a prophetic voice-

You know that old adage, "Into each life a little rain must fall"? Well, mine "fell" yesterday morning in the form of a bottle of olive oil. You see, early yesterday, as I was preparing some of the food which would be consumed so eagerly my whole family later in the day, I opened a cabinet to get a bottle of olive oil, but instead of grasping it, I bumped it somehow, causing it to fall on my left foot. It hurt like the very devil, and I hopped around muttering vague obscenities under my breath (the rest of the household was asleep and I was trying to be considerate), then retrieved my reliable remedy, Arnica, rubbed it on the aching toe, and promptly forgot about it in the overwhelming busyness of the day, during which I was almost continuously on my feet. Only after the last of the thundering herd (I say this with deepest affection, you understand) had departed, the dishwasher was loaded, the carpet vacuumed, and the house generally returned to some

After an emotionally draining week, I decided what I needed was some play, and so I've been playing with a new app on my Kindle, Pic Collages. Such fun. You see, I'm not one of those folks who makes photo albums- though I did  do that for each of my three children a number of years ago as a Christmas gift. But I have so many photos stored in my computer and on the Cloud, and when I discovered this app, I just began having fun. So far, I've completed six of them and I intend to do more. They'll be saved in "my photos" so I can take them out and look at them whenever I choose. So lovely. And in case you missed the ones I've posted on Facebook, I'll include them here. Play is indeed a grand and glorious gift of God.  

A difficult week...there's no other way to put it. Beginning with a memorial service for the son of a dear woman in my congregation -the third son this woman has lost- just after returning from a restful but emotional retreat in the NC mountains...followed by a Tuesday e-mail from a dear high school friend, telling me of the accidental death of the husband of another classmate (A freak accident, actually- he was felling a tree and it hit him, killing him instantly)...to Thursday evening's totally unexpected death due to a massive stroke of a precious friend and fellow pilgrim, Suzanne Goddard... to yesterday's arrival of her lovely and very personal Christmas card (she had been at the post office doing her Christmas mailing when the symptoms began). And today, I am wrung out...physically, emotionally, and, yes, spiritually. On Sunday, for the memorial service, I used at the text for my brief homily, Psalm 22, which begins, My God, my God, why have you forsa

I have been gifting myself with the reading of an amazing book, yet another product of the husband/wife team of Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. A Path Appears should be required reading for every high school and college student. In fact, it should be required reading for every citizen of this nation. When I have not been reduced to tears by the stories, true stories of survival and giving and dedication and hope, I have found myself convicted again and again of my need to do more... to find a cause, perhaps several causes, to which I can give my heart and time and monies, knowing I can and will make a difference. No pie-in-the-sky solutions here... simply the telling of the stories of individuals who have made and continue to make a difference in ways both big and small. Lives changed, towns given hope, communities restored; seemingly insurmountable problems faced head-on, often with few resources, and over and over again the conviction that we CAN make a differe

t aking time A breath, deep and long Another, then one more as muscles and relax letting go of all they have           been holding Anxiety and must-do lists Rushing and stressing and    tying myself in knots    over the ways in which    I am not doing all I could    to help those in need    to work for peace    to advocate for justice    to love...accept...include A breath, deeper still Another, then one more as time's demands fall away creating space for-            clarity            peace            blessed emptiness creating space for-            the Spirit of Hope            to enter in and            dwell awhile... the breath of life renewed. living dreams... God entered my dreams last night- not a voice or even a presence but the feeling of arms-stretched-wide love expanding, including, welcoming It took my breath away even as my eyes and heart opened wide as I tried to encompass and apprehend and embody it all- this Love that surpass

Went to our public library today to return some books on CD and to pick up a few more, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a beautiful Christmas tree and an amazing garland, both created from recovered recyclables by a wonderful environmental artist, Bryant Holsenbeck, another truly creative  artist who is using His work not only to beautify a local space but to raise our awareness about caring for the environment. This Thanksgiving 2014 I am especially thankful for  all artists, regardless of their medium- paints, music, dance, theater, recyclables, etc.- and for the incredible gift the arts are in our lives. What would we ever do without them and the beauty they create, the stories they tell?  

"To everything there is a season..." so says the writer of Ecclesiastes in a well-known, oft-quoted passage. And I usually trust that to be true. But then there is my Christmas cactus...which for the nine or so years I have had it has faithfully and stubbornly bloomed about four weeks before the aforementioned time...bursting forth in all its glory at Thanksgiving. Every year. Without fail. As I looked at it today, counting the many blooms and the many more buds- in a few more days it will be covered with blossoms- I found myself thinking about this whole "season" thing. We use that saying to comfort ourselves, I think, with the notion, the belief, that things unfold as they should, when they should, in the overall scheme of things. And in the world of nature, at least, that is most often true. Summer follows spring follows winter follows fall, and so it goes, year after year...a promise of sorts to which we tightly hold and in which we find great

  Nearly a month since I last wrote here...a month marked with so many internal debates...with much soul-searching regarding the ways in which my state...this place which I have called home for the last nearly-30 years continues to respond to what was good news on October 11 for so many. I speak, of course, of the judgment handed down in the U.S District Court by Justice Max Coburn that Amendment One, passed last spring, banning same- sex marriages, was unconstitutional.  The soul-searching has come, not because I disagree. Quite the contrary. I was among those overjoyed by this step... quite a giant step...toward justice and equality for all people in North Carolina. The soul-searching has come as I have wrestled with how to respond in a loving, caring, Christian way to those who clearly do not agree... to those who find the possibility of same-sex couples marrying a threat of sorts, be it to their biblical understanding or their moral principles or- I'm not s

After a week filled with sharing the pain of others about whom I care deeply...after some times of soul-searching and sadness and the Sense of walking in the dark, trying to feel my way, at times unable to see the light at all, this afternoon's sunshine was a precious and beautiful gift. I sat on my back deck, soaking it in...absorbing both the healing and beneficial Vitamin D and the warm and healing of the sun's rays themselves, reminding me of the ever-presence of the healing presence of the One Who Loves. I could almost feel the warmth soaking into my body and spirit...could almost feel the healing of the spirit which was happening for and to me. And that's the way it is, isn't it... so very often in life. We go along convinced that it- whatever the "it" is- all depends on us...that we must have the solution and the strength, the courage and the Conviction, the wherewithal and stick-to-itiveness...when, in reality, the healing and strength,

October 10, 2014...a date which will forever be written in my mind and heart...a date on which a thought-filled and justice-minded judge struck down North Carolina's infamous Amendment One, which had prohibited same-sex marriages. What a time of rejoicing for my gay and lesbian friends, for all those who have worked so hard for justice and equality for all people under the law. I have long pondered about the so-called "Defense of Marriage Act", better known as DOMA...about why so many of my hetero- sexual sisters and brothers feel that acknowledging the right of same-sex couples to marry would in any way threaten their own. But, then again, I guess I've lived long enough to realize that we human beings are easily threatened and disturbed by anything or anyone we see as DIFFERENT from us... anything which is outside of our carefully-established and comfortable frame of reference, which knocks our worldview out-of-kilter. Unfortunat

Been wondering why my sleep patterns and appetite have been disturbed the past couple of days...why I just felt kind of "out of sorts"...and then, today, I realized yesterday was October 2, a more-than-momentous date in my life. Thirty-nine years ago on that day, my thirty-seven-year-old husband died of the leukemia which had overwhelmed his previously healthy body. It had been exactly one month from his diagnosis to his death and to say my entire family was devastated would be understating the effects it had on each and all of us. My children were seven, nine, and eleven and I was only thirty-three. October 2, 1975 became a day which worked its way deep into my psyche, into the innermost parts of who I was and am. Fast-forward nine years to south Florida, with a second marriage and three teenagers and a newly-adopted three- year-old, when I found a lump in my right breast and, on October 2, underwent surgery in Boca Raton. I was only forty-two, had already

So, a nurse in the ER at Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas noted on the chart that the patient stated he had just arrived from Liberia, one of the West African countries at the center of the Ebola epidemic. And somehow this information was not "transmitted" to the rest of the medical team treating the man, who was subsequently sent home, only to return via ambulance two days later, seriously ill. And only then, ONLY THEN, was the diagnosis made. In the meantime this man had become contagious, exposing everyone in the household where he was staying to this potentially deadly virus. Yes, I'm on a rant about health care in this country. You see, I was an R.N. back in the seventies- that's the nineteen-seventies- in a small, not-for-profit community hospital known for its nursing care. And I can tell you, that lack of transmission of information would not have happened. No way, no how. We took good histories and we passed on significant information, perhaps

M y house smells like Autumn...windows open to let in the many earthy smells of the trees, new mown grass, and freshly spread mulch on the neighbor's garden...all of this accompanied by the nurturing, nourishing, delectable odor of apples cooking on the stove for homemade applesauce. The birds seem overjoyed, too, their songs punctuating the people-sounds in the neighborhood with melodic delight, a reminder to me that all-too-soon some of them will be leaving my yard for warmer climes, leaving the bird feeders to the cardinals, blue jays, titmice, and woodpeckers. I love this time of year, with its cooler nights and its daily juxtaposition of rainy days following closely on the heels of brilliantly blue ones...with its call to dig out the long sleeves and sweaters, to put away the pastels of spring and summer in favor of the oranges and reds and deeper greens and browns which seem emblematic of the season. Of course, Autumn is also a season of

  I am definitely a morning person. Here it is, only 9:45a.m. and I have put a beef stew into the crockpot, baked a chocolate cake and some apple dumplings, and done three loads of wash. Oh, and made myself a lovely breakfast of my favorite poached eggs AND taken time for reading, praying, and journaling. Now, I'm readying to complete my sermon for Sunday. Please, please don't think I'm bragging or looking for praise of any sort. And I'm sorry if all of this early-morning energy makes you feel tired. This is just how I function best: rising at 5 or 5:30a.m. and entering into the day, first in silence and then in the joy of doing something I love. Of course, not all my days are like this. Sometimes I have to grit my teeth and just DO IT...those tasks I really don't enjoy, like cleaning... talking with those people who set my teeth on edge... keeping my nose to the well-worn grindstone. (After all, they're not called "chores&q

Two scenes from my travels today play across the screen of my mind... two scenes which were totally unrelated, and yet occurred only two blocks apart in my town...in my travels... The first- seeing Christmas paraphernalia on display at a local craft store and being completely discombobulated by its appearance on this, September 15th, technically still summertime, though autumn is making brief forays into our weather these days. The second- seeing two young men- brothers, I imagine- exiting the AT&T store, hand in hand...the elder- about 19 or 20, I speculate, patiently and carefully guiding the younger- perhaps fifteen or so- and clearly in the thrall of some kind of mental or emotional problem... arms gesticulating wildly, gait unsteady, casting words out toward the not-there people who apparently populate his world. Gently, with obvious loving concern, oblivious of  the looks or opinions of anyone else, the elder led the younger to their ca

  Sometimes when I awaken- especially  to the sound of voices on the clock radio on the nearby bedside table- I am confused as to time         and place...where am I, I wonder,         and what is this day? as dream fragments hold me entwined in tendrils of imagination, of fancy's flight, where voices, faces of those long gone are vividly present where the curtain dividing what was from what is is gossamer-thin where past and present fuse into the one-ness of now, drawing me into the Spirit's tether where I am held as gently as a babe in holy, wholly loving arms

nothing lasts forever forever is a lie, distorting   how we see today, tomorrow finitude contains the truth   of our humanity, shining light on this very moment   this fleeting never-to-be-lived-again             moment breathe in.  breathe out inspiration.  expiration life riding on the breath   the ruach   the spirit until one last breath in-   or out, and then forever   is no more or matters not a bit absorbed into infinity' s deep mystery with molecules among the stars our DNA enlivening those we   leave behind-              perhaps forever taking a              different shape?

Walking in the early-morning freshness, Breathing in the gift of air         cleansed by last evening's rains Seeing...      the single reddening branch on           the maple tree around the corner...      further along, the dogwood with every leaf tinged           with dusky red, while her more-than-nodding-acquaintance           neighbor remains resplendently green...      the purple morningglories glorifying the shrubs           over which they spread...      the tightly-closed seed pods studding the magnolia           where once creamy flower bowls bloomed... Hearing...      the absence of traffic, as the human populants           remain at home on this holiday morning...      the abundance of birdsong resonating through           the trees and over the hillsides...      the occasional dripping of the remnants           of last night's storm... Rounding the corner, the morning sun is fully in my eyes until benevolent branches gentle its light, leav

There was a man called Jesus of Nazareth…the one whom his followers came to call Christ. His life was one of living out what he believed the nature of God was…and it was in him     that his disciples, his followers, came to understand what it meant to live in close relationship with God, to BE God’s people in all their living, in all their actions, in   all their speaking, in all their relationships with others. And what he showed to them- and to us, all these centuries later- was that God is a God of love and justice and inclusion and compassion and forgiveness…in spite of what they and we might hear to the contrary. Early in Jesus’ ministry, he boldly proclaimed his revolutionary vision of the Kingdom of God   in a synagogue in his hometown on the Sabbath, and the religious authorities surrounding him stood amazed at his teaching. He stood up to read, and someone handed him a scroll of the prophet Isaiah, from which he read these defining words:          The