Last weekend my husband and I were driving home from yet another circle of friends that had gathered. We were full of good food and remained quiet as we rode along. I had a sense that we might be thinking similar thoughts. When we finally spoke, I was right. We were both reflecting on the various circles in which we had found ourselves over the previous days. We were counting our blessings.

It began Friday with a dinner gathering with people we had always enjoyed but didn’t know that well. We had decided it was time to ‘branch out’ and spend time with new people. The evening unfolded with good food and lively discussion. Laughter and direct questions helped keep it all honest. When the evening was over, we knew it was something we would do again. Our circle had just gotten wider.

The following day we spent time with old friends, the kind of friends who have known you at your best…and at your worst…and love you anyway. More good food, more laughter, more important questions. We left that circle to go directly to another gathering that included church friends, some who knew one another, others who were meeting for the first time. Poems and music flowed through this crowd tinged with some laughter and some very serious conversation. Oh, and of course, there was the food…..more abundance.

It was important not to let the moment go unmarked, without honor. Those times when you recognize the fullness of your life, the blessings of simple things like friends and food. Nothing we did cost us a dime except for the dish we added to the potluck. And yet we both ended the day feeling like we were the richest people on earth…….because in all the ways that matter, we are. And so we offered smiles and nods of gratitude while stamping the memory of that day into our brains to save for a time when we might need to draw on that savings account.

Rabbi Abraham Heschel wrote: "Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy." On Sunday night, we both knew it to be true.

What laws guide your living? What are the commandments, the rules, that create the structure for how you walk in the world? There are those we can articulate and those that are simply so ingrained in us that they become the ‘second nature’ of what we do, how we live.

I’ve been thinking about this because our church community has been studying parts of the Book of Exodus with specific attention to Moses. We are doing this because this Sunday we will open an art show and dedicate a new sculpture based on the Ten Commandments. Many of us have been reading, re-reading, re-wording, discussing, perhaps even arguing about what these laws really mean and what they meant to those who first heard them. It seems that those who travel this spiritual path with me most often approach the study of scripture in the aforementioned way. It can make for some lively Bible study!

The laws laid out in the first ten commandments seem pretty straight forward. They were laws meant to build a group of people into a community of people. They were meant to keep people honest, faithful, respectful, safe. They were meant to help the people remember who they were and whose they were…..children of the Holy One. The laws that follow these initial laws can be less easy to follow, less easy to understand in our time. I encourage you to read through them sometime.

Reflecting on these ancient words, I thought about laws I observe at work in my daily comings and goings. I see people carrying out the law of kindness, offering help to those less fortunate, those living on the margins. I see people living out the law of goodness, opening their hearts and their minds to those much different than they are. I see people living out the law of justice, breaking down barriers of privilege and education, lifting people up from places of shame and oppression. I see people living out the law of love, offering their love and their prayer to friends and to strangers.

You may say, "Of course, she sees this. She works in a church." But I would bet that if you really gave attention to what you see every day, you might see the same, or even greater things. My mother used to say quite often that a parent’s job is to catch their children behaving well and to affirm it. Her theory was that if you do that, you have to do a lot less disciplining for bad behavior. I agree.

What are the laws that guide your life? Today might be a good day to affirm them and to practice.

"So shine the Lord’s commandments to make the simple wise; More sweet than honey to the taste, more rich than any prize. A law of love within our hearts, A light before our eyes."  Timothy Dudley-Smith

I have a card hanging on my office door that reads: "We must absolutely do what we Love", she said,"Or we run the risk of doing nothing at all." I have placed it at eye level so I read it often….and sometimes just at the right moment in time, when I need the reminder most.

It is graduation party time and I have been making the rounds to the various garages, backyard tents, decks or patios of the recent high school grads. These gatherings are always wonderful, seeing these young adults as the center of attention, knowing the party is just for them. I love reading their letters of acceptance from the colleges that will be their homes come fall. The college letter usually sits next to the shrines of pictures, awards, yearbooks, ribbons and other ‘things’ they hold dear….soccer shoes, teddy bears, a musical instrument, a letter jacket.

At one such party yesterday I spoke with the older brother of the graduate. He graduated last spring from college and is now out in the ‘real world.’ I listened to his story of college, his first corporate job which was a huge disappointment. Now in his new business, he is finding great success. I have known him since he was small and one of the things he always loved was fish…..fish tanks, fishing, fishing boats….fish. He talked with pride about this new business, his own business……. of setting up, stocking and maintaining aquariums. His knowledge of it all keeps him in business and his love for his work shines through his description of his clients, the fish and his hopes for what the future of his business holds.

What a joy it was to see someone who knows what he loves and gets to do it! What might the world be like if we all were able to so fully know what we love and find the way to live the gifts of that love in the world? So many of us have spent a lot of years diverted down paths of ‘should’ or ought to’ rather than the path of ‘love to’. Sometimes those things we love are the simpler things, the ones that often bring about the most happiness and, coincidentally, the least stress. 

It would be my prayer that all the graduates would have the opportunity to ask themselves the questions: "What do I love? How can I live it out in the world?" And in the asking, they will have the opportunity to choose that path that will help them live out a long and happy life……filled with love.

"What we choose changes us. Who we love transforms us. How we create remakes us. Where we live reshapes us. So in all our choosing, O God, make us wise; in all our loving, O Christ, make us bold; in all our creating, O Spirit, give us courage, in all our living may we become whole." Jan L. Richardson

Last night I sat down to watch the news. Instead of choosing a local news station or even a national one, I chose instead to watch the BBC. I would recommend everyone do this every now and then. It brings a different perspective on the world, one that seems somehow more balanced, more global. As I watched I wondered if the whole world is unraveling. I know that this is not a thought based in faith but it is what I experienced as I watched the various places around the world where the least among us, those with little privilege, little resources, seem to be moving farther and farther toward the margins,helpless.

I was reminded of something that one of my children asked once. "Why is the news always about the terrible stuff happening? What would happen if the news was made up of the good stuff people do?" This is a question we have probably all asked ourselves. And every now and then the news reports will tell the stories of those who, given difficult choices, choose the greater good. We should all take comfort in the fact that the majority of people are doing the right thing, the kind thing, the noble thing, the just thing….otherwise we’d be hearing their names on the nightly news!

When I was starting down the unraveling road, I remembered the Boy Scouts who the day before had put into action many of the things they had learned on their way to a sash full of badges. As a tornado hit their campsite in Iowa, they looked to the skies, helped one another, especially those younger and more vulnerable to places of safety. They talked one another through their fears, held hands and laid flat against the ground or found doorways and ditches. When it was clear there were injuries, they performed CPR, ripped bandannas for tourniquets, stopped blood from flowing, pulled others to safety from amidst the rubble. I am sure they also shed tears and helped one another grieve as they waited for those that didn’t survive to be attended to. I don’t think there is a badge for that unless we simply call it ‘life’.

I am thinking of the people who have lined the river and waterways waiting for the two Minnesota boys who are following the path of Eric Sevareid’s Canoeing with the Cree. I have written before about Sean Bloomfield and Colton Witte, recent high school graduates are making their way to Hudson Bay chasing a dream that was planted in them in seventh grade. As they have traveled over these weeks, people have lined the path offering food, shelter, help, but mostly encouragement and affirmation to these modern day adventurers.

When another tornado hit Hugo, Minnesota a few weeks ago, the word went out that people were needed to help with cleanup and carrying debris away. One requirement was the ability to use a chain saw. They needed 400 people…..4000 responded.

These, of course, are the big stories but there are countless others played out each day of those who, despite all kinds of odds, do the right thing, the kind thing, the noble thing, the just thing. We just don’t hear their stories. But here’s my suggestion. The next time you see someone behaving in this way, let them know you noticed. I did this this past week as I visited twin boys born prematurely. The neonatal nurse was talking sweetly as she cared for these beautiful, innocent, vulnerable ones. She stood like a sentinel when I came into the nursery until I could prove who I was and that I should be there. I’m glad for her vigilance. As I left I simply said, "Thank you for all you do." Her reply, "We love our work."

For all those in the world who love their work. For all those who do what is right, what is kind, what is noble, what is just. Thank you. May your anonymity never be obscured by the world’s need of you.

"In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart."  Anne Frank

Enjoy this last weekend of spring……………

"The dreamy heads of the grass in early summer.
In midsummer:thick and heavy.
Sparrows swing on them, they bend down.
When the sparrow sings, its whole body trembles.
Later, the pollen shakes free.
Races this way and that way,
like mist full of life which it is.
We stand at the edge of the field, sneezing.
We praise God, or nature, according to our determinations.
Then the grass curls or breaks, or we cut it.
What does it matter?
Do you think the grass is growing so wild and thick for its own life?
Do you think the cutting is the ending, and not, also, a beginning?
This is the world."
        ~Mary Oliver

I am sitting in the middle of an orchestra. Lawn mowers are moving all up and down our street. One has a deep bass tone, a steady sound of bow on string. Another sounds flighty, high pitched like a coloratura soprano. Stopping and starting, the humans who push them, throw stray sticks and stones out of the path, interrupting the music. It is truly…almost…summer. All the rain we have had over the last days has caused grass to grow at an alarming pace. For those who make their living grooming the lawns of homeowners and businesses, it is a mother lode week. For teenagers forced to mow or those who hate the tedious back and forth of the act of mowing, it is not such a welcome sight.

The sound of the mower and the smell of freshly cut grass is something I treasure. My father was a person who loved to mow lawns. He mowed our yard and the neighbor’s. When I was small he had a regular push mower but at some point he acquired a riding lawn mower, yellow and green. When he was finished with our lawn he would move on down the street to the front lawn of the city swimming pool and mow that. While it was certainly work that needed to be done, I think it was also contemplative time for him, though he certainly would never have described it that way. He was a quiet man, a thoughtful man, and I think the act of mowing provided a meditative motion that appealed with his spirit. Back and forth, back and forth, until the grooming, or the thinking, was finished

The movements of summer are opening up all around us now. Children are staying out later each evening. I have heard them laughing and playing until after dark now that school is over. This afternoon I saw a group of boys, perhaps 11-12 years old, walking barefoot down the street, towels thrown over their shoulders, sunburned skin visible on their shoulders and faces. Bikes lay here and there, Koolaid stands are popping up on street corners.

The rhythm of summer is upon us. Though it doesn’t officially arrive until next week at the Summer Solstice, signs are everywhere. It is a season to savor…smelling the greenness of grass, the sweetness of skin touched by the Sun, the warmth of sidewalk on bare feet, the laughter of children’s voices, the music of bird song.

This is summer. This is the world. Thanks be to God!

Never under estimate the power of a good story. This statement was proved true this past week as five men clung to only four life jackets after their sailboat capsized in the Gulf of Mexico. Floating in the water for over 26 hours the four Texas A&M students and one of the boat’s safety officers also held to a cardinal rule of water safety…stick together. I think it is probably also a cardinal rule for most of life. As they floated there through daylight and darkness, with fish nibbling their skin and clothing, the students were held in the moment by the power of their sailing mate’s stories, their ability to not panic and something no doubt their mothers taught them…..to share. They tied themselves together and shared the jackets amongst them.

Steve Conway, the eldest and a retired Coast Guard commander was the storyteller. When morale began to wane or fear started to set in, he would crank out another story binding this group of treading survivors together through word and imagination, allowing them to come back to the moment, stoking their will to live. It worked and they were rescued  by a helicopter crew who noticed the small flash light that was attached to Conway’s life jacket. Their other safety officer, the one who had pushed the students to safety along with their flotation devices, did not survive.

I wonder how many times a good story has saved a life? How many times in a situation of grave danger has a parent held a child and soothed their fears with a fairy tale? I think of the wonderful ways in which the father in the film Life Is Beautiful kept his young son from knowing the horrors of the concentration camps by spinning amazing yarns. Or how many times has a soldier hiding in a foxhole, recounted a story of safer, more ordinary times, keeping himself and those around him from the fear of war? I remember the only time one of children had to have stitches and standing near him, holding his hand, taking him on a journey of imagination with stories of places he loved the most

Stories…and sticking together…….cardinal rules for living. I am deep in reading the scriptures of Exodus which are filled with dramatic stories of seas parting, staffs that turn into snakes, horses and riders thrown into the sea. Through all of these stories, Moses, that reluctant prophet, leads the people of Israel, helping them to stick together and make it to the land, and the life, they have been promised. Through it all they become a people, God’s people, and we continue to tell their story as we seek to make it our own.

In our families, in our communities, may we have the wisdom to tie ourselves together, to ignore the fish that might be nibbling at our skin, and the courage to stick together while we live out our ever-evolving story.

"In the next century
or the one beyond that
they say,
are valleys, pastures.
We can meet there in peace
if we make it.
To climb these coming crests
one word to you, to
you and your children:
stay together
learn the flowers
go light."
   ~Gary Snyder

This morning I spent a long period of time simply looking at the light falling in my backyard. Of course, with all the rain we’ve had, the flowers look particularly colorful and lovely and the grass rivals the Emerald Isle. But it was the play of light on it all that captured my attention.

Any photographer will tell you ‘it’s all about the light’. Any well captured image will pull the eye toward the subject that is held in the light. Any performer will also tell you about ‘finding their light’ on the stage, that hot spot which you lift your face toward until the heat hits….just there….bringing all eyes onto the face of the one who will deliver the monologue or sing the music. Many performers also know that asking for a ‘pink light’ will make them appear younger, more vibrant while a stark, white light will bring out the coldness and age in a face.

Light is a powerful source of energy and a powerful metaphor. We wish to be en-light-ened. We know people who light up a room. Driving at certain times of day we are blinded by the light and it becomes a hazard. We revel in these nearly summer days when the light is so much with us. As we move toward the Summer Solstice next week, we don’t like to think that on June 21st the light will once again begin to lessen each day until deep December.

Light is so very important….but so is the shadow. In those same images snapped by a photographer, the shadow brings the depth to the photo, gives texture to a face and power to what is in the light.I wonder why we don’t honor and think of the shadow of ourselves, the shadows of our lives, with more fondness? Embracing the shadow of our experience helps us to walk more beautifully and fully into the light.

The 13th century Sufi poet and teacher Rumi writes: "You must have shadow and light source both. Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe. When from that tree feathers and wings sprout on you, be quieter than a dove. Don’t even open your mouth for even a coo."

Outside my office window the newly formed oak leaves are dancing in the light of this glorious June day. The sunlight is creating shadow puppets on the huge trunk that has grown in this spot for decades. Back and forth, back and forth goes the dance. Light and shadow joining forces…..creating awe. I’ll keep my mouth closed for now. I’ll only coo with my eye and, perhaps, my heart.

"It is finished in beauty.
It is finished in beauty.
In the home of evening light.
From the story made of evening light.
On the trail of evening light."
                   ~Navajo Prayer

Our family has lived in our house for nearly twenty years coming here when our oldest son was just two years old. We have what some tell me is a rare neighborhood where people really know one another by name, know the workings of one another’s lives, the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows. For some time it has been a neighborhood of many generations and our block parties could contain an infant and an over-ninety. It is a rare and wonderful gift.

One such over-ninety passed on last year. She was vibrant until the last couple of years, being one of the first to uncover her garden. She walked, once a week, to the bus stop several blocks away to meet friends downtown for lunch. Her house now stands empty and on the market and today there is an estate sale. For some reason I am filled with emotion over it all. You see, she was quite the expert on Plains Indians and had artifacts and books that were cataloged and displayed in her home. The lucky children in the area were invited in and treated to stories of these first people and the importance of their life here in the Midwest. My hope is that those precious things fall into the right hands, the hands of someone who will understand, not only their importance, but the love and pride with which they were kept safe until now.

But my emotion comes from more than the concern over these valuable things. It comes from the little, ordinary things of the everyday….the pots and pans, the dishes,the aprons, the garden tools. Will the person who buys them recognize the love with which they were used? Will they, in some way, honor the one who owned them? It is an irrational emotion, I know, one that could lead a person to a terrible habit of collecting. And yet, I of course came home with a 9×13 pan and several lovely cups and an apron. And then also the wine glasses, etched in a dainty pattern. When I use them I will remember Karin and what she brought to our neighborhood……her strength, her intelligence, her meticulous love of all things green.

And then there is the baptismal gown that I found in an upstairs bedroom. I never knew she had children Who wore it? Why wasn’t it passed on to someone in the family? How can it be lying here for strangers to buy?

I don’t know what I will do with this tiny, yellowed cotton dress edged in lace with buttons so small they seem useless. But some place, someone is walking the earth who was welcomed into the family of God while wearing this dainty gown. I will hold onto it. I will keep it safe. Maybe someone will need it for another baptism, another welcoming, another beautiful walk through the world.

Have a restful weekend………….…

"Rise up, child of earth. Let life rise up in you, full-term, new-born. Time enough in wondrous darkness, Echoed sounds of voices, sittings, splashings of new life. Relinquish to memory this one mystery we yearn to know and will again in after-death. So much latent still to rise, until our rising lifts us to a depth of questions every truth we’ve ever known. Mud-stirred of first-clay. Plaything of a potter who fell in love with hands’ work. Blessed be her handiwork. Blessed be the work of her hands. Blessed be." ~Pat Kozak

I have several friends who are doulas, those who are trained to be companions to pregnancy and birth. I am amazed by their work and by their stories of being witness to the birth of another new one who will walk this earth. It is work that, I imagine, takes patience,wisdom,deep relationship,trust and a large dose of hope. I send blessings and prayers for all those engaged in this holy companioning.

Our family has been, in a sense, acting as doulas over the last several weeks as we have kept watch over a nest built in the tree that is adjacent to an upstairs window. When we noticed it, the fat mother robin was not sitting there and I climbed into the attic to peer down to see if there were indeed any eggs in it. There, fragile and brilliant blue, lay one single egg. Within moments the mother was back and settled in. Over the days that followed, we observed the father bringing food to the nest, heard raucous sounds as a crow was chased away, until finally my climb once more into the attic produced a glimpse of a pitiful, ugly little squirming mass.

Winds were strong over the next days and yet the mother sat tight on her offspring, shielding it from cold and the chance of being blown to its death. It was at that moment that I remembered a book our boys had loved as children. It was called "Are You My Mother?" and told the story of a baby bird who had fallen out of the nest and went searching for its mother. The bird would approach other living things, a dog and an owl, asking "Are you my Mother?"Throughout the story, of course, there were near misses with danger until finally the baby bird comes to a crane and asks "Are you my Mother?" The crane gave no answer but slowly lifted the bird back into the nest where it was reunited with the mother who had been searching for it.

The reality of course is that there was really nothing our family did to help this little bird into the world.The ways of Creation have provided for that. But we did feel somehow connected to these harbingers of spring, those we look so ardently for in April and May. We kept watch and became witness to the fragility of their lives. I would love to think that had the winds blown the baby from its nest, we could have been like the crane and returned it safely to the presence of its Mother.

But there was no need. This morning I saw the robin, now looking more adolescent than infant, scraggly feathers poking out from its growing body. The Mother was not home and the bird was walking with a feigned confidence around the edge of the nest. It is waiting to fly.

As a Mother, I know that look. It is one that fills our hearts with fear and pride and resignation. It is a reminder that the real job of parenting is to give our children roots……………..and wings. Blessed be the handiwork. Blessed be. Blessed be

I have been spending time these last weeks with the Book of Exodus, most specifically with Moses. We are about to have the installation of an art show based on the life of Moses and the Ten Commandments. I have to admit always loving this book of the Bible. It is, what is known in storytelling circles as, A Big Story. I love the characters, the drama, how you know what is going to happen before it does but you can’t stop the people from doing stupid things. Moses couldn’t. God couldn’t. And neither can the reader. It makes for perfect storytelling.

I picked up a book by Rabbi Harold Kushner that someone recommended to me when she found out I was mining the life of Moses. It iscalled Overcoming Life’s Disappointments. In the book Kushner uses the life of Moses and the Israelite people to help readers find some wisdom and balance in the inevitable disappointments that come with living.He writes about his book: "It is a tribute to the human quality of imagination, the ability to dream and to envision a better world than the one we live in, and to the human quality of resilience, the ability to go on bravely when those dreams don’t come true."

Moses is given a thankless job in so many ways. Only Charlton Heston could make it look good. He was entrusted with a group of whining, quarrelsome, nagging people who wanted someone to take all the responsibility but also wanted things to turn out just the way they thought they should. Not an easy leadership gig. Ever been in this situation?

Moses finds himself leading this group reluctantly. He tried to convince God that he was definitely not the person for the job. He tried to point out other people who would be so much better.Sound familiar? But in the end, the Holy One’s confidence in him prevailed and he heads out into the wilderness.

Ahh, yes, the wilderness…where seas must be crossed, and plagues must be overcome, and food falls from the sky. Moses, the reluctant prophet, slowly begins to take on the role that has been given him. Through it all he has high moments of revelation and very low moments of despair and great anger.

The catch? God promises to be with him, traveling right along side him, no matter what. Even when dreams were lost, when disappointment threatened to overwhelm him, Moses knew that right there, a breath away, was the One who had birthed him and pulled him out of the waters of his mother’s womb.

The gift of Moses’ story?  It teaches us so much about our own.

"She named him Moses, ‘because,’she said, "I drew him out of the water." Exodus 2:10