Little Lamb

     I'm in the last week before returning from sabbatical and have been visiting with friends, working in the garden, resting, spending time with my family.  I've also done much reflection, both on life in general, but on the sabbatical in particular as well.  

    There was one event from this time that keeps coming back to me.  I was hiking on Iona and was in an area with a herd of sheep.  As I walked I heard this young lamb bleat for its mother.  A second later, the mother responded.  She was a long way away, but as I looked out over the meadow, I could see the little lamb running towards the sound.  Then the little lamb stopped, bleated again, waited for the mother to respond and then took off running again towards the sound.  Because they were quite a distance apart, this call and answer routine went on for a good five minutes.  But I found it both intriguing and compelling.  I couldn't stop watching and listening to this very normal, very beautiful drama playing out between this ovine mother and child. 

    It is a familiar situation with so many species of animals.  Babies go exploring, trying the world out on their own.  But eventually they become a little uneasy or a little hungry or a little tired, and then they need the reassurance of the parent that the parent is still there, still loving them, still available for them to come home to.  Even now, with young adult children I see this play out with my own kids.  Jonah is still in Europe, exploring with his friend from college.  They have travelled from Norway through Portugal, Spain, France, Slovakia, Poland, Austria, Italy and more.  Jonah is very independent.  Most of the time he travels on his own or with his friend and seems very competent and confident in finding his own way.  But every once in a while he reaches out.  "Just checking in" he says.  Usually he doesn't need anything, though he does drop hints about money running low (which I send over) or he mentions missing something (that I make sure I'll have on hand when he comes home in a couple weeks).  He values his independence, but there is still that need for reassurance and safe connection as well.

    Jonah might argue with my assessment.  He might say he just values the relationship and that is why he calls.  He might say he's calling to reassure me that he is okay.  But this morning when he called, I still found myself remembering the sheep.  

        As a parent, I have found the independence of my children difficult at times.  I have and continue to love being a mother.  I enjoy hearing their stories, their thoughts, their feelings.  At this point I learn from them and have at times asked them for information about new technology, new or slang terms, or about information specific to what they each are learning or have learned at school.  I love spending time with each of them, and I love how specific the things I do with each are.  With Jasmyn, we go to Heather Farms park to walk, we get sandwiches at Sweet Affair across from Heather Farms.  If we have more time, we go down to Monterey together and have our routines there that include the aquarium, walks along the beach front, eating clam chowder in sour dough bowls and getting ice cream at Ghirardelli.  We sing together in harmony in the car as we go to these places.  And that is what Jasmyn and I do.  

    Jonah and I talk philosophy, politics, theology.  I love these conversations with him and I always learn a great deal from him.  We love to hike together, to travel together to new places.  With Jasmyn it is the familiar, with Jonah it is almost always the unknown and unfamiliar.  

    Aislynn and I work puzzles together, including the ROKR puzzles that are permanent additions to our house.

    While Jasmyn and I sing together, Aislynn and I dance together: putting in music and just moving to the beat.  Aislynn has less intensity than the other two, so our relationship involves more teasing and playing.  There's an easiness there that allows us to do simple things like go to the grocery store together to just enjoy each other's company.  

    But while we have grown into these ways to being together as adults, they are still also doing the age appropriate stepping into independence.  While I am incredibly grateful that they still enjoy and seek out time with me, I miss them needing me as they used to. But the gift of the sheep Marco-Polo routine is the reminder that no matter how far they go, there will be times when they call my name just for that tiny reassurance that I am still here for them, something I will always and forever be.  

More Reflections On This Time

    I've had some time to reflect more on my sabbatical time, and what I found, once again, was that the parts I enjoyed the most were the unplanned and unscheduled surprises.

    Starting with my time with eldest and youngest as we toured the gardens in CA, the two gardens that we enjoyed the most were the unexpectedly large gardens of Davis, and Descanso garden in LA.  Neither were on the list of gardens we planned to see, neither made it into my sabbatical grant application, and yet, these two gardens were by far the most interesting, most beautiful, most serene gardens we saw.  Our time in both was the best we had of any of the gardens, and I find myself looking at the pictures I took from those two especially.  

    Then when David and I were on Iona, the hikes I took to parts of Iona that I didn't even know existed were an amazing gift.  The view from our room as well as the view from the hotel conservatory were also unexpected gifts.  The conversations I had with strangers were an amazing addition to my time there, and even the extended train trip back to Glasgow was a gift of scenery and time to just rest and be with David. The little hotel we stayed at in Glasgow was also a gift.  From the street it looked like a dive, a hole in the wall, difficult even to spot.  But when we went into the building and ascended to the 6th floor where the actual hotel was, we found a truly lovely place that had set out free homemade cakes and tea for its guests.  I ate an amazing mocha cake with my tea, that was a very unexpected surprise.

    On our UK tour, too, while there were scheduled visits I really enjoyed (such as listening to the story teller and the time with the forager), most of the times that I reflect on and enjoyed the most were the unexpected and unscheduled times.  I loved that the day David and I arrived in London, we learned that the Mousetrap was running that evening, tickets were available and we had time to go see it! What a gift for this Agatha Christie fan!  I also had time to hike out to Hyde park on my own and spend time really enjoying that garden.  The Kew garden in London as well as the gardens I found in Bath, in Weymouth and at St Fagan's National Museum of History that weren't on the tour, but that I took the time to find, stepping out of the scheduled events to do so... these were by far the best gardens we saw!  While others went shopping in Windsor, David and I found a garden with a Ferris wheel that allowed us an incredible view of the river and of Windsor Castle.  The hikes I took by myself in Lulworth and Lynton, also while others were shopping, were incredible!

    Even coming to Porto to begin the Camino was filled with unexpected and wonderful gifts: I loved walking around Porto with David, even though it was in pursuit of a dentist to look at my tooth.  With Jonah, I loved walking around Porto to try to get him a better backpack.  As I mentioned before, we didn't find one for him, but instead, we found this amazing garden that overlooked the river.  This was completely off my radar, and yet, it was beautiful, serene, and to just walk around it with my son incredible!  Even needing to go home early had its gifts.  My friend who helped me set up my time and stays for the Camino kept in constant contact with both Jonah and I as he finished out his pilgrimage.  Having that extra support and connection with someone I value so very deeply was also an unexpected but deeply appreciated gift. 

    Now I'm back and trying to garden in the mornings.  Here, too, I've found some unexpected gifts.  For example, last night I dreamed that one particular plant in my garden was crying for help and was sagging and not doing well.  This morning I went out to look at it.  I have planted over 30 plants this summer, but this was a very particular plant that I dreamed about.  Sure enough when I went out to look over all the plants, it was this very plant that needed a little extra TLC: it was wilty and struggling.  None of the others were.  I don't know what you might make of that, but I have my own interpretation.  It is wonderful to feel so connected to this life that I've been surrounding myself with.  

    As I mentioned in other posts, I can focus on what went wrong and was a disappointment, or I can take the space to focus on the unexpected and lovely gifts that come my way every day.  Today I am remembering and enjoying what was unplanned but beautiful.  I am grateful that for me, there are by far more unexpected wonders than unexpected disappointments.  

Gifts of Sabbatical

     Yesterday was a wonderful day.  It started with more gardening, specifically finishing that middle round section with more sheet mulching and also putting more mulch around my roses.

    Then I took BART into the city to play with a friend.  We went to the Botanical Gardens and the Japanese tea garden.  It was a wonderful time of talking, breathing in the scents and fresh air of the gardens, eating, and just being together.  

    Afterwards I took BART back to Lafayette.  I walked near the creek by myself for an hour, again breathing in the air, talking to God, listening to the birds.  I then met another friend for tea and good conversation. And finally I took BART home.  

    Through that time with friends, those wonderful conversations, both with my friends and with God, a few things became very clear to me.  

    First, even when I'm working, I really need to find ways to make time.  I need to make time for my friendships.  They are important for me and hopefully for my friends as well.  I also really need to make time to walk and to garden.  Even if it's just for a half hour a day of gardening and a half hour of walking, that time for contemplation, for prayer, for getting my hands into the soil is essential for my well-being.  I have to be more intentional about not working 12-14 hour days but actually taking the time to be the most whole I can be.  I won't be a good pastor if I'm too busy to care for myself and this isn't up to anyone else but me.  I need to model good self-care as well as taking that prayer time intentionally.

    Secondly, I really enjoyed taking BART to the city, back from the city to Lafayette and finally home.  I enjoyed not having to worry about traffic or crazy drivers.  I enjoyed being able to text or read or just look at the scenery out the train windows.  I enjoyed avoiding the rush hour craziness (I came home around 5:30, so I would have been right in the middle of it if I'd driven).  It was fun to people watch.  I found it freeing to not worry about parking times or parking places, to just be myself with my water bottle and phone and nothing else.  The new BART cars are also fairly clean and it was a nice reminder that public transportation is there for a good reason and is a really good choice when I am by myself traveling.   

    All in all, a truly wonderful day for which I am deeply grateful.

Gifts of gardening

    The last few days it has cooled off enough for me to return to puttering in the garden. I really love digging in the dirt and watching the things I plant grow.  It truly feeds my soul in so many ways.  I love handling the life of the plants, I love the smells of the garden and the dirt.  I hear and see God in the living things that make up my garden.  The exercise is also no doubt helpful!  

    Though it is an expensive hobby, David felt it was worth it to spend a bit so I could continue playing in the yard, because it is so life-giving to me.  Here is the result of the last few days:

     For those of you who are looking closely, you probably notice that the back part of this middle area of the yard still is pretty weedy but also bare in terms of chosen plants.  You might also see that the ring of rocks that surrounds this middle area is also still full of dry weeds.  

    The lessons: first, it takes time to grow and put together a garden.  The lantana that you see in this garden area I've been planting over the last 6 years.  I filled it in now with 16 additional plants.  There is still the back area, but it really doesn't get much sun, unlike the areas I filled the last few days.  So the kinds of plants I will need for that area are different.  Additionally, I have struggled the entire time we've lived here with knowing what to do with that ring of rocks that surrounds that middle area.  I've put paving stones/flagstones on top of it which makes it into a nice walkway, but I can't figure out how to clean up the weeds that have infested this rock ring.  My neighbor hired someone to do her yard who can pull out all the rocks, lay down ground cover fabric again, put in pulverized granite... all which sounds perfect.  I could then put the flagstones back on top and have a nice walkway around that middle garden area.  However, at this point in time, the cost is prohibitive.  Again, first lesson is patience.  I need to trust that these things will get done and not all of it has to be done today.  

    But the second lesson for me is to rely on the wisdom of others.  Do any of you have ideas about what I can do to deal with that weed-infested rock ring that I could do myself and for minimal cost?  I am happy to put in the work.  The area that you see in the pictures, I've not only done the planting but also done the sheet mulching around all of it.  Labor-intensive, and I frankly LOVE doing that work.  

    (As a side note, I won't use herbicides: I don't like putting poison in the ground and potentially poisoning the animals (and water).  So I am open to suggestions but only if they do not include poisons.)  

What Defines Us?

     I mentioned in an earlier post that David's car bit the dust a couple months back.  Unexpected, but there it was.  Since we were traveling a lot this summer, I thought we could probably get by with just the two cars.  David works from home, after all, and Aislynn and Jonah would go back to school in the fall.  But as we unloaded everything out of the car, I found myself shaking my head and wondering how long it would be before one of the other two would also reach that point where it no longer made sense to try to fix it.  That point came last week.  The Toyota Camry (a 1995!!) has gone a long way, but when it started having issues and we took it to the shop, our mechanic said it was probably the transmission and so, car number two is now gone as well.  While I was certain we could hobble along with two cars, the five of us trying to share one car felt like a stretch.  Even considering that most of the year it will be only three of us at home, one car still felt like it would really be a great inconvenience, to say the least.  Finally, since we have become accustomed to using the electric car for most of our driving, this last week's need to fill the lone car's gas tank twice also convinced us that it was in our best interest to try to find another electric car.  We had heard that many rental car companies were getting rid of their electric fleets fairly cheaply, so that is the route we went and we now have a new (used) Kia.  Putting aside the financial concerns, it is fun to have a new car to get to know.  

    But all of that is an introduction to say that we spent about 3 hours at the Enterprise sales office this weekend.  The young man who helped us was really nice, and with David and Aislynn along, there was a great deal of laughter and joking that we shared.  At one point we had to fill out the financing forms and David and I needed to tell him what we did for a living and who employed us. Because we'd been laughing and kidding each other so much, I felt comfortable asking him, "Guess what I do?"  He smiled, looked at me for a long time and said, "Oh, I think it could be just about anything."  (That is not a direct quote... if you want to know what he really said, you'll have to ask me...)  When I told him I was a pastor though, he nearly choked.  He was like, "Oh wow.  I did NOT see that coming!"  Hm.  I found myself wondering what I convey that made that so surprising.

    While we were on our UK tour, I had a conversation about music with someone who asked if I played an instrument and I told her that yes, I played several, but piano primarily. I wasn't telling her that it was my job, but somehow that was the message that got conveyed and there never seemed to be a time or a place to correct the impression that working as a pianist was my primary career.  That misunderstanding ended up being passed along to others on the tour, and it was only a couple people who, on asking directly, knew that I was a pastor.  Interestingly, the wife of this couple is a professional church organist, working at a United Methodist Church so we had some good conversations about church.  Still, it was a different experience for me to be in a group of people, most of whom did not know what I do.  

    I have assumed I would be a pastor since I was in first grade.  It has been my career focus, but also my identity then for 50 years.  That is a long time to be known for this role, for this focus, for this faith.  And to be in a position where, for 12 days people did not know what I did was interesting and unique for me.  But I also learned some things.

    First, people talk differently around me when they don't know what I do.  There was a lot more foul language, more raunchy jokes, a lot less apologizing for both, and more invitations to join in on the laughter than when I'm in groups who know what I do.  I guess that's not a surprise, though I don't see myself as judgmental about how people talk or play.  In some ways, that was freeing.  There weren't the assumptions about what would offend or upset me.  There wasn't the caution or carefulness around me about what could or should be said.  

    I also did not have the experience, as I've shared that I often have on airplanes, of my job scaring away conversations.  The most common reaction I've received in telling people on airplanes what I do for a living is for them to no longer want to talk to me.  And since only this very nice couple knew what I did on the tour, I didn't have that experience of people disengaging because of assumptions and fears around what it means that I'm a pastor. 

    But the other side of the coin is that I've found that many people open up a great deal when they know what I do.  Conversations can go deep and beyond small talk  when people know you are a person who engages with faith and people's life transitions on a regular basis.  I've had people share with me (second most common airplane reaction) stories of their lives that have both stunned but also gifted me to hear.  Many people trust that pastors will keep confidences and know how to listen.  The only people on the UK tour with whom I did share real conversation was the couple who knew what I did. My role opens doors that I missed by not sharing what I do.  

    All of this also caused me to step back and wonder what is core to my identity.  Is it being a pastor?  Is it being a mom?  A wife?  A friend?  A child of God?  Or is it just being a person, being me?  I think that the core of my identity has changed through time.  Being a mom has been and continues to be important for me.  But being a pastor has also always been foundational for me as both one of the core markings of my identity, but also as just a marker to say that my relationship with God has been foundational to my being.  

    There are times when I regret all the assumptions that are made about me when people know what I do for work.  I don't like it when people stifle who they are, or apologize for their language or their jokes because of what I do.  As I've shared before, I dislike the assumptions some around me have made about what I believe and what kind of person I therefore am.  But hating the assumptions does not change the fact that being a pastor is who I am, who I believe I am called to be, what I love and what I want to do with my time, with my life.  I am a person who feels a strong call to live a life of faith, and of teaching, and of support to others also walking a faith journey.  I am a person who chooses to check in with God, with Love, with the Divine in all that I do and I love that this can be central in my work.  This is who I am.

        So the question remains, if I were to go on another trip like this, would I be more forthcoming about what I do?  I think I would.  I think the desire to be invisible for a while proved to me that I am a pastor at core, and I don't want to hide from that. Good experience though... interesting and different for me.

And so it goes...

     As I've written before, I was unable to spend my time on the Camino, per my sabbatical plans.  Then, returning home, I've found that the last part of my sabbatical, which was supposed to be fixing up my own garden, has also been "sabotaged" in many ways.  First, the expense, even with dental insurance, of dealing with the infection in my tooth and jaw was extreme, which has made the buying of plants and mulch difficult.  Secondly, the excessive heat has also meant that while I can go outside for an hour or so in the morning, that really just allows me to do maintenance on what is already there.  Anything I would plant right now would have a hard time surviving, and my time outside is limited by my ability to endure the heat.  

    At any rate, all of this has caused me to do some serious reflection on the very nature of my life, and probably, all lives.

    Things don't go as planned.  Again, I can really only talk about my own life here.  But I've had dreams and plans, big and small, and very rarely have any of them gone the way I wanted or even expected.  Examples:

    I thought I would be married fairly young, but in fact wasn't married until I was 29.  I also didn't expect trauma, betrayal, divorce, or any of that, but no one ever does.

    I thought I would be a missionary; working for justice and empowerment overseas.  In fact, I really wasn't very good at that work when I tried it so that did not pan out.

    Then I thought I would settle into a home and raise my kids and be a permanent active part of a community throughout my life.  In fact, the longest I've ever lived in a home as an adult is 8 1/2 years, and that is my current home.  Before this, the longest we'd been in a house was 6 years. And I've lived all over: from the Southwest to the South to the Midwest and back here to CA.  

    My vacations have rarely gone as planned.  When Jonah and I planned a hiking trip to Yosemite, the car broke down on the way there.  On a family trip to Tahoe, Jonah and David had to return early for a school requirement we didn't know about until the last minute.  Another trip to Tahoe, I had to return because of a church situation.  And these stories go on.  As a matter of fact, this problem with vacations never working out the way they are planned is so consistent for me that I was certain before we left that something would go wrong.  As you know, it did.  I don't know why, then, I was so upset by it.  I mean, I expected it at some level, but just hoped so deeply that I was wrong and it would all work out.  

    As I said, small things, big things...

    But as I've sat with this, I've also remembered that many things have worked out better than I expected.  I've made friendships where they weren't expected.  I've connected with people who have shown up in my life in truly unexpected ways.  David was a surprise, a very good one.  I've also had surprises in my career.  I didn't expect to be asked if I wanted to co-moderate the Presbytery, for example.  That was a wonderful surprise!  All my jobs as a musician: not one of them have I applied for: they have all come to me, been offered to me, and each one has been a wonderful gift allowing me to play piano and do other things musically, and to experience the joys of doing so.  My job at Bethel came as an incredibly wonderful surprise, working with Sarah was a gift that has continued to give, even though neither of us are at Bethel any longer.  My job at St. Andrew's was also full of incredible surprises: the people and their care and generosity being number one.  The opening at Clayton Valley was a great surprise and getting the position here has been a wonderful gift. Having a publisher reach out to me repeatedly to publish my blogs into a couple books was also an amazing, wonderful surprise, as was being asked to write devotionals for These Days for a couple weeks.  The list goes on!

    Can we weigh these things?  I don't know that that would be helpful.  But I'm back to feeling that what I'm being called to do, both with this time and with the situations that have arisen in my life is to look for what is good, to look for what is beautiful.

    I've needed to name for myself, honestly, that I can tend to focus more on the negative, when there are good things all around.  My personality does not sit in the good as much as it struggles with the challenges.  But I have some choice in this.  I know gratitude is always a gift, and it is one that lifts spirits, brings joy, and helps us connect more fully with God, with Love, with Beauty.  So, as always, my lesson in this remains to spend the time each day that calls for me to reflect on what has come that has been good, that has been surprising but also gifting, where God has been and continues to be in my day, in my life.  

    Three weeks of Sabbatical left... and I am going to be intentional about this time.  It will go quickly!

Lessons From the Journey: Charity Vs. Dignity

         This morning I found myself thinking about my time on Iona and in particular my encounter with the young man studying to be a Jesuit priest whom we had met on the bus around Mull.  There are only two places to eat dinner on Iona, so inevitably you encounter people that you've met before.  One night when David and I were at one of the two places, the student was there having dinner with one of the employees of the Abby.  It was fairly early and as a result, the four of us were the only ones in the room.  While David and I tried to focus on our own conversation, the conversation of the student and the employee became pretty heated at one point and was hard not to hear.

    It seems the young man was upset because the policy at the Iona Abby is that you can stay there, but it is in exchange for work.  He was upset because he felt that charity should be the value, and he should be allowed to stay without working. Again, we weren't trying to listen in, so much of the conversation we did not hear as we talked with one another as well, but that was the part I was able to gather, and it has caused me to reflect on the values of charity vs the importance of working for what you need.

    I think there is room for both, in different situations. But let me start by saying that there is great value in working for what you are given.  When I was a college student, I volunteered with several groups working to help the unhoused population in the Berkeley area.  One of those was the soup kitchen.  This particular soup kitchen "charged" those who came to eat a quarter per meal.  If the person did not have a quarter, they were invited to help out in the kitchen or with serving the food.  This was the policy of the soup kitchen because they found it gave some dignity back to those they fed. Those who came to eat felt they had paid for their meal, they had contributed.  They were not "charity cases" who could not help themselves, but were people who, like the rest of us, paid for what they were given.  Of course a quarter is a token amount.  But it made a difference in how those who paid for their meals felt, not only about the meal they were given, but also about themselves, as people capable of contributing.

    We tend to value more what we pay to have.  I've found this with our own church programs as well.  When we invite the kids in the community to come for VBS, music classes drama classes, or whatever it is, we have found consistently that if the parents don't pay, the kids are inconsistent in attending.  If the parents pay, even a small or token amount, the kids attend.  The families value it more because they have paid for it, even if the amount they pay is minimal.   

    I've also seen too many situations in which charity is another way of separating people from one another, putting folk into categories of "us" and "them."  For example, when churches are serving meals, providing laundry services, or even giving away clothing, many times the workers are wearing name tags and the guests aren't.  

    "Why?"  I've asked.  

    "Well," I've been honestly told, "it helps us keep track of who is the server and who is being served." 

    "Why is that necessary?"  I always ask again.  I've never received a satisfactory answer in response.  Would it be a terrible thing if the guests or clients helped out?  Would it be awful if some of those helping also used some of the resources that we are giving away?  Why must we separate people out?  It inevitably ends up feeling like some are "good" people doing and giving good things while the others are unworthy but are being graced with the charity.  Instead of seeing our common humanity and universal need, we see some as generous givers, and others as recipients or takers: "not us!"   

    So what is the argument, then, for pure charity?  For the recipients, the times I've been given something that I cannot pay back have been opportunities for humility on my part.  Sometimes we need the humility of learning to accept gifts that we cannot reciprocate or pay for.  On the other side of this, giving, truly giving, without expectation or even hope for a return is also an important lesson for us to learn.  It reminds us that all that we have is for the good of all God's people, not just ourselves.  It reminds us that we are deeply blessed by all that we have.  It has all come to us through grace, truly, and is lent to us for us to share.  It teaches us to be more generous and less greedy, to stop always looking for what we might gain from what we give.

    There are times when charity is necessary.  I spent a summer in Alabama working on fixing and building houses for people who could NOT pay at all for what they were being given.  It was different from Habitat for Humanity in that these were for people who were disabled, or elderly, or truly in situations where they could neither work nor pay anything in exchange for their abodes that we were either fixing or building.  These were necessary charities.  But I still found myself at times thinking that there were ways, still, that it could be and sometimes was, an exchange.  As we listened to the wisdom of those we served, as we heard their stories and their experiences, what we were given in many ways surpassed what we were giving.  

    I think it is important, always, to think through why we are choosing charity over finding ways to give the dignity of an exchange.  I think it is important to be more intentional in this.  Always.