Rituals

         I've been thinking about the many rituals that are an important part of every culture.  There are rituals around birth: baptisms, naming rituals, brises. We have rituals for coming of age: Bat mitzvah's and bar mitzvah's, quinceaneras, senior proms, sweet sixteen parties and graduations.  We have marriages and weddings. We celebrate retirements as well as birthdays and anniversaries.  And we have rituals around the end of life: wakes, memorials, funerals, celebrations of life.  All of these rituals give our lives structure and help us to frame events into meaningful times.  We recognize the seasons of our lives as we recognize the seasons of the year. Those rituals are essential to our sense of movement and purpose as we age and move through lives.

       Mitch Albom in his book, Have a Little Faith shared the story of Rabbi Lewis who lost his young daughter through a very severe asthma attack.  Albom wrote that the power of ritual includes being part of something bigger than yourself, connecting to those who have gone before.  They give our lives rhythm and purpose, especially after loss, after the death of someone we deeply love.  These rituals are soothing, are comforting, and form patterns of self-care and other care.  He goes on to say that since faith is about how you act, what you do, rituals are essential. 

       As he pointed out, though, we in the white Western world are diminishing in our practice of these rituals. Fewer and fewer people practice daily prayer, fewer people are baptized, and fewer get married.  As adults, many of us forgo birthday or anniversary celebrations. And many people now are deciding that when they die, they do not want their families to have a memorial service or a celebration of life.  

                There are reasons for all these decisions, and I think that in many cases, people who decide they don't want these celebrations do so out of a sense that somehow celebrating the seasons in a particular life is self-centered or selfish.  

               But the older I get, the more important I find these celebrations to be.  And in particular, to decide you do not want your loved ones to hold a memorial service in your honor after you pass is the opposite of being giving and selfless.  This denies people a way to grieve, a way to work through the loss and death of someone they loved and love still.  Memorial services are not about the person who died.  They are rituals for those who have been left, for the living.  As such, they offer a way to grieve, a way to gather with others who are also grieving, to remember, and to assign meaning to a life that is no longer physically present with us.  It is a time to offer reassurance that though a body is gone, a spirit continues, and to give people tools for keeping that spirit alive.  They are invited to share their stories, to continue to talk about their loved one without fear of bringing pain, to remember how we each have been changed because of their life in this place.  Memorials offer an invitation to live out the good of the person who has passed by continuing their legacy of giving, of loving, and of serving in their own unique ways. 

               Will people get over the loss of someone without the memorial service?  Probably most will figure out a way to grieve on their own.  And there are always situations where it would cause more harm than good to have such a service (like in the case of family conflict).  But I believe that in the great majority of cases, celebrations of life help the grieving process immensely.  As such, I believe that to deny your loved ones the opportunity to gather, to remember, to share, and to grieve together is to make the grieving much more difficult. 

               Frankly, planning and putting together a celebration of life is especially helpful to immediate family.  It gives them something to do with the pain they are experiencing.  It helps them to get out of bed in the morning because they have a focus and an important job that needs to be done.  That job includes continued focused on their loved one whom they lost (so it does not feel like just putting that person aside to go back to “normal” living), but it frames their time and gives meaning and purpose to the time following the loss. 

               I could go on…

               Please think carefully before you make the decision for your loved ones that a memorial service in your honor will be unneeded or unnecessary.  Please think seriously before you decide for all the people who love you what will be best for their grieving process. 

               If you are worried about the burden it will put on them to plan the service, plan it yourself.  Pick the place, the music, or the readings you would like as well as who you might want to have roles in the service. Pick what kind of party or service or celebration you might like to have.  You can make the arrangements ahead of time in many cases.  Still, you plan your own memorial with the reminder that again the service is for the living: so they may choose differently that your suggestions. 

               Again, though, please do not decide it is unnecessary for those left behind.  That is not your decision to make: and it underestimates what others may need to do to move forward after your passing.  Our lives touch many people, usually more than we think.  To celebrate that is a good and important part of life, it is an important piece of continuing to live despite the fact that the older we get, the more losses we will experience.

Societal Change

      When we were in Scotland for the first time (5 years ago), one of the bus drivers said to all of us that he could tell if another driver was from Scotland or not because the Scottish drivers always greeted each other with a wave of the hand, whereas people from other countries, and the US in particular did not.  At the time he said this, I remember thinking that it really depended on which parts of the world and even of the country we were discussing.  My own experience had been that hiking or walking, in particular, always met with friendly encounters from other people; that if I smiled at someone as I passed, this was almost always met with a returning smile or even a "hello."

    But I think this is changing, and not for the better.  The last time I went for a hike and I smiled and said "hello" as I passed someone, the young woman just stared at me like I was from outer space.  I found this very disconcerting.

    Then this weekend Jasmyn and I went to a Halloween party for Monterey Bay Aquarium members.  Everyone was dressed in costume, everyone who went had to be an aquarium member.  But still, as I walked by others dressed in their costumes and would say things like "Oh, I love your costume!" I would usually get those same glass-eyed stares. 

    At first, I wondered if this was because I'm now a middle aged woman and we tend to disappear.  Books, articles, studies all talk about the fact that middle aged women are just not seen.  Doctors don't listen to us, store clerks won't engage us (as I shared in another article), and people in public no longer actually LOOK at us.  But Jasmyn was with me.  And Jasmyn experienced the same thing I did.  Jasmyn is a beautiful young person, so that was not it.  And Jasmyn encouraged me to watch and see how the groups at the aquarium interacted with each other.  Were any of them friendly to the other aquarium members who were attending the party?  Did any of the other families or groups choose to greet, smile, or acknowledge one another?  And the answer was a very sad, "No."

    For fear of sounding like one of those crotchety old people who complain that everything was better "back in my day," let me just say that I can understand where this behavior has come from.  We've taught our kids stranger-danger (though statistics say it is usually people the children know who do the most harm), so is it any wonder they've now grown up to be people who do not interact with strangers?  We have learned to isolate ourselves in our electronic devices, only "meeting" new people in virtual ways, so is it any surprise that we no longer remember how to meet or greet or talk to potential new connections and friends in person?  Add to that that in this moment in time, the polarization in our country and the discomfort talking to anyone from "the other side" politically makes it difficult for many to feel they want to risk a conversation with someone who may not be on the same page.

    Nonetheless, I feel we have lost something vital.  I felt very sad that my attempts to compliment or connect with others at the aquarium were met with distance and even fear.  While dressing up, seeing the fish and being with Jasmyn was great fun in itself, for me, Halloween has always been a time to connect with others, to be a parade of costumes and celebration as a community. And, as I often say, how can we hope to heal our country without actually talking to one another and trying to cross those divides?

    So where is the hope in this?  I continue to believe that we make the world what we want it to be.  So I will continue to greet the strangers I see.  I will continue to compliment others in their costumes and to delight in those who will smile back.  I will not be changed by those who believe it is necessary to be cold to and distant from strangers.  I encourage you to do the same.  We can make the world a kinder place by expressing the kindness we hope to find in the world.  

Happy Halloween!

We must do things differently!

     Today as I was driving back to church after a meeting, I was stopped at a red light and noticed a very skinny and very dirty homeless man who clearly had some mental health issues, standing on the side of the road staring at his fingers and talking to them.  

    Suddenly a police officer drove through the red light, stopping in the middle of the street.  He jumped out, grabbed the homeless man, threw him on the ground, kneeled on his back and grabbed his arms in a way that I am certain broke at least one of them, screaming at him the whole time and eventually handcuffed him.  I swear, if the light hadn’t changed, I would have been able to video at least the end of this unfortunate encounter. I couldn’t believe it. Or rather, I could believe it but the fact that this behavior still continues is utterly baffling to me. This was a 6 lane road, so there were many of us who saw this, but the officer didn’t care and didn’t think he’d be challenged or corrected, probably because, again, this was a homeless and mentally ill person: someone many feel it is okay to reject and to treat like they are sub-human.

    Someone reading this might say that I had no idea what proceeded that and they would be right.  Nonetheless, this man was not putting up any resistance at all, he was laying on the ground crying in pain but not fighting this officer at all. He had nothing on him, nothing with him, nothing that could have been damaging or threatening.  There was no reason at all why this officer could not have talked to him politely, asked him questions, taken him gently in, if that is what needed to happen.

    When will we start caring about people enough to take seriously that this kind of behavior from the people who are supposed to “protect” us does not, in fact, protect us, but instead creates a society of violence, retribution, vengeance and fear? This behavior will never lead us to remember that we are all connected, and that those people we dismiss as “other” and “not worthy” are our siblings: they belong to us, and we have a responsibility to care for them, to HELP them, rather than harm them more.  

    I keep thinking of a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt, “When will our consciences grow so tender that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenging it?”  She said that a long time ago, but have we moved any closer at all to true understanding, compassion, and caring for one another?

    Our Old Testament law of “an eye for an eye” was supposed to mitigate the amount of retaliatory damage we could inflict on the other.  Jesus took it even further, “I say to you, do NOT return evil for evil!”  So many people claim to believe and yet I know very, very few who really want to help those who do damage rather than try to avenge them.

    The truth is that our retaliatory responses make nothing better.  Our punishments do not lessen the amount of crime in our society.  I’ve written about this before so I will not go into the details here.  But this doesn’t work.  Restorative justice DOES.  It goes so much further in terms of changing people for the better so that crimes are not repeated and people can re-enter society better and more able to be well-functioning and contributing individuals.  

    This has to begin with what we see as acceptable responses by our law enforcement to those they don’t like or those with whom they are angry.  Being okay with the way police abuse even those we reject has to stop.  And it has to stop with us.  

We become what we believe ourselves to be

        I've been thinking about a person I knew who was a professional victim.  What I mean by that is that this is a person who, given the attention of anyone at all, would take the opportunity to share how their life, their parents, their current family members, their friends and their community were unkind to them and had done them wrong.  This was such a central part of their identity that at a job interview for a leadership position, they lost the job because they took the interview time as an opportunity to share how badly they'd been victimized by their life.  

    With prompting, this individual finally chose to go to therapy.  But unfortunately, the therapist they chose and loved was someone who supported them in this victim stance.  The therapist would listen and lament about how horrible this person's life was and how awful it was that she'd been treated as she had.  For those of us who knew this professional victim well, we saw a different picture.  We saw a person who manipulated and controlled those around her with this victim stance.  If she whined long and hard enough about something that she believed was "unfair," those around her tended to jump to fix it or give to her what she wanted, even when it was unhealthy and damaging for her or those around her.  Her victim position was one of power, but an unhealthy power.  Those who loved her grew tired of being made out to be her perpetrators, those who loved her also grew tired of her choosing this position of what appeared to be weakness when she had so much potential for true strength and joy.  Unfortunately, it was a rare individual who offered her a different way of being in the world, one that celebrated the gifts in her life and gained strength from surviving what was difficult in her past. The rare people who did offer this different option were usually, then, added to her list of "perpetrators" who did not understand her, could not help her, and did not love her when it fact it was out of love that a different possible view of the world was offered.  She believed herself to be a victim at every turn, and could not begin to see other options for how she might walk through this life.  She was never able to move into a different stance, and I believe fully that her therapist caused more harm than good in this woman's life.     

    Another person I know similarly decided that he was a failure in life, could not function normally, was "broken" and could not heal.  This person, too, found a therapist who would support this self-view.  This therapist even used the phrases, "deeply wounded," and "broken" to describe her client.  The individual with this self opinion had functioned in life: he graduated from an esteemed university with honors, was invited to be part of significant and important conferences, held down good jobs, and was even at one point written up in the local paper as someone who was extremely gifted and capable.  But he chose to entrench in a self-image that said he was incapable. As a result of that self-definition, he chose to no longer be functional.  He decided that his life wounded him too deeply for him to do even the basic behaviors necessary to live in this world. As a result of this self-image, he became the person he decided he was.  He became the incapable, broken person he believed himself to be. And like the professional victim above, he blamed those around him, with the support of his therapist, for his "brokenness." Honestly, it was heart-wrenching to watch.

    When my family was going through our terrible trauma, I went to seek help from a spiritual director.  In contrast to the two therapists mentioned above, this person told me that there are three responses to trauma: we can become victims, we can become survivors, or we can thrive through our traumas to emerge better and more whole.  This spiritual director told me that he saw me as that third kind: the kind who was a thriver, growing stronger and clearer about who I am in the world and how I choose to be because of my traumas, not in spite of them.  He told me that being a thriver did not mean I would always be happy: tears, and genuinely going through the trauma with all the emotions attached of anger, grief, even despair at times, were part of emerging as a thriver.  But making the choice to go on, to continue, to do what needed to be done and to do it as well as I could, to focus on who I chose to be and what I chose to do rather than what had been done to me, but more, to look for the good, to find things each and every day to celebrate and to be grateful for: to seek out help for myself from appropriate people in appropriate ways that would allow me to continue to care for the others around me (like my family and congregation) who were also in pain: that these were the choices of a thriver.  He said this with such conviction, and emphasized repeatedly my strength and my thriver choices to seek out and live in gratitude, that I became who he said I was.  I leaned into being a thriver, someone who has grown from my traumas, rather than being hemmed in or restricted by them, someone who claims my own decisions in life rather than living in a place of blaming others for my situation.  And I continue to be a person who looks for the good, who chooses gratitude for the gifts of each day, and who works hard to grow and be better tomorrow than I am today.  I choose to be a thriver because someone whom I trusted told me that was who I was.  Again, this does not mean I don't have feelings.  To the contrary, I continue to believe we have to go through the traumas, through the feelings, through the hard times to come out the other side in a healthy way.  But I choose to do that, knowing that on the other end I will still be a thriver who can function and who makes the decision to live fully and with gratitude and joy.

        While this may sound like an anti-therapist rant, it is not.  There are very good therapists out there, and I believe most of us can benefit from a good therapeutic relationship at one point or another or even throughout our lives.  This is also not an "avoid going into your past or the things that have hurt you" proclamation.  There is great power in looking at our pasts to see what has shaped us and what struggles we still need to work through in order to emerge as thrivers.  

    What I am trying to say is two things: 

    First, do not let your past determine who you are.  Work it through so that you can move forward into being who you are called to be. Deal with those early hurts and then let go of the stuck blame game which will not help you to be the person you are meant to be.  It will also not help you to have positive and loving relationships if you are continually blaming those around you.  You are adults.  You make the choices you need to make for your lives.  Step into those choices and take responsibility for your lives from this moment forward.

    Secondly and more importantly: we need to be careful and intentional about who we decide we are, and how we let others tell us who we are.  Who we believe ourselves to be greatly impacts who we become.  Our self-image, then, can be either a gift or a curse, depending on what you tell yourself and what you allow others to tell you about who you are.  

    Let me be the first, then, to tell each of you my readers: You are loved. You are beautiful. You are STRONG to have made it this far and to live each and every day in a challenging and difficult world.  You have been gifted with every breath you take, with bodies that, even if they have some challenges, still carry you through each day, with friends and family who love you, with the seasons as they come and go, with the birds that sing and the gardens around us, with music and dance and books and art.  All of this has been given to YOU because you are worthy to receive it all.  You are kind, you are smart.  You are loving and generous. You are capable.  Most of all, you get to have a hand in deciding who you will be as you step forward into the rest of your lives.  Take that opportunity.  THRIVE!

Hurry! Hurry! Offer ends soon!

     We are bombarded with ads that come to our houses, to our emails, through our televisions, on the websites we visit, and even through our phones via texts, apps and phone calls.  There is always an urgency in these ads: "Hurry, hurry!  Offer ends soon!" 

    We know why they do it this way: if they can create a sense of urgency, people are more likely to purchase whatever it is before their rational brain can kick in and point out that we don't actually need whatever it is they are selling, and often we don't even want it.  There is danger from companies that want to sell more! more! more! in giving people time for them to think about what they are doing.  There is also the fallacy that if you buy something on sale that you are saving money.  You are still buying whatever it is.  You are still paying money for that item.  Unless it is something you were looking to buy and planning to buy that you then found on sale, you have not saved money.  You have spent money on something you probably didn't need.  Most of the items people buy in this way might be used once, maybe, but then end up in the drawer or garage and are not used again.    

    While some of us can see through these sales tactics, other people also use this same method to trick us into believing certain things or reacting quickly in other ways.  If they use the scare tactic of, "If you don't do this NOW, then these bad things will happen!" it effectively turns off people's ability to think and make rational, logical decisions.  Propaganda ads use this urgency to convince you that dire situations will follow if you don't vote such a way, for example.  

    Scammers also use this urgency effectively.  Those phone calls from "the IRS" that insist you better head down to your local target and buy copious amounts of gift cards or else you will be arrested within an hour affectively scare people into failing to consider how likely the whole scenario really is.  I was reading an article about the latest scams, one of which is to use AI to impersonate loved ones' voices who urgently ask for money to be wired in order to keep them out of jail or to save them in some other way.  Scams using Zelle or Venmo have also become common, and again, one thing they all have in common is the urgency with which they push you to respond.  

    I've seen this happen so often that at this point, anything that is presented to me with urgency I receive with great suspicion.  

    But today I found myself wondering if this manufactured urgency is part of the mental health crisis in this country.  That urgency creates anxiety, and if that anxiety cannot be addressed or attended to, it can lead to serious depression. We run around feeling that we have to move fast, fast, fast to get things done.  We make decisions based on urgency and how quickly we can move so that we have time for other things that we will also zoom through as fast as we possibly can.  We aren't living in the moment anymore.  We aren't taking time to enjoy the day.  Everything feels urgent.  

    My challenges for all of us today:

    First, be very wary of the urgencies others bring to you.  The faster others are pushing for something to be done, perhaps the slower we should move to respond so that we genuinely have time to think things through with our non-anxious, rational brain.  

    Second, and again, this is for all of us: I want to encourage us all to breathe!  This life is for living, for enjoying, and that means we need to take time to be in each moment and savor what is good, what is beautiful, to see where God is, where the good is, where love is, without letting our brains run to what must be done next.  

     Finally, try not to let the urgency of others become a contagious way to functioning in the world.  We change the culture by acting differently in the world.  For today, I encourage you to find the moments of quiet, of peace, to rest in those moments and to slow down.  What must be done will be done.  What does not need to be done in this moment or today can wait.  Maybe we will find it didn't really need to be done at all!      

How We Communicate... or Lessons in Vulnerability

    I've been thinking about what we communicate without intending to do so... what we say with our words, our tones, our facial expressions that leave people with impressions other than what we'd hoped or planned.  

    I see the difficulty in communicating that happens between other people all the time.  Most of the time when people are offended or upset, it is usually a misunderstanding of what the other has said: there has been a miscommunication.  To say it another way, what was intended to be communicated was not what was actually communicated.  This is why one of the counseling tools I've often used when couples come into my office is just to ask each person to tell the other what they have heard the other say.  Most of the time, it is not what the first person was trying to communicate.  This is more true when people are having conflict.  What you hear when you are already upset tends to be skewed in the direction of your upset.  We give each other more grace when we are happy in a relationship of any kind and therefore if we aren't sure what the other is communicating, we are more likely to ask.  We are also more likely to assume the best intentions of the other when things are going well.  

    But lately as I've thought about this, I've been taking it to a more personal place.  What I mean is that it can be difficult to see what it is we are communicating.  And if others aren't clear with us about what they are seeing or hearing, we often don't realize what we are communicating that was unintentional or even the opposite of what we are trying to say.

    Recently I was told that there is a disconnect between the way I write and the way I present myself at my job.  If I understood the person correctly, in my job I come across as competent and capable, but in my writing I come across as broken and hurting. I have to be honest and say this was surprising to me: VERY surprising to me. I write about what I have experienced as a way to connect life lessons to real stories.  I write about what I am experiencing as a way to connect with others' stories and experiences so that we can all grow together.  I always end my posts with hope, with lessons, with the gifts of each day.  But that is not what is coming across.    

    So, let me be clear: I am not "hurting" or "broken" except in the ways that all humans are.  We all have challenges or traumas we work on, deal with, and grow from. And while I have been choosing to share those, it is from a place of strength that I can be vulnerable and open in my sharing. I have lived through many things that have been incredibly difficult.  Whatever I experience now cannot possibly compare to those things, and I came through those times with strength and courage.  I do the same now: I am resilient and I know how to take care of myself.  I also know where there are resources if I need more help and I'm not afraid to ask for help.  Again I share my own journey as a way to help others learn the lessons and find the hope that I find.  I am not, ever, asking to be fixed.  Nor am I asking for sympathy or pity.  I am certainly not wanting people to be concerned or to feel they have to walk on eggshells around me. 

    Henri Nouwen talks about there being, in general, two kinds of pastors.  The traditional pastor is distant, removed, and appears, as apparently I do in person, as competent and capable.  The other is a "wounded healer": someone who shows their vulnerability and wounds as a way to be more accessible, but also as a way of communicating that they, too, are human and understand the pain that those around us experience. I have always tried to be transparent because I cannot relate to the distant traditional pastor and therefore have never wanted to be that. 

    Nonetheless, I learned early in my ministry not to use my personal stories in sermons unless they were resolved.  I use stories of past injury or past struggle as a way to present that honest but human "wounded healer."  I learned early on that I cannot share current stories or people will feel they need to step in, to fix me, to "help" me.  That's not an appropriate role for parishioners, so I don't share current struggles in sermons unless, again, they are resolved.  But I felt that, if I could make it clear in my blog that I was not asking for help and that I found hope and goodness and lessons for the journey in the daily struggles, that I could be more current in my writing, present a more authentic "wounded healer" who is on the journey of life as you all are.  

    I realize now though, that I can't, though I feel very sad about this.  Like the lesson I learned early on about not preaching current struggles since they would be misunderstood and distracting, I hear now that there are parishioners who read my blog in this public place and when they are about my current challenges, that my words are, again, often misunderstood and distracting for people; causing worry rather than inviting people to reflect on their own lives and to see both the lessons and the hopes that their own circumstances and situations share in common with my own life walk.  

    I am writing about this here for two reasons: first, to say that I will work to omit current challenges from my blog.  But secondly, I would like to challenge those who read my blog, have read it, continue to read it, to do two things.  First, I encourage you to read more closely.  Again, my intention is to share in a way that we all understand we walk this journey called "life" together, that there are lessons we all learn on the way, and there are experiences we can relate to our own lives in ways that help us to reflect and grow as well.  And that leads me to my second request: rather than focusing on me when you read my writings, I invite you to take it into a place of self-reflection to see where you, too, have similar experiences and how my own words might touch your own lives.  Most of the feedback or comments I receive on my blog have been from those who do exactly that.  And for that I am grateful.  

    As I always do, then, I choose to end this blog with the lessons learned and the hope I carry forward.  The lesson for me is one of paying more attention to the needs of those with whom I interact: in this case, the needs of my parishioners who read my blog.  The lesson for my readers, I hope, is also one of paying more attention: reading more carefully for the lessons, the gifts and the hopes in what they read, and applying it to their own lives.  The hope, then, is that we can grow together, as the hope for me always is.  That we can learn a way to be, even in this blog space, that is not upsetting or hurtful, but is still honest and vulnerable.  For again, the greatest strength is not found in protective walls, but rather in honest vulnerability.   

Good News?

     I receive daily a good news journal in my email.  I started doing it for the congregation so that Sunday mornings I could offer a moment for hope.  This has become, for me at least, a very important part of our Sunday morning service: taking a minute to lift up a reason to be hopeful.  It is frankly difficult to hold on to hope when we look at the increasing violence in our world; the senseless wars; the racism, sexism, heterosexism and more that are on the rise, world-wide; the unconditional support for people who do horrible, inhumane things while villainizing those who are already living on the edge because of unjust and broken systems; the anger and rage we encounter in greater and greater amounts; and the HEAT that is just a glimpse of what is to come in the next few years along with the fear that we will not have a planet we can live on for much longer because of human refusal to, very simply, care.  I can no longer listen to the "regular" news because I find it so distressing and so lacking in hope.

    So I signed up to receive this good news every day.  The e-zine I subscribe to usually lists 4-5 stories each day of good news, of humans being kind, of communities doing good work, of reasons to be hopeful.

    But I have to be honest, most of them are hopeful because they are countering a situation that is dire and lacking in kindness.  

    For example, today I read a story about how Jon Bon Jovi saved a woman from committing suicide who was about to jump off a bridge.  While the story did not detail why she wanted to commit suicide, the very fact that there are so many people in that state of wanting to take their own lives is deeply distressing.  But more to the point: the episode was caught on video.  And what surprised me was not the fact that Jon Bon Jovi stopped to talk to her, but that many people walked by her as she is hanging on the far side of the fence on the bridge with very clear intentions to jump, WITHOUT stopping!  Yay for Jon Bon Jovi, but really!  Shouldn't it be the exception that people don't stop for each other, don't step up, don't get involved to help?  Why is it the exception when someone does?

    The second story was about a woman who is taking old tennis balls and making furniture out of them.  She's doing this because most tennis balls end up in landfills where it takes at least 400 years to decompose!  Well, again, I'm thrilled she is doing something.  But why do we continue to use up the land (dare I say rape the land??!) of its resources to create huge, unusable garbage dumps with materials that cannot be reused or recycled?!  Why are humans so greedy that we feel the land is ours to use and abuse without care for future generations?  Why aren't more people demanding that we use renewable and recyclable resources instead of non-renewable resources that will run out and which, in the meantime, harm our planet, and often do damage to the people tasked with the jobs of extracting those materials from the earth?

    Today's third story was about a native tribe, the Chumash, who for the last 40 years have been trying to get legal protection of some important tribal land here in CA.  The good news was that now they are being heard, though it will still take more time to implement what they are requesting, which is protection of land.  But again, 40 years?!  And shouldn't we all want protection of our lands?

    The last story today was about another billionaire choosing to give $1million to a school.  He is donating less than 1% of his annual income, but it makes the news because it is so much in terms of the mighty dollar.  What if all these billionaires actually tithed, giving the ten percent that many give to help others?  What could be done then?  But no, those with more become greedier so that the small percentages they do give are seen as extraordinary and make the news.

    These stories, all of them, were just what came to my inbox today.  And as I'm writing this, I'm aware, again, that all of these are supposed to be good news, and yet each one of them said something very negative about humanity as a whole that I find very discouraging.  

    As always, my job is to pass on hope.  So what can I say about this that does offer hope?  It is hopeful that some of us can see how wrong the situations are in the first place.  Until we see what is wrong, until we can name it, there is no chance for change.  There is hope that there are a few people stepping out to make a difference.  Just as greed, anger and evil seem to be contagious, goodness and kindness is absolutely contagious.  So, as more people choose to do what is right, we can trust that their kindness will inspire others to also see the bigger picture and respond with care and kindness.

    From a faith perspective, we also put our hope in a God who can take our small efforts for good and grow them into bigger changes for the world.  We are called to trust that even when we cannot see the good we have done, that God can use it and grow it over time.  

    Perhaps these small pieces of hope don't feel like enough.  If that is the case I challenge each of you who are reading this to be the hope.  To be the kindness and to step into places of making a difference that we are each called to do.  Give more, even while knowing that it won't be reported to some good news magazine.  Care more, even while recognizing that your acts of reaching out to those who are struggling may not be caught on video.  Love more and serve more, even while seeing that you may start as the exception, but that as we continue to do the work of loving and serving, others will be inspired by our examples to do the same.

    We are the hope.  And we can trust that this is, indeed, good news!

More Gardening Lessons

     I continue to be amazed by what my garden has to teach me.  Here are some of the lessons I've been especially focused on recently:

    1.  When I am pulling weeds, if I tug them too hard, they simply break off.  When I am gentle at pulling out each weed, I am often able to pull long and intact roots along with the weed, insuring that at least that particular weed will not grow back. I think the same is true in life.  When we try to fight or force solutions, tugging out our problems or issues, it might look for a time like we have solved the issue.  But we've just broken it off at the soil.  The root of the problem remains and as a result, it will come back, grow back, often stronger and with more force since the roots have had time to continue to grow and strengthen.  I think the current divisions in our country, the strong stance of opposition that each side takes reflects this intractability of the issues.  We have not worked with each other, we have not tried to dig down to understand the different values and beliefs that form each other's viewpoints and choices.  As a result, the roots of each side have continued to grow and develop, unbeknownst to the other side.  The fights, the issues, might be cut off at the base for a time.  But the issues themselves will come back unless there is a deeper dig into what is causing our divide, truly, underneath what we see.  Until we listen, are gentle with each other, and dig down deep into understanding, there can be no movement, no healing, and no solutions to this divide.

    2.  On Saturday, I was sheet mulching under a large tree in our front yard.  I stood up too fast and hit my head, hard, on the tree. Several things had happened: first I was so focused on what was right in front of me that I forgot to take in the bigger picture of what was around me.  I forgot to notice the tree and that failure to see ended up causing me pain. This too is mirrored in our culture.  We get caught up in the little things and sometimes forget to see the big picture.  When that happens, we can again, head down paths that may suit us or serve us for a time, but will not serve us in the long run.  Our need for instant gratification, for wealth, for comfort has caused us to become blind to the damage we are doing to other cultures and to the earth, for example. We stop seeing. We stop feeling.  And in the end, it may kill us all.  

    3. The second thing I learned from the tree incident was that I need to avoid pushing so hard that I become too tired to function properly.  I wanted to get the sheet mulching done.  I'm not comfortable having a load of mulch in my driveway and wanted to move it all to where it would finally be in its place.  But after a couple hours of loading mulch into the wheelbarrow, moving it and then scooping it out and spreading it, I was so tired that I fell twice before finally hitting my head on the tree.  I had been trying to get the mulching done too quickly and that insistence on continuing to work when it was obvious that I was spent just slowed me down in the end.  It also meant that my gardening project stopped being fun and life-giving for me that day.  It became something I was dreading and resenting.  And I'm now angry at the tree that I have loved, despite knowing that actually it was my own fault. Yes, there is value in pushing ourselves farther. But recognizing when we've reached the limit is also important.  We won't reach the finish line if we fall off the track completely in utter exhaustion.  Knowing when to pause, to stop, to rest: these are lessons I should have learned during sabbatical, but apparently need to learn again in a different, and hopefully deeper way. 

    4.  I mentioned this before, but some plants live and others don't.  I'm not ultimately in charge of that.  I can do my best to help them grow, but in the end, all I can do is what is in front of me to do.  The results of my work, the results of the plants growing or dying: that is not in my control. The results are up to so many things that are beyond my control: the plants themselves, the weather, the soil, God. I have to give up the reigns of power when it comes to what thrives in the garden and what does not.  And this applies to all I do.  I can only do what is in front of me to be done.  If it leads to something positive in the world, great.  But even if it doesn't, that's all I can do.  The results are not mine to dictate.

    5.  Gardens take time, and they take intention.  Now that I'm back to working full time, finding the space needed to garden is harder.  Also, as the days get shorter, the options of going out in the early morning hours or the late evening hours are diminishing.  I am needing to be intentional about the things that matter to me.  And this applies not only to my garden but to other areas of my life.  David and I have had a hard time finding time together lately.  My day off is Friday.  His is Saturday. During the week, my evenings are packed with meetings more often than not.  At this point we have to schedule time together, and that needs to be okay.  Marking off those times for us, and marking off those times for my gardening: these are things I need to do.  As I had mentioned in my "lessons from sabbatical", I also need to be intentional about making time for friends, for walking, and for writing.  This is the time of life I am in.  I cannot afford to just hope that time will be available for what I need and want to do.  I have to work at it, and that has to be okay.  If I want my garden to be beautiful, I need to find the time that it needs to become so and to stay so.  I have to prioritize, and be serious in that commitment.

    I love what my garden is teaching me.  And I am working hard to internalize these important life lessons.

Parenting Part III

     The last two days I've written about the parenting challenges I've been having with my son and my youngest child.  Now we come to the eldest.  At 24, Jasmyn (they/them pronouns) really is an adult.  Sort of. Regardless of their status, I find Jasmyn the hardest to write about and yet for the last couple years Jasmyn has been the one I've been most concerned about.  They are the hardest to write about because it is not as easy to write about parenting them without betraying personal information that they would not be comfortable with my sharing in this format.  With Aislynn, I wrote about a situation she is in that I have found challenging.  With Jonah, I wrote about our relationship from my perspective.  But with Jasmyn?  My concerns about Jasmyn have much more to do with personal factors.  So I will do my best not to be "revealing" while still sharing the challenges of being a parent to my first child.

     Jasmyn is currently living at home.  They are attending an on-line graduate school.  That is their "work" for now and it made sense, then, for them to save money by living at home while attending school.  But this has been challenging for both of us.  

    In many ways parenting adults is harder than parenting kids in that we can step in when our kids are young, we can "take control" when we see that things are not right, we can insist on doing things a certain way.  When they are adults, it is not as easy.  I still weigh in, I can't help but do so.  However, that is as far as I can take it, especially with my 24-year-old. So when they make decisions that I think are unhealthy, even hurtful for themselves or others, I can say my piece but then I have to let it go.  That is hard. In some ways we've worked this through. The first year Jasmyn was home was really tough.  I had a hard time letting go of expectations for their involvement in certain activities that I felt were family activities and family commitments, for example.  But we did work that through.  I've been able to adjust my expectations so that now, if they decide to accompany us on something that I previously would have said was a "family event" I am very pleasantly surprised.  If they don't, that's their choice. It took work on my part to step back, but I've done it and so that part feels better.  

    But there remain these areas where I have a much harder time letting alone.  I have wishes for all of my children that I don't think are outrageous: I want them to interact with their world in ways that are positive and helpful.  I want them to find work that is, ideally, meaningful, but even if it isn't meaningful, I hope that it will be satisfying work for them.  I want them to have dreams and visions and to work towards those ends. I want them to have friends and positive, healthy relationships with others. I want them to have a spirituality that is life-giving and meaningful to them. I want them to pursue positive and healthy activities with their free time. But more than all of these, or maybe as a sum of all of these, what I really hope for them is that they are functional and have joy in their lives.  

    What happens, then, when they aren't?  When all of my hopes for them are not being fulfilled and when I cannot help them because they don't want my help, don't want to hear what I have to say, don't want to take my advice, don't want my interference, and don't want to do any of the things that I "know" would help?  I've tried so many different approaches: sharing articles, my own struggles, stories I've heard. Mostly I've just been direct.  But I can't fix this.  I cannot make my adult children make better choices, and I cannot help fix things or improve situations that they don't want me to fix.  And wow, is it hard to let that go!

    As I've said many times before, their pain is my pain.  When they hurt, I hurt.  So my job here is two-fold.  First, I need to learn to be okay with hurting for my kids and not trying to fix it.  I need to learn to sit in the pain and not try to move it out for my own sake.  

    Secondly, I have to learn how to love from a distance: to figure out how to live my own life and how to find my own sense of wholeness and joy, even when I see them struggling.  This second one is really tough.  

    There is a song that I first heard a few year ago now that used to remind me of my son, but now reminds me of number one child.  It's called "little flower" and some of the words that move me so deeply include: 

                                                            "I won't walk beside you. 

I won't take you home.  

But I'll hold your heart from a distance 

as all your blossoms come and go....

And when you wake all alone in the darkness

As the autumn winds are blowing cold

You might hear a voice in the distance

A love that never let you go"

    Jasmyn is with me, but in so many ways, Jasmyn is no longer with me.  This first child who used to be my shadow, my mirror, and in many ways my best friend, has gone in a different direction, even while home.  Jasmyn still lets me in, but it is very different now: there is a distance, a way of keeping me separate and apart, that is difficult when I want their life to be better, more full, happier and I am no longer allowed to help.  To love from a distance, while physically close together, is a new experience for me.  And it calls from me everything I have to give as a person and as a parent.     

    Parenting is both the most rewarding and the hardest work I've ever done.  I think I may be closer to the kids than I otherwise might have been because of the traumas we've experienced together.  But this particular stage of parenting, this one of letting go of each of them in different ways and to different degrees calls me to pull from resources deep within to learn to love from that distance. That kind of love feels even deeper than when I loved them up close as young children.  It is a more independent, respectful, and equal love.  But it also requires an ability to trust and to be okay with a distance that is new for me. 

    As I said when I wrote about Jonah, that first day, I imagine God must feel the same as we ebb and flow in our relationships with our creator-parent. 

Parenting, Part II

     Yesterday I wrote about my son.  Today I write about my youngest daughter.  Aislynn left for school a couple weeks ago because she volunteered to help with school orientation.  She had gotten into a four-bedroom apartment on campus, but the process of getting in and being assigned an apartment was a little odd.  She clicked on an apartment she wanted.  She was the first one.  Later, three others clicked on that same apartment, and hence it came to be that she had three flat mates whom she'd never met.  All of them were friends.  All of them were male.  All of them were serious party-animals: inviting their friends over to join them in heavy drinking and smoking and using weed and other substances.  NOT GOOD.  Can I say that again?  NOT GOOD.  

    She was there alone for the first week because she was helping with orientation for the first years.  But soon the other apartment mates began to arrive.  One has been fairly nice: asking her if there were rules for the apartment that mattered to her.  She told him she didn't want smoking in the common areas and wanted to know if guests were over.  But the other two won't talk to her, didn't introduce themselves, started smoking and inviting folk over right away, and thus it began.  While Aislynn has her own room with a lock, the doors are thin and the noise and smoke from the others has been intense and problematic.  Add to that that Aislynn starts each school day with 8am classes while they are up late with their "activities" and it has really been a nightmare.  Aislynn told me that these boys are not even that nice to each other.  One asked for a ride somewhere and the other two refused saying he just used them all the time.

    After only a couple days of this Aislynn was clear she needed to move out.  I was clear that it was a dangerous situation.  A group of 19 year old boys, drunk and high with only one female there, one they don't like and don't even care about enough to greet?  She applied to housing to move out, and I moved into a state of not-sleeping.  I kept worrying about what was going to happen.  

    While Aislynn is not prone to drama or exaggeration, the few things she did share convinced me more and more that this was not a good situation.  Her stuff was moved (like dishes and food), then her stuff started disappearing (again, like dishes and food).  No one asked if they could have her loaf of bread, or her fruit, or her cup, they just took it. They still refused to acknowledge her existence and refused to tell her when they were bringing other friends over. Then the ants showed up.  Aislynn is very clean: but not everyone is.  So we ordered her ant traps because she was the only one who cared that the ants were there.  

    Today marks two weeks since all of this began.  From the beginning I've been asking if I could call the resident life people and push on them to get her moved.  But Aislynn was very clear: she is a 19-year-old adult now, trying to live as an adult.  She wanted to take care of it herself.  She knew who to contact, she had contacted them. She took my advice about what to say, and they said they were working on it and we just needed to wait.  But it felt more and more unsafe to me and I was not seeing the movement that I felt was essential in getting Aislynn out.  As a parent, how do you know at what point you need to step in?  I kept worrying that my choice not to step in was setting her up for a disaster.  But I also worried that if I forced my way in, Aislynn would feel I had crossed a line and would shut down, something that had happened before. I also worried she would feel disempowered that she had somehow not been able to do it on her own, and that I had not trusted that she could.  But I struggled to not interfere.  The best I could do was to just check in with her again and again throughout each day, making sure she was still safe, still okay.

    Then today she woke up sick. It was not just a little cold.  Her throat hurt, she was exhausted and running a fever, she felt she'd been run over by a truck.  She went to eat breakfast and her food was gone, so there was nothing for her to eat.  And she was certain that her illness was caused by a mixture of stress and filth from her flat mates.  

    Mama bear here had had enough!

    "Aislynn, I am asking for your permission to contact resident life on my own.  There are many reasons why I might be able to move what you have not been able to move.  It is time, and I need this from you."  She gave me permission, though honestly, if she hadn't, I would have contacted them anyway.  

    I left them two messages.  The first one using the terms "dangerous situation for my daughter" and "illness caused by the stress of a scary and unsafe environment", and the second, despite promising Aislynn I would be "nice" using phrases suggested by my professor sister like, "I will be contacting the title 9 coordinator since this is a hostile and unsafe living environment if this is not dealt with today" and "I will also be contacting the authorities since illegal activities such as underage drinking and drug use are part of the issue unless this is dealt with in the next 24 hours."

    Within a half hour Aislynn had been offered a different apartment. While she cannot move in until Saturday, she has a contract now for a two bedroom apartment with a female flat mate, whom she has contacted by email. Still a stranger, but this HAS to be better! The process is moving and she can now try to sleep off her illness and pack.  I may be flying back to CO on Friday to help her move just to ensure that there is no unpleasantness with her old flat mates.   

    So many thoughts about this.  First, I will still not sleep until she is out of there, though she does have a couple friends who have invited her to sleep on their couch if necessary.  

    Second, I still feel that it was right to allow Aislynn to try her best to resolve the issue on her own since that is what she insisted on doing. She feels empowered by her own abilities to make the phone calls, send the emails, and to do what needs to be done for herself.  While my help was necessary in the end, Aislynn got the ball rolling.  She could not have continued what she was doing on her own behalf now that she is ill.  And she feels good about what she was able to do.

    Third, I trusted my own instincts in this, and at the point at which it became clear to me that residence life employees were not going to help in a timely way without some pressure, I added the necessary pressure.  Aislynn does an amazing job of adulting in general.  But she is still naive about the dangers in the world or what it takes sometimes to motivate busy and perhaps overworked people to help you. I don't like threatening.  But I will do what I can, whatever that is, if I feel it will not make the situation worse.  

    Fourth, I had a number of folk in my life second guessing my choices in this. Some said I was not standing up for my kid with enough strength or insistence. I understand why they felt that way, but when we judge others, we never see the complete picture. If I had interfered sooner, Aislynn would not have felt that I trusted her, and she would not have felt capable of dealing with it as much as she did.  I had constant contact with her and kept offering to step in, to fly out, to write, to call.  Aislynn was very clear until this morning that she did not want my interference in this but wanted to handle it herself.  And as I mentioned yesterday, there is huge value in trusting your kid to try to work through their problems on their own.  We may not agree with their choices, but trusting them to make those choices is important to their growth, their independence and their ability to adult on their own.  More, it is important to their sense of self-worth as people who are no longer seen as just "children" in need to being defended and protected, but as capable adults-in-the-making.  For this reason, I may have to let her move on her own, as much as I want to help.  She is again saying she has friends who can help and she'd rather feel she could do it without my help.  I may not like all her choices, but I have to respect them.  And still, there were others who said I was being too much of a helicopter parent, but I stepped in when I felt it was necessary.

    And the lessons for me?  Several.  I need to continue to trust my own instincts while still listening to the wisdom around me. I need to let go and trust that I've raised capable, amazing children, and yet, even as I let go, I still need to be ready to step in when needed. Third, as I said yesterday, we are so connected to our children that they truly suffer nothing alone.  When things are bad for them, they are bad for us too.  I'm looking forward to Aislynn being out of her current apartment, not only for her own sake but so that I can sleep again!  And finally, once again, all things come to an end: good, bad, indifferent: they all move.  This has been a true challenge, but it is almost over, and for that I am grateful!  

Parenting, Part I

         I jumped back in to work and life with both feet once the sabbatical ended, which means finding time to actually write has been difficult.  I need to make it a priority, just as I have made gardening a priority.  Writing is therapeutic for me and hopefully helpful for those who read what I write as well.  While my list of things I've wanted to write about is extensive, today I feel it necessary to write about parenting.  And specifically the focus will be on my son.

     Jonah flew back to Alaska yesterday for his fourth year in college (notice, I didn't say his "senior" year... the program he is in is a five year program and he wants to do a couple minors as well, so probably more like a six year program for him).  As I sat in church preparing for the service, someone asked me if it was going to be hard now that Jonah had left.  My first reaction was, "I will miss him greatly, but at the same time, I'm ready for life to return to normal."  I felt his leaving marked the end of an extraordinary summer that encompassed my sabbatical, as well as time with Aislynn and then time with Jonah before they both went back to school.  I love my son so very deeply, but he and I have always been a bit like oil and water.  Now that he is an adult, we do better, mostly.  But it takes a great deal of energy for us to navigate how to talk to and interact with one another well.  It takes work, on both our parts, to be careful about how we say things and to ask for clarity when we need help understanding the other point of view.  During the couple weeks he was home, we were not without conflict and it was deeply painful conflict at that.  Even the middle of the night before he left at 4am Sunday morning for the airport, we found ourselves in an argument.  When each of us gets stressed, we have been in the habit of "poking the bear" and we relate to one another as that bear.  The stress then of his leaving sent us into a last round of arguments.  It's exhausting, for both of us.  And at times it is very hurtful, no doubt for both of us as well.  As a result, I thought I was looking forward to at least having things be not quite so exhausting once he was gone.  

    But I've found myself wondering if part of the reason we fight so much and so deeply isn't the level of love we have for one another.  Jonah is my only son.  I didn't know what it could be to raise a son for many reasons, not the least of which is that I am one of two girls in my family of origin.  But the bond I have with him runs so incredibly deep that sometimes I feel I may be too enmeshed with him.  I mean several things by that.  First, it has been a challenge for me to let him go and choose to do things that I believe to be dangerous or other than what I think is best for him.  He's a 21-year-old young adult, but it's been difficult for me to accept that. So when he decided he wanted to go ski-packing in the arctic circle in the middle of winter, I was concerned, upset and and I tried to talk him out of it.  But he survived it fine and seems to have had a wonderful experience.  Now he wants to rent a dry cabin in Fairbanks to live in next semester.  Again, not what I would want for him: a dry cabin is exactly what it sounds like it would be: a place without running water and many are also without electricity.  We have the conversations: "How, then, will you keep yourself warm during the month or so that it's -40 degrees?"  "How will you even START a fire at that temperature?  Or sleep through it without freezing off parts of your face?"  "Where will you bathe?"  "How will you pay for the car that you will need to get to and from school?"  "Where will you plug in the car in those temperatures when you don't have electricity?"  "What if the generator goes?  Then what will you do?"  And the questions go on.  It is hard for me to let him be the adult he is trying to be, but I'm working on it. 

    Secondly, his opinions that differ from my own can be hard for me to take.  I'm working on that as well.  He has his own worldview and ideas, and sometimes they upset me, especially when I can't understand how he sees the world the way he does. Still, I believe I've done more growing through my relationship with my son than I could have expected.  He challenges me to be better, to be open to seeing the world differently and to accepting the differences between us more fully.  He challenges me to let him be the adult he is, and by extension to let others be who they fully are.

    Perhaps because of all of this, though, I was looking forward to a short break from the intensity that is our relationship.  But, no surprise, now that he is gone, I just find myself heartbroken all over again.  We raise our kids to leave us.  And I keep expecting that each time they go it will be easier, but it isn't.  I look for him when I look out my office window, hoping he will show up for lunch or to go for a walk.  I listen for him at home, wondering what he will say about what I just heard or saw.  I am trying to let him have a little space to start his classes (which began today) and to settle into his new room at school.  But he is on my mind and in my heart to the point where little else can hold my attention today.

    What is this strange part of life in which we are part of creating beings who break our hearts constantly but also fill us with so much love it defines who we are and who we want to be?  What is this strange activity called parenting that takes over our beings and makes us see more clearly our own flaws and shortcomings while calling us constantly to do better and be better for those who are moving on anyway?  Why were we created to love with such ferocity those who will return that love not to us but to their own offspring?  

    For me, it connects me to God as parent.  And I find myself wondering if God also loves us with an intensity that is so beyond what we can imagine that we can only return the very smallest measure of that love to God.  And I wonder, because for me faith has never been "heaven insurance" but has always been about relationships, if God also feels that same loss and pain when any of God's children choose other than relationship with God.  Maybe.  We don't know.  

    For today, my thoughts are with my son.  I am so proud of the young man he has become.  And I am so grateful that we stay connected, even across the miles.  

      

Walking in the Garden

    I've finished all the planting for the moment.  I've laid all the mulch for now.  I've dealt with sprinkler issues and arranged to have the rock ring in the front replaced with crushed granite.  I'm waiting to hear back from Contra Costa County's "Lawn to Garden Rebate Program" about replacing the one area of my yard that is still grass (well, dead grass).  At this point, then, all there is to do is maintenance: checking on the new plants to make sure they are not needing more or less water or just a little attention, looking for those weeds that are persistent and are trying to push through my weed barriers, trimming the trees a bit so they don't make walking on the path difficult. I add seeds to the bird feeders, I clean and refill the hummingbird feeder. I still get up every morning early and walk through the garden as I do this maintenance. I do the same in the afternoon when it is cool enough and often in the evening as well.

    Today I found myself thinking of these verses from Genesis 2:8-9 "During that day's cool evening breeze, they heard the sound of God walking in the garden... God called to the man and said to him, "Where are you?" 

    There is something incredible about walking among the plants (and animals) in the gardens that one has planted. I check in with each new plant that has not established itself yet, looking at its leaves, checking on its size and on the ground around it to see if it is settling in.  I talk to the plants, encouraging them, asking them if there is anything else they are needing. I talk to the birds and scold the squirrels trying to eat my tomatoes.  I love doing this.  It brings me a sense of calm, but also a strong feeling of wonder.  They are each their own self, which means that I ultimately do not control if they thrive or wither.  A friend passed on plants to me that he had propagated from his own yard, some of which have established and are thriving, a few that are struggling that I'm nurturing and hope will pull through, and some which died almost before I got them into the ground. There was nothing I could do about those plants. They weren't happy with having been moved from the cooler, closer-to-the-bay climate to the hot, smokey, dry summer of the Bay Area east of the Oakland hills.  Still, even those that have died are part of the wonder for me.  What likes my yard?  What seems happy to establish here?  What doesn't like it and just won't thrive here no matter what I do?  Who is each plant as the individual it is, even within its own species?  What does it need?  

    And again, I found myself thinking about this passage from Genesis.  In this story, God planted a garden, created animals and people, but once they were created, God no longer had control over how they would do or what they would do. They were creations, not puppets, each with its own thoughts and feelings and choices. The story of Adam and Eve is a story of making choices that were other than what God wanted. Despite this, God still chose relationship with them: they were part of God's garden, an important part, and even when they made choices God didn't like, God still nurtured and planted them where they would best thrive: no longer in that garden, but in the greater world.  That is the risk in creating (or planting, in the gardener's world) beings that are other, that are separate, that are themselves.  

    I found myself wondering if God also had that feeling of awe and wonder as God's creations made their own choices, even when they chose not to thrive well in the garden into which God placed them.  Does God delight in us just as we delight in the plants we put in our own gardens? I can't imagine God feels otherwise... when you create a garden: when you plan, when you dig, plant and nurture their lives, when you spend time and energy pulling the weeds that would hurt or kill the the plants you want, and when you touch the ground and plants and place them into the ground, deciding where they should go, it is automatic and normal to form attachments to those plants, to those beings. 

    And so, part of my delight in walking through my own garden is to walk with the God who delights in God's own gardens as well.  We are a part of those, an important part.  And our own gardens are joint efforts, not only with the plants and birds, but also with the God who created each and every plant, animal and person.  

    I return to work tomorrow.  But I have committed to walking in my garden each day before leaving for work.  It centers me, it brings me joy, it connects me with all life, and it connects me with God.    

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 of 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.