Sassin'

This afternoon I was trying to finish reading the book I've been reading the past couple of days, called The Help, loaned to me by a woman from church.  I noticed immediately that it was set in Mississippi in the 1960's,  which felt very close to home.  (my place, my time). And it is indeed authentic, eerily so!  The story is mostly told from the point of view of the black maid who takes care of the white woman's house and children.(we didn't have that kind of help).  The narration is also told in the "voice" of the negro maid.  If I had been listening, instead of reading, I would have answered in the dialect of my native language (southern).  One lapses back into it, unconsciously.

Gerry kept talking to me.  He said he was getting older.  I asked him how he knew.  He came home earlier than he would have, because he was tired.  He also talked about a fellow geezer who had fallen, broken ribs, and probably would not be coming back.   I then lit into Gerry with a 'tongue lashing' about how if that happens to him he needs to be prepared for a life that is not lived entirely on the slopes!  I said I wasn't going to put up with him being miserable!.   {I realized that I was actually 'sassing' just like the maid in the book, talking back;  I wondered if he noticed my southern accent??}.

My 'sassing' actually came from a previous time, after a major surgery, when Gerry suffered from depression due to being physically inactive.  Of course, pain played a significant part as well.  It was so terrible to see, that I never want to see it again!  That's where my tirade was coming from!  I'm sure he understood that.

He assures me that when he can no longer ski, he'll knit!  That's very comforting.  Apparently that really is something he learned how to do as a lad, and enjoyed.  It's nice to have a plan B,  but it is certainly not one I hope to see put into effect!

Person in the Pew

This blog is heavily geared toward the theme of transitioning from a working person to a retired person. There are other transitions as well.  One of them is moving away from being clergy person to being just a "person in the pew".

A couple asked us last week if we would substitute for them as ushers, because they were going to be away.  We agreed, though we have not ushered in this church before.  It is a job which involves giving out bulletins,  providing microphones to speakers, opening and closing doors, taking up the offering, etc.  Several church people looked at me with big smiles on their faces, as if it were somehow quite unexpected to find me in that role.

And that got me to thinking.  I've done every job in the church there is to do,--teach, preach, play the piano--  but I have always avoided the ushering part.  While I might have taken the offering in the past in a pinch, it would definitely not have been within my normal group of church assignments.  But we accepted the invitation to usher because it seemed somehow fitting.  If one is truly a person in the pew,  one can expect to be asked to do that sort of thing.  The fact that we were asked would suggest, in some strange kind of way, that we have indeed arrived!

Truthfully, though, there are elements of being a clergy person that one can never really shake, no matter how hard one tries.  It's the kind of thing that grabs you at the core, and never completely lets you go!

But I am happy to say, that for today, it is surely true,
that I became fully, just a person in the pew!

First Place

Several months ago I entered a poem in the local Community Arts Challenge.  Later, I received a letter saying that my writing had been "accepted".   I did not really know what that involved,  but wrote the date on the calendar when I was supposed to attend the "community arts celebration".

When we got to the Performing Arts Center,  I discovered that the writing entries were enlarged and displayed on panels, and were exhibited on the Art Gallery, along with all the Fine Arts entries.  I thought that alone was pretty fantastic.  I noticed that there were seven entries in the Writing Category that had been "accepted" (put on display).

There were also three musical entries, so all the gathered people went into the theater to listen to the musical pieces, followed by the naming of the winners and awarding of the prizes.  When they explained the judging method,  the director explained that this had resulted in many "ties", so most of the categories had multiple winners.   I hoped that I would at least receive an honorable mention.

Third place winners were announced,  then second.  And much to my shock and delight, my name was called as the First Place winner in the Writing Category.  (I was the only one;  didn't have to share my place).   There was also a cash prize that went along with the certificate, and the winning piece will also be published in the local newspaper, I am sure.   The theme for the Arts Challenge was community.  My poem was entitled Ode to Community.

I am suddenly remembering a similar occasion long long ago.   In my senior year of college,  I won a writing contest,  but I was away doing my Student Teaching at the time, and not present to receive the recognition.  Forty four years later,  I get to relish my victory.  Sweet.  Sweet!

It's really great to be recognized!

Name This Chapter

My next ladies lunch bunch has been given an assignment.  What would you name this chapter of your life?  I've been writing about "this chapter" in my blog, so that ought to be easy.  It might be easy, but it is quite a long chapter title, which goes something like this:  "Transitioning from always needing to accomplish to just being able to be happy".  That is my best summary of what I am in the process of learning to do--Giving myself permission to just enjoy, rather than being driven by some need to produce.

Other places where I have read about the various stages of life,  this particular one is usually named the Age of Wisdom.  The main theme, or task is being Aware.  The ages included in the Age of Wisdom run from 58-69.

I thought that I did prepare for retirement as best I could.  I kept a "retirement book".  Now that I look at the early entries, I can see that they were mostly all about a list of things I wanted to do.  A '"to do" list is woefully inadequate as a retirement plan.  Now I can see that the real challenges are quite different from checking off a list of things done.  I still keep "dream lists" but now they are mostly about what I hope to experience, feel, become, (with a small sprinkling of 'to do's).  Of course, there are still plenty of things that I do on a regular basis.  I am not sitting unoccupied.  But those things are all internally driven  (not have to's or should's).

Honestly,  I have come to really love and appreciate this life stage of Wisdom and Awareness.  I am also looking forward to the next one, which for the record,  is Peace, with the theme of Serenity.  Those are two things I have always longed to know intimately.  Now, I think I will.  It just takes time!

Divided House

It has been quite a while since I have been able to sit through an entire State of the Union Address.  And it is not because of the President.  Sometimes I might have liked the President.  Other times not.  But it was not the President's remarks that affected me so negatively;  it was the behavior of the house.

What I saw being acted out there was hard to fathom.   It was hostile, adversarial, divisive, rude, and totally lacking in civility.   To be divided up the middle by a line that marks one "side" against the other "side" has always struck me as something a serious person could never admire  (or stomach).

The news coverage leading up to the tonight's State of the Union Address says that there is some movement toward not being 100% a divided house, whereby some from different parties are pairing up and sitting together.  Now that I find most admirable. If we ever get to the point where the chamber is even 75% mixed, rather than divided,  I will be once again believe that elected officials can behave like adults and leaders.   The party division by aisle and behavior has not been much above school yard gangs and bullying.

The "pairings" of Republicans and Democrats sitting together is being referred to as "a political prom date".   Oh, how I wish everyone from both parties has a date for the prom!  That will be something I can greatly admire,  something worthy of this great nation!

Needing a Thaw

Old Man Winter is wearing out his welcome,
 if you really want to know
with frigid days and howling nights,
 and degrees way too low!

Enough is enough is what I say
I'm about at the end of my rope!
This winter stuff is for the birds,
(and those who slide the slope!).

Squeaking snow really grates on my nerves
the cold air stuck in my craw;
Here's my greatest desire at the moment--
a warm February thaw!

Old man winter is dumping his load and
really mucking about!
My toes are cold, covered with layers,
and that's inside the house!

Winter winter go away--
and come again next year.
That's what I hope and wish and pray--
that a thaw is almost here!

The Impact of Music

The only time I really listen to music, with my undivided attention, is when I am driving.  I got a couple of new CD's for Christmas, and listened to them on a recent trip.  One of them was a CD by Susan Boyle.  As I listened to her sing the song I Dreamed a Dream, I noticed that I was having a physical reaction.  At one point in that song, her voice opens in about four stages, on one word.  She sings the word, and then opens more, and then more, and then completely like a musical instrument being engaged at full throttle. I could feel my body lifting, lifting, lifting.

  It is so amazing the extent to which music can communicate.   It can uplift.  It can make one feel comforted, sad, happy, romantic.  It can cause physical reactions---chills, tears,  arms waving, applause, singing along.   It can make people sway, dance, and on and on the list of possible reactions goes.

On tonight's news, there was an interesting piece on a young woman who has a deaf friend who cannot hear the music she hears.  Since the hearing friend is fluent in sign language and teaches it,  she made a video of a song,  and communicated the feelings with her facial expressions,  the sign language,  the length of the moves,  the body rhythm.  Deaf people could watch the video and get a clear picture of what the music "sounded" like.  She made music available in a new way to those for whom it had not been previously.  What a gift!

Although I am not moved in the same way by rock music,  I suppose it should be no surprise that those who are get swept up by the beat and the rhythm and the repetition.

I am more likely to be deeply moved by church music. A beautiful voice, or voices, lifted in song in the context of worship makes me think of the "heavenly host".   I guess the truth is, since I didn't get to sing in the earthly choir,  I am hoping for a place in the heavenly one!   I wonder if it could possibly work that way?  I hope so!

While I might be short on talent, I am very long on music appreciation!

Weight Review

Recently, I had an occasion to review my weight over the course of my life, throughout all the various ages and stages.  From six to twenty one, I suffered through various degrees of overweight.  When I was twenty two years old,  I lost fifty pounds in three months.  Except for work, I saw no one, went nowhere, ate nothing much!  Until suddenly, there was a completely new thin me!   The shocker was, however, that my mind could not see that.  The number of the scales and the size of the dress both testified to that weight loss and petite size,  but I could not comprehend it in my brain!  In fact, it took me the better part of a decade to adjust my psyche so that I had some mental notion of my true size and weight.

 I maintained that weight loss for the next twenty two years, actually.  There were some ups and downs due to four pregnancies during that time,  but aside from that, weight was not an issue.

Then I hit a five year period of time when I gained weight.  There are various reasons for that. One was an unavoidable sedentary lifestyle because of driving, studying, sitting, and seminary, all of which contributed significantly.   There were also several  huge stress factors during those same years, not to be specifically named here.  Add to that the chemical changes of menopause, and you have a perfect recipe for gaining weight.  So since then,  in the past fifteen years, I have returned to my former fuller figured self.

Then, when I had all that sorted out, I asked myself this question: And at which points was I the happiest in my life?  It was immediately obvious to me that my happiness had no correlation whatsoever to my weight!  (which was a complete surprise).

 I also realized something else which was fascinating.  At this point in my life,  when I see myself in a mirror ( (as rarely as possible),  I do not see a terribly heavy person.  I probably have the whole body image issue in reverse of the one I had in my twenties.  Rather than seeing what is actually there, now all I see is the image of a person I am quite comfortable being!  

And that's not a bad thing!

   

Loving Change

I must say that I love change!  There are surely some changes that are easier than others, or preferable, or better.  Not all changes are good.  Some can be painful .  But I really do like to 'change things up' whenever possible.  That might be a different color---room, pillow, dress, hair.   The could be a different location---of house, job, worship, shopping.  It might mean a new hobby, friend,  recipe or trip.

If it were not for the many changes in my life,  I never would have enjoyed my marriage or my ministry.  It has always amazed me how many people there are who really hate change. For example, to introduce a new and unfamiliar hymn can bring wrath,  or to slightly shift the order of worship can wreak havoc!   People do like their traditions.

At the moment, I am actually thinking about the change in our bedroom.   The room feels so much larger, warmer, more aligned with the magnetic fields of the universe!  We are surely enjoying it.

Not many months ago, Gerry got a large screen, wall mounted television for the bedroom.  Now the bed is in the proper location for being able to see it from a reclining position.   What an improvement.   So here are two views of this recent change in our lives.

Rearranging

I've known for a long time that moving is a good thing, in that it insures that one gets rid of their junk.  Who would want to pay to move stuff you'll never use and don't want?    Since I don't plan to move any time soon  (knock on wood lord willing),  I have just discovered that rearranging is equally a good thing, for a very similar reason.

We are having carpet installed today, and in order to prepare for that,  we had to completely empty our bedroom.  The furniture is rather heavy, and in a usual day of vacuuming and dusting in the bedroom,  the furniture doesn't get moved.  That means, of course, that there is a considerable collection of dust hiding behind where the headboard was, or the dresser.   So rearranging the furniture affords one the opportunity to get everything clean in places where otherwise one is unlikely to reach.

When I was thinking about that,  I realized that one also needs to go in and rearrange the psyche from time to time.  Move things around,  shake them loose,  shift the perception.   Some of the things that need to be shaken up might be---ideas,  notions,  long held convictions, feelings.   In the shifting and rearranging process,  one just might find a dusty pile of prejudice, bias, resentments, all sorts of undesirable things hiding there behind the headboard, so to speak.  

Rearranging the furniture has hidden benefits.   That makes me think that making an effort to rearrange our thoughts might have some of the same.

If one never rearranges the furniture, or is challenged to rethink a position,  there lies an opportunity for a pile of dust!

Life Rule: At the Time, Not Later

Recently, I was commiserating with a friend over a trait we have in common---the tendency not to address something that bothers us, a hurt or offense, at the time it happens.  I said half jokingly that it should be a life rule that one has to deal with what bothers at the time, rather than a month or two later.  Now, I would add a codicil to that--or within a 24 hours grace period.  I realized even as I offered the advice to her that I needed to take my own advice.  And I did laughingly add that I needed to do that.

A loved one had hurt my feelings, and I had just 'let is slide'.   To "let it slide" always creates the possibility of also letting something fester, and brew, and grow it own tentacles, which can create other unhealthy behaviors.  I decided to address it, and did.  That is not, I might add, an easy thing to do!  But it is always, I believe, the better thing to do.

Of course, the reality is, we cannot read one anothers' minds, nor predict when something said might hurt someone else.   At least if we share our feelings, that might help avoid having it happen again.

I'm going to work on that.   Thinking about it a little bit makes me realize that the "hurt feeling" probably has to do with some other emotional issue rather than that which is happening at the moment.  The thing happening at the moment is just a trigger to something deeper, which is why emotions are so maddening!

Ah, us poor humans!  How very complex we are, with layers, and unpredictability.  That which gives us our humanity, also drives us nuts!

Fat Squares and Rotary Scissors

I am on Facebook.  I rarely post a comment, but last night I did.  I commented about my sewing machine and doing various projects and learning about "fat squares" and "rotary scissors".  My friend Kathy commented back:  "Nancy, hon....that's fat quarters and rotary cutters."   I actually laughed out loud when I read that.   I did know that they were fat quarters (a quarter of a yard or 18x22).   But it was obvious, nonetheless,  that I am a novice.

My, oh, my the trail of comments that emerged in response, from a whole host of women friends,  mostly all about quilting and getting hooked.  I got an invitation to a specific fabric store, where a Facebook friend works.   I got invited to a quilting guild at a former church where I have served.  I got offers of help. I remembered all the AIDS baby quilts we made at my first church,  dozens and dozens of them.

  Today, a friend brought a pile of sewing books and a bunch of patterns, which will be very helpful.   It's a whole new world,  a fabric world!

My friend Kathy said that not only are there fat quarters and jelly rolls,  but there are also "layer cakes" and "honey buns."   (And I am assuming that all this is NOT about food!)

At the moment, I haven't actually settled on "quilting" but I can see that there is a huge quilting culture out there just waiting and wanting you to join in and enjoy all the fun.  I have been mostly a "sewer", rather than a "quilter",  but I may eventually get there.   I have made a tablecloth and napkins,  placemats, a decorative bed pillow,  and a skirt, so far.     The placemats were made from quilting squares sewed together, but without batting.

This picture is not my work.

  My next project is going to be a table runner, made from a jelly roll.  Seriously!  Who knew?

Theology of As If

I was talking to a friend recently, who has been struggling with an estrangement resulting from a challenging daughter-in-law.  I was glad to learn that something I said was helpful to her. I asked her if she could just pretend.  Even though she might not entirely feel resolution in her heart, could she not just pretend that the past is all in the past?  Thankfully, that struck a cord with her .

It also struck memories of my theological days and various discoveries and reading.  I cannot quote exactly,  but I do believe I recall that John Wesley, who sometimes had moments of uncertainty in his faith,  once said to just act as if you believe and have faith, until it becomes true.  This notion suggests a lot of power in the as-if-ness! It suggests a way of being.

I also remember reading a description of the “kingdom of God” as being a reality lived out on earth “as if” that kingdom has already been accomplished.   If one lives as if the reign of peace is already here,  as if everyone is reconciled and all is forgiven,  as if  Christ has already returned and ushered in God’s reign----that’s one powerful way of creating such a reality.

Now I am thinking of three realities.  There is the already.  (that which is real and present and now, that which has happened).  There is the not yet.  (that which has not yet happened or arrived).  And there is the as if (that which we can create through our imaginations and the gift of grace.)

When we need it most, may God give us the grace to live in the reality of as if.   

Wabi-sabi

At my lunch bunch group yesterday, I heard a new word, and asked how to spell it so I could look it up.  It was used in the context of sewing projects  (which I brought up).  One, who is a master quilter, said:  The more of a perfectionist you are the better your projects will turn out.  I responded:  I am not a perfectionist at all.  The third one answered:  But you will enjoy it because you find beauty in the imperfect, like wabi-sabi.  That, of course, made me very curious.

This is what I learned.  Wabi-sabi is a Japanese world view and aesthetic.   It is based on the Buddist assertion of impermanence. Both parts of the word are difficult to translate,  but wabi has to do with something which is imperfect, has quirks and anonmalies--that produced by humans or by nature.  Sabi is more about the beauty of serenity that comes from age.

The Japanese ideal upon which this philosophy can be summarized with these three statements:  nothing lasts, nothing is finished, nothing is perfect.  An example in Japanese culture is in the tea ceremony, which often features flawed pottery, as a thing of beauty, to be appreciated.    Other words associated with the notion of wabi-sabi are:  asymmetry, modesty, simplicity, intimacy.

I am most delighted to learn this new concept.  The Western worldview has no equivalent,  admiring imperfection. Adding it to my lexicon is very helpful.  And it is definitely applicable to my sewing projects!

 And likewise,  I know for sure that I am deeply flawed,  certainly unfinished, and only temporary.

Wabi-sabi me!

Lunch Bunch

Once a month or so,  I eat with the "lunch brunch", a motley crew of assorted clergy women friends, half of whom are retired, and half of whom are not.  You couldn't find six more different people anywhere!

We talk about "newsy" items we may have heard, relative to anyone we know in common--like who is in a new relationship,  who has passed away,  who is leaving their job,  who is expecting an appointment to a church, etc.   We also ask about what is going on in our individual or family lives that might be of interest, any weddings, or issues, or divorces, etc.   We are all in our mid sixties, except  Nat who is not yet 60.  She is currently on a leave of absence, trying to discern her future---going back to serve a church, or bringing to fruition her real passion,  a teaching/consulting option?  Time will tell.   She's too young to retire.

At the moment, I am reading a novel about six women who gather on Friday nights. They range in age from their twenties to retired.  A couple of them are married, a couple have never been married, several are mothers, and so on.  Although there are many differences,  my lunch bunch group reminds me a little bit of those women.  Some are married, single, divorced, grandparents, not grandparents.   Not the same ones come each time we gather.  Just like in my novel,  how the gathering goes depends on who is present and who is not.  The dynamic changes with the attendees.   Not all the members of the group are close.  I'm not sure any of us could identify exactly how this particular group got convened.

Since retiring, for me, it has been an excuse to "go to the city", where I can do a bit of window shopping and see things (or buy things) I cannot usually find in the town in which I live.  At least 4 or 5 out of the group actually live in that city.  For me it is an hour's drive.

Most of my social engagements and lunches tend to be one on one,  one friend at a time, or one daughter at a time.  A group gathering is quite different.  I can participate to whatever degree I wish,  or simply observe.  I suppose the truth is,  I've gotten to where I actually look forward to these lunches,  which are often quite lively and filled with laughter.   Laughter any time any where is worth the trip!   And not to be missed.

Remembering Donna

Today, I attended a Memorial Service for a wonderful woman who was an active and vital member of my former congregation.  It was wonderful to be back there and see the good people of that church. They all greeted me with warmth and affection.  The current pastor presided 'around the edges' but it was mostly Donna's children who spoke about her and her life.   Each one offered a different element.  The only daughter spoke about their unique and special relationship.  One son spoke about Donna's many physical and medical challenges over the years, which have been enormous.  Another son shared some of the challenges involved in raising the four of them. A third son wrote a thank you letter.   Each talked about something they had learned from her:  perseverance,  unconditional love,  patience, generosity, etc.  As one person commented to me after the service---"I didn't know Donna very well, until today, and of course, now I know her quite well."

How true that is. And how unusual for the eulogies to be done by the children. Often grief will get in the way of family members being able to speak publicly on such an occasion.   A couple of us commented after the service how we were not sure whether or not our children would do that. (And also, I might add,  wondered what they might say.)  For sure, any one of us could only hope to be the kind of mother Donna was described as by her children.

I do think that largely, at least, my children would say positive things,  though I was not necessarily convinced they would be comfortable in such a public speaking role.  When they write sweet notes to me on special occasions,  I save them all in my Appreciation Box.

I started saving special notes of appreciation early during the years of my ministry, always with the plan that when I felt down and out,  I could always go there and read those positive comments and be encouraged and uplifted.  Now, of course, the ones I cherish the most are those written by my children (and husband).

When and how one's end time will come is always an unknown, as well as who will be around to mark it.  I don't wonder about that so much any more, confident that I have already lived remarkably, and been mightily blessed by those who have loved me!

There is little more that I could ask.

Biological Sleeping

I always thought that the best way to sleep is by one's biological clock--by which I mean, stay up as late as you want, and sleep as late as you want, until you wake up naturally, no jarring alarm clocks involved.  Of course, people don't usually get to do that for one reason or another.

Gerry, for instance, does not get to do that because he cannot sleep as long as he would like.  It is a rare occasion for him to get five or six hours of uninterrupted sleep  He wakes up several times during the night and cannot go back to sleep. He gets his hours in snatches.  I also wake up in the night, but have no trouble going back to sleep.  The vast majority of the non-retired world has to get up at ungodly hours to go to work or to school.

What a pleasure it is to be at a life stage when usually alarm clocks are not involved.  In fact, just this year (the past seven days or so) I decided that I did not want to sleep past a certain time in the morning (which I will not publish here), and named a specific hour that I want to wake up by.   Much to my surprise,  I have awakened at precisely that time every day this week,  all on my own.  (not something I've been able to do in the past).  Of course, my usual required number of hours of sleep is about nine hours, so I guess I've just slept myself out by then.

If I were not married to someone who has sleep problems,  I would not even be aware of how blessed I am to be able to sleep long and deep, and to go to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow!   I am most thankful for that gift, because I believe that the body is restored, healed of its ailments, during the time when one is sleeping.

I would wish for everyone good sleeping!  And good healing.  And good night!

Happiness Without Guilt

I had lunch with an old friend recently.   She is a person who is always busy, active, doing things, volunteering at church, gardening, etc. etc.   In our conversation,  she talked about how she makes her list every day of all the things she wants to accomplish.  I used to do that also;  I still do, occasionally.  What struck me was this one specific statement she made:  "I have to be accomplishing something or I feel guilty."

In a nutshell,  that statement summarizes exactly what I have been trying to overcome in my retirement years.   I have sometimes called that transition moving from doing to being.  My deep desire at this point in my life is to simply be without feeling guilty.  Or more specifically,  I want to master the art of being happy without the tendency to feel guilty for not doing something.

If I am honest, I would have to say that much of my life philosophy, and a great deal of my theology has always been based around what I understand to be the "Protestant work ethic."   This is a concept which is based on the notion that hard work is a necessary component of a person's calling and worldly success, and is a sign of personal salvation. [Wikipedia]  The origin of this notion can be traced back to John Calvin and Martin Luther.

In my preaching, you could often hear me saying such things as:
*As God's chosen people, it is our job to make a difference in the world.
*Good works are the fruit of our faith.
*Our purpose in life is to find and share our gifts and talents to the glory of God.
*Since we have received the gift of grace, we need to share it with others.

To truly live in grace (being saved), means we do not have to earn it.  It is already given.  Yet, somewhere along the way, it became deeply ingrained into the American/Christian/Protestant psyche that we are not entitled to happiness without earning it.

There is a different school of thought in my theological brew.  The real purpose of life is to grow in spirit;  to develop and mature as a human being, to know oneself and one's connection to God,  to heal,  to surrender, to release one's pain,  to be free.   To these ends, what one "does" or "accomplishes" externally is if little consequence.

Or so it seems to me, on this particular day.

Words and Stitches

For a long time now,  my inclination has been about creating things with words.   I have done a lot of that and have produced everything from sermons to a novel, from short stories to a blog.  The best way to describe my activity is that I made things with words. When bored and looking for something to do,  my first move would likely be toward the computer.

For Christmas I got a simple sewing machine.  A sewing room is being built. A couple of small projects have been completed.  I'm amazed at how much I am enjoying the process of sewing.  As I figured I might be,  I am much more patient, not rushed, willing to take it one step at a time.  Today I worked on a very challenging 'rip it apart' project with a seam ripper.  It was tedious because the stitches were tight and close together and had to be removed one at a time. It wasn't possible to just slide the ripper under a seam and let it rip.  That would have cut the fabric,  so it required a great deal of time and concentration.

Somewhere along the way when I was pulling out a tight knotted stitch,  it made me think of words.  In a way, I have traded in words for stitches. I can see a lot of similarities between the two vastly different activities.   If you put together a string of words in a carefully constructed way, you get a good sentence.  With a sewing machine,  you get a seam.  Lots of sentences make a paragraph, then a page,  eventually a story or poem or novella.   If you make enough stitches, you get seams, and if you sew enough seams, eventually you produce a finished product--  a pillow, a placemat, a skirt.

Both writing and sewing are creative activities.  One is more with the brain, the other more with the hands.  While I do not think I'll be giving up my writing passion any time soon,  I am quite pleased to be learning a new creative passtime.  At the very least, I hope to make some homemade gifts for next year's Christmas!

If words were stitches, I'd sew them straight;
if stitches were words, what could I make?
Create a character, and give her shape;
Sew a quilt, for goodness sake!

Serendipidous

When I use the word serendipity,  I mean a sort of unexpected coincidence.   It is a coincidence that seems unlikely, and completely unexpected.  One has to be in just the right place at the right time.  I've had many such incidences in my life where just the right circumstances line up to produce a moment of serendipity.  I had such a moment today.

Today I preached at Homer Avenue church.  After church, a couple came up to me and asked if I recognized them.  Their faces did look familiar, but I guessed they were from far back in my life.  Then they identified themselves as being from the church we had attended some twenty plus years ago. I did recognize the name, which I had heard before.

Then they said,  "We have some news!"   I could not imagine what in the world was coming, as this was a couple I had not really known personally, and had not seen in more than twenty years.  Then they added:  "Our son just bought 15 Ocean Drive."   It took a moment for my brain to register that address.  We have lived at quite a few different addresses, and that one did not immediately ring a bell.   Then it dawned on me!  That is the house that we built in the woods, high upon a hill, our retreat house.   It was a private place where I could go to get away from the demands of ministry.  It was small,  but absolutely beautiful in its own way.   We created it with great care and loving attention to detail.  We did get to use it a little bit,  but then we loaned it to daughter and son-in-law, who lived in it for several years.

We sold the house four years ago to a young couple before we bought our retirement home here. It was never intended to be our retirement home.  Our buyer was a graduate student, so obviously he has now completed his studies and moved on.  That house has our imprint in every cell of its being.  We designed it, had the outside shell put up.  Gerry did most of the inside work,  including building a huge deck that wrapped around two sides.  It has hardwood floors and a wood burning stove. It is tucked into the trees in such a way that it feels like a tree house.  There's even a plaque attached to a post by the front door that says:
A house is built of walls and beams, but a home is built of love and dreams.
  I do trust that is still there.

What a surprise to learn of our retreat house having new owners.  According to the parents,  they are loving it.  Perhaps the reason why I did not immediately recognize the address is that---ironically, we never got to live there!

Still, we have great affection for what we created there in the woods!

(The house pictured below is not our retreat house, but has some of the same feel and look.)

Twenty Eleven

Today's date is one on the calendar that will not come again.  1.1.11  Of course, that is true of every day on the calendar.   Each day only rolls by once.  Eleven is my "special" number,  what others would refer to as their lucky number.  Eleven started appearing in my life when I was a child.  It repeated in many "special" ways.  My cabin number at camp.  My buddy number.  My favorite football player's number.  My only surprise birthday party happened on my eleventh.   The list goes on and on.

My husband was born on the eleventh.  We got married on the eleventh.  Eleven has always been associated with something "good".  When I was looking at the seminary I wanted to attend, and looked up the address,  it was located on 1100 Goodman Street.  I knew that was the one for me.

I read in the paper today that more wedding took place on 07.07.07 that any other date.   If I were to pick the number most likely to be my best ever number, as far as dates go, it would have to be 11.11.11,  which will happen this year.  I should plan something special, make an Eleven Celebration Event out of it.

How would celebrate a number on the calendar that has no significance other than being one's best number?   Go out to dinner?  Have a party?  Invite eleven people over?  Schedule it for eleven o'clock? 

I just "googled" the number eleven and its significance.  This is what I  learned:

Number eleven possesses the qualities of intuition,  patience, honesty, sensitivity, and spirituality.

Who knew?