Dibs of This and Dabs of That

Sunday was a lovely day! It is has been my favorite day of the week since I started attending both morning services. For most of the time I’ve been at Church of Reconciliation I was a regular at early service (8:00 AM). Then I joined the choir and my attendance switched to late service (10:30 AM) because the early service is a contemplative service and doesn’t usually have music. When I conferred with my priest about my function as a verger in training he suggested that since I was the verger with the most early service experience that should be my area of focus. This was just great with me because there were friends I’d made at early service that I missed when I attended late service. So these days I head to church early, aiming to be there by 7:30 AM, so that I can be helpful if anyone needs assistance and step in to take over a role if the person who was assigned to it is absent and no substitute was arranged for. This is the function of a verger, to help things run smoothly.

The past few Sunday’s our newest member of altar guild has been arriving early and setting up when I got there. This gentleman is very nice and helpful. He says he’s still in training so that is why he has been doing the setup every Sunday. That fits in with my feelings about pre-service setup. There have been enough changes to the way we do things now, thanks to our wonderful associate rector, that I need to practice and remind myself how things go and what is different between the two services.

On Sunday I also ran into my verger/instructor who cleared a few misconceptions up about the way things were supposed to go in my training. The verger trainee who is most fully trained was there too and they are both going to send me necessary documents so that I can complete the sheaf of pages necessary for Robert, our rector, to read and sign off on when he returns from Sabbatical at the beginning of October. At that time we all want to be ready so that he can do an induction ceremony during one of the services.

Not long ago I finished my taxes which I’d filed an extension on when I was looking for some paperwork. I never found the paperwork but it wasn’t critical to the return so once I got the desk cleared off, for the umpteenth time, I did them online using the Turbo Tax free online software and efiled for free too. My refund hit my account in 2 weeks and on Saturday I went grocery shopping at WalMart. It was a lovely time and I over loaded the cart with good things. I’ve taken to using the store brands since they cost less money. My goal when buying groceries is to have each meal cost as close to one dollar as possible. I think I did a pretty good job of that and my pantry and freezer are over stocked with good things to eat again. Plus some snacks. I plead guilty on the snack thing as I bought a package of Oreo type cookies but they were store brand ($2) and I put them in the freezer and am only having them in 3 cookie increments. That's what the package says is a serving size and I’m sticking to it. I also got some of those mini cups of ice cream so that I can have a dessert which is portion controlled. Yay for Blue Bell who puts these things in bags of 12. That will last me several weeks before I run out.

The book I’m reading lately is Care of the Soul by Thomas Moore. It’s non fiction which has traditionally been hard for me to keep on reading after an initial endeavor. But this book is speaking to me in ways that have a lot to do with my need for understanding the concept of soul and its growth plus Moore uses mythology to illustrate his points and his story telling is like someone explaining a parable. It was the explaining of a parable that brought my belief in God to completion and I think this is working the same way. Instead of reading fast I find myself reading a paragraph, sometimes just a sentence, at a time and enjoying the meaning I’m discovering there. As a child I read all of Bullfinch’s Mythology and also Edith Wharton’s book on the subject so it delights me to find this excellent story teller using the story of The Odyssey and the story of Persephone's abduction to illustrate loss, searching, and journeys of discovery.

A couple of weeks ago I held a de-flea day. I went to the vet and got some Frontline Plus for my boys, a couple of pills that get rid of all the fleas on them in 30 minutes, without hurting the cats, and a huge can of carpet spray that kills fleas in just a few minutes and has a residual effect. After coming home and using all of the above my desk is now my own again for the most part. The boys still like to be close to me but they no longer feel they need to leave the floor to be comfortable and free of biting pests. I got this done early enough that Hyrum's ruff is saved for the summer. In the past the dermatitis he gets from flea bites generates enough scratching and grooming measures that it is thinned out by the time he feels comfortable. That might be cooler for him but it looks awful. His ruff and thick coat are a couple of his most attractive features and it takes a long time, almost a year, for that gorgeous fur collar to grow back in. So I’m very happy with this turn of events.

On the scrabble playing front, Sandi and I’ve are still using Pogo.com to play scrabble online, but we are now using their National Scrabble Association (NSA) game rooms and rules. This makes the game more challenging and fun. By NSA rules we each get 30 minutes at the beginning of the game. Your clock counts down from whatever is left on it when it is your turn to play. If you are slow and end up using all of your 30 minutes before the game is over you lose 10 points for each minute or part of as you and your opponent strive to complete the game. That drastically changes the scoring and speeds things up a bit. I discovered that I need to memorize the 2 Letter Word chart for the game. Apparently, serious scrabble players memorize quite a few charts and word lists. Or at least that is my impression. So I went online and found a table of 2 letter words and also some lists of 3 letter words. It’s the uncommon ones that you have to work on. Those are often the ones that get you the most parts. I’m not very good at playing by NSA rules yet. I get stuck in one word mode too frequently, looking for some place to play it. I also need to practice my word on word building skills. You can make much bigger scores by running a word right alongside of another word already played than you can by branching off perpendicular to that word and using up valuable open space on the board. While researching this I discovered that there is a NSA Scrabble club in town. Going to a meeting might be something nice to do and if they have training sessions there I might gain some added skills that would be of good use. Right now my rating is dropping and I’m at a loss as to how to bring it back up. Sandi’s is on the rise and she has achieved intermediate level according to Pogo.com.

That's it on the personal news front. I hope you all have a good week and don’t expire in the horrid heat we’ve been experiencing down here in south Texas. If you’ve gotten any rain of late please send it my way. Cheers!

That Community Feeling

I've been meaning to write this post for a few days now. Don't know why it's taken me so long. Maybe I needed to spend more time mulling over what I experienced.

Last Saturday, July 4th, I was scheduled as officiant for the Morning Prayer (MP). I like doing this because: 1) it's quiet and peaceful, 2) it's a great way to start your day, and 3) it allows me to spend private time in the sanctuary. Because we hold MP at 6:45 AM we don't usually have any visitors even though the service we read has room for giving thanks for them. Typically it's just whoever is officiating alone, reading through the service, and saying prayers for the sick and needy on our list of those in need. But, due to a mix up, last Saturday was different. I showed up a little late, oops! And there was someone already in the sanctuary.

Being a few minutes late isn't a huge deal because MP is almost always done by just the Lay Eucharistic Minister (LEM). Many years ago the decision was made to do it early to avoid conflict with work schedules and rush hour traffic. So we do our praying for the congregation alone and faithfully, and without the need to robe up and make it a full fledged service.

The person already in there was another LEM, Ron, who, like myself, is also a verger. He told me he'd promised to take someone's place. I'm pretty sure it was my day so maybe he was given the wrong date somehow because I know he isn't casual about such things. Oh well, the intent was met no matter the date.

When I saw Ron there I was surprised, of course, but also rather pleased. Ron and I've co-officiated at Healing Eucharists (HE) before and found we work well together. Not wanting to disturb the prayer he might already be saying I quietly walked around and sat down next to him. We decided to share the service and he handed me a Book of Common Prayer (BoCP) open to the point he was at.

We sat there together like old friends, taking turns on the different parts of the service. I read a scripture and he read another. We did the Psalm together alternating by whole verse. We did the same with the other responsive parts. It was a nice and comfortable way to practice something I'm occasionally required to do for the congregation when the priest isn't available to perform the HE. This was much better. It had that warm friendly feel. That's what church community is, right? Friends getting together to worship? And that's a change I've noticed in the services I officiate at since I entered verger training. They are more comfortable. They feel friendlier, I'm more relaxed, I feel comfortable with modifying things a bit if the spirit moves me, and I've gotten compliments on the results. I guess I'm starting to fit the role of LEM and Verger better. And I really like it.

When I found my faith it was during the 80's movement and personal relationships with Jesus were all the rage. The church I became a believer in was nondenominational charismatic and I became quite use to the feeling of the Holy Spirit's presence during the service and in my life. Services and sermons were more casual and heart felt. While there was a structure, there was nothing very ritualized about them. That's been a real problem for me since I returned to my Episcopal roots. I don't find the spirit in the high toned ritualized words that we say every Sunday. My emotions used to be moved at every service. Not here in the Episcopal ritual. If I didn't know God meant me to be at this specific church I'd probably change because that's what I did when the bible got boring, I changed versions to read it in one that was different and thus more interesting. But I won't change churches now. I've been learning about service at Church of Reconciliation Episcopal and growing into the understanding of what it means to be part of a community.

It's become a source of comfort to realize that I am part of a community. Sitting there beside Ron I felt like I'd come home! And it was VERY spiritual! A few years ago our church viewed some videos on Everyday Spirituality. We learned about spirituality of place, activity, and ritual! That's what I found in that MP service. I wish I could feel it everyday of my life. I wish I could have it at every service.

We've started to make a lot of changes at Reconciliation. They are often small but none of them are without meaning. Because life often presents itself as change I think this has made me more interested in our worship services. The ritual and the dance of its participants has changed. That makes it interesting and a new source of study. Instead of coming to the table we "set the table" during the service. That's much more involved and involving. Actions seem to have more meaning and thus more significance. If this is finding the sacred in the ordinary, a phrase given to me by JS, then I've been doing a mental disconnect because I never thought of Sunday services as ordinary till they became routine.

These days when I sit in church I sit with a community, a community of singers a.k.a the choir. Our practice nights are my social night. Sunday morning breakfast is also a time for community. I eat at Brown Hall (fellowship hall) and often have others to spend time with sharing our interests, weeks activities, and getting to know them better. It's a change in me that keeps me there, no longer going early to pre-service warm up to get organized but instead, chatting till I'm rushing to get to the warm up on time. I know there are things missing from my community interactions. Saturday's experience showed me that. But they will happen in time as I heal, grow into fullness of understanding and connectedness, and am ready to present myself and my world to the body in joy, knowing that they will be one with me in our shared love of what we've built.

God's Light

I was lay minister for early service today. My mind wasn't quite on task. It had been a busy week full of ups and downs. Even though I got to church early, I spent time prior to the service reading the lesson, helping the altar guild person, talking to our new seminarian. So things didn't go quite perfect during the service.

I didn't mind stumbling in the reading. I covered the one slip pretty well. Prayer went really well with suitable pauses for silence when appropriate. When I got to the altar service part it went a little off. I let the railing pillow slip and it landed with a rather loud thud which seemed to echo to my embarrassed ears. The wine service went okay but I seemed to be hurrying a bit. Maybe the past week had put me in be quick and productive mode. Then we were getting ready to leave the altar. The priest was putting the cover back on the chalice. I thought about when I needed to go and get the candle snuffer and realized, "Oh my gosh! I forgot to light the candles!" So as we were leaving I whispered to Robert, "Should I fake putting out the candles? Or just go?" He said we'd just go. And so we did.

Afterwards we all laughed about it. Robert teased me that Jesus wasn't there. I declared that God's Light had been shining from our eyes. No one disagreed with me. But I felt pretty silly. It just seemed to cap an entire week of stumbling. But you know, none of the parish members said a thing. Maybe they didn't notice but more likely they wanted me to feel good in spite of my mistakes. So if you've ever served as Lay Minister for a church service and felt klutzy and foolish, I pray that you will remember my mishaps and know that, "If the service is perfect then it isn't for Jesus. He died for the imperfect, and that is most certainly me." Later the priest told me he hadn't even noticed the candles till I told him. Whew!

Peace, Hope & Joy!

Rain, Rain and More Rain

It's raining in the Texas Hill Country! It's raining all the way up to Oklahoma. There have been reports of flash flooding and 20 inches of rain in Marble Falls. It's raining here in San Antonio right now! Looking out my patio doors, I see water coming down heavily and being blown sideways onto my patio. The prediction is there's more to come. The images on the left are of Perdnales Falls, a lovely place in the Hill Country. The first one is of the falls at normal levels. The next one was taken 5 minutes later. That's flash flooding!

The stray cat living on my patio doesn't seem to like the weather much. The patio area is dry except for the occasional gusts of rain which get blown under the bamboo curtain I use for shade. Right now he is sitting under the rattan chair which is far enough from the porch wall that he probably doesn't get wet at all. He isn't happy about the weather because it is keeping him pinned to one location. So he is yowling occasionally in complaint about the situation.

I love rain. It's my favorite kind of weather. When it's misting I've been known to put on a jacket and walk outdoors. If it's drizzling I have no problem walking with an umbrella. If it is pouring down, as it is now, I do storm watches. This all dates back to my childhood.

When I was much younger, my dad, sister, and I used to do storm watches from our front porch. This was special unexpected fun. We'd put chairs out on the cement part which was barely wide enough to be a walkway. Then we'd all sit and watch the storm come in. First you smelled the water in the air. Then the wind would start to blow the tree tops. The temperature would drop quickly. Soon the entire tree would be waving in the wind. Occasionally, you'd see some lightning across the sky. That only made it better. You could feel the excitement in the air on your skin and the flash of lights was never the same. The huge strikes were awesome! The thunder boomed and you could tell how far away the storm was. Suddenly the weather held its breath for a moment and everything went quiet. It was as if the world was waiting for the music to start. The first raindrops would fall. Big fat ones widely spread apart. As the fall of raindrops picked up you could hear the tattoo on the street and rooftops. It would start pouring down and the trees would go back to whipping wildly and the lightning would once again crash across the sky. Now it was rain! Now it was a storm! God was cleansing the world! And you were there, safe and sound with your dad, watching it all happen.

When the rain started blowing under the eves we would grab the chairs and hurry inside. There we would quickly dry off any water and Mom was always waiting with something warm to drink. Or supper would be ready and waiting on the table. There were sliding glass doors on the back of the house so we could continue to watch the storm while we ate. It was an awesome time!

It isn't so awesome right now for the people in Marble Falls. There have been 11 people killed according to the news reports. I wouldn't wish that on anybody. And it seems as if the Marble Falls people are ill prepared for this type of event. This isn't a tornado. Those have warning systems and you can seek shelter in the center of your house. This is flash flooding (see above images) and there is no place you can get out of the waters way except for your rooftops if it catches you and that happens all too frequently. If you check out the news report I linked to you can also click on some videos that tell horrific tales of this. They show lots of water and cars that have gotten washed down stream, the most impressive of these being a stretch limo with at least 4 windows shoved up against some other cars and a telephone pole.

I admit this is sort of gawking on my part. Growing up in the very flat Rio Grande Valley there wasn't much flooding. Certainly not the kind we get in San Antonio. In fact, the only flood I remember as a child happened because the Rio Grande river overflowed its banks and filled the flood plain between Mercedes and Weslaco, TX in 1967. This happened because of Hurricane Beulah. It actually moved north up the Rio Grande river and brought torrential rains which flooded the river. Not even hurricane Carla (1961), which took down trees, brought that much water. My grandparents lived in Mercedes in 1967 and saw that flood. I lived in Weslaco on the other side of the flood plain and saw it too.

The picture on the left is a scanned newspaper image of the flood before that one in 1922. Among that group of men, standing up to their hips in flood water, is my maternal grandfather. It's one of the few pictures I have of him from before I was born. The building behind him is his Texaco gas station, the only one in Mercedes for many years. If you think you'd like to read the entire small town history report on Mercedes, TX, which that image is a part of, go here. The writing isn't great, it was a college report, but it's the story of my home town.

The rain has stopped outside. The rug on my patio is pretty wet. People are starting to move about. The cat outside would like to come inside. Too bad, he'll have to wait till I can get him to a vet for a checkup and bath. If more rain should come I will be inside safe and dry. I think I'll try to clear off space for a candle to light and keep me and the rain company. And life goes on. Peace, Hope, and Joy!

Images of Christmas

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping on your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos.

Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,
Help to make the season bright.
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,
Will find it hard to sleep tonight.

They know that Santa's on his way;
He's loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh.
And every mother's child is going to spy,
To see if reindeer really know how to fly.

And so I'm offering this simple phrase,
To kids from one to ninety-two,
Although its been said many times, many ways,
A very Merry Christmas to you

Christmas memories are so poignant that there are probably more well remembered songs about them than any other holiday. Every year we make memories of the season and the day to carry on to the next. We create family rituals around it, entire cities celebrate in nationally broadcast parades, all the media is doing shows about how to make it the best ever. And in all of this we find time for quiet contemplation of the meaning of the holiday. We go out of our way to give to others as we do on no other holiday. Everybody has a dream of the perfect Christmas.

The fact that part of this season's tradition, in the ending of one year and the start of the next, arise from old pagan images isn't mentioned often. The idea of a Christmas tree didn't arise from the Christian church but from ancient rituals of the green man and mother earth being honored. Most of the major religions do something to celebrate this time of year. When it all gets added together year after year, and century after century the season builds its own mystique that is self-fulfilling and self-perpetuating. It would take a lot more than a Grinch to kill Christmas.

We all have favorite memories of Christmas and often find ourselves trying to recreate them year after year. Some want a white Christmas. Some want it all sparkling and wrapped brightly under the tree. Family is often involved. One of my favorite memories of Christmas is not so much a memory as a family photograph. The photo shows me and my grandfather sitting close to one another on Christmas day and if you look closely, from the angle of our heads, you can tell that I inherited my grandfather's ears. Until I saw that photo I hated my ears. I'd even thought about having them altered someday. But I love my grandfather and would never think of disrespecting something he gave me. So now that photo and my ears are loved. And that was a gift received long after the holiday when it was taken.

I wish I had a scanned copy of that photo to share with you. It isn't very interesting but it has a lot of sentiment for me. Yesterday I was looking anxiously all over the web for the perfect Christmas photo to put with this post. I didn't find it until today and so this post is being written a day late. Although I will change it for traditions sake, I don't think the date matters so much. You can celebrate Christmas anytime of the year. We don't really know when Christ was born. It is the spirit that counts.

So, in the spirit of the season, here is another of my favorite Christmas poems, a handwritten copy of which was recently sold to a private buyer, who read it to his company at their annual Christmas party. If you are interested you can read the article here.

'Twas the Night before Christmas' Poem

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Thanksgiving & Memories of rituals past

How was your Thanksgiving?

It was quiet at my place. Sometimes it's like that when you're single. The brightest spot in the day was when I called and talked to Mom. We spent almost 40 minutes on the phone together. It was one of those good conversations that you really enjoy having. That made it special. It also brought back memories.

Mom brought me up to be an optimist. When I was a child, we always looked for the positive in things. Because she was so optimistic then, we coined the label of being "pollyannas" for ourselves. Life has a way of beating that out of you and these days, when I talk to Mom, she often finds more things to worry about than to be thankful for. She worries because I am worried. I love her and want to be able to share with her the hopes I have, which I of course worry about because I haven't achieved them yet. When that happens, it means she won't sleep well that night and I will have fretted because she worried. Right now part of me is wondering if expressing things positively so that your parents don't worry is part of growing up and cutting the apron strings. The child in me is reluctant to hide anything from my parent but the grownup in me wants to help Mom be happy with my life. I guess it is time to start sacrificing the childhood image for love of my mother.

My Thanksgiving meal was nothing to brag about. I baked some chicken but ended up eating something else because I was hungry by the time it was half cooked. The bright spot in dining came from the cookies I baked. They were chocolate, chocolate chip. Enjoying them with a glass of milk brought back warm memories of afternoon snacks with my mom and grandmother. I managed not to eat them all and can have the chicken today. (g)

The rest of the day was spent doing laundry, cleaning up the kitchen, and watching a little TV. I wrote to and heard back from a few people online. Most notably my friend, Susan, but also others from various places I've lived. One friend sent me a lovely powerpoint about the worth of women. I'll have to figure out who I want to share it with.

When I got into bed I read for a bit. A very short bit as I got drowsy pretty quickly. I have two books open on the spare pillow in my bed (my stash place for books in progress). One of them is Storm Thief by Chris Wooding. That's the one I read last night. The other is Sex With Kings by Eleanor Herman. I'm working my way through each of them a few pages at a time. So there you have it, my Thanksgiving day. Nice and quiet!

Thanksgiving hasn't always been that way. I remember, with fondness, childhood Thanksgivings when the whole family gathered around my grandmother's table. Even my uncle and his family, who lived in another state, would be there. I'd like to say we had friends in, but my family never did that. Friends I have now, from time to time, invite me to dine with them on Thanksgiving and I always appreciate it. I guess the question of why my family never did that is something I should ask my mom. Part of the answer may have to do with the fact that most of our neighbors were comfortably set and didn't need to be invited over. They would drop by on Christmas day sometimes if they had a gift to give but Thanksgiving was a day for family.

The only memory that comes close to those holidays is the day Granddad would go hunting, the opening day of the annual White Wing Season. We always had a family feast that evening. My granddad was a good shot. My sister, Grandmother, and I would go along with him on his outing. Grandmother was there to watch us kids. My sister and I were there to play bird dog for Granddad. His pouch would be full when we went home. The four of us would then sit in the backyard around a huge galvanized washtub plucking the feathers off of all those doves. Grandmother took care of the rest of the cleaning ritual and the family would show up to help with the preparations. My favorite part of the bird was the heart so Grandmother would set that aside as a special treat. When everything was ready we would all sit down at the big table to eat. I still have that dining table and chairs. Grandmother gave them to me as a gift when she decided to move to a nursing home shortly after Granddad died. It holds all the memories of dinners past, sewing lessons, and getting homework done. When I sit at it I feel connected to them in a way that nothing else could match.

Those memories of family gatherings are the spiritual part of the holidays for me. They're what make them special, our family's ritual of being family. Thank God for them and for the hope of being able to recreate those rituals and build memories of my own someday. May all your holidays be so blessed!

Comics and Ritual

When I was married I was blessed with a husband who had a really good sense of humor. Among the things we liked to do was share the daily comics. We each had our favorites and managed to work out a way where we could swap pages and not hog them. Occasionally I would cut one out and post it on the fridge as a weekly reminder of humor or the commentary it so jokingly gave on life.

Recently my church showed a series of tapes called "Discovering Everyday Spirituality". These tapes were narrated by Thomas Moore and were very good at reminding me of the things I loved as a child, which spoke of how good my world was back then. The tapes each had a topic. These were story, place, activity, and ritual. In each of these everyday things we can find peace, character, and value for our lives today. How I start my mornings has ritual. It has meaning to me. Until I considered it in light of these videos I had forgotten where I got some of those rituals.

When I was a child my grandmother and I used to sit and read the funny papers (50's lingo for comics) together. It was one of our rituals. Time spent in an activity that we both loved and felt richer for doing together. This was the basis for my sharing comics with my husband. It is the basis for my starting my day with 3 of my favorites online. It has meaning for me beyond the simple act of reading something amusing.

Today I was reading one of my favorites, Rose is Rose, and suddenly thought of that spirituality series. The funny showed Rose going out to find the bag of garbage her husband had been dutifully taking to the trashcan sitting on the ground. As she picked it up and completed the job you saw Jimbo headed off into one of what was no doubt a favorite activity. It was one of mine as a child. He was chasing fireflies. You almost never see these lovely reminders of nature's wonder anymore. The text read, "Fireflies account for almost three percent of 'garbage moment' interruptions." (chuckle) Suddenly I was catapulted back to the time when as a child my parents and grandparents would be sitting in lawn chairs watching my sister and I chase fireflies around the neighbor's yard. There was my place, activity, ritual and story. What a lovely reminder of the spirituality you can find in everyday things.

I took the liberty of printing off that comic to post on a wall I am building of things I want to do and be mindful of. If you have favorite comic strips I hope you get as much joy and history out of them as I do mine.

Peace, Joy and Hope!

Communion story and how this blog got its name

A friend just reminded me that I hadn't posted in a couple of days. Sorry if you happened along and there was nothing new.

When I started this blog I named it Chrysalis Dreams because I believe I am in the process of being renewed or rebuilt. Part of that rebuilding is from my own efforts; part of it is totally God's work. Isn't that the way it works with butterflies too? The "dreams" part was meant to reflect the idea of future self images. Today I was trying to plan this post and realized that the idea of dreams is also a concept about our realities that I picked up from "The Four Agreements" by Miguel Ruiz. According to Ruiz, we are all dreaming all the time, but we are dreaming awake. This isn't the same as daydreaming. Instead, it is building our realities. Our dreams can affect others if they let them. Other's dreams can affect us. When we are learning how to dream our parents, teachers and others who influence our lives teach us their dreams. That concept has a lot of room to play with. Admittedly, I don't have it all in hand yet. Probably I will refer back to the concepts I am gaining from that from time to time. Anyway, it occured to me that the word "dream" might have more meaning that I originally credited it with.

Ok..my last post was about retro learning and I mentioned a Communion experience I had that got me back on track with my faith. It was one of those surprising moments that really change your focus and perspective.

My faith came to completion in a small non-denominational church that was part of the grassroots faith movement of the 80's. It was a good "milk" church in that it was good for newbie Christians. Part of the character of that movement was the idea of a personal relationship with God. He was your friend. You communed with him in a loving but unassuming way that was very comfortable and intimate. He had your best interests at heart. To a large extent, all that is still true although the terms and labels of that decade have faded from popularity. So how does that translate for me today? Well I like to find that I have a very personal relationship with my church. I like to be friendly with the pastor. My church friends are special to me because I feel we share a life view and values that are similar and connect us together in ways that should help make us closer. That doesn't always happen but quite often it does. Most importantly, my faith has to have meaning to my life and vice versa. That part is kind of selfish sounding yet I think most of us feel that our lives have to have meaning or they aren't really good.

My church of today is a very "corporate" church. It is Episcopal. We do corporate confessions of sin, holding all of the body as sinners and asking God's forgiveness for all of us. We pray the Lord's Prayer in a corporate tone, "Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us." When I am feeling particularly in need of forgiveness I find this corporateness disturbing and unhelpful. Yes my friends need forgiveness too, but I need to feel repentent to get to the point where I believe God wants me to be and gain forgiveness. When I have a lot of company as a sinner I find I'm less inclined to blame myself and thus feel less guilty. That might be a good thing for self esteem but not if I want to motivate myself to change. Nothing can get us moving faster than a real sense of self conviction.

Last year I had been at my present church for 3 years and was feeling rather alone there. I grumbled to others that I had no friends there. I accused the church of not being a welcoming body. And I had considered changing churches. That didn't happen. Everytime I started looking I'd find something I still liked about my church or something I didn't like about the alternatives and stay. Part of the reason for my lack of happiness in my church was that I didn't feel connected to the worship. My faith was formed in a charismatic church. Episcopal churches are anything BUT charismatic. You will seldom see people raising their hands toward God in prayer. You won't hear them exulting in the worship of the traditional hymns that are sung there. The service lacks the opportunity for most individual expressions of the faith experience. Nevertheless, the faith of most Episcopalians is very real and incredibly deep. That is what I think kept me there. Still I longed for that chance to find it personal.

The experience happened when a friend serving communion called my name before offering me the cup. This so seldom happens that it was totally new to me. I reacted with delight. He was making the service of communion a "personal service"! I am thinking akin to the "washing of feet" here. I looked up into his eyes, our gazes locked and down the channel between us came the Holy Spirit. He shot into our space and then filled the area around us. I could feel His joy in my reacton to this offering. For the rest of that day I glowed with happiness. I had found that personal connection to my worship there. That was it except for the aftermath.

For days after that I spent time reflecting on what had happened. Because I was so reflective on faith, when my life got overly busy the first solution I thought of was a retreat. I decided to go on Cursillo. Cursillo is designed to renew your faith and commitment to it. Since it builds lay leaders, I also hoped that it would provide me with mentors for my life. It did all of that and more. Once again my life is solidly on a path that I believe is taking me where God wants me. I am happy in my church. Friendships are happening for me there. I am learning about service too. Recently I went through Lay Eucharistic training so that I could help by serving at the altar. The response from my church to my personal growth and transformation has been beautifully rewarding. Finally I feel like a member of that body.

Sometimes I still reflect on that communion. There must be lessons to learn from so profound an experience. At first, I looked backwards trying to figure out why it happened. Now I am also trying to look forward. I think that, because of the "service" oriented nature of Communion, God wants me to serve. That hasn't been an area of strong performance in the past, but it seems to be time and opportunities are being provided.

There is also the idea of how "real" the concepts that we claim to believe about our sacraments are to us as we go through them. The other day I was talking about it to a friend when suddenly I had a flash vision. Call it insight if you want (I have been having those occaisionally since cursillo). It was a vision of Jesus on a plate all cut up like those home economics posters showing the beef carcus and all the different cuts you can get from the body. While a little weird, it wasn't gruesome....no excessive blood and such (I don't dream that way). Instead it caused me to think, "Wow, talk about service!" Also present was the awareness of the fact that he willingly gave up his life for those who, like myself, choose to accept and believe. That goes way beyond service and echos into my future. In that moment of perspective, I came to see how real the body and blood in our wine and bread feast are; and how a faith built on sacrifice and service can move through the ages transforming humanity. Like I said, I'm a retro learner. (grin)

Peace! Hope! and Joy!