenance and preparation to continue along the journey of faith, proclaiming the Lord’s life, death and resurrection until the day comes when every tear will be wiped away and there will be no more pain, no more suffering, no more separation or sting of death, and all things shall be made new. The bread is soft and comforting, and the wine spreads warmth through our bellies. Our Lord meets us in this meal and the grief of this life is lifted, even as we wait the completion of the promise for renewal, peace and abundant life in eternity.

We await Your coming kingdom, Lord Jesus, and we are thankful for Your gifts of this sacred meal and of Your Holy Comforting Spirit who encourages us until we all can physically touch Your face and hear You call us each by name. While we are in this time of transition, where the human spirit, the creatures and the entire earth cry out with grief, help those of us who know the gifts found at Your table to share Your ways of peace, justice, mercy and steadfast love through our way of life and in our thoughts and words towards one another to the delight of our Father in Heaven. May we be strengthened and renewed in order that we might minister to Your world in this time of need, amen.