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.

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.

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!

A Note of Gratitude

Beloved,

I want to express my gratitude for Your Presence this weekend.  As I traveled north for a couple of days, You used the time to clear the air.  You filled my lungs with the Breath of Your Spirit and wrapped Your arms about me through the embraces from my brothers and sisters in Christ.

I am incredibly thankful for this breath of fresh air and the peace You gave me during this time.  I am filled with joy in the presence of my brother and sisters who have prayed with me for many years.  Snuggling on the couch, mulling over the life questions, wondering together what You are in the midst of doing in our lives, and allowing the questions to linger -- without simple platitudes or easy answers, without context-less Scripture passages and promises that have no backing -- simply listening together to Your silence.  That is exactly what I needed.

I am thankful.

For the music and the prayers and the welcome of my St Thomas family, for the love and the joy and the smiles, for the way You met me in the bread and the wine and the arms of my brothers and sisters, I am very thankful.  I wept with joy at the Eucharist table.  My spirit danced in the midst of the crowd.  I could have sprouted wings and flown to the rooftops in the breaking of bread and pouring forth of the wine.

Thank You for meeting me there.

Thank You for bringing me home.

Thank You.

Thank You.

Thank You.

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! 

The Divine Feminine

In a way unlike any time prior, I am finding myself noticing the imagery of the feminine in Scripture in intimate detail.  The nourishing actions of a breast-feeding mother, the gentle flutter of a mother hen's wing, the protective shelter of the muscular womb, the intimate passions of the feminine belly -- all of these womanly wonders are attributed to You and to Your prophets across the span of time and space.  How intricately woven is the female body!  How intimately connected to You!

"Tender Strength" - Photo by Trista Wynne

Precious Spirit, You are in the midst of enriching my reading of Your Word and deepening my love for You at every juncture.  The tender caress of the flowers in bloom remind me of Your Feminine Presence.  I am delicate and strong, just like You.  Oh Sophia, Precious Mother, Passionate Lover and Companion of all, thank You.  I am deeply grateful for Your presence, and I await Your timing in the blossoming of my own internal flower as the earth now waits for spring.

On the Letter to Galatians and the Politics of the Time

In reading Galatians Reimagined:Reading through the Eyes of the Vanquished, I find compelling argument that Paul’s letter to the Galatians might have less to do with law and grace and more to do with the political structures of his time than I had ever been taught before. We are being challenged, both by our professor and by this author, to step back in time and to attempt to read Galatians as it might have originally been heard by the recipients. I feel right now that several lifetimes might not give us enough time to research the original message of this (or any) Scripture, let alone to observe our contemporary context enough to speak the heart language of the current listener/reader. Still, we are called to this task as ministers, and as our professor says, we can only do as much as we can do, but we must still attempt to do it well.

I do wonder though, what sort of sermon might develop through this “new” political lens, and to whom it might be relevant. Perhaps to us, who are part of the new Rome, it serves as a reminder that our capitalist, self-idolizing society, despite our claims as the “best country in the world” or as “the new Promised Land”, is on the same level as every other country in God’s eyes. Maybe to those who are under our oppressive dominance it serves as a message of inspiration and hope while to us it is a critique and correction.

I wonder if those who are in positions of power can read without their own perceptions getting in the way. (History seems to have shown otherwise.) Can we, those of us who are part of the dominant society, really read, as Kahl calls us to: with the eyes of the vanquished? It is likely that we cannot do so without relinquishing our power, or rather, without letting our preconceived notions of who we are be re-shaped by the only One who really ought to have any power in the world. Can we read with the eyes of the vanquished? Are we willing?