As I drove to Buffalo, MN, yesterday, I was aware of the ice houses that festooned the lakes along Hwy. 55. I did not grow up in Minnesota so these small, often colorful houses in their clusters of community still amaze me. Cars and trucks move to and from them on the highway of water that rests beneath. I found what I always find…I want to be out there. Make no mistake, I do not want to ice fish. What I want is the solace of the small, simple space of the ice house.

Do you remember as a child taking blankets and creating a cave under the dining room table? Blankets, sheets, anchored with heavy objects on the top of the table created a woven house where books and toys could be held safe by the glow of a flashlight….always a flashlight.

I remember how our boys and the other neighborhood children would climb the ladder into the tree house in our yard. They would keep watch over the houses, spy on other children, guard the yards and street. The newest ‘favorite’ toy was with them and they often sent down for snacks to be eaten in that small, simple space.

From the dining room of the retreat center, my colleagues and I watched the ice houses. We discussed the appeal and the ‘sanity’ of spending time out on the ice in these small structures. I expressed my desire to be there. One person said:"Perhaps ice fishing is really an ancient monastic practice." Probably not. But the longing, the need to pull away from the stuff of our everyday life has always been there. It calls to us still.

I am reminded that my Celtic ancestors built stone hives along the shores of Wales and retreated there for long periods of time. They spent time in prayer and solitude in these simple spaces. Ice…stone…not what we would think of as comforts. But the space they can create provides room for us to be still and know, to listen for the voice of the Holy One on the wind and in our hearts.

Do you need to get away from the stress and distractions of this day? There are ice houses all over the lakes in Minnesota. Or it may just be the time to push your chair back and crawl under your desk. If anyone asks, you can just say it is an ancient monastic practice.

"You are my shelter…from distress you will preserve me…"Psalm 32

"I will tell you my dreams….will you promise to guard them well?…Everything is much more than it seems….There is power in these stories we tell….There is love in these secrets we tell." Claudia Schmidt, ‘Remember’

I have a friend who takes a vacation/retreat once a year with several friends. During this week the primary agenda is to be together and to tell their stories, to tell the others who they really are. I don’t mean just a half hour of a few choice tidbits of the triumphs of their success, the agony of their defeats. No. They spend the entire week focused on one or two people telling their whole story. All of it, the parts they are proud of, and those they’d rather not remember. The others are there to receive,to listen, to be present to the life of the other.

What an amazing concept! What must it be like to prepare to tell the story of who you are while others listen with true attention and care? What must it be like to hold the space where that story is being told, to allow yourself to be pulled into the true-life story of another?

It was my privilege to experience this kind of story telling at worship yesterday.During Lent,we have invited people in our worshiping community to share their spiritual journey, their story of faith. While yesterday’s life-story telling was condensed to a much shorter period of time than my friend’s retreat week, I was captured by the sacred nature of what it means to listen, to hold, to be present to the telling of a life. We sat in a circle as this person shared who they are, who they really are, how they have known God,and we held out our arms to receive. And in the telling and the listening, through the Spirit’s movement, we all became a part of this person’s story, because we have heard and received. The story telling becomes a sacrament of sorts…..an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. It is a powerful act.It is a blessing.

Who knows you? I mean, who really knows you? May this day find you being known…. by another, and by the Holy. Perhaps someone is just waiting to hear the good news through your life.

O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down
and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my
path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word
is on my tongue, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and
lay your hand upon me. Psalm 139

"I know nothing, except what everyone knows-if there when Grace dances, I should dance." W.H.Auden

Do you like to dance? Do you think of yourself as a dancer? I am certain most people might answer ‘yes’ to the first question and an emphatic ‘no’ to the second. In our culture,at some point around when we are ten years old, all the dancers decide on another vocation. This always becomes clear to me when I go to a wedding reception. The moment the band begins to play and the bride and groom take to the dance floor, they are joined by young children spinning, gyrating, twisting, floating, their small bodies immersed in the power of the music.It is as if they can’t stop themselves. Gotta dance!

I have often thought of the metaphor of dance. I have done enough dancing in my life to know that I can’t lead all the time….though I sure would like to think I can. To do so means certain disaster on the floor….toes get stepped on, arms get pulled, music loses its meaning,the beauty of human movement is destroyed.Following is imperative to good dancing. Dancing requires give and take,listening and responding, eye contact, trust, leading and following, leaning and being held. Just like life.

Auden’s statement about Grace was not meant to call our minds to Grace Kelly, although, wouldn’t we all like to believe we could float across the floor as she did, suspended in Fred Astaire’s arms, dress flowing, hair perfect, legs long,sleek and precision perfect? This Grace is multifaceted and has many definitions.

Grace…a sense of what is right and proper…may my dance be filled with humility. Grace….thoughtfulness toward others,goodwill….may I remember to hold and be held gently. Grace….a time granted beyond the date set for performance,payment,obligation…may I move with intention as I’d like to have others move. Grace…..a short prayer when blessings are asked, thanks is given….may the music of my voice provide the song of gratitude. Grace…..the unmerited love and favor of God toward humankind….may I never forget who I am and with whom I have danced since my birth.

It’s February. In Minnesota February can be a dreary, long month with Valentine’s Day providing the only diversion. Whether you dance on February 14th or on another day, my prayer is that Grace will be your faithful partner.

Stay warm this weekend…………………..

Have you seen hope lately? I have. On Tuesday evening when I headed out to my caucus meeting, I didn’t necessarily expect much. Certainly we had heard more about this process that we ever had but that still didn’t prepare me for the experience. As I headed south on Hwy. 52 toward Simley High School, suddenly the traffic came to a halt two exits before. Inch by inch, lights streaming, we made our way to the exit, into the parking lots, onto side streets, into any lot available for cars. People quickly exited their vehicles and crossed a very busy street, sometimes dodging cars and creating what could have been a very dangerous situation. But, I am happy to say,civility prevailed. The excitement along the street was palpable. It only intensified as the doors opened.

Once inside the school people crowded around maps of their neighborhoods, looked for signs with room numbers for our precincts. Neighbors waved at one another as they were jostled down the hallways. Inside the classrooms…which never seem to visibly change…we sat in desks. I looked around the room. People of all ages sat or lined the walls, standing. Parents with infants and toddlers in strollers squeezed in beside those for whom parenting was a very distant memory. I was flanked by two young women I knew to be twenty years old. In front of me a young teacher from my children’s middle school turned to greet me. Across the room people stood to share their names, their resolutions, their passions. We placed our small squares of paper with our choice for a presidential candidate in an ordinary green envelope.

There have been many reports complaining of chaos, of those who gave up, of the long lines, of disgruntled people and maybe the system does need to be fixed. That was not my experience. At one point I looked around and thought to myself: "This is what church used to look like." People of all ages, all walks of life, all together in one place, longing to be heard, telling their life story by virtue of what mattered enough to them to show up on a cold Minnesota night.

Someone finally called the question. Hope answered.

"That each step
may be a shedding.
That you will let yourself
become lost.
That when it looks
like you’re going backwards,
you may be making progress.
That progress is not the goal anyway,
but presence
to the feel of the path on your skin,
to the way it reshapes you
in each place it makes contact,
to the way you cannot see it
until the moment you have stepped out."
              Jan L. Richardson, In Wisdom’s Path

Today we begin the forty days of Lent. It is Ash Wednesday. Today we will be marked with ashes and reminded that we are people of the Earth, people who walk with our feet firmly planted on holy ground, arms reaching out and toward heaven.

I did not grow up being marked with ashes on this day. For good or ill, Lent was not as central to my formative years as I know it was to some. My small United Methodist church did what other churches did in our area and made a big deal out of Holy Week. But the observance of Lent only became something I acquired when I went to college and was around many more Roman Catholics. I remember the first time I witnessed this smudge of ‘dirt’ on forehead after forehead as they walked across campus. I was fascinated. It was such a visible religious symbol being worn by ‘regular’ people. I wanted it.

After moving to Minnesota I became more aware of the practices of Lent.The strong Lutheran and Catholic presence and, I believe,some changes in most main line churches, brought a more intentional observance of these days that lead up to Easter. Taking the journey of Lent seriously can be a wonderful spiritual practice, a wonderful way to deepen the experience of the Holy. Many people will ‘give up something’. Others will ‘take on something’. Both provide an opportunity to engage in being present to oneself and to the Spirit for a specific amount of time. All good.

This year’s gospel readings provide the images of journey as well, telling of Jesus’ own path from wilderness to Jerusalem and all the places in between. They are rich texts of his experiences with being planted firmly on the Earth….with all that means…..while reaching toward heaven. Each step filled with uncertainty, surprise,adventure, healing,hope. They provide much for us to mine for our own journeys.

How will you walk through this Lent? How will you be aware of the path that unfolds before you? How will you be present to the Spirit? As we are marked today with ashes, either literally or figuratively, may each of us remember that we are people of Earth, reaching toward Heaven.

"All the arts we practice are apprenticeship. The big art  is our  life." M. C. Richards

Most people don’t think of themselves as artists.I guess I should say, most adults don’t think of themselves as artists. I think, generally, most children do….painters, dancers, singers, musicians, sculptors, architects, you name the art. At one point of childhood, most children will say they are an artist. It is unfortunate that that as we get older we lose that sense that we are creating……every day.

We are artists, or as M.C. Richards writes, we are apprentices to the art that is our life. We are apprentice homemakers, parents, friends, co-workers, children, citizens, community members, students, teachers, prophets. We are learning….apprenticing under the direction of others….how to create our life. Do you ever think of it that way? No one…ever…has walked in the world exactly like you. No one…ever...brings to the table what you bring. No one…ever…has been an apprentice to  what makes up your big art….your life.

It sounds really important when put that way doesn’t it? And it is. In our worship community we sing with regularity: "You are God’s work of art"……..each of us….creating the life that is our big art, held on the breath of the Great Artist. I wonder how each day might be different if we opened our eyes each morning, sat up in bed, and said: Today is the day to continue creating my Big Art. Today I am going to choose a little yellow for brilliance, a dab of blue for shadowing, a swish of red for flair, a big stroke of orange for richness, green for growing in all the open spaces on the canvas, white for contrast here, black for contrast there, and purple because, well, just because.

There are so many ways we can create the art that is our life. We have so many wonderful models that have walked before us, creating as they go. So, what colors are on your palette this day?

"When we speak words come out. When God speaks birds come out. You are a word that God spoke too. What do you think God means by you?" Polly Berrien Berends, Gently Lead: How to Teach Your Children About God While Finding Out For Yourself

Most days, I walk around thinking everyone sees the world just as I do. Are you like that or is it just me? I convince myself that it would all be so ‘much easier’ if they did. There would be no arguments, peace would reign. Everyone would agree about what to have for dinner, what movie to see, what church to go to, who to vote for for president. Of course, this is delusional thinking on my part. My world view is shaped by DNA, life experience, education, my social circles, my faith community, my place of privilege in the world. At the deepest level, I know this. Sometimes my ego allows me to long for everyone wearing the same pair of corrective lenses as I do.

"Think of society as being like a pond, an ecosystem. You need this anaerobic bacteria, that algae. Hold the phosphorous. We all see the world so clearly and crisply through our own glasses that it’s a difficult imaginative leap to believe another person sees a different scene, logically incompatible with yours." writes Mary Rose O’Reilley

Here I am-here you are-in the pond with all these others who have an equal right to their views, their beliefs, their faith,their ways of seeing. And life finds us swimming together and trying to make sense of it all. This is so clear to me as I listen to all the ads running us toward Super Tuesday. Some voices sound so like my own. Others are so different I can’t recognize what they are talking about, who they are speaking to or for in this great land of ours.

And yet here we are, all together in one place,one ecosystem,trying to create a world that is better for ourselves and for all the children and children’s children that will follow us. Ecosystem….eco, coming from the Greek oikos, meaning house. It’s messy business….and beautiful….as most ponds, as most houses, are.

As we go forward in the next days of decision making and moving further to the right or to the left, may we remember that we are caring for the ‘whole house’, not just our particular room. May we try as best we can to see through our own lenses clearly while squinting to see the view of others. And through it all may we act wisely, with kindness, and an effort to do no harm to those swimming with us.

"And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. Mark 3:25

"Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white." Matthew 17:1-2

This Sunday is the last Sunday before Lent and in most Protestant churches it is the celebration of the Transfiguration of Jesus. I have to admit to being a bit confused yet intrigued by this scripture account. Jesus is with his friends and suddenly he becomes filled with and surrounded by light.If that isn’t enough, Moses and Elijah show up at his side.  Now Peter in his usual over-the-top way wants to mark the moment by building a home right then, right there. Then the story gets really interesting. A bright, shining cloud covers them and the voice of God says:’ This is my Child, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased;listen to him!" After all this, what does Jesus do? He tells them not to tell a soul. Yeah, right.

I thought about this story today as I was listening to Louise Erdrich’s The Painted Drum while driving in my car. I am taking a small break from news and other radio broadcasts and listening to books of CD instead. In this there is a description of two sisters, very different from one another. While catching fireflies as children, one would carefully catch and guard the magical insects in a jar,feeling somewhat apologetic for holding them hostage. The other sister was known to take the insects and squish them all over her body and then dance in the moonlight so she could glow.

That image, of this glowing child dancing in the moonlight, reminded me of the transfiguration of Jesus. I cannot in my wildest imagination explain what happened to him. But I can imagine the glow of another human being. I have seen it. Haven’t you? Often, when people are newly in love, they glow.Children glow with excitement at the sight of a small animal they long to touch. I have watched a new mother and father looking at their baby with such joy , they are glowing. I trust that as people saw me with my two precious sons, they saw a glow that transformed my face.

While Erdrich was of course telling a story, I think she touched on something very important. We all want the opportunity to glow…to be so bright we cannot be missed…to shine like the sun….to throw our arms out and spin with our skin, our eyes, our smile sending brilliant rays into the world. Don’t we all want to be transformed by something or someone to the point that we glow?

In addition to glowing, I believe,we also want to hear the words: "This is my child, my beloved. I am very pleased with you." We want to hear it from our parents, our grandparents,our partners, from our friends, our co-workers, our children. And mostly we want to hear those words from the One who breathed and birthed us into being, the Holy One.

My prayer is that this weekend will find you glowing and watching for glimpses of the shining companions with whom we walk upon this Earth. And may we each hear the voice that will remind us once again that we are, indeed, beloved.

Have a wonderful weekend……………………