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.  

How Much Grief Is Acceptable?

     As I've been dealing with the recovery and continued work on my tooth as well as the illness that has finally claimed my body for a time, I've also continued to struggle with the grief of not being able to walk the Camino with my son.  As people have said, I probably will go back and walk the Camino another time.  A wonderful friend of mine has even offered to go with me, for which I am deeply grateful. But this opportunity to walk the Camino with my son feels like a one time chance that I won't get back. Jonah, himself, while still continuing the Camino on his own, has stated that he doesn't see how he would have the time or resources to try to repeat this. While we don't know what the future holds, while my son is spending almost all of his time either in school far away (Fairbanks normally, though this year he was in Bergen, Norway), or working far away (he works at his school even through the summers and winter breaks), this time with him at this precious stage of his life felt extremely important. Eventually he will probably have his own family, and these rare and valuable opportunities to be together, just mother and son, especially in a situation of walking where there aren't the distractions of city life, work, or even chores that need to be done, will be harder to come by. Jonah will be home for a week at the end of the summer before returning to Alaska, but I will be back to working full time, and his attention will be shared with the rest of the family, including extended family.  The opportunity for twelve days, just the two of us, has been lost, and I continue to feel that.

    But in the midst of this grief that I have yet to conquer, I am aware of how privileged my feelings are.  How many people have an opportunity to even dream about or imagine they will have the privilege of twelve days off from work to spend alone time with a young adult child?  How many people have young adult children who would choose to spend their time like this?  And how many would have the resources to travel in this way?  I realize that the dreams I had for this week, themselves, were privileges that relatively few have.  

    There are so many much more painful realities that people are grieving.  The loss of loved ones, the loss of freedom, the loss of homes to wars, foreclosures, fires or other natural disasters, and the list goes on, are all so much greater.  Grieving this time with my son, when placed in the perspective of all the other loses people face, feels like a luxury.  Does that sound strange?  And yet, I think it's a truth.  How much, then, can I justify this deep grief that I feel?

    But as you know, feelings just are.  They aren't good or bad.  They just exist.  And the more we can be gentle with ourselves around what we feel, the more quickly we can go through them to the other side. Perhaps it helps to remember that this loss is small in the big picture. What I think helps more is just recognizing that the depth of my grief is in measure to the depth of the love I feel for this amazing young man I am so blessed to call my son.  The pain mirrors the blessing.  Two sides of the same coin.  

    Additionally, and to be realistic, I think I'm also just weepy because my body is extremely tired from all the traveling, the time change, and the need to recover from extensive and on-going tooth work while dealing with illness! What has been physically exhausting has been emotionally exhausting as well.

    So today I continue to lay low and work to recover physically so I can also heal emotionally.  I am grateful for my son, even while we are apart once again.  And I'm grateful for my home: where I can spend the time recovering that I need in order to move forward.

The Best Laid Plans, Part 2

     So, despite everything, Jonah and I started out on the Camino on the 22nd.  We walked from Porto to Vila do Conde and already found our journey filled with lessons.  We were walking the Coastal Route, but much of it was closed because they are rebuilding the Boardwalk.  It was really clear they needed to be rebuilding the boardwalk, but it did make an interesting walk for us.  I have to admit, there were times we cheated with cross country walking and even walking on the boardwalk on some places that were supposed to be closed.  Lesson one then: it is the journey, not the route.  Yes, that's a different spin on the saying, but that was an important lesson for me.  We get there how we get there.  There isn't a "right" way, there's just the way we travel.  And along that way we still encountered other walkers, had some wonderful conversations with them and even more with each other.  I had to put aside following the path exactly because it simply couldn't be done, kind of like life.  There's no right path, only the path we find ourselves on.  Learning to be okay with that is a helpful lesson.

    The second lesson was in the kindness of strangers, again.  The very first thing we did on our journey was stop at a cafe to get breakfast. As we got up to leave, I forgot my walking poles.  They were the only thing not actually in my backpack and I just plain forgot them because I have not been used to walking with them.  But we walked maybe three blocks and I became aware of shouting behind me: the cafe worker had run after us to make sure I had my poles!  She didn't need to do that: but she did, for which I was very grateful.  A second lesson: there is kindness to be found everywhere!

    Third lesson: I went with concerns about my ability to do this.  Many of you know I have had knee and toe problems (osteo-arthritis) that have at times made hiking painful.  I'd done what I could ahead of time: I'd received PRP injections in both sites and had been slowly working up to be able to walk the distance, but I was still concerned.  I found I was absolutely fine!  I have a good pack, good shoes, and the poles really helped.  What surprised me was that it was Jonah who said, "I think I need to have my stuff schlepped.  It's too heavy and I can't do this."  Granted his pack is twice (at least) as heavy as mine because he will be traveling all summer around Europe and doing different things like climbing the Alps and camping so he needed different equipment and more of it..  But it became clear we were not going to be able to make this work for him if he had to carry all his belongings the whole way.  Still, the soonest we could order the schlepping service was for day 4.  So we would have three days of carrying our own stuff, and we would learn to stop often, to rest, to do what was needed to help us get through.

    All in all, it was truly a marvelous day.  And I found myself as always just truly aware of how blessed I am by the incredible son I have. Our conversations were amazing.  It is a wonderful gift to me that I have a 21 year old son who actually talks to me about philosophy, politics and religion.  It's not that we always agree, but that's part of the joy of the conversation.  We talk, we learn, we grow, sometimes we entrench in our own view points, but we share.  And for that I am grateful.  

    Day two, the 23rd, we walked from Vila do Conde to Esposende.  There were new lessons, some that I already know but had reinforced.  The primary lesson of day two was that I don't function well when I'm hungry, and when I'm active, I can't always recognize my own hunger.  At that point, if I do recognize hunger, I often can't decide where or what I want to eat.  Jonah was not in a mood to make decisions either so there were some crabby moments between us when I wondered if we'd be able to make the trip together work.  When we arrived at the hotel (yes, we are staying in hotels: I was not interested in the whole hostel situation as it was described to me), we were both truly exhausted.  Jonah had still shlepped all his stuff and according to our tracking records we'd walked about 17 miles that day.  Still, we felt good about making it and had a wonderful dinner to finish the day.

    Then we come to the night of day two.  As you probably remember from my previous post, on the morning of the 21st I went to a dentist our hotel found for me because of extreme pain in a back bottom tooth and all along my jaw.  The dentist didn't really speak English and my Portuguese is minimal, but she told me I had a bad infection in that tooth and had given me a prescription for antibiotics and ibuprofen.  By the evening of the 23rd, then, I had taken three full days of both and the pain was not lessening at all.  Most of the time it was manageable with the ibuprofen.  But if I drank anything (kind of necessary while hiking), or ate anything that was not room temperature (both heat and cold set it off), or laid down (like to go to sleep at night), the pain was still almost unbearable.  At one point we actually met an American endodontist who said that I really needed to get this dealt with and that there would probably be someone in Portugal who could do it, but recovery could prevent me walking a couple days at the least.  Also, I'd be paying out of pocket if I had it done in Portugal.  I told her I had antibiotics, but I only had been given 8 day's worth which meant there would be 4 days walking without it before returning home to have the tooth looked at and taken care of.  She did not think that was a good thing at all. 

    Then, as the night went on, I started to feel... well, not so good.  A bit feverish, I had a headache that was increasing, my skin hurt, I was starting to cough a bit.  I dismissed all of it: after all, I know you can get sun sick. And dealing with a little cold was not going to stop me.  But then David, who had left us on the morning of the 22nd to fly home, texted me around 4:30am to let me know that the cough he'd had for the last two days we'd been together had turned into being truly sick and he'd tested positive for COVID.  Oh great!  We'd been together 24/7 for the previous 3 and a half weeks as we went around the UK.  I did not see how it would be possible that what I was experiencing was anything other than the beginnings of COVID as well. 

    As I thought about all of this, at 4:30am, I thought that if it was one issue or the other: my tooth or being sick, I would figure it out.  But honestly, I did not feel up to dealing with both of these things in another country while trying to hike my way to Santiago.  So, with David's help, I changed my flight to come home on that third day, the 24th. I asked him to also get me an appointment with the dentist for the next day (today). Jonah understood, though we were both sad.  He decided he wanted to continue the walk and would do it for the both of us. After all, we had all our reservations laid out....  

    Still, by the time I got to the airport I was starting to feel I had made a truly terrible mistake. In my mind, I had allowed my fears of dental issues and illness to be the decider rather than time with my son and doing this incredible walk with him. The Camino is not supposed to be easy!  But at that point, there was no changing it back. We'd used our travel insurance to change it in the first place with the excuse of the dental emergency and I did not see how they would accept another change. Still, I had a terrible day where I could not stop weeping, yes weeping, much to my embarrassment and that of those around me at the airport and in the plane.  I felt like I was the worst mother on earth and that I had truly made one of the stupidest and unthinking decisions I had ever made by abandoning my son because of fears around tooth issues and illness. 

    You all know the flight situation.  By the time I arrived home, at midnight last night, I had been awake then for 28 hours.  I tried to sleep (in the living room since David has COVID and is isolating in our room), but the tooth pain was a problem again. So this morning, after four hours of sleep, I tested for COVID (negative so far) and then toddled off to the dentist.  I needed a root canal, and immediately.  The Endodontist who did it said I had a severe crack all through the root of my molar as well as the molar itself.  The infection, despite the anti-biotics, was severe.  And this wasn't just a "go in and have it fixed" kind of thing.  I need to go back so he can do a little more work to remove all of the infection and then I will need a crown since the tooth is also cracked.  I can only eat "soft" foods until this is all taken care of, and I'm supposed to rest as much as I can. Okay, then.  So I guess it was the right decision to come home.

    But I am still heartbroken.  Truly heartbroken.  Of all the parts of my sabbatical, as you all may know, this was the part that I was most looking forward to: time with my son to walk the Camino was the main purpose and highlight for me of this time.  

    Still, as always, I feel my job, both professionally and personally is to look for the hope and look for the good.  So the good:

    I did get four important and meaningful days with my son.  Two in Porto and two walking.  I have once again been given the opportunity to learn the lesson of flexibility.  As Jonah said it, "Plans aren't important.  Planning is." So we did the planning.  And the universe, or God, or whatever you blame for what interferes with those plans had other ideas. It turns out there are other important reasons to be home: other people who are close to me who are also in need right now.  I want to be here for them as much as I can, which is harder to do from Portugal. I continue to be grateful for my son: for his kindness, his flexibility, and his determination to continue with the Camino despite everything. He's made connections with other folk on the path and he will be fine, as much as a part of me still thinks of him as a little boy.

    And there we are.  The best laid plans often don't mean a thing in this crazy but wondrous journey we call life.  But there are gifts in all of it.  

    That's the update.  And now I'm heading to take more ibuprofen as well as another antibiotic pill, and to get some sleep!

The Best Laid Plans…

     Yesterday we arrived in Porto, found Jonah, got to our hotel.  All good.  Today the plan was to experience Porto.  I had tickets at Livraria Lello, suppposedly the most beautiful bookstore in the world, and we were hoping to bop down to the river for a river cruise.  Today is David’s last day in Europe… he flies home with Jonah’s belongings, so we also planned to organize and figure out how to have Jonah keep what he needs and give David what he doesn’t.  We had it all worked out with plans to eat at specific places and to try specific foods, even.

    However, the day before yesterday I started to have an intermittent pain in my jaw and mouth.  I kept just hoping it would go away.  But this morning when we went down for the breakfast, drinking warm tea was almost unbearable. In addition, after yesterday evening's attempts to slim down what we needed David to take home (I got rid of a number of articles of clothing including my jacket, David threw out a number of articles of clothing as well, including some jeans, and Jonah threw out more of the belongings he’d already pared down substantially in Norway. I had told him when he insisted on taking his skis to Norway that he would never be able to return with them but some lessons are hard learned: so skis, bag, poles, as well as many items of clothing and other assorted objects now belong to Norway, despite my warnings), we STILL could not fit everything that really needed to come home into two checked bags and a carry-on.  So, today’s plans were tossed.  

    Jonah had the job of finding a new backpack for his continued travels through Europe with the hope of giving his old one to David to replace the smaller one we had brought as his "personal item."  My job was to find a dentist who was willing to see me TODAY since we are supposed to start the Camino tomorrow morning.  With the hotel’s help, I was able to find a woman who said she would go into her office to see me even though today her office was closed.  After fighting with our map app, we finally found the place.  She said I have an infection in one tooth that has spread to my jaw, she prescribed both antibiotics and pain killers which I then had filled at the local pharmacy, and encouraged me to see my own dentist ASAP to get this dealt with properly.

      Jonah, in the meantime, went on a hunt for a larger backpack for himself.  He wasn’t finding what he really needed, so I joined him and we spent the afternoon walking to the different sports shops in Porto.  We were still unable to find what he needed.  It is now 5PM.  Day shot.  Not very successful on the one hand.  We will spend more time this evening paring down even more so David can leave at 4am tomorrow morning for home.  Hopefully they will LET him check two bags… if not, we will be in real trouble.  

    But again, we have choices about how to view this day.  While we did not do the touristy things in Porto, Jonah and I certainly saw a great deal of it as we searched for camping or sporting goods stores.  We got in some good walking which will be good prep for the next couple weeks.  We saw some lovely gardens.  In addition, I met with the kindness of strangers.  The dentist that saw me hardly spoke any English and it’s been so long since I spent that summer in Brazil that my Portuguese is pretty much forgotten.  Still, she came out on her day off to help a stranger and would only take a hug as payment!  Kindness indeed.  It was also a very good thing that today when the pain became unbearable I had the space and help of the hotel staff to find someone to see me.  I won’t have that space over the next couple weeks.  I am glad it happened here.

    So yes, the plans went awry.  Sometimes that’s life.  And many times it’s okay that things don’t go as planned.  We just have to look for the good.

Finishing Part Four

 To finish our UK tour: Tuesday we went to Lulworth Cove along the Jurassic Coast, which is a Unesco World Heritage site because of its unique geological features.  For me, that meant more hiking and incredible views as well as an opportunity to put my feet in the ocean waters.  

    We then went on to Weymouth where we spent most of the afternoon.  David and I (and sometimes just me) walked everywhere we knew gardens to be. 

    Still, perhaps the highlight of this time was the place we stayed: Summerlodge in Evershot.  Evershot is a village that boasts a population of around 200 people.  Yes, you read that right: TINY.  But the lodge there was INCREDIBLE!  Everyone had very different lodgings, and David and I stayed in a little cottage that we had to ourselves. The grounds were spectacular.  And the service was beyond anything!  The dinner service was honestly like a dance: with enough wait people for each person to be served their meal at exactly the same time.  The food was also beyond anything I’ve ever had.  This is the place to go people!

    Wednesday then we into Wiltshire and visited the Salisbury Cathedral, though we were not there at the right time and so could not go inside. 

    Then Stonehenge, which David and I were able to see because we move quickly.  Not all of our group was so lucky, however.  Apparently as David and I were heading back to the visitor’s center, some protestors crossed the barrier, and spray painted the monument!!  Stone henge was immediately shut down and everyone kicked out except the offenders who were being dealt with by the police when we left.

    Then we went to Windsor Castle.  However, it was unexpectedly closed because… well, let’s just say it wasn’t a surprise, though it was a disappointment. Still, David and I managed to find the lovely Alexandra Garden while the rest of our group shopped.  We even went on a Ferris wheel ride that gave us a great view of Windsor.

    And we ended back in London for the night. 

    I have so many reflections from this time, but I think the one that is most compelling for me has to do with entitlement, opulence, luxury, and over-indulgence.  I could not, throughout this tour, get past the feeling that the cost of this trip could have supported a family for a year in some parts of the world (NOT the Bay Area) and for a lifetime in other places.  I could not stop thinking that our sense that we somehow “deserve” to be served as we were at the lovely Summerlodge is a justification for selfishness that feels shameful.  Humanity is a cruel species, not only in our violence towards one another but also in our justifications of some having incredible wealth while others lack basic needs of water, food and shelter.  The divide between the “haves” and “have nots” grows, and those on the “have” side seem perfectly comfortable with that divide.  I’ve said it before and I will say it again: we have forgotten that we are family.  We have forgotten that we belong to one another.  We have forgotten what we should be about in this lifetime which is not just caring for ourselves and those like us, but caring for all.  That includes all creation for me, not just humans, but humanity is a start and we don’t seem to even do that. 

    There were several situations on the trip that really brought this thinking home for me.  One of the women on the tour approached us on the first day saying that she had started a “go fund me” page if we wanted to contribute.  I asked her what it was for and she told us it was for her to continue to be able to travel like this.  I didn’t respond, but thought that the “go fund me” causes that attract my attention and my dollars have a lot more to do with housing, education,  job opportunities, the building of wells and water filters rather than funding a person who was clearly very wealthy to continue to spend her time separating herself even more from others by living in this opulence continually. 

     The second was the hearing of the labels others on the tour assigned to many whom we saw: “Oh, there’s another wino” said the woman pointing to a homeless teen when I rarely saw her without a drink in her own hand.  “Look out for the undesirables” said the incredibly wealthy man who admitted to cheating in his business practices in ways that hurt his workers, the poorest and hardest working of all, to save himself money.  Our labels do three things: they allow us to dismiss people, to fail to see or understand them. They allow us to believe that we will never be in the shoes of some who have fallen through the cracks because we are not “like” them.  Finally, they keep us from self-reflection on our failures to do right by other people.  

    Perhaps a third is the complaints and judgements of some of the other tour members over tiny things.  When I said goodbye to our tour guide, she said to me, “Thank you for being a normal person, for laughing at my jokes and just being easy going about everything that wasn’t perfect.”  Huh.  I’ve never been accused of being a “normal person” before… ha ha!

    Yet, I am not immune to this entitlement thinking.  I found myself anxious about “missing” anything.  I found myself overeating because I didn’t want to waste food. I felt that “I had paid for it, so it was mine.”  When we found that we could not stop in the Cotswolds, I was upset, feeling cheated.  When we couldn’t get IN to Salisbury Cathedral I found tears unexpectedly coursing down my face. But again, this is entitlement thinking.  I know I don’t work harder than the many wait staff who are paid a pittance but are on their feet all day.  I know I don’t work harder than the maids and domestic servants who scrub and clean and cook all day but are also paid minimally. Why would I be more deserving of seeing these grand things?  And how do we decide who has value and who doesn’t?  Is it that those who work harder have more value?  It certainly is not that those with more money are more value able.  Maybe, as I’ve said before, we are valuable just because we ARE, we are all God’s children and therefore all have worth.  Also, it isn’t my money that has paid for this trip.  At a practical level, it was paid for by the grant I was given.  But at an even higher level all of it belongs to God.  

    This entitlement thinking does not just harm those who don’t have the same access to resources that some do, it also hurts us.  I was the one who suffered by feeling it “wasn’t fair” when I couldn’t see what I wanted to see.  I am the one hurt by the overeating that leads to feeling sick and stuffed when I feel I am owed that food because I paid for it.  

    Today we fly to Porto where Jonah will meet us.  For those who are unaware, Jonah has been studying abroad, this his third year in college, in Bergen, Norway.  He has just finished his year there and will fly to Porto with his belongings.  At that point, David will collect his belongings and fly home.  Jonah and I will begin the fifth part of my sabbatical by walking two weeks of  the Camino, ending in Santiago.  I cannot wait for this time with my son!  Because we are shlepping our needed belongings during our Camino walk, I am minimizing weight and handing over my iPad to David to bring home.  That means writing will be more difficult during this time (needing to be done on my phone).  I will try to do my best.  Thank you for continuing to journey with me!

Some days…

     Sunday we continued our England travels by exploring the national parks of Exmoor and Dartmoor.  We stopped in Lynton, where most of our group spent their time shopping.  Of course, we took off, walking out to the Valley of the Rocks… incredible views!  

    We also saw a number of truly beautiful gardens on our way out of the city… all in people’s yards.  Afterwards we took the Lynton and Lynmouth Cliff Railway (which is “the highest and the steepest totally water powered railway in the world”) down to Lynmouth, a little village at the bottom of those cliffs.  We learned about the flood that came and destroyed the city, killing many and taking many homes into the ocean.  David and I continued to be a bit rebellious and while others were exploring cafes and grabbing lunch, we walked along the river to beautiful views of falls, flowers and small gardens.  We then headed to Porlock for lunch, but it being Sunday, everything was closed. So we went on and had a short stop in Minehead, which is a little larger community.  While the rest of our group again ate and shopped, we went on a search for gardens and found some lovely flower gardens. 

    Afterwards we spent the night at Bovey Castle.  We arrived there fairly late with just enough time to eat and go to bed and we left early yesterday morning for our Monday adventures.  It was a disappointment to all of us that we were there for just a few short hours.  For me, I’ve never stayed in a place so nice before and honestly felt a bit intimidated.  It was beautiful!

    Monday, yesterday, we only had one real stop: we went to Dorset for the things I was most looking forward to about this tour: we went to Athelhampton Manor and Gardens where we had high tea and then explored the manor and Elizabethan gardens.  We were given a tour of the manor by a highly educated historian.  He was interesting, but I started to panic when what was supposed to be an hour tour approached the second hour mark.  I didn’t want to listen anymore, as interesting as it was: I was worried there would not be enough time for the gardens, so I snuck out and went for a marvelous stroll in the gardens by myself, to be joined a half hour later by David who had stayed for the end of the house tour. Truly lovely.  

    Last night as well as this evening we stay in Evershot, a small village of 230 residents!!  But the grounds where we are staying are once again INCREDIBLE!

     The last two days were very good days for us!  

    But one of those two days was not such a good day for our bus driver.  Our driver has worked for tours for six years, and according to him, has never had problems.  But many of the roads he was driving on were TIGHT in their turns and extremely narrow, which meant that when we were faced with a car coming the other direction, sometimes there were real issues about which car would back up, how far, and how turns would be made at all by such a big coach.  Up until now, our driver has done fine. But yesterday as he moved way over towards the hedge wall to give enough room for a fast on-coming car to pass, there was an ominous crunching sound.  Sure enough, the hedge wall was hiding a brick wall which significantly scraped the bus. Then, as he went around one very steep curve, the back of the bus hit the ground and knocked loose a part of the rear fender.  Finally as we were on the M5, suddenly those of us near the front saw the blur of wings and heard a loud BAM as a pigeon flew into the windshield.  Our driver was beside himself.  But his day did not completely end there… The tour guide told him what room he was supposedly staying in at the hotel and told him to ask the front desk for the key.  He did so, was given the key, and when he opened the door to the room, he was greeted by a completely naked elderly woman just stepping out of the shower. He apologized in response to her screams, hastily shut the door, and went back to reception to find he was actually supposed to be in a different room.  Our driver could not figure out why everything in his day seemed pear-shaped. 

    What was a glorious day for us was a BAD day for him.  People can be in very close proximity to one another and yet have completely divergent experiences.  Those experiences tend to effect how we see and ultimately understand the world. Even when we are in the same space each person’s experience is vastly different and therefore effects our feelings and thoughts.  Is it any wonder that we have a hard time understanding one another?  Objectivity, while important, can be elusive for any of us.  For me, this so obvious example of people in the same situation experiencing the day in such opposing ways was a reminder to be more grace-filled towards those around me.  Much of the time we just don’t know what others are going through.

Back in England

     Thursday we started the day by visiting Glastonbury and the historical Abby grounds.  The people of this little village believe Glastonbury to be the most spiritual place in the world.  Hm.  I would agree that it was what we call a “thin” place: a place where the divide between what is corporal and what is spiritual seems to thin a bit.  This felt especially true for David, but that is his story to tell.  The Abby grounds are where, according to the abby, King Arthur’s remains were found and reburied for a long time.  There were also some lovely gardeny areas on the grounds which were beautiful to see.

    Afterwards we went to Plymouth and went on a short “cruise” around the bay from whence Sir Francis Drake and later the Mayflower set forth.  I think that would have been more interesting if it hadn’t been pouring rain and so windy that the places the cruise director pointed out we were pretty much unable to see…

    In the evening we were in Devon and in Dartmoor in particular where we had the wonderful gift of hearing a story teller talk about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s inspiration for The Hound of the Baskervilles. We also heard about Pixies and witches and it was enrapturing just to hear this fantastic story teller weave her tales, sharing with us local legends.

    Friday then we spent along the coast of Cornwall.  We visited Looe and had a wonderful walk along the beach, then went on to Penzance (yes, as in the pirates of…) and finally to St. Ives where David and I found a number of beautiful garden areas as well as walked along another beach.  

    Today is Saturday and I’m having some tummy troubles: too much rich food.  Too much food, period.  My body has had enough.  Nonetheless I (probably foolishly) set off to go where we are led. We started the morning by going to Tintagel Castle where, supposedly, King Arthur was conceived…

    The hilly and aerobic walk greatly improved my mood.  After that we went to Padstow… Also beautiful. David and I, ever on the hunt for gardens, only briefly spent time on the wharf.  The rest of the time we found paths and discovered memorials, wildernesses, and incredible views.

    Then we went to Port Isaac, where Doc Martin was based and filmed. 

    My learning about my travel style deepens.  On this tour, we have been taken to specific places with specific things in mind for us to see, often having to do with shopping and visiting city-like places.   But my interests are off the beaten path.  So when given free time, we find our way out from where the rest of our tour is roaming.  It really works for me as I’m able to see what I came here to see: the wilds, the gardens. I’m also finding that many of the best “gardens” are in people’s small yards, or in the country landscapes of England.  The flowers that naturally grow here (many valerians, fox gloves, Queen Anne’s Lace, Elderflower, daisies, even mustard) are so beautiful!  They line the pathways and roads, creating a natural beauty we can only begin to duplicate in our yards.  I’m not saying the tour is un-valuable.  We learn a lot of history from the tour guide, and we go to places that were not necessarily on my radar at all: the talk with the forager was amazing, as was listening to the story-teller.  Not sure we could have found either of those on our own. But my favorite parts of this England/Wales part of my sabbatical have been the time I’ve had with David, walking at our own pace and in our own space: seeing what is often known only to the locals or others who are willing to venture out a little farther.  As the tour continues we are opting out of more of the dinner “optional events” to do our own thing.  The meals that these options provide are, as I said above, too rich and too big for me anyway.  I’d rather avoid the expensive overeating (for me: no judgment on others’ choices) and see what small mom and pop shops, cafes and restaurants are selling to those who live here.  

    The other advantages for me of these tours: first, I don’t have to drive, so I’m free to just look around at the scenery.  Secondly, they give a taste and inform us about what we might want to dig into more deeply if given the chance to come back someday.  I know I want to return to that history museum in Cardiff, for example.  I would like to explore more fully the national parks here for their beauty and connections to nature.  We didn’t really see the Cotswold other than driving through, and I would love to have a chance to really visit some of those small house gardens which I’ve heard are amazing.  

    All in all, I’m deeply aware of the gifts of this time.  I’m also tired, and I find myself missing the people who are normally such an important part of my daily life: my kids, my congregation, my lectionary group, my extended family, my friends…All of you are often in my thoughts and I hope you are all well.  I am halfway through my sabbatical as of today, which has both flown by, and at the same time drags on.  Time is weird that way.  I continue to look forward to the lessons of tomorrow.

Good places, Bad places?

     When Aislynn and I were visiting colleges, we took some time in Oregon to look at one in particular.  I talked about it in another post at the time and don’t need to repeat what I wrote there: it wasn’t the right school for Aislynn, which is fine: that’s why you do these tours, to find out what you like and don’t like, what fits and doesn’t fit.  What I do want to say is that it was also a mother-daughter vacation for us so we also drove up to and through Portland.  We left that city feeling that the city had rejected us at every turn.  We went to the zoo, only to discover you had to have tickets ahead of time and there were none available for that day.  We went to the international rose garden, and all the roses had been cut back to the ground that very week: there wasn’t a single rose to be seen.  We went to the Japanese Garden and it was closed that day for work. We went to Powell’s City of Books and were unable to find parking (a rarity for me) anywhere within a half mile of the store. We tried to go to the Portland Art Museum, but it’s closed Monday-Wednesday and so we could not go.  Finally, we just drove to our hotel.  But we were stuck in traffic that meant it took over an hour to drive the 6 miles to the hotel.  When we arrived, we found it was a dump of a hotel: not a place we even felt SAFE, let alone a place to get clean or to sleep soundly. When we left, we shook the dirt off our shoes and accepted that Portland did not want us and we were okay with that.

    David and I feel the same way about Cardiff where we stayed for the last 2 days.  We are with a tour that had difficulty even arriving at the hotel because apparently the first night we were there, so was P!NK, and so the city center where our hotel was located was packed with people all having come to party and see P!NK.  I don’t like dealing with that kind of huge crowds and David needed to work so we stayed in our hotel room that evening rather than braving dinner in town.  Our room looks over the train tracks and is almost on top of them.

  Additionally, while this was supposed to be a very nice hotel, our bathroom was dirty, there was a piece broken out of the bath, the fan doesn’t work, and the shower is so tight, as well as curved, that it’s hard to stand in it. But more than any of this, yesterday morning I woke up with three giant, very itchy and angry BITES on my face from something in the room. Additionally, we’ve been trying to wash our clothes by hand in our room, and that, too, has been a disaster because they aren’t drying fast enough in this humid room with no working fan, meaning smell sets in: ugh!

    Much of yesterday we had unscheduled time, so since I am here to see gardens, we googled the “best gardens in Cardiff” and set out.  The number one garden listed turned out to be a sports arena.  I have no idea why that came up as one of the best gardens since there was not one garden plant to be seen.  Another was torn up completely, fenced in, with piles of concrete and tractors.  

    A third was a small playground.  Giving up on the gardens, we then went looking for traditional food from Wales for lunch.  We’d been told by our tour guide to look in particular for Cornish pasties and Welsh cake, but we couldn’t find either.

    In the afternoon we went to St Fagan’s National Museum of History.  For my Cleveland friends, it is very similar to Hale Farm and Village.  For others, I’d say there are similarities to Williamsburg in that it is an old historic village.  It was awesome, really.  But our tour guide gave us only 80 minutes to go through the entire area which is over 100 acres of historic sites and buildings. I felt like David and I were zooming through to try to see as much of it as we could, and to my great surprise and disappointment, at the end I found an incredibly beautiful castle and garden area that we did not really have time to see.  I certainly didn’t have the time to truly enjoy it as I would have liked.

    Still, the day was not a complete loss.  Though we only saw the St. Fagan’s National Museum in a huge rush, what we did see was amazing.  In the morning we also visited Cardiff Castle, which was very interesting.  And in the evening we had a very nice dinner with our group that included being entertained by Welsh singers and a harpist.  That was truly lovely.  

    Returning to our hotel then, I was completely unable to sleep since the room was hot, the fan didn’t work, and there was no light sheet I could use but only a heavy comforter that meant I was either too hot, or had no covering. Despite what was positive and enjoyable, then, I felt the same sense of being rejected by a city that I felt when we were in Portland.  I also feel the same sense of “that’s fine” about it.  As I said in an earlier post, I’m not a city girl and this was definitely a city!  

    As I reflected on this, two thoughts came to mind.  First, it is easy to globalize one’s experience.  Obviously the time in Cardiff was really mixed: some wonderful things (the castle, the museum, the dinner), some not so wonderful.  But it would be easy for me to globalize and say it was not a good time.  Similarly it is easy to globalize a good experience, when the reality is that everything is mixed.  We absolutely loved Bath, for example.  But that doesn’t mean the time there was perfect.  One of the less ideal experiences we had in Bath was that our tour guide took us to a “very special English tea experience” where we were going to have “famous Sally Lum buns.”  Yes, we had tea: the same kind of tea I drink on a daily basis. And these famous buns, as far as we could tell, were large half hamburger buns. I love breads of all kinds, but I don’t even count hamburger buns as true bread: white flour, airy, with little taste, only good with something between them and even then, I often remove the top half of the bun because it’s just too much and is more utilitarian than edible.  It was an expensive yet disappointing “tea” experience.  But it was easy to ignore in light of all the wonderful things we saw and experienced in Bath.  I think, then, that it remains important to focus on gratitude and the things that are life giving and positive. I don’t need to waste energy on what was less than ideal.  But focusing on what is good brings me joy.  I choose.  And I don’t always choose for the best.

    My second thought was that there are places that resonate with a person and places that don’t.  I’m not actually sure that the reasons can always be accurately named.  Sometimes it is just the day that one is having, sometimes it is an experience, and sometimes it just comes down to something intangible: a sense, a smell, a sound that leads to one feeling good or not so good about a space.  First impressions, maybe.  For myself, I’ve learned that my first impressions are usually wrong, especially when those impressions are less than positive.  Just as it is unfair to people to judge them based on first impressions, perhaps my first impressions of places are equally to be viewed with suspicion.

    So, while I felt, like I did in Portland, like we were dismissed by the city, I’m not ready to pass judgement (and perhaps similarly for Portland).  And instead of labeling our time there as a bad time, perhaps I can just say, more truthfully, that our time there was mixed.  Even as I write this, I remember that while the gardens we were aiming to view were not the gardens we wanted to see, the walk to those “gardens” was actually quite lovely: we walked along the River Taff, in a lovely green belt of trees and grass, apart from the streets of the city.  Maybe my naming of the day as a “bad day” might have caused me to forget the beautiful part of the walk in favor of remembering the disappointment.  It was a different experience than we had expected, but not, on the whole a bad one.  

    So my lessons for today are to be cautious in my judgments and to focus on the good.  Not such bad lessons.

Plant Lessons

     The last two days we explored Bath, home of my favorite author Jane Austen (and we went on a tour of her presence in Bath as well as spending time in a Jane Austen museum) as well as place of the Roman Baths (which we visited to learn the history throughout the years). I was also able to visit and experience a number of gardens including the Botanical Gardens within the Royal Victoria Park, the Parade Gardens and the Sydney Gardens. Today we drove through the countryside to Wales where we will spend the next couple days.  Soon after entering Wales we visited a well known kitchen garden (attached to a fantastic restaurant) and then had the extraordinary experience of meeting and being taught in an interactive outdoor classroom by Adele Nozedar, an author and foraging expert who talked about reconnecting with our roots, with the earth, with the plants around us.  As she talked about the spirituality of the plants, their sacredness and the lessons they teach, I felt I had met a kindred spirit.  After our lesson, she and I talked about books we both love and the power of gardening and being in relationship with the plants around us.  But there are two things she said that are really sticking with me this evening.

    She said she really hated the word “weed.”  “What is a weed?” she asked.  It is only a label we put on some plants and don’t put on others.  It labels some as “bad” and in need of being uprooted.  She said every plant has gifts to give, lessons to teach, and when we label some as weeds we stop seeing them.

    Hm.  I could take this in so many directions.  First, we do this with people as well.  When we label someone a criminal, a bum, an illegal, it is a way of dismissing them, of no longer seeing them, or, as with most times when we label someone, never seeing them in the first place. It is unjust and dangerous: for it separates us from one another and gives us permission to avoid really getting to know one another fully.  But secondly, I agree with her about our labels around plants. Yarrow is a common “weed” but also a beautiful plant in its own right.  Wild flowers are often seen as weeds.  I started to wonder as I planted my garden, and now continue to wonder, how to make the decisions about what plant should be allowed to live and grow and what should not. When I decide I don’t want a plant in my yard (and two that come to mind are thistles of various kinds and scarlet pimpernel), what is best to be done about it?  I struggle with this. Scarlet pimpernel, for example, is really quite lovely.  But it takes over everything in the yard, strangling and spreading as it goes. It is invasive, a non-native plant to the Americas and toxic.  But as I’ve read about it, it, too has gifts to give and has been used medicinally for centuries in many different cultures. Should I label it a weed?  Or is there another way to remove it without vilifying it?  

    The second thing that Ms. Nozedar said that I want to share is actually a story of a practice in Llanfrynach, Wales where we had our foraging lesson.  She said that there were times, as there always are, when two people would be feuding within a community.  If it became too much for the community, they had a practice.  They would send the two people to “the tree.”  As the two people walked towards the tree they were permitted to argue and bicker as harshly or loudly or argumentatively as they wanted until they reached the edges of the Tilia tree (linden tree) which creates under it’s big branches a quiet refuge.  Once the two came to the edge of the tree, they were to step inside the tree in silence, and stop talking.  They were required then to sit together in the silence under the tree until one or the other was moved to apologize.  Only then were they allowed to leave to return home.  

    What a powerful story!  I think we have forgotten how to fight with each other, or rather, how to reconcile and deal with our differences.  Perhaps it is time to resurrect this practice, first speaking honestly about our own thoughts and feelings, and then sitting quietly together, thinking about what the other said, being in the stillness until there is movement in our hearts and a place and space to see our own culpability in any conflict and to forgive one another.  The tree plays a big part in this.  It creates the sacred space of listening and quietly waiting for healing, for answers. It also acts as a witness. It stands as a testimony to all who have entered under its boughs and been brought to consciousness of their own failings, moved to repent and to ask for forgiveness which then opens the door to reconciliation.  It is a reminder as well as a symbol of what is possible when people are intentional about working through their disagreements.

    I am so grateful for these stories and all that I learned today.    

Gardens and God

      Yesterday we went to Kew gardens and spent about five hours there.  Then we came back to our hotel in London, David got in some work (he’s required to work a certain number of hours while we are on this trip so he’s trying to squeeze those in while he can) while I walked over to Hyde park and walked it’s length, seeing many gardens, statues, lakes and wildlife. I found myself reflecting a lot on the nature of our relationships, both with nature and with God.

      I recently read the amazing and wonderful book, Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer.  I highly recommend it for anyone.  Professor Kimmerer is not only a botanical researcher and teacher, but she is also a Native American who brings with her the values of respect and appreciation for nature.  She discusses white Western culture’s “utility” mentality when it comes to the earth and the world.  We take what we want and see it as our right to do so.  Even when we talk about sustainability, she says, we do so often with the framework of being able to sustain our use and abuse of the planet’s resources.  We rarely, unlike Native cultures, think about the earth in terms of relationships in which there is a mutual give and take between all parties involved, between plants, animals, humans, and even the soil, rocks and minerals of our world.

     But as I walked around the gardens, I found myself thinking that maybe gardens bring a bit of exception to this utility thinking, at least the ones that are done well.  We do give back: we till the soil, we water the ground, we pull weeds that might harm, overpower or strangle the plants we are cultivating.  We work hard to create something lovely: the garden becomes the artist’s template for producing what is beautiful.  We put in the work, and in exchange, the garden gives us back not only beauty, but serenity, space, fresh air, amazing fragrances, and a grounding that I think only comes through getting our hands dirty in the soil of this planet.  

     I found myself translating this into thoughts about our relationships to God.  I think many people also “use” God in the same way that we use the planet.  We think if we worship, pray, follow the rules, and have right beliefs that God will give us what we want, that God will be in charge and controlling of everything so that we will have “blessed” lives.  It’s an exchange of sorts, but not one based on relationship: rather it is an exchange based on getting what we want.  This is often mirrored in the conversations I have had with people who believe that God is in control and in charge of everything.  “Everything happens for a reason” they say, believing God to really be a grand puppeteer who masterminds the smallest movements of living.  I’m sure that is a reassuring belief: that nothing happens that is not in God’s plans, so if we just do good, do right, God will reward us (though, even that is difficult for me to understand: if God is in charge of everything, aren’t our very thoughts controlled by God?  Then it is God who decides if we do good or not, right?).  

     My own beliefs are that God has given all creation free will.  That means I choose my thoughts and feelings, just as you choose yours.  God cannot control me or others, nor does God want to because God wants genuine relationship with us.  But in my conversations with those who believe in the “everything happens for a reason,” I have often been asked, then, what the point is in having a relationship with God.  If our prayers do not influence God to control what is happening, including other people and therefore control the outcomes, why pray?  If our worship does not influence God to be good to us, why worship?  

    That really goes back to the utilitarian approach to faith, life, the world, though, doesn’t it?  For me, we have relationship with God because the relationship, in itself, is worthwhile.  God is goodness, God is love, God is beauty.  Isn’t it always worth our time to be in relationship with goodness, love and beauty?  That relationship itself is a gift: enriching our lives and changing us for the better, just as any relationship with another who is good, loving and beautiful is enriching and changes us for the better.  Maybe that’s utilitarian, too; wanting relationships because they change us, enrich us, bless us.  But we recognize in these relationships that there is a give and take of both, not because we are trying to control or demand or even ask for certain things but because we genuinely value our time with the other, or in this case, with God.  If you don’t value that time with God, that is your choice.  And I believe it to be a choice God honors and does not punish.  I don’t believe God wants us to choose relationship with God out of fear of divine punishment or wrath, but out of love and a genuine yearning for connection.

    This causes me to wonder, once again, if “worship” is really what God values at all.  Because worshiping another keeps the worshipped being at a distance, does it not?  It’s not the same as talking, walking and listening to another.  It’s not a real exchange, it’s not a valuing of time together listening, learning and being together.  By the way, I don’t think this negates the value of church.  I just think that we need to imagine church differently.  It can be a place that encourages us to deepen in our relationships with God.

    Those are my thoughts this early morning in London as we prepare to leave on a tour of the greater England and Wales.  Blessings be with you this day, or rather deepening relationships be with you this day!

Kew Garden:

Hyde Park: