Leaving a Mark

A few weeks ago, my dear friend lost her brother.  In her eulogy she wrote about the indelible mark he left on everyone he met.  This theme has been on my mind.  Tonight as I watched "It's a Wonderful Life," my thoughts have once again returned to this notion of leaving a mark.  It is a valid topic upon which to reflect.  The world is a different place simply because of our presence in it.  No matter who we are or what we do,  this place called home has been changed by us.  The friends we have made, the work we have done, the children we have borne have all had an effect on the world at large.  We each leave an indelible mark.  Although I admit that some will leave a deeper mark than others though their boisterous personalities or the large shadow they cast because of their role in the world.  But each of us has that power of one to use for good.  As a teacher, I touched many lives and it was just part of the job.  I understood that power but did not dwell on it.  Now in retirement with my focus on time and contribution, I am keenly aware of my impact.  A smile at the grocery clerk or cashier can completely make or change someone's day.  They will carry that good feeling with them and into their homes that night.  The service work I do for food pantries and students is changing lives.  What I read and think and share is all part of the mark I am leaving.  My prayer life holds those I know and care about up to a source greater than I am or can be on my own.  Through my meditation and contemplation, I make room for deeper spirituality.  In that space, a home is burrowed out for goodness and the world becomes a better place because I am in it.  Because I chose to think good thoughts or do good things, the world becomes kinder, more loving and more accepting.  This is true of every single person on the planet.  In this season of Christmas and gift giving, I ponder the gifts I am leaving, the purposeful as well as the unintentional.  To become more mindful and intentional results in greater goodness for all.  We are all connected and what I choose to do with this minute, this moment has the power to change your view and experience of the world, We are, each of us better for having been here.  The mark we leave behind is indeed indelible. 

Putting God into Words

Retirement has led me to many things but the most important one has been my spiritual journey.  What looked like one closed door after another has revealed itself to be a grand revelation.  Six months ago I started working with a spiritual director.  She began by introducing me to Richard Rohr and Thomas Keating.  These two mystics are exactly what I had been searching for before I even knew I was searching.  Rohr's book, Falling Upward made perfect sense to me for my time of life.  Then came my introduction to centering prayer first shared with Christians by Father Keating.  From there began the search for other things that are out there that I have missed by sitting in church and thinking that was enough.  I started looking and listening.  I now receive several daily emails that are reflections from Catholicism, Christianity and Sufism.  I listen to weekly podcasts that are spiritual or thought provoking in nature and one that just reminds me of the importance of kindness in the world.  

As I grew in my understanding of my spiritual nature, I began to struggle with the words to explain it.  I am a great lover of words but language has always seemed too confining for God.  Once we name anything, we put it inside a box and that 's not possible with God.  My spiritual director challenged me to do exactly what I said that I couldn't.  Here was the assignment that we brainstormed together:

What is the image or symbol of God that works for you?

What are the qualities of your understanding of God?

How does that essence show itself to you?

How do you feel the presence of God?

How do you connect with it?

And here is the resulting work in progress:

God is my Source, the source of all; all things and all beings.  It is in this Source that I live and move and relate to the world around me. My own spirit, my true self is directly connected to the Source.  We were one before I was born and my true self will return to the Source after my death. While I am here on Earth my job is to learn to live in love, to be one with other beings in love.  All of the joys and challenges that I experience are a result of this one and only goal.

The symbol of God or Source or Creator, that works for me is breath.  As I stop to take in the breath and let it out I am reminded that the Holy Spirit is connected to that breath.  As I focus on the breath, I am one with the Source. I breathe in and out, I am reminded of my union with the Source. We are one when I acknowledge that presence. While the presence is always there, it waits for me to acknowledge our union. This for me, is the power of centering prayer. As I quiet my body and mind, I make room for our union together. The 20 minutes of silence is not the gift, it is what comes as a result of that quiet. I make a space for the Source and in that space I become deeply aware that the Source and I are at work together. Working in prayer, in love, and in service to others

I find that my closest connection to the Source is in the quiet.  When I make room for it, it is always there waiting for me to come to be one, once again.  I am learning to grow in love and allowing myself to become closer to the Source. This only happens in the stillness of my life.

Each morning I begin my day by writing for 30 minutes. It is a stream of consciousness that allows me to come face to face with my true self. It brings clarity to my life and to my relationships. It helps me understand who I am, what I really think, and identify my place in the world. But above all, it is prayer..  Prayer becomes simply a conversation between my true self and my Source. It is no longer asking for things for others, it is just an invitation to be present with me.  Sit with me, be with me and in the time together, I will learn.

I need quiet in my life. This is the reason that I feel the essence of the Source in the woods. Living in the northwest has made it possible for me to journey into the woods at a moment's notice. As I enter the quiet, I am aware that I am in a sacred place. This is my church. I am surrounded by beauty, by the awesomeness of creation, by this all-encompassing feeling that I am deeply loved I breathe in this beauty that surrounds me and in the stillness, I am at peace. I am one with my creator, my Source.

God is ever-present in my life.  The once a week church service is not enough to feed my spirit everything that it is yearning for.  It needs the academics of the knowledge of the mystics. It needs the experience of quiet and the stillness to be united with the Source. It needs the sacredness of the walk in the woods. So I journey forth, deeply aware of my relationship with the Source as I continue the work of courage, compassion, and connection.

Tick Tick Tick

I knew that I hadn't written a post in while but I was still a little surprised to see that 3 weeks had gone by without having taken the time to sit and think for just a moment.  I say it all the time but I will document it here.  I am busy, very very busy (insert sarcastic tone).  I honestly do not know where the time goes.  And sometimes I wonder how I was ever able to get myself to work and think about nothing but work for 8-12 hours a day.  In retirement my mind is constantly whirling and the best part of that whirl is that when I question something, I can take the time to figure it out right then and there before moving on to some other thought or wondering.  I think that is where most of the time goes.

Recent ponderings and doings over the last few weeks in no particular order:

• Spending time with my kids - Lucia's birthday and Spring Break
• Planting flowers and shrubs here and there with no particular plan in mind
• Following through on my art plan - I have registered for a drawing class and met up with a friend to do some actual learning to figure out where this will lead
• A short trip to Ridgefield and Woodland to visit some nurseries
• I have joined First Presbyterian Church, a book club and Bible study
• Enjoyed a weekend trip to my cousin's for some wine tasting and laughs

I like seeing this list and realizing that a lot goes on in the quiet of this new life.  I am making friends and meeting up for coffees and lunches keeping the socialization genes in tact.  I am continuing my journey of life long learning in new areas.  I am giving back by volunteering with the poor and the environment.  I am reading, (sometimes) writing, baking, and gardening.  And no, I never ever wonder what I will do with  my time.  It just seems to take care of itself as I follow along for the ride.  

My Search for Church, Continued...

Dear followers of my search for church,

As most of you know, for me, the most difficult transition to the Pacific northwest has been looking for my church home.  Many people tried to warn me that Catholic in northern California is not Catholic in Oregon and Washington but I didn't truly understand that until recently.  I have tried out almost every parish in Vancouver and northeast Portland.  In the process I  have learned things about Catholicism that have come as a bit of a surprise.  While on  this search, many factors came into play that I never had to consider in San Jose.  How far am I willing to drive for a good homily?  How do I become part of a community that is 15-20 miles away?  Can I become part of a community living out the letter of the law vs the spirit of the law? I thought I had come to terms with all of this at Christmas and joined my local parish.  That did not work out as I had predicted.  I almost joined another parish before I started looking outside the Catholic church.  That move didn't fare very well either.  All the while this was going on, I was attending a few events and services at my sister's Presbyterian church and meeting some pretty admirable people.  I'm sure you now know where this story is going...  This week I swore to deny evil and serve Jesus back in the religion in which I was baptized and confirmed many decades ago.  On Easter Sunday, I will be publicly introduced as a member of the community.  I know that in my heart, part of me will remain Catholic but First Presbyterian definitely meets my current needs of spiritual formation and serving the poor.  I have learned not to say this is the end of my religion quandary here in the northwest but it is where the Holy Spirit has led me thus far.  I deeply appreciate all your prayers and conversations about this topic.  Now, on with the journey...

Baking Bread

Retirement has become synonymous with finding my creativity.  I have never thought of myself as creative, in fact quite the opposite.  But it seems that all the things I love to do result in a product that I can touch and feel and say, "I did that.  I made that.  I grew that.  I wrote that."  Baking bread has become one of my all time favorite things to do.  I always liked making bread when the kids were young.  It was simply the right thing to do for my family.  No preservatives.  I controlled everything that went into it.  Then the kids got older and life got faster and I could buy "good" bread and tell myself that it was almost the same thing as homemade.  But now that life has taken on a slower pace, I can appreciate the other things that are wonderful about baking bread.  The smell, and I don't mean the baking part, I mean the yeast.  It is alive and once you add the warm water there is no doubt.  The musky, bitter odor tells you it is here and must be dealt with.  You are required to be a part of the bread.  You touch it, feel it, knead it and gently put it to rest.  This is not a platonic relationship.  You are involved from beginning to end.  You begin to know it by its texture.  Is it too sticky, too dry?  I am grateful for the years of watching my mom make bread.  It is the only way I would recognize the proper elasticity of bread dough and when I'm finally done kneading.  Bread is on its own time table.  It is affected by temperature and humidity just as we are; it is a living thing and what you do or fail to do will determine its quality of life.  Be mindful of this precious time you are given together.  As it bakes, it shares its gifts with the entire house.  There is never a doubt when bread is in the oven.  The aroma lasts for hours as a reminder of what has gone on here. 

Happy Birthday, Grandpa

March 2nd; this day for me will always be equivalent with love and putting feelings to paper.  Four years ago I wrote my last letter to my grandfather.  It was his final birthday on this earth.  The letters started innocently enough.  What could you buy an 80 year old for his birthday or a 90 year old for that matter; you get the picture.  The letters became a beautiful tradition and an integral part of his birthday celebration.  For me, it was the rare opportunity to somehow give a small token back to one of your elders for all that he had given to you. 

My grandfather was then and will forever be a living embodiment of love.  He loved me deeply through all my faults, all my mistakes of the teen years, and those that came after.  I knew that I could tell him anything and there was no judgment and that he would never bring it up again.  What a beautiful model of understanding and forgiveness that I could only hope to emulate with my own grandchildren. 

Although, he has been gone for several years, I still feel his presence in ways I cannot understand or explain.  I hear his voice, I see his gentle smile and I feel him walking beside me on the journey.  He will always be the reminder of integrity and honesty that the rest of the world is so sadly lacking.  I "do the right thing" because I was taught by the master.  He lived at a time when your word was a promise and what you said and did mattered to the future of your family.  I make the most of every day because I watched him do that, up to and including his last.   Even in his final years, he got up every day and did what needed to be done.  If something was broken he fixed it, if it was dirty, he cleaned it.  He  took care of himself, his family, his house and his garden to the very best of his ability all the days of his life. 

This picture remains my personal favorite of all that have been taken.  His face says it all -  that smile without pretense, he hasn't a care in the world.  He is happy and content with who he is and his place in the world.  For me, memories, sights, and sounds come swirling back with a simple glance at it.  Father's Day with Paul and Arma Jo, and Grandpa.  Dinner at Joe Tess's place in Omaha, Nebraska because when asked what he wanted for dinner, he said catfish.  I can smell the fish, feel his arms around me, and hear that little laugh of his.  It is one of the many memories that I carry forward from a lifetime spent with this amazing man.  I have been blessed, truly blessed, to have had a grandfather so wise and wonderful, so loving and understanding.  I continue to give thanks that he was with us for so long and that my memories of him remain so vivid.  Lucky me!

The Slowness of Time

On several occasions I have said how much I enjoy the length of the seasons here in the northwest.  Today as I was hiking through the woods, noticing the tiniest of buds and blooms, I realized that it's not the length of the season, it's the pace.  In California spring approaches and then you are drenched in it.  Here it is all in slow motion.  The season approaches, enters slowly, decides it can stay for a while and then slowly, ever so slowly takes it leave.  

As we begin our farewell to winter, we see spring in the doorway and we open the door a little wider.  The extra light from sunrise to sunset warms the earth and the greening moves from the bottom up.  The mosses and grasses fill in the brown patches of the ground and the trees burst forth in color first and then leaf out.  And as if by some miracle, we wake up and shout out, "It's spring."  

The Fight for Spring

The temperatures had warmed and spring was in the air.  Up sprang the crocus, followed in suit by the daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips.  The trees were budding as the sunlight hours gradually increased.  Everyone felt lighter and there was a new-found energy in the smallest of things.  But winter was not giving up so easily.  The mid-February chill descended on the valley and the snow fell.  This last burst of winter will soon give way to spring.  The journey cannot be changed.  The days will grow longer and the temperatures will rise.  Our spring flowers will soon reign over the earth.  All in due time...

My Blessing

There are so many blessings in my life but these people top the list.  I was blessed to have my grandfather on this earth for 60 of my years.  We laughed together in ways that I never did with anyone else.  I learned incredible things from his example.  But here I am, weighing in at my 64th year and am lucky enough to have both of my parents still with me.  I have never lost sight of how unusual that is and the older I get, the more deeper I feel this gratitude for them just being here.  This year has been a hard one for them both but they continue to greet each day with all that it may hold, good or bad, and find joy in the smallest of gifts.  In the stories they tell, my life takes on a deeper meaning.  I stand on their shoulders and see more clearly how I am connected to my elders as well as the earth.  I give thanks for every minute that I can spend in their presence.  I know that those minutes are now finite and that every time I say good-bye to them could very well be the last.  I honor the lives they have lived and give thanks for the life they have given to me.  I am truly blessed.

The Cons and Pros or Raising Hens

We went from one day having the challenge of a hen on the roof to the next day receiving our first egg.  This is the thing I like best about raising these crazy birds.  You never know what will happen next.  They are fun to watch, frustrating to manage but they make some delicious food!

The Gift of Nice

I knew before I moved to the Pacific Northwest that there is a nice factor in the people that live here.  I have been coming to the Portland area for almost 40 years and the little acts of friendliness would always take me by surprise.  Part of that could be said about any place outside of Silicon Valley.  San Jose and its inhabitants are just simply to busy to take time to say Hi.  The Safeway clerks would always ask "How's your day going?" but you knew that was in their job description.  Everyone there is in a hurry.  A hurry to get to work, to do the work, to get home from work.  There was rarely a moment for eye contact or a nod, let alone a conversation.  But here it is the complete opposite.  The hello and how are you doing is authentic and built into the work.  At first it was a conscience effort for me to engage in it.  I did it as a call/response.  When someone started a conversation, I felt obliged to join in.  But the longer I am  here, the more I feel it becoming part of my being.  Every encounter is an opportunity to slow down, to be nice to one another.  There is a gentleness, a feeling of kindness that pervades the environment here.  The relaxed nature that people have stems from the genuine concern they have for one another.  At this time of upheaval in the rest of society, the gift of nice is such a soft place to land.

Grey, the Light Neutral

As I left mass this morning, I was taken with the sky.  Yes, it was grey (and yes, it was raining) but there was a brightness to it that struck me in a new way.  As my transition to the northwest continues, I do not tire of the rain and see beauty around me in ways which the natives do not.  This morning I was struck with the neutrality of the sky and I am a big fan of neutrals.  The clouds come and go and with their movement, the color palette changes.  As the white clouds come in, the sky brightens and with the darker ones, it simply deepens the tones.  I have never been a lover of grey or attracted to it in any way.  But as I move through my first winter, the challenge for me is the absence of light.  These grey skies bring light in ways that the blue skies of California do not.  They are broad and expansive and ever changing.  They encompass the land from east to west across the entire horizon.  As your eyes move about, you realize that there is so much to discover within the grey.  

A Final (for now) Update on Finding a Spiritual Home

I have done it.  I have finally registered at a Catholic Church.  It feels like the great compromise.  But it is also the Holy Spirit at work.  It is not in Portland.  It is not Jesuit.  But it is right.  I have deliberated over this for the entire 6 months I have lived here.  The parishes in Portland felt like a much better fit in terms of diversity, liberal/conservative spectrum, and adult formation.  But I knew that making the 30-40 minute drive every week would keep me from becoming a fully participating member of the community.  And today, in this moment, what I need more than anything else is the sense of community.  I made several visits to the finalists - Holy Redeemer and St. Joseph's in Vancouver and St. Andrew's and St. Ignatius in Portland.  I prayed and prayed and prayed about it.  I talked to anyone who would listen.  I even went to Reconciliation to repent my sin of pride.  And that was probably the final straw.  The priest told me everything I already knew - just do it!  So with the new year came my signature on the dotted line for Holy Redeemer - close enough to walk to which I did this morning.  Yesterday came the affirmation of that decision.  I attended an orientation for St. Vincent de Paul volunteers and was surrounded by my new friends from HR.  They were open and welcoming and even suggested a few groups for me to try out.  So for everyone who told me that I wouldn't find here what I had in San Jose, I say you were right.  There is no SC Mission or St. Martin's or Sacred Heart of Jesus.  But there is a place for me to renew my faith and to continue growing in the love of Jesus.  I open the door to the dawn of what is to be and say Welcome!