I have been thinking a lot about food lately. Our theme for Lent is “Feeding Hungry Hearts” and we have just completed and published a devotional on this theme. It is interesting what people imagine when they talk about being fed. Of course this theme calls people into a wider, richer place than literal food. It encourages them to reflect on what it is they are truly hungry for, what it is that really nourishes and brings life.

Earlier in the week I heard a news report about a town in Minnesota that was anticipating the loss of many jobs due to a closing business. One woman who was interviewed owned a flower shop in town. She was commenting on her sadness at the losses this would bring to many of the people she knew. She also spoke about how people choose to spend their limited resources mentioning, of course, food, housing and fuel. She then went on to say that in the course of what was about to happen ‘people really won’t need flowers.’

The statements I am about to make come from my own place of privilege and I own that. No doubt I found myself disagreeing somewhat with her comment because I had been thinking of this Lenten theme. I had been thinking about what really feeds my hungry heart. I know beauty is certainly one thing. I don’t disagree about the necessities she outlined, I just know that each of us also have deeper longings that cannot be met by those hierarchy of needs we know exist. She is right that those who do not have a warm home or enough food probably are not thinking about flowers. But that does not mean they don’t need them. It only means they might not be able to afford to buy them.

In these winter days,when I take time to visit the Como Conservatory and allow the color and fragrance of the various flowers and plants to wash over me, I am fulfilling a need. I often allow myself to watch others taking in the beauty of the tiny petals, the enormous, complicated leaves. Surely these people are meeting some need they have. A need to be a witness. A need to be surprised. A need to be present to something that they had no hand in creating or bringing to birth. A need to be open to the goodness that exists in Creation. So many needs filled through the power of seed, sun, water and tending.

Most days we are hungry for more than bread. What hungers are you holding? What gnaws at your stomach in the middle of the night and keeps you awake in the morning hours? Whatever that deep hunger is, my prayer is that you find what nourishes, what feeds you. And may you blessed with what you need.

Have a wonderful weekend and remember to Spring ahead……

Today is Ash Wednesday. And so the season of Lent begins with a reminder that we are people of the Earth. We are born of the stardust that existed thousands of years before we took our first steps. We breathe in harmony with the oxygen created by the trees that clothe the ground on which we move and create our lives. We have our moods affected by the Sun that either shines upon us or hides behind days of clouds. We Survive on the water that falls from the sky and fills our rivers, oceans and lakes. Everything we eat that nourishes our bodies has been grown and fed from the gifts of Earth…the plants, the legumes, the animals, the fruit. It is all good, very good.

Today those who count themselves among the Christian household will make a pilgrimage to their places of worship and will be marked with a sign of ashes on their foreheads. This will be a reminder. We are of the Earth. We travel on the Earth. We are fed by the Earth. And we will someday return to the soil of this same Earth that has been our home. The ritual act begins a 40 day reminder that we share this walk with Jesus of Nazareth who was born, fed and traveled this path before us and while he traveled his journey he gave his life making known the movement of the Holy in all he did. We are asked to reflect upon what it means, perhaps even what it requires, to follow his example.

Over the weekend I was in the presence of Dara Molloy, a Celtic priest and writer, who spoke about Celtic Christianity’s characteristics. He spoke of the concept of being ‘guests of the world’ and how we all are on a pilgrimage here. Sometimes this is a literal traveling as we search for places that awaken us to the presence of the sacred. Most days, however, we are wandering around inside ourselves trying to find that touchstone of who we really are that often gets hidden, those God-created unique selves we catch glimpses of every now and then.

He also spoke of another characteristic as knowing ‘places of resurrection.’ These are the places we feel a sense of aliveness, a home that goes beyond a physical structure, a hometown. They are also the places where we are awakened to our true work. I believe we are often in the presence of these resurrection places. But most often I find I am moving too quickly or I am not present to the moment and those flickers of rebirth fly by unnoticed, unrealized and the beauty of my true work goes unlived. In this your experience?

Lent offers an opportunity to live with intention. Some people choose to give up certain things that distract them from being present to God’s movement. Others begin a practice that will help them align their steps with those of the Holy. Whether giving up or taking on, Lent invites us to reflect upon what it means to be a guest of this world and where we find places of resurrection. It is a gift that will bring us through the winter of our days into a spring that will promise new life.

As we wear the birthmark of ashes, may our walk this day and all the following be filled with a deep knowing that we do not travel this path alone. We are woven together with all those who walk with intention and are held by the the One who has loved us from the beginning.

Yesterday was Transfiguration day in the Christian church. It is the Sunday when we read the story of Jesus leading Peter, James and John to a mountain where Jesus’ face is seen glowing like the sun. The story goes that they are then joined by Moses and Elijah and from a cloud the voice of the Holy One speaks: “This is my child, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”

After this dramatic experience, Jesus goes on to tell those with him to tell no one about what had happened. Peter, being his ever exuberant self, had wanted to build houses for them all to live in this shiny, heavenly mountain top experience but he is stopped in his tracks by the voice of God. So, we have Jesus telling everyone to keep what happened on the down-low and Peter ready to bust his buttons to tell everyone what happened. And then there is that glowing part. It is difficult to make sense of this story in our 21st century minds.

Oddly enough, we did not even read this scripture in the worship service I was in yesterday. We had a guest, Dara Molloy, a Celtic priest from the Aran Islands of  Ireland and that had not been his scripture choice. Instead he had chosen Jesus parable about new wine and new wine-skins. The whole service was woven throughout with Celtic music and a sense of the Spirit was palpable. In Celtic fashion, we affirmed that we arise everyday in the Presence of the Sacred as we echoed the words of St. Patrick. We heard poetry that challenged us to be the new wine talked of in the scripture story and we were surrounded by prayers that were deep and rich. Our voices joined in song in a way that was both beautiful and bold.

At some point of the service, I allowed my eyes to look around our circle.That’s when I noticed it: Glowing! The faces around the circle were glowing. No cloud had moved in but still the faces I know so well and those who were new to me all had a shining countenance. I felt myself take a breath so deep I knew I was breathing with the Spirit that moved among us. It was a powerful moment.

I can’t say what happened in the scripture account of Jesus on the mountain. But I do know what happened yesterday and I guess some might call it a ‘transfiguration’. One definition of the word is ‘the sudden emanation of radiance’.

Yes. That’s what I saw. And while I know it is impossible to build my house in that kind of mountain top experience, I do believe I heard a voice saying something about being pleased and being beloved.

“The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure.”
~Joseph Campbell

Last night I happened to catch an interview on NPR by Terri Gross with Beverly and Dereck Joubert. This couple studies animals in their natural habitat and create exquisite photographs. This particular interview dealt with their work in photographing and observing lions in Botswana. It was fascinating to listen to the many things they learned about these beautiful, exotic creatures.

About midpoint through the interview, Terri spoke of their titles: ‘Adventurers-in-Residence’. My head snapped at the name. Wow! How do you get a title like that, I wondered? Here at the church where I work we have had a Composer-in-Residence, an Artist-in Residence and even a Bishop-in-Residence. But Adventurer-in-Residence? I long for the day!

The rest of the interview was lost on me because my mind was already thinking of where, in my dreams,  I would like to be as I took on this new title. What kind of adventures might be calling? Where might those adventures take me? What tools would I need to be an adventurer-in-residence, what skills? Could I take up this calling and still keep my day job? So many exciting questions streamed through my brain like a quick out-pouring of all things possible.

As I parked my car in our garage, it became clear that no one had offered me such a position. I looked at all the bikes, kayaks, lawn equipment, garbage cans, and general junk that lined the walls of this snow encrusted structure. These were the things of real life, my life. Not adventure. These were the things that in just a few short weeks will need to be hauled out and cleaned up for the season ahead. Not very exciting or adventurous.

However, I was only momentarily brought back down to earth. The seed of this adventurer spirit had already been planted and watered. With a sense of possibility I wondered what would happen if I saw myself as an Adventurer-in-Residence in my own life. How would I live differently? How would you? What if in the very work we are already doing someone gave us the promotion to this illustrious title? Perhaps then the way we approach even the most mundane task would suddenly take on new energy, new vision. Perhaps if we all saw ourselves as adventurers we might approach the work we do, the gift of each day with an excitement worthy of the task as we ward off danger and disasters, as we climb mountains, battle dragons, even heal the world.

Webster’s dictionary defines ‘adventure’ as ‘involving danger and unknown risk‘ but also ‘an exciting and remarkable experience.’  Anyone who has lived a few years knows that it often takes unknown risk to bring us to remarkable experiences. So,what adventure is in your future? How can you take the simple tasks of this day and see the adventure in them? How can we all allow the adventurer spirit to take up residence in us?

Folks, it is March. The winter has been long and there is another snowstorm predicted for early next week. I say, it is time for some Adventure!

“God, I feel I could wear this day
I feel I could wear the day today
like a scarf
(But not because it’s cold
’cause it’s not)
I feel I could wear the day and
the wind would wrap it around and around me
I feel I could wear the day
I feel I could wear the day today
Like a scarf
and dance it
Yellow with a fringe or two of blue.”
~Neil Paynter

This morning as I sat down for a cup of coffee after a bowl of granola,I began leafing through some of the new prayer books I have recently purchased. I am ever on a quest for words people have used to express their prayer. There is something in reading them that makes me understand my own search for just the right word, just the perfect combination to create the phrase that will breathe through me on its way to touching the Holy. This morning’s search gleaned this gem by Neil Paynter. The truth is I was drawn to these words not because they express my prayer but for the fact that they do not.

I awoke on this day after a couple nights of fitful sleep. Too many stray details taking night flights through my semi-conscious brain. Two nights of deep breathing to bring on sleep that never fully arrives. So this morning I feel somehow lost to the tasks at hand, the list of to-dos this day holds. Right now I simply feel I am waiting for my brain to make a grand entrance into the light of the sun. Ever have this experience?

Some days, some weeks are more complicated than others. Some richer and fuller. The last few days have had me silently asking for a do-over. But of course, we never truly get do-over days. We only are offered the gift of this particular day which begins in mystery no matter what we may have written down as its agenda. What I planned to happen given what is on my calendar for this day and what actually unfolds may be very different. My prayer is that I will have the wisdom to choose what is the greater good of the many options that may arise. And that I will be present to its fruit.

In reading this prayer, I was confronted with a choice. I could choose to muddle through, crossing off the many things that need to be accomplished, and arrive at day’s end with pencil marks on a piece of paper and perhaps a certain feeling of satisfaction. Or I can choose to ‘wear this day’ like a colorful scarf allowing its brilliance to flap in the wind,to keep me warm, to be seen as fringe that falls across my tired but searching eyes.

This is the gift, and the choice, that is offered to us every day. Our work is to intentionally make a decision. Will we wear this day? Or allow it to wear us, even wear us out? At day’s end, as we take stock of all that has flowed through the minutes and hours that have expired, will we find ourselves dancing as a colorful scarf makes a pillow for a good night’s rest?

It is my deepest hope.

On Sunday evening I attended an evening with Sara Miles author of Taste This Bread. Her memoir tells the story of her work as the ‘holder'(my word not hers) of the Food Pantry at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Fransisco. It was a book I found very helpful and quite profound so it was a privilege to be in her presence. The ways in which she speaks of the holiness of food rings true to me. The generosity with which she moves in the world, and the guts she has do to so, is inspiring. If you have not read this book, I commend it to you.

At some point in her talk she was speaking of the volunteers that staff the Food Pantry. Describing them and the passion they have for what they do, she said they are ‘running toward the work.’ At this point I stopped just listening and actually wrote down that phrase. Running toward the work. I thought of the people I know who run toward their work, those who find such joy and satisfaction and meaning that they literally run toward the act of work. Many of these people are actually paid for this work which brings them such fulfillment but I fear there are often too few in their company. I thought also of those who hate their work, find it demeaning or a place to put in their time, waiting for the paycheck, watching for the clock to run out. And then there are all those who long for work, any work, to prop up their longing spirits,their depleted bank accounts. Work is such a defining and important part of being human.

For some reason Sara Miles’ statement reminded me of my teenage years in which I was a Girl Scout. I will be honest….I was a terrible Girl Scout. I was, in fact, every devoted Scout leader’s nightmare. I hated camping. I saw no possible reason in the world to do tasks in which I was not interested in order to earn badges which would be sewn onto a uniform I would not be caught dead in. But what I did love about Girl Scouts was being a Candy Striper.

Candy Stripers, for those of you who may not remember or never knew, were young women who wore red and white striped jumpers and volunteered in hospitals. This service of the Scouts was one I ran to with all my heart. My fellow ‘Stripers’ always knew that if they ‘had something else to do’ when their shift rolled around that I would take their turn. It was work I ran toward. I ran toward this work not because I had a delusion that I would make medicine a career. My science gifts were few and my math skills nonexistent. What I loved about this work was delivering flowers and mail to the hospital rooms and seeing the delighted smiles on frail and hurting faces. What I loved was taking trays of food that often went uneaten but which provided a time to talk about things other than illness with a young person who happened by. I suppose it laid the groundwork for the times I now stand in similar places offering diversion, a kind word, a prayer, a presence.

As far as I can remember, I never earned a badge for Candy Striping. But in those years when it was easy to be self absorbed with the latest fashions and newest song on the radio, this work provided meaning and a connection with something larger than myself. I think it is a similar thing that the volunteers at the Food Pantry experience.  It is what, perhaps, we all want from whatever work we do: a sense of meaning and a place to make a small difference in some one’s life and the life of the world. This has very little to do with any monetary reward and so much to do with seeing our place in the grand scheme of things.

My prayer today is that all may find work they can run toward. Whether paid or not, may the work lift us all above the smallness we sometimes feel and connect us with others in a way that lasts.

And if a badge is important, and earned, may it be bestowed and received with grace and love.